Category: Spawn

We can’t actually know, but we suspect that Ampersands conception occurred on the evening of the Scissor Sisters concert in early February – the same night that Sarah went into labour with Alex.

Lots of things conspired to bring Mark and I together (thanks Richard), and the decision to have a child has had even more twists and turns. We wouldn’t be here if Mark was still teaching, and I’m sure that having a month in Vietnam was also crucial in giving us the time and space to concentrate on our lives together. We’d really like him to have a name that means something to us, and our journey to this point in our lives. Binh means peace in Vietnamese, and if it didn’t mean dumpster in English, we’d have a name by now.

Mark and I are keeping separate lists. Here’s mine.

George
Ford
Algernon – Moustached
Ambrose
Aldous – Old, noble
Aubrey – Ruler of Elves
Harvey
Edward
Mathesar
Hare
Iago
Inego
Finn
Edmond/Edmund
Casper – treasurer
Archimedes/Archibald (Archy)
Argus/Argos
Gomez
Atticus
Orlando
Floyd
Bernard
Tobin
Peregrine

Apparently, Peregrine should only be considered by pretentious nerdy gamer types, Aubrey has become more popular as a name for a girl than a boy, Mathesar is the head alien from Galaxy Quest, and someone will object to it. George (after my beloved grandfather) is excruciatingly popular, Mark hates Harvey, Ambrose would surely have his head crammed in a toilet, Archimedes also has a touch of the pretentious twat, Casper is far too twee, Inego requires a dead father to be amusing, and despite the comic joy of Bernard – the name sucks.

Gomez is far too camp, Atticus too wanky, no-one will be able to pronounce Iago, Ford makes us look like tragic mulleted rev-heads (despite nobler aspirations), and Tobin, Floyd, Orlando and Finn wave the wanker flag, and Edward and Edmund and a trifle boring and common. Argos just looks like a skin complaint.

Hare is a Nettle family middle name, and we like it, but it won’t work as a first name. Apologies if your name appears on this list, no offence intended.

Suggestions welcome, but please bear in mind that I’d like something relatively unusual. Having grown up being the only Lara that I had ever heard of, I liked having an unusual name, and I don’t want anything that appears on this list.

Daisy moved in last night, so now the whole family has moved in. The chickens moved in the day before, and Liza escaped into the storm-water drain behind the house. If you weren’t me, and were watching me, and you aren’t upset by gratuitous profanity, you might have found the following hour very amusing.

If you are me, and are concerned for the welfare of your errant chickens, to the detriment of your lower back and without regard for your changing shape and shifting centre of gravity, you would have had a pretty horrible time. But the girls are fine (and now have their wings clipped to prevent further escapades), and the passenger is also fine. I am buggered, and am taking a rest day today – despite the mountains of shit that needs putting away. I had the first decent lie in for a week, put on a few loads of washing, am watching Oprah, and have made the internets work.

So now that I have taken the time to stop and breathe a bit, I wanted to say thank you to everyone who was there to help out last weekend, and since – and this weekend too!

Candy tackled the kitchen with her signature style and humour. Mandy brought cake (Mandy, you are developing a reputation!). Leefe and Ginevra brought their very cute baby, as did Adam and Sarah. Mum and Dad were amazing, Ted orchestrated the construction of an all new Palais du Chicken (with Mark and Richard), Jane drove the van which meant that we could actually spend sunday night in our new home. And Sally, Oliver, and little Benjamin did great work at the new house while the deconstruction of Denistone was tackled.

As well as all the practical help, the overwhelming feeling was of gratitude that I have so many people in my life who care about me enough to be there when I really needed the help. It made me feel very loved, and I realise how lucky I am to have such good friends and family. And I am very grateful – for the chance that our parents gave us to build a home for our new family, and for all the practical and emotional support of all you guys. I feel like there is a huge amount of work to be done, but we’ll get there.

I’ve had a plumber install the dishwasher, fix a tap and move the laundry tub so we could fit our huge washing machine into the laundry – and he also fixed the bathroom door as an added bonus! The old house has been cleaned, the lawns have been mowed, and I am currently washing the curtains which will be replaced tonight. Tomorrow I have to be at the old house to let the carpet cleaners in, then I can return the keys to the real estate agent, AND BE RID OF REAL ESTATE AGENTS FOR EVER. As long as there is no hassles getting our bond back of course….

