Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in.

You know I've never really understood that expression "Look what the cat dragged in." It seems to be used in the context of "Oh yes, and where have you been all this time ? We've been waiting for you." And is generally accompanied by the 'break it down now' beat of a foot whose owner wears the agitated expression of a bear coming in for his third swipe of the bee hive whilst dodging an army of bees wearing matching expressions of agitation. Which by the way, I am basing on speculation rather then known fact as bees have rather tiny faces and bear sightings have been few and far between around these parts.

But really, how does this expression equate to what the cat actually does drag in ? As the owner of two cats, it has been my experience that the cat usually likes to bring in headless rats. Well, sometimes it's just the head, sometimes it's the body, it's like her version of those new Barbie dolls where you can pick up various heads and mix and match them with the different bodies.

Now it may come as rather a shock to learn that I don't have an assortment of tiny, rat sized bean bags placed around the living room in anticipation of the next headless corpse (although I'm sure this would make for a rather entertaining dinner conversation when we have guests over). There are no teeny tiny welcome mats, no nuggets of cheese in the fridge (and lets face it, that would be just a plain old waste of good cheese because it's awfully hard to eat cheese when you are lacking a head). Really there is nothing but a dustpan and broom on standby to unceremoniously scoop up the remains and launch them, medieval catapult style, into the bush.

So where was I actually heading with all this ? Erm..I can't really remember..but I am here to say that although my blog posts have been rather sporadic of late, and although I am pretty sure I don't in any way, shape or form resemble a headless rat, I am trying to come back and find my blogging mojo.

Last night I proudly attended the NonAusBlogCon2011 (attended in the sense of put on my Ugg boots, grabbed a glass of wine and planted myself in front of the computer to follow the Tweet Stream of all the bloggers who were down in Sydney attended the Aussie Bloggers Conference 2011). And although I went through a short period of insane, teeth grinding, hair tearing out jealousy that I was not actually attending the AusBlogCon2011, following the Twitter Stream was a timely reminder that we here in Australia are building a formidable collection of smart and savvy bloggers who it would seem have loved meeting each other IRL (that's' in real life' for those of you who don't frequent Twitter) as much as through all the wonderful stories which flow throughout the blogging network. And quite frankly, I have missed my bloggy pals, so I am determined to pull my finger out and get blogging again.

Now that I have that out of my system, I am off to live vicariously through all the blog posts about AusBlogCon2011 whilst daydreaming about AusBlogCon2012 and perhaps hand stitching a small, rat corpse sized bean bag cover. Watch out Melbourne, this is shaping up to be bigger then Ben-Hur.

The Unlikeliest of Battle Arenas.

I never really thought that two common place objects, found in our bathroom, would come to define where The Coach and I stood within our marriage. For all I know, The Coach is blissfully unaware of this fact, but me, well I know that there are sneaky little mind games at play and by jove, let it never be said that The Waffler won't rise to the occasion to engage in a spot of friendly warfare.

It actually began some years back, when it came to my attention, that regardless of how many times I shared the secret location for my stash of excess toiletries, The Coach seemed incapable of restocking items that had run out.

As a dutiful and loving wife, I would sigh and and shake my head with a little tolerant smile, as I reached under the bathroom sink to hand The Coach another bar of soap or fresh tube of toothpaste (thankfully he has mastered the toilet paper location, because lets face it, we all have our limits).

I couldn't pin point the exact turning point in this behaviour, perhaps it was around the time I realised that both of my children were now capable of finding and replacing the soap or toothpaste, but one day, I thought, hang on just a minute, why can't he do it ?

And that's when the battles began. By battle standards they are fairly subtle and bloodless events (flossing doesn't count), but the steely resolve is there, mark my words. Just last week, as I spent five minutes trying to extract the very last grain of toothpaste, I thought perhaps I had gone too far. That if I didn't lay down my (imaginary) sword we would be facing a life of gingivitis and shag pile-like layers of plaque. I glanced at the five cent sized piece of soap and thought of the sudden inexplicable lack of invitations to all social events and pictured my children's sad little faces as I would have to explain to them that mummy and daddy weren't allowed to leave the house anymore because they were both stinky, battle weary warriors.

And so I caved, with the soap, and I walked out of the bathroom with my head hung sadly in defeat. But lo and behold, when I came back in the evening to brush my teeth, there sat a gleaming, fat, fresh tube of toothpaste. My friends, I believe this is what's known in battle terms as an impasse, or a double white flag, but either way, I think we have made progress, and that makes me a very happy and clean little Waffler indeed.

The Sea of Imagination

It probably won't come as any great surprise to you to learn that I can often be found floating on my back in The Sea of Imagination. It's rather a lovely place to drift about in, which I'm sure you would know, as I am certain that I wave to many members of the blogging community as they slowly pass me on gentle currents of their own.

My Sea of Imagination is fed from many different rivers. The River of Literature. The River of Film. The River of Theatre. The River of Music. Well, you get my drift (excuse the pun, I just couldn't stop myself). With so much wonderful creativity pouring into it, my Sea is always full to the brim and I don't think I could stop myself from popping in for a little float, even if I wanted to.

But this brings me to another point, an observation if you will. As many of you may know, Le Artiste is now nine, and catching up with friends is a favoured past time. So I have been watching the nine year olds at play, and it has saddened me to see that their Seas seems a little more like ponds, some, mere puddles.

This is not to say that they don't have bursts of wonderful imaginative play, but I often seem to encounter blank faces and those words which can drive the most patient of souls straight up the walls, "But we are bored. There's nothing to do."

