Month: June 2005

I was just about to blog about how wonderful a weekend I have had until Rae told me that Phee, for the first time ever, tipped more than me in the footy tipping this weekend.

You’d think that this combined with a loss would have me swearing off football forever but, no, it’s exactly the opposite. To have a team that won the wooden spoon last year, and was unbackable favourites to do the same this year, take the stand out team of the season to within two points of a sensational win has made me even more proud to be a Tiger member. What a difference it is to have a team that will never say die and fight and fight until the bitter two-point end. But more of them later.

My birthday started well and thanks to some wonderful drugs, pain free. Presents in bed, coffee and paper out, a game at the ‘G and dinner on Victoria St. Who could ask for more? Rob jumped straight to the top of the brother-in-law-to-be list with a stunning Tragically Hip hockey jersey which mimics my Canucks retro jersey (Heh, I’m 1st on the Google Image Search for ‘Canucks Retro Jersey’).

Today we drove up to Shepparton for the Tiger’s regional family day. It was perfect weather – I can’t believe I had a t-shirt on all day in the first week of winter – and there was a massive turnout. The players who where were there (Richo, Deledio and Pettifer) were besieged by Tiger fans eager for a signature and hand shake, especially from the great man himself, who seemed incredibly shy. I stood back a little, I have a few chances each year to get players signatures so it was no big deal but mum grabbed my jumper and leapt in the fray, Sharpie in hand, and emerged triumphant. Now my Tiger jumper has Richo’s signature across the sash.

Mission accomplished we headed back to mum’s for afternoon tea, featuring her wonderful sponges and pikelets. Helen claims I ate 21 pikelets. I think she is exaggerating but I can’t be sure ’cause they were so delicious. I did manage to stop myself after three pieces of sponge though.

Now we’re back home, my unintended long weekend has drawn to a close. I can walk again, I’m one year older and I had mum’s sponge. That’s a great weekend in anyone’s language.

Oh, and someone else is pregnant. But I can’t say who yet.

Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday to you
Happy Birthday Mr President…..
Happy Birthday to you-ou.

Happy 35th Birthday to Tony.
As sung by Rae, cos I sound better singing a’la Marilyn Monroe, than he does.

Have a great day hon!
xx

A while ago (can’t be bothered looking it up – there’s a search box over there if any one is interested) a doctor told me I had gout. It ended up being a tiny broken bone on the ball of my foot that was causing the agony. An agony very similar to today.

Walked to bed last night, all was fine. Was woken in the middle of the night (hello pregnant bladder) so I got up, walked to the loo and walked back to bed, all was fine. Sleeping away, all was fine. Then it hit. The pain woke me up, I was trying to figure out how I managed to break my toe lying in bed and trying not to scream at the same time. Something, as they say in the classics, was very wrong.

I was meant to catch the train in to work this morning, something I do only once or twice a year and really enjoy, but that was out the window. I couldn’t put my foot down let alone put a sock or shoe on it. Rae rang and made an appointment for me and then came to take me to the doctor.

His instant diagnosis – gout. Great, it didn’t get me the first time so now it’s come back for another go. I have no idea what’s going on – I’ve all but given up drinking since ‘we’ became pregnant and even before that I’d probably have one or two drinks a week. I have to have a blood test tomorrow and I’m waiting for Rae to return with the magic capsules that will apparently allow me to walk again.

I hope she hurries.

She : “Why didn’t you call me back!?”

He : “You said in your message not to if it was okay.”

She : “So why didn’t you call me any way!?!”

And that is a classic example of why men will never understand women.