There’s far too much to do.

This Friday, the 3rd of August, (that’s the day after tomorrow folks!), we should settle on the house, and possibly even get the keys. I’m thinking a bottle of sparkling apple juice, a few of Granville’s best felafel rolls, a few candles, and my sweetie – the perfect picnic for our first hours in our new home.

On Saturday, my wonderful sister in law Sarah is coming over to help pack. My brother, our friend Richard, and Mark are going to the new house to build bedroom furniture, install computers, stereo and TV, and build a house of the chickens in the backyard. Hopefully, we can also move the bunnies and the crazy bird so that they can avoid the stress of being here while we’re packing up. Now with added Andrew!

Sunday, more of the same. With added Mandy!

Monday, the professional packer comes in to finish what hasn’t been already done.

Tuesday, the movers come.

Wednesday, Optus connects the phone and internet at Abbott St, and the cleaners come in to do the final clean up in Denistone.

Friday at 10am, we have to hand in the keys for the old house.

Between now and then, I also need to find a garden person to do a huge blitz on the yard, and find carpet cleaners.

I also need to decide which plants are coming with us from Denistone to Merrylands, put them in post if they are in the ground.

There are probably a number of other things I have forgotten about, but that is enough of a list for me to be a wee bit freaked out.

If you’ve previously offered to help out – and I haven’t been in touch, let me know now 🙂 Once all the packing is done, there will be unpacking and furniture building to do (and decorating the nursery – no-one wants to miss out on that!), then organising the housewarming 🙂

Phew….

Back in the mists of time, when Mark and I made the trek over to Granville to sign our lives away on a contract to buy a house that we didn’t have the money to pay for, I held a long conversation with David. David claims to have a law degree. He also claims to have written (and published) a book or two about astronomy. Apparently he knows all about marine aquariums, deep sea diving, and is a chess master. Which is all well and good – but he backs up these claims with actual knowledge of the subjects, so I am inclined to believe him.

And when he said “don’t agree to clause 36”, I thought it sounded all grown up and lawyery, so I said it, the clause was crossed off the contract, and we signed.

Wonderful.

Fast forward to yesterday. Monday. The monday before the friday that is the settlement date. I am in the car, driving on a windy road on my way to drop the power supply for the laptop to the husband so that he can earn the not bacon to pay for the house that we are buying on friday. The shiny pink phone rings, and the solicitor acting for the vendor calls to ask that we write a letter to the real estate agent asking them to release the $35,000 that they are holding as a deposit for the house. Today. Urgently. Or it may delay settlement.

Well, I rang David. Who (thank FSM) wasn’t in class at the time. He directed my attention to clause 36. Which by omission, says that they can’t get their mitts on our money until we get our mitts on a title deed. Fair enough, right?

Well, the weasels decided, that since I am acting for myself, and I am not a solicitor, they might as well try one on, and try to get the money from me because, clearly, I had no idea what I was doing.

But I had David (and FSM) on my side.

I rang back, directed their attention to the the absence of clause 36, and told them that they would not be getting my money until they were entitled to it.

And then it got interesting…

Evil Solicitor Bitch (ESB) got exasperated with me and asked me to get my solicitor to call her, as it was clear that neither of us were smart enough to understand the finer points of her argument.

So David called ESB, who declined to take the call, and after two hours, when she still hadn’t called back, I rang her.

Apparently, she had decided in the interim that they could get the money elsewhere, and that I need not worry about the letter.

Of course.

So basically, they thought they would try it on, and then I got difficult. They asked to speak to my lawyer, because they thought I was lying to them, but when they figured out that I do actually have backup, they backed down and decided to stick to the contract that their client had agreed to, and had signed. I have a copy of it if they need to check.

After this was resolved, I swore a lot. Ampersand is getting used to the sound of his mothers voice as a shrieking harridan, with the vocabulary of a sailor. Great. Anyway, I told the whole story to my mother last night, and she wants to send a letter of complaint to the Law Society. Take that ESB!

Now, if you don’t know my mother, this may seem like an idle threat. But bear in mind that this is a woman who managed to get a cheque for $5,000 and a letter of apology from the Department of Social Security (on my behalf), when Amanda Vanstone was minister. Truly, the woman is a legend.