Keep in mind that these are mountain children. Children with access to large yards, an abundance of trees, many family pets, the odd lake (yes, truly) and so much opportunity it makes my head spin. They have heaps of books, vast art and craft areas, trampolines and swing sets. How on earth can they be bored ?

Well, I don't know, perhaps it is an unavoidable part of living in modern society where computers, gaming consoles, mobile phones and iPads are common place. But I for one will continue to dust off the Secret Seven, Famous Five and Moomintroll books to try and encourage my children to build their rivers, expand their ponds and join me for a dip in the Sea.

And A Big Warm Welcome to 2011.

Hey ho you lovely little Peeps, and a very Happy New Year to you all. If I am going to be perfectly honest, I had all sorts of wonderful plans to start this new year off with a bright and shiny new blog layout. Oh yes, it was all happening, sort of, in my head at least. But as is often the way with wondrous plans...well...it didn't really pan out. Time, or lack of, has been rather a problem of late. Where on earth have the days been going ? It's all been a blur of socialising, singing .... oh yes, *ahem* did I mention that I have been dusting off the pipes recently ? Well if we've engaged in happy banter on Twitter you would know all about that, but if not, I'll fill you in later. What else ? Oh yes, I've been playing with my new toy, my Christmas gift from The Coach, a Bamboo Fun graphic tablet and pen.

Oh what fun I tell you. I have been absolutely bamboozled by the endless options that are available on this baby. Now I don't want you think that I am being big headed or anything, but really, I think I am an absolute natural on the tablet and pen. It's a gift I tell you, I'm sure Monet felt exactly the same way when he smeared his first glob of oil paint. No, truly, look at this.........

Yup.....uh ah.....mmmmmm......I can tell that you are speechless because you are so incredibly impressed right ? Admiring the exceptional use of colour and texture. The skill used in those perfect outlines. Perhaps you should squint your eyes and tilt your head to the left ? No ? Okay, try standing on you head whilst wearing a pair of sunglasses, I know you know what I'm talking about.

Oh okay, perhaps it still needs some work. But the point is that I am having a great deal of fun trying out all the different mediums whilst I bumble around the program. Rome wasn't built in a day you know.

Playing and drifting days aside, I have a really good feeling about 2011. This is the year that I intend to grab the proverbial bull by the horns and just go for it. Life is too short and I feel like I have been in a holding pattern for the last few years. This year I intend to shine, one way or another and I hope you'll enjoy coming along and sharing the ride with me :)

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays.

"Bauble, bauble on the tree, who could the fairest Ken doll be ?"

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays from all of us here at Casa Del Waffler.

And thank-you for following my inexplicable waffling through 2010.

I luvs ya all :)

Ken and the Epiphany : Part Three

"I do appreciate the effort you have gone to Ken, but I'm still dubious about the sequined K and the lack of pants."

"Pins like these just aren't meant to be hidden Batman. Now can we get on with the first lesson, I have a souffle in the oven and Babs just isn't reliable in the kitchen."

"Wait...is that..."

"OH NO, wait right there Batman, I'll go grab the rubber gloves and some Sugarsoap and I'll have that smudge cleaned off the wall in a jiffy."

"Ah no Ken. That is the Bat Signal. Someone needs our help. You'll have to learn on the job, just follow my lead."

"Uh Ken, you'll find it hard to follow my lead if you keep running in front of me. *Sigh*"

Meanwhile, not too far away......"So I was like OMG, you are so right, I totally can get away with pink leggings. Um Hans, you're like totally missing that spot on my lower back, what sort of massage did you say this was again ?"

"Bwah ha ha ha. Now that I have The Hand under my control and Barbie #648887 in my grasp, I will crush Batman and Casa Del Waffler will be mine....ALL MINE."

"Oh hey Ken, I dig your outfit, nice sequins, have you met Hans my masseuse ?"

"Oh no Batman, it's Barbie #648887, and that Hans looks like no masseuse that I've ever seen, and quite frankly, I have seen one or two masseuses in my time."

"You're right Super K. That's no masseuse, it's The Hand and Evil Big Head Boy. Keep your wits about you, inside that big head is a big evil brain. We could be in for some big trouble."

To be continued.....

And the winner is.....

Drawn under fairly poorly supervised conditions, the winner of my 'thank you for following' giveaway is.....the lovely Ms Cindy from Bugandpop. Yay, hurrah *round of polite applause*. Thank-you to the lovely Peeps that joined in and a big "hello" to the newest additions on the conga line, I do hope you'll stay and play, I hope to be much more forthcoming with rambling little blog posts when the conclusion of the school year dust settles.

In the meantime I hope you are all enjoying dance concerts (oh yes, we will be so much wiser to all that next year and I hear that g&t in a plastic drink bottle is the current beverage of choice for the discerning dance mama), various class presentations (still trying to work out how the Thriller zombie inspired dance performance from Le Artiste fits in with any sort of Christmas theme. Although it must be said that I am probably doing a masterful interpretation of a zombie at the moment, so perhaps those nine year olds are more on the mark then they realise) and gnawing on the hundred or so spare candy canes collecting at the bottom of your children's school bags.

Yep, the countdown has begun and the smell of Christmas is in the air. Do you know that smell ? Part cinnamon and nutmeg and part frantic desperation with a top note of childish glee. It's all Eau De Christmas Peeps, take a nice big lungful and enjoy.