On eBay

I'm an occasional eBayer - I like it a lot though. I figure it's like every garage sale in the world distilled and (hopefully) you can find pretty much whatever you want. I'm very excited about my latest eBay purchase: boots. I think buying boots on eBay is risky, because they are definitely the kind of thing you need to try on. Somehow - by sheer chance - I've managed to get lucky and score a great pair of flat black boots.
And here they are (excuse the knees, please):



It's really not a great photo, but you probably get an idea of what they are like.
I think I am in love with these shoes. And purely because I LOVE a bargain. I have been in desperate need of some shoes that are suitable for winter - up until now I've been trying to get away with still wearing my summer sandals to work. The other girls, meanwhile, all wear great-looking boots. Most covetable.
I was after a flat pair because I only do heels now and then. Plus I have to walk about 10 mins to the train and in the afternoons there's the kid to wrangle as well.
So, for some reason, a week or so ago I decided to search eBay for 'black flat boot size 6'. After scrolling through several vomitous pairs I stumbled on these. They are a size 6.5 but I figure a $2 on a pair of inner soles could sort that. The pic made them look silvery: emailed seller to confirm they were actually black. Still I didn't bid - too unknown.
They went unpurchased and were subsequently relisted. By now I was regretting not buying them. You see, they are Gary Castles boots, supposedly with an RRP of $269. The starting price was $30. Nice. I decided to take a punt on them. This time round there was a little interest in them and the final price was a whole $41 ... plus $9 postage.
The boots arrived on Monday when I was laid up in bed with an appalling migraine. I'd also sprained my ankle on the weekend, so I didn't even open the package (no point,there's no way they'd go over the swollen ankle). When I did get around to it I was very pleased with the look of them - hardly a scratch. Next issue: they were rather, er, snug around the calf. One afternoon's wearing and they are stretching nicely. Am feeling most smug about my $50 investment. Granted, they may not be exactly this winter's shape or style, but I imagine they will last me several seasons.
This eBay experiment proved much more successful than some others I've carried out in recent years. There was the Country Road t-shirt I bought for my nephew last Christmas. Brand new, tags on, nice colour, five bucks. What could be wrong? Well, I found that out when it arrived: the fabric was terry towelling. Bleurgh. Not something you could pick up in a tiny picture. Then there was the time I bought my all-time favourite bottle of perfume, Samsara, on eBay. The bottle was new and seemingly a great bargain ... again, disappointment when the parcel arrived and said scent was a teeny weeny 5ml purse-sized bottle. My fault for not reading carefully before I bought.
So, yes, it's buyer beware - you win some, you lose some.

Red noses, red eyes

Yesterday was Red Nose Day. Every year I'll buy a pen or make a donation, but this year was different. Because on Monday one of E's little friends at family daycare was buried. He died of SIDS and that is the cause that Red Nose Day funds go to.
I couldn't let the day pass without doing something - neither could R, our carer. She hasn't slept properly since L died. I guess we just were looking for something, anything that could provide some kind of outlet for what we feel at the moment (her even more so than me - she loves all the children that she looks after like they are her own).
And so on Thursday we hit upon the idea of having just a small afternoon tea the following day - coffee and cake at R's house when all the parents arrived after work to pick up the children. We would all gather, eat a little, have a chat and make a donation to the Red Nose Day cause.
We let the boy's parents know we were doing this, and collecting money in memory of L, and they decided to come along.
Their grief is raw.
And how I admire them for getting up and coming out and visiting the place where, just weeks ago, their little boy used to be looked after, and seeing the other children who will grow up and play and laugh when their son will not.
They sat quietly at times while the rest of us talked about work, kids, daily life. But they also joined in, saying things like "L used to do that".
I wonder how I would react if I were in their shoes - would I have met up with the parents of the other kids at daycare if I had buried a child four days ago? I suspect I would not. And yet I realised as we talked that those poor people must go on, they have to remember that L was here. He was here. We knew him, we adored him. We will not forget him. Perhaps when you have lost a child who could not yet speak well, you feel an even stronger need to cling to his presence on this earth ... I'm not sure why I think that; maybe because words inform so much of what we perceive as individual character?
Arriving at R's place we all gave the parents a hug and said how sorry we were. The words are pitifully inadequate yet still we all, of course, offered them. There were lots of tears, but there was laughter too - it's hard to articulate, but in that kitchen there was almost this sense of solidarity, of a quiet kindness that goes beyond words. About 15 of us went, we all lingered, leaving only when the kids were ready to be taken home to bed.
To just be there is all we can do.
Last night I couldn't sleep for thinking about the pain those lovely people have had to endure, but today I feel a kind of warmth when I think of the dozen or so people who just came, looked some fellow parents in the eye, offered a hug and then sat and chatted with them.
It was only a small gesture, but I hope it has helped them ... if even just a little.

