Tonight I made lasagne from the Edmonds Cookbook. I think the last time I made it was in 1985, and my friend Lee and I made it together from an Australian Women's Weekly cookbook that she had. It seemed complicated, which is why we made it together.

Tomato-mincey goodness, cheesey cheese sauce, pasta. What could be better?? I thought if I added in some broccoli and mushrooms, that'd make it better. Sweeney disagrees. He's taken a dislike to the mushrooms he sees in his food. The ones he doesn't see slip down just fine.

In other news, it's been a busy weekend. Today Sweeney went for a jaunt with Regan and Susan today. Sounds like they did a bunch of things, including some time at Te Papa, and encounters with Regan and Susan's cat.

Then he and I headed up to Helen's to wish her some Happy Birthday tidings. Sitting around with a bunch of fab gals and a table of cakes. Sweeney played trains and drove the older kids a bit mad with being only four years old. They're such great kids and put up with a lot from him.

And I found this blog. I'm thinking some comfort reading is right up my alley right now. I finished Everything is Illuminated a few nights ago, and am ploughing through Butterfield 8 right now. It's tremendously uncomfortable reading, to be honest, and I'm tired and just want nice things to read now. So next up is Julie & Julia. Food and fluff. Ace.

Oooh!! And I got to check out our second-newest neighbour today. Wee Lily's three weeks old and looking gorgeous. Her mum and dad are knackered. Lily sleeps most of the day, then parties all night. She looks good on it, though.

And the newest neighbour?? Strangely enough, another addition to the street popped into the world a week after Lily. I haven't caught up with her yet. Knitting up a storm's worth of little boots in the meantime ...

Joan

It's been a big couple of weeks. Biggest news is that Sweeney's grandma died last week and was buried on Tuesday. She was really nice. She took nice to a whole new level. She made nice people look rubbish. She was actually supernice. There was a big turnout for the funeral.

One thing I really like about funerals is the stories you hear. I found out that Joan was actually a bit of a slob in her youth. Left her clothes on the floor, kept her room like a tip, that sort of thing. This wouldn't be news, except that I always knew her as the tidiest, cleanest, most fastidious person ever. Can't wait for that transformation to come down on me.

Sweeney's been on the go. Here are some highlights:

• turns out Sