1. Doctor Who re-runs
The occupational hazard of being married to a theoretical physicist is the inevitable passion for lesser known sci-fi fare. Doctor Who is a huge franchise in the UK and Australia but I had never ‘eard of ‘im. Till we started dating. Back then, the series was about to get a major makeover and ABC was screening Every Single Episode since time immemorial. (If you understand that the Doctor is a timelord, you might’ve gotten a small kick out of that pun.) And so, I got to glance at almost every episode – from the time the aliens were nothing more than short men quivering in black garbage bags right till modern times, when Daleks fly while shrieking, “EXTERMINATE! EXTERMINATE!”.
Summer generally means awful television programming and dodgy re-runs, but it’s the first time I recall ABC doing the Doctor Who re-runs from Christopher Eccleston’s rendition. The timing’s fantastic, because it’s on at 7:30pm just when Arddun’s gone to bed and dinner’s about ready. And because it’s Tony’s favourite series – mostly ‘cos he’s quite sentimental about the whole franchise – and my favourite Doctor is currently on (I heart David Tennant like a mad thing), it’s just lovely man-and-wife time.
2. Like housework for chocolate
Now that I’m on welfare (earning minimum wage during my maternity leave, thanks to government’s Paid Parental Leave scheme), the household budget has tightened by mutual consensus. Personally, I’ve been playing a bit of limbo rock with myself, and seeing how low – money-wise – I can go. Already, I’ve unsubscribed to a heap of email newsletters promising luscious discounts on goods and services I don’t need. I’ve given myself a more challenging monthly budget, gone on more picnics, and embraced housework.
Why? Because idle hands can be the retailer’s workshop. The more chores I give myself, the less time I have to browse ebay.
So the first thing I did was to research cool housework apps, and then run out and buy them. But after I was done with that, I’ve started doing more chores outside of the usual list. I’ve never been house proud, so this is a HUGE step forward for me.
And of course, there’s the reward. Whenever I tackle the garage, for instance, or sort my now-too-small wardrobe, I give myself a small pat-on-the-back award. So far, it’s working really well. It’s enabled me to tackle large problem areas in the house that Tony and I had been avoiding for years. Procrastination OVAH!
Met up with Sal and B-saurus for a picnic at Regatta Point on Monday, after what seemed like ages. We keep in touch through our blogs of course, but nothing beats meeting the girls in the flesh. Together, B-saurus and Arddun crawled over each other, helped themselves to whatever the other was holding onto, and appreciated nature around them by ingesting it. Not fifteen minutes after Sal told me about B eating small branches from their backyard, I turned around to see Arddun with a chopstick-long twig sticking out of her mouth like an Audrey Hepburn cigarette holder.
But most of all, it was so good to chinwag with another mom on a similar wavelength – just to laugh and empathise over baby shenanigans, crazy things people say, and this whole being-a-mom-whoa experience.
As to the title – I was running late as Arddun had taken a longish nap in the morning, so I rocked up to our picnic playdate with McDonald’s takeaway. The McChicken Scorcher? Pretty darn good!