Flying high

The lady who looks after E recently visited China on a holiday and she came back with kites for all the kids. Yesterday we went across the road (we're fortunate enough to live one house from a large expanse of park) and flew it. E hasn't ever seen a kite in real life. He was most taken.



It was a reasonably windy afternoon and the kite flew without too much trouble (and despite the fact we used too-heavy twine as the string). It was up...



It was down ... and tangled (of course).



I'd forgotten how much fun it is to run as fast as you can with the wind in your face and a kite fluttering behind you. So much fun.



I think he liked it too.

Life sucks sometimes

It feels a bit wrong to sit here and write this post, treacherous almost. Because what I am about to write about - thank God - is not my grief, not my pain. I'm merely standing on the perimeter of it.
E goes to Family Day Care while I work and we dropped him off this morning to hear the devastating news the one of the little boys who also goes has died of cot death. He was 18 months old.
By 18 months you think you're out of the woods. Worse (if it could actually be worse - possibly not) is that it happened when the family were overseas on a holiday. It also happened in the middle of the day when the boy was laying down for a nap with his dad.
All of us who knew him feel heartbroken beyond words. But that is nothing compared to what his parents must feel. That we cannot know.

Bathrooms

One of the first projects I have in my new job is writing a rather large story on kitchens and bathrooms. The following piccies are not featured in it (for I am not that silly!) but they give you an idea of what I am spending my working hours looking at.

There's the amethyst bath - seriously. Now, amethyst is my birthstone but I'm not sure I'd like to bathe in a chunk of it. Distinctive or too OTT? What do you think?



There's the stone basin. More organic, more my style...



I dig this bathroom too...



And how 'bout a loo with a stripy lid?



So imagine the blow when I come home to my rented home and lay eyes on my teeny-tiny, extremely out-of-date bathroom:



Sigh.

Disturbing at the library

Occasionally I take E to storytime at the local library. He loves it. The librarian puts a heap of effort into entertaining the kids and the stories he reads are always fantastic.

But there's a problem. Nothing to do with the library or the stories: it's the mums.

Well, one mum in particular. I just can't bear to watch what she does to her little girl. The daughter is about 3 and every week this particular mother pushes (literally) the child forward in front of the group to do a dance or read a story or some other little thing.

I should add at this point that the girl in question is not especially outgoing or effusive. In fact, I would say she is quite shy.

Truly, it makes me cringe to see the girl made to do that sort of thing ... all so the mum can glow in the "oh, isn't she so clever" praise. I guess that, as a person who's always been fairly shy, I would hate that. And so I feel the girl's pain.

While that mum continues to go the storytime sessions I will not be going. I can't bear it!

Delicious

Ready to check this out? It's the most lovely setting in which to eat lunch. This is an old mill turned five-star restaurant in Montenegro. Spectacular food, unbelievable setting. Here's the full view:



Oh dear, the things we do for a moment's amusement on a rainy afternoon at home...!