It’s all here. Adventures in extreme knitting, the house of poop, and suburban permaculture. You may also find rants about politics, ecology, humanitarianism, responsible living, toe floss, and other topics not covered here. Expect profanity and irreverence. You have been warned.
Words from Inigo as he went to bed tonight…
Yes, it’s that tragic. The two year old has my number. I’m such a Masterchef addict that I am recording each episode, but most nights I am actually watching it live if I can possibly beg Mark to put Inigo to bed.
And yes, I bought the magazine.
We’re leaving for my birthday weekend at the crack of sparrows tomorrow, if you’re planning on joining the festivities, please let me know soon. Most people are coming up on Saturday, as I have to travel back to Sydney for a job (another photographic shoot) on Sunday morning, so I won’t be back up North till lunchtime Sunday.
I have stocked up on homemade curry, sangria and Bollywood movies.
Sweet.
Sarah, my sister in law, and mum to the adorable Alex, turned 40 a few weeks ago, and had a right proper shin dig. She asked me to take a few pics, so here they are. The theme was “F”. I went as a sub-literate Fotographer.
As a photographer, I am less than thrilled with some of the image quality, but considering the lighting conditions, and that this is the first time I have ever shot fully manual with a flash, I’m rather surprised that I got as many good shots as I did.
Great party, lovely sister in law, and interesting photographic challenge.
I’m against censorship. I’m against right wing nuts telling me how to parent my child. And I’m against paying for a stupid filter that any ten year old worth their salt can circumvent in ten minutes.
Spread the word.
When I married Mark, I decided to use his last name. Not because I was now his property, but because I was building a new phase of my life, and a name change seemed appropriate at the time. One factor that influenced my decision was that my family name (Connor), was not shared by my whole family.
My mum took my dads family name when they married, and then changed back to her own family name later on. Consequently, my attitude to “family” names was shaped by this – and my real family name should have been Connor-Young, or Young-Connor. So when this question came up, my decision was not to give up my name and take on one that belonged to somebody else, it was a choice to choose my own name, rather than having one imposed on me.
So I chose between my fathers name, and my husbands name. I could have made up something else, but this way I got to avoid a lot of paperwork. A adore my dad, and would hate for him to think that this decision was a rejection of him as it wasn’t. If I had a name that reflected my whole family, I might have made a different decision, but who knows. And this way, I get to use both names, legally, without too much hassle.
So I was interested to read this article about a recent study that examined attitudes towards women based on their choice to change their names after marriage or not.
Apparently, I am perceived as more caring, more dependent, less intelligent,more emotional, less competent, less ambitious. And less likely to get a job.
Great. At least I can still use my other name.
Inigo helped me put stamps on all the ABA bulletins I sent out today. The kid gets better and better.
“So I Married an Axe Murderer” is one of my favourite movies, and then Inigo came out with a huge noggin, this is a scene that has been re-enacted often. Enjoy.
This might be interesting. It’s about a woman who works as a birth assistant and parenting coach in the poor areas of Chicago – specifically to teen mothers.
And thank you to the adorable husbeast sys admin who has fixed my blog. After many months of not being able to use Ecto (my blog software of choice), IT’S NOW WORKING!
So now, I can post pictures effortlessly, I can even post from my iPhone, and my world is a beautiful place*.
Yay!
*Apart from all the horrible crap that is going on, of course.
Inigo’s little party went really well. It was just grandparents, godparents, and aunts, uncles and cousins – 17 people, but it still seemed like a lovely intimate gathering.
We met at Putney Park (Inigo’s favourite park), and silly me forgot to factor in all the other people who would be having parties at the same time, so we couldn’t get a picnic table. Thanks to Bev amp; Ted, and Mum and Dad, who brought tables, we were able to set up in a lovely shady spot, and Inigo had the time of his life.
As well as being surrounded by his favourite people and being allowed to eat cake (and icing for the first time ever!), he got presents!
Bev and Ted got him some lovely clothes, and Ted made the best play kitchen! Inigo has been loving helping me in the kitchen, so the play kitchen is going to get a lot of use in the next few years – and it’s so much nicer than the horrible plastic ones that you pay hundreds of dollars for.
He also got a treasury of Winnie the Pooh stories from Aunty Jane, a book that he will be able to treasure for a lifetime, and a couple of fabulous shirts. And accessories for his new kitchen – a proper Italian pasta cooking set, and a beautiful tea set. A very lucky boy indeed.
And a lovely time was had by all.
Disco Knitter 