Weekend Reflections

Aren’t these weeks just flying by? I am seeing all the signs that the end of the year is screaming towards the finishing line like a freight train being commandeered by a crack whore. Invitations coming in for Christmas parties, Kris Kringle lists coming together, plans being made, plans being changed and of course holidays being finalised.

It is a frickin mad time of the year don’t you think?

So it was exceptionally excellent to have a chilled out weekend under my belt.

We spent Saturday morning at North Sydney Pool,  which is one of my all time favourite places in the world.  It is situated on the harbour. Not a bad spot to read the paper and cool off.

I was delighted to find my Leunig Calendar amongst the paper. I do not know why,  but we always use that calendar. I take some comfort in in. And Mr Woog likes it because it is free.
All that swimming and reading and perving can certainly work up a woman’s appetite so we shot into Ripples for a delightful lunch.
I do not neglect my kids,  it is just that those tattoo’s are near impossible to remove.
Later that evening Mr Woog and I went to meet a famous author and her clever clogs husband for dinner. We had a drink beforehand at a cool little bar where I declared myself to be old,  unattractive and straight. Dinner was exceptional. We ate at Una’s where the schnitzel was as huge as the waitresses attitude.
I am sitting here writing thinking that the weekend was mainly about food…….
Anyway,  yesterday we packed up the car and drove out to my Mum’s for lunch. My mum is the world’s best cook.  It is a fact. I made a round of Vodka, Fresh Lime and Mint cocktails which promptly sent me to sleep for two hours. I lay in my mum’s bed dozing and listening to the sounds of all the cousins running around in the garden. I lay there and thought “I am having a really nice weekend…..” And then Mr Woog came in and said “Get up,  it is 4pm.”
Back to the city. Doing the usual Sunday night chores of finding school uniforms and lunchboxes and rustling up a dinner of toasted cheese sandwiches before shepherding two exhausted boys into bed. I gave myself my usual Sunday Night Facial, where I was not delighted to discover that it seemed I had decided to do Movember this year.
I sat on the back verandah having a cigarette when Mr Woog came out. “I had a great weekend.” I told him.
“Every weekend should be great.” He replied. “Life is too short not to have great weekends.”
So then I teased him for a bit for sounding like a Christian Missionary.  But something he said stuck with me. And this morning I whacked on a Nicorette Patch.
I just hope this time it sticks.