Check it Out

For all you hopefuls that periodically check this site for updated blogs, I've actually started a NEW one. Life has changed so much in the past two years that it didn't seem right to keep writing on the 'old' blog.

I haven't written at all really, but once a blogger, always a blogger and the urge to once again put thoughts and ponderings onto the 'little screen' became strong once more.

So, a new life and a new blog. Actually, my husband Roy and I are both contributing to it and hopefully you will find some of his insights quite entertaining and very colourful.

The new address is www.wisemen-say.blogspot.com .


Therefore 'the Naked Crab' is signing off, over and out.

;)

Nit Picking

My kids are clean kids. They are almost fanatical about it. They scrub between all their cracks, have learned to brush their teeth until they shine and can't stand sticky hands or messy faces.

A couple of nights ago, I was talking to my friend M... One of her children started scratching their heads. She said, 'Oh the nits are probably back.'

'Hmmmm', thought I. Her kids spend a lot of time with mine. So I asked her what it was like and what to look for, etc.

She told me how they lay little eggs near the scalp which stick to the strands of hair. Once they hatch they are black with a longish body, but still very small. My stomach turned. "I am glad mine have never had that," I remarked.

The next morning while getting mine ready for school, I thought perhaps I better check their shiny clean scalps... just in case.

At first I thought my daughter had sand in her hair, or perhaps grit. Then I saw it. The tiny black 'thing' crawling through her hair. I quickly began inspecting her more closely in all areas, ... uggghhhhhhhhh... EGGS EVERYWHERE! I could see a few more nits crawling around and tried to extract them quickly, my stomach lurching.

I checked my son... clean. Phew. So, with Amelie now being excluded for a day from daycare, it was off to the pharmacy to get the goop. The toxic mix of teatree oil and eucalypt that kills the eggs and live nits.

It was quite cute really. I put her in the bath and we applied the sticky substance, and then she had to put on a green shower cap which was supplied in the kit. She was so good, so patient. We set the timer for 10 minutes and my little angel with eggs in her hair played quietly. When it was time we rinsed, shampooed and conditioned, got out the lice comb and started combing out the eggs. A bit hard to get a three year old to sit still, but she did well, and we got most of the little buggers.

All in all, it was a learning experience for me. I had flashbacks of my mom combing eggs out of my long locks as a child. Amelie was a trooper and got some new shoes out of the ordeal. (which she needed, btw)

Now my only problem is that I freak out when ever I feel the urge to itch my scalp. Stay away, you naughty nits! Who would comb them out of my hair???

Tongue Twister

How many blogs could a good blogger blog,

if a good blogger could blog blogs,

A good blogger could blogs as many blogs as a good blogger could blog,

if a good blogger could blog blogs.

I've been teaching my kids some tongue twisters, so I thought I would try a few of my own...

Heather Feather hates the Weather

when it rains in pains her brain.

Heather Feather loves the Weather

when it is fine in time for wine she is sublime.

Ok, I am headed more into Dr Seuss territory here... Maybe I need some wine to make the rhyme slip out of my lip a little easier next time... :)

I am back! Please smile.

Ok, my favorite...

She sells seashells, down by the seashore. (What is the second line?) Try it out.

Say this...

Toy boat

Toy boat

Toy boat

Toy boat

Toy boat... stop when you can no longer tell which language you are speaking in.

Red leather Yellow leather Red Leather Yellow leather

(Silly Heather, Crazy Heather, Silly Heather, Crazy Heather)

:) bye bye

Apple pie.

Olive Juice!

The Top Three Most Embarrassing Points in My Life So Far

Ok, if the word 'fart' offends you please read no further...

1. Yes, you can see where this is headed I am sure. Picture me as a teenager, a large Sunday School room, metal chairs arranged in a circle for serious Bible study, and a girl who got the giggles. Unfortunately, I had also eaten something that hadn't agreed with me. Add that to the helpless giggles that only a 14 year old can succumb to, and you get a very loud noise, that to this day, makes me blush.

2. More teenage angst. Summer camp, a tight dress with a zip down the front. Bench seats that had to be straddled... Ok, I'll give you more on this one.

It was the final night of camp. It was a special dinner night, and most of us had paired up with a member of the opposite sex. I was with Donny. I nice guy who was real sweet. When it was our tables turn to line up for dinner, we headed for the trays and filled them up with the usual camp fare. We returned to our seats and as I raised my leg to straddle the bench and sit down, the zip on my very fashionable denim dress decided to break.

Since the zip traveled from the collar to the hem, quite a lot was revealed. Poor Donny looked up at that moment, let out a gasp and quickly looked away, as all gentlemen should do! Luckily I was close to the kitchen, so I hobbled off through the back of the hall, clasping my dress and then ran to my cabin to change. A very memorable moment indeed.

3. Ok, I figured we all have those teenage angst moments, so I've decided to share NO. 3 which is a rather recent experience.

I was staying at my mother's house last month. Now, one thing I like to do regularly is get my leg hair waxed off, along with other bits and pieces, that I will not divulge at this time. I was due for a wax job while I was there and asked my mother if she knew where I could go to get the job done. (stunned silence) "Why would you want to have that done?" Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

So, I took it upon myself to look this service up in the phone book. I called several places that advertised 'waxing' only to find out that they only did facial hair. (Thank goodness I don't need that!) Anyway, a few minutes later, my mom's friend arrives, so my mom asks her where I can go. Her friend (who knows exactly who she is) dissolves into a fit of giggles. They then ring, another gal on the phone, again... more giggles and finally a few phone numbers are produced.

