The woman is always right...

...even if she's wrong, she's right. Always. So far my Beloved has only learned the basics of his training and has learned to say, "Yes Dear" whenever he seems uncertain of what should be said. It's a start but there's still a way to go. Sunday is church day. Beloved hasn't yet cottoned on to the idea that Sunday is not sleep in day. Sunday is the day that we have to be out of the front door in order to be somewhere at a certain time. He works hard during the week so I suppose a lie in wouldn't do him too much harm once in a while. What isn't good for his health however, is when he slips out the door, backs out the car and toots impatiently after I've been organizing kids and had to chase him out of the shower (I think he rather enjoyed that). Today I warned him in no uncertain terms that this would NOT be happening.

It happened.

So today was as good a time as any to teach this man a lesson in husbandly etiquette. As I made my way to the car I *politely* expressed my annoyance. The correct response should have been "Sorry Dear. You're right. It was very rude of me. I shan't let it happen again".

I NEED to get one of these for Beloved!

He laughed. That was his mistake.

"I am NOT getting in this car with YOU. I would rather WALK!" There. That should show him I mean business. NOW he would tell me he was sorry and start grovelling for me to get in the car so we could get to church on time.

He laughed again. Oh crap. Now I have to start walking.
Husbands are very much like children. One must carry through with a threat for them to be properly trained. So I started walking.

 Any minuted now he's going to pull up beside me and BEG me to get in the car.
Sure enough, Beloved stopped the car..."Get in!"
 What? That's not begging. That's a command!  So I thrust my double A chest out, threw my nose in the air and waved him on. HE DROVE OFF!!!

So Plan A had fallen to pieces. Fortunately, since Church is a 4.5km walk uphill, I had a Plan B. My friend R lives just around the corner and she's always late for church...except for today.

Plan C: Start walking. This is when I became immensely grateful that I was wearing my Chuck Taylors - only the coolest shoes ever.

Plan C had a hitch. The main route and the church are separated by a motorway. There is a bridge crossing the motorway...and I am scared of heights.

 I spent a good 40 minutes psyching myself up but when I saw it my fears took over. To be fair, this was NOT part of Plan A or Plan B. I crossed the road. I crossed the road again. I started to cry. I texted R to subtly let her know where I was. Knowing my phobia, she kindly offered to come and get me. Of course I assumed (wrongly) she'd read between the lines when I replied "No".

So I was stuck at the bridge, too scared to cross. I contemplated turning back and actually said out loud: "Well, I guess only God can rescue me now". And then...God reminded me that He likes me. I have lived in Rewa for 25 years and never knew that there was a walkway under the bridge (probably because it was only built two years ago). I don't have an actual photo of this walkway, but to me it looked something like this:

I'm pretty sure I heard the Hallelujah Chorus as I made my way along the golden path in the complete opposite direction to church (hey, it got me on the other side of that Bridge of Horror and I was able to get back onto the right street eventually).

I got to church. I was a little (a LOT) late. I was tired. My feet hurt. But I still had the last word when I saw Beloved, "Well? Have you learned your lesson?"

He laughed. I didn't.

Feel my butt

Not the best title I could have come up with for this post but this is what I finished up saying to anyone and everyone after I'd been to Denny's on Thursday night. It was not my fault that I wet my pants. I blame Coronation Street.

My weekly treat is to indulge in an ice cream sundae with my friend R. We normally have our girlie night on a Wednesday but this week we had to reschedule to Thursday - Corrie night. Usually, we both have strawberry flavoured sauce but on this occasion, I demanded chocolate. I'd just had words with my Beloved and I wasn't in the best of moods.  Can you believe that his final parting shot to me as I stormed out the door was, "What exactly IS a neanderthal?" I rest my case! R's beloved didn't benefit from my mood when I swung by to grab his wife either. His fault for having testosterone probably but I'm sure I can make it up to him at some point without actually having to actually admit that I was at fault for chewing his ears off.

Anyway, it was Thursday and I was sacrificing television history for a chocolate flavoured ice cream sundae. Being more than 18 months behind in NZ, we are only just up to the 50th anniversary tram crash (Street fans will understand the significance of this).

Anyway, I'm at Denny's with R and Corrie comes on their telly. Of course there's no sound or even subtitles, but that didn't stop me from being completely distracted from everything that was going on around me. I didn't even notice that R was sniggering and snapping pics of me staring at the screen behind her, completely missing my gaping mouth with my spoon. And no, you will not be seeing those pics here! Instead, here is a picture of a cute baby with slightly less ice cream smooshed into her face:

I thought I was doing rather well myself, being very discreet and making the right noises to what I thought was conversation. I'd barely noticed the nice young waiter bringing us full glasses of water. Suddenly, Fiz Stape flashed up on the screen in full birthing mode. Now, I've had four kids and can relate to this:

And THAT is how my drink went flying across the table, splashing nearby patrons before landing on the seat beside me. And yet somehow not a skerrick of the wet stuff went anywhere near my snap happy friend. I didn't want to make a scene (really??) so I sat frozen to my vinyl seat. Actually, the water had somehow travelled across, seeped under my butt and I was now STUCK to to my seat. Who knew that water had a sense of direction? Defying all the laws of gravity it began to work it's way from under my butt and up towards the front of my legs. It was all very dodgy- but probably not as questionable as a middle-aged woman holed up in the Ladies Room with her butt firmly positioned to catch the airflow of the hand dryer. I really should have remembered to close the door.

It didn't dry my butt OR give me any of the bacon promised in the second picture!

Just in case you're wondering...

...I still can't ride my unicycle. Unlike the one in the picture up there, mine is red. And it doesn't have training wheels. And it hurts me in places that a girl shouldn't get hurt. I had big plans to ride my unicycle while wearing my liquorice allsorts costume and making balloon animals. So far, I can do one out of three of those things, but the balloon animals are coming along nicely. I can make a poodle and a ladybug. And anything that doesn't turn out becomes a worm. I can make lots of balloon worms.

You know what would be really cool? Juggling knives, making balloon animals whilst wearing a liquorice allsorts costume and riding a unicycle.

No balloon animals. No costume. Just...no!

(ummm...is that guy up there wearing padding? Seems like a sensible idea...)
Too ambitious? Perhaps you're right. Baby steps. I'll start with my Elvis costume.