I've put in a vegetable garden. It may well be the world's smallest in-ground veggie patch. I don't think it would even be half a metre square, yet I've managed to cram in onions, carrots and some marigolds as a companion plant. I'm expecting some very miniature vegetables, or else some kind of carrot - onion hybrid to develop. I shall call it a carrion... or not! Gross!
I'm trying to teach Archibald to round up the chickens at the end of the day. He is trying very hard, but his learning is thwarted by Bug and Peanut "helping". They race around after the poor chickens, flailing their arms and squealing. The hens are no doubt severly traumitised by this, so I am not expecting them to start laying until Christmas. Poor chooks. Can a chicken get a psychologist? I'll have to look into that.
I've let the ball drop on washing my hair with bicarb soda. I was all for it, and thought my hair was looking fine, until I was in a blind rush one day. I gave in and washed my hair with normal shampoo and conditioner. And blow me down if it didn't come out the softest, silkiest, shiniest and most manageable it has ever been. So now I think I'll go crunchy for normal days, and use the bought stuff for special occasions. I will just have to try and remind myself that "washing my hair" or "Tuesday" or "playgroup" doesn't count as special. And before you try to convince me to use the bought stuff every day because every day is special (cause I know that, I really do) I think it worked so well because I used the bicarb before it. So I have to bake my cake in order to eat it, and put up with occasional bicarb days. (Hair aside, the oil cleansing method for my face is still working a treat. Hooray!)
In other news, I'm having a sook because:
a) there is a big bloggy conference on in Melbourne this week and I'm not going, even though it seems like every other Australian who owns a computer will be there. (If you're not going either, let me know, we can form a splinter group and sit around at home eating bonbons and pretending that we don't care what the cool kids are doing.) Although my not going is actually kind of a silver lining, because no doubt I would come across as a creepy stalker, knowing all these people and them having no idea that me or my tiny blog actually exist. That would have been awkward!
b) Mr A is away. This would be ok, but rather than doing it tough out field like normal he keeps messaging me about the latest pub he's visited or the cool movie they are about to see. Meanwhile, I'm rocking a whinging Bug (who is cutting four new teeth) and telling Peanut to put her pants back on. It's heinously unbalanced.
c) my back is keeeeeling me. Three years of ungracefully lifting two hefty children, and it has had enough and is finally making me pay. I am considering amputation at the neck, but Mr A might miss my nice... legs. I have an appointment with an osteopath next week. Has anyone been to one? Did it work or was it just expensive quackery? Even if it does walk like a duck, it's a health fund covered duck, so I figure it's worth a shot.
d) there is no d. My life is not that bad, actually. I really should put my big girl pants on and stop sooking. I'm loved, fed, warm and happy, I have great kids and some very funny chickens. Who can be sad when they have chickens?