My dad also was in the room, throwing in various cheeky comments. Then they all found out that my man was travelling up to see me a day early... and then the giggles and the commentary started up again.

Oh dear... well, it is my body, my hair and I don't see what is so funny about getting it waxed. I think perhaps the whole bloody town knows about it now anyway. You would think the old biddies would be a little more mature and worldly by now. ;)

I Went Snowshoeing and Bigfoot Grabbed Me

You know how it is... You are having a lovely day, tromping through untouched snow with your snowshoes on, when all the sudden a giant monkey-like figure reaches out and grabs you! Yes indeed, I was very lucky to escape with my clothes on!

My man (well part monkey actually, who stands at 6'8") took me on a wonderful snowshoeing excursion on my recent trip to Bend, Oregon. He claims to be Bigfoot, but no one will ever really know.

Neither of us had ever done snowshoeing before, so after strapping on the rather large shoes (his much bigger than mine), we headed into what can only be described as a winter wonderland.

At first it was all down hill. The cloud cover kept the temperatue from dipping too low, and the exercise warmed us from within. About 30 minutes into the hike, snowflakes began to drift down like angel kisses. As we walked on, larger flakes floated down to greet us, making the snowy scene surrounding us more beautiful.

I had this overwhelming desire to take the moment and put it in a bottle and hold on to it forever. Snow is as foreign to my neck of the woods as lizards are to your bathroom (see previous post).

We were working our way to a 'promised' shelter and finally made it after a good hour of hiking (uphill for the last 10 minutes). After warming up in front of a wood stove and having a few snacks, we headed back.

The sun came out as we concluded what turned out to be a 5 mile treck. It was just on the ebb of setting and as we took our final steps in the snow; a pink tinge formed on the clouds. The perfect end to my day with bigfoot. :)

Lizard Karma

I don't know if you believe in karma... the golden rule... murphy's law, WHATEVER! But I have a lizard tale to tell.

I recently split up with my husband and moved into my own apartment. As I've written before, as a single woman I've had to deal with an array of cockroaches, spiders, and other bugs on my own. No point in screaming and jumping up on furniture if no one is there to 'rescue' you and take care of the assorted vermin.

Now, I don't claim to be anything less than a complete sissy when it comes to these issues, but I get on with it anyway.

However, everyone has their limits, and mine were reached last week when I opened my bathroom door and found a rather large lizard sitting in my tub. To use my daugher's phrase, "I freaked out!" I called the afore mentioned ex, and was told to deal with it and that I was lucky it wasn't a centipede. Fortunately, in this town there is a lizard and snake catcher, so the problem was taken care of quite quickly. Whew...

Well, not exactly the end of the story... Still feeling a little on edge, I entered the bathroom two mornings later, bleary eyed and ready for a shower, I stifled a scream when I saw a disgusting centipede crawling up my shower. It was about 8 inches long and as thick as my thumb. Uggghhhh... I even called the lizard catcher... who prompty told me to just sweep it up with a dust pan and brush. Yeah Right! Well luckily, my ex came and took care of the horrible creature.

Two days later... I walked in, now incredibly wary... and found a huntsman spider on the ceiling of the bathroom.

I don't know about you... but I feel as if these creatures were trying to tell me something....

MOVE!

Grateful

Recently, I had to pay a visit to our local Centrelink office. (The equivalent of welfare office.) I qualify for a few government rebates now that I am a 'single' mum. I had never been to this place before.

As you might expect it was quite depressing. The mood was somber. People were shuffling slowly through lines or waiting for their name to be called. The receptionists seemed friendly and could crank out a smile for each new person who approached their desk. However, I immeadiately had the feeling that this was the last place I could work.

I walked in and had to wait in a line that moved slower than cold honey. Then once I was 'seen', I was told to wait in a small seated waiting area. I was informed that the wait was approx. 20 minutes. HA!!! Never believe government workers that have the ability to smile all day long.

A cool 50 minutes later, someone finally called my name. I can tell you this experience was only one notch higher than waiting in the emergency room. At least I wasn't in pain. Well... not at the start.

Finally, after an hour long interview, my forms were lodged, I was informed in a professional and politically correct manner that I would hear back about my claim one week from today's date. Bla bla bla. (See, I could never work there!) I really am not in to bureacracy and form filling outings. I am not a 'go by the book' kind of girl. But at times one must jump through hoops to get the free bucks... Right?

The worst part about that place, was seeing the people lining up for their welfare payments. I don't want to generalize, but if you want to find the 'down and out's' of life, the broken hearted people in humanity... the welfare office is a good place to start. Made me kind of think... how I sit here in my lovely shop and complain about 'work'. What I really have is a choice. I own a business and I have a teaching degree. Choice gives us freedom, and keeps us out of the welfare office. For that I am grateful.

Work

As I sit here staring at a pile of bills I must pay, and invoices I must file and phone calls I must return, I realize that all the 'must do's' in life can be quite crippling.

I HATE being told what to do, or how to do it. I don't handle criticism well, and I have problems with authority. Basically I am a suburban housewife rebel.

Now, I also own my own business, a 'mother and baby' shop in my small town. Part of the allure and glamour of running your own business, is the independence. I don't have to answer to the 'man', I am the 'man'! I can work my own hours, make my own decisions and spend as much time on my computer as I like. :)

The problem (and usually there is one) is that I lack the motivation to do the real work. I hate paying bills, sweeping, unhappy customers, etc. Basically, once the glamour and idealism wore off, it just became a job. Ho hum.

So, what kind of job does a lazy, suburban rebel housewife, disorganized procrastinator do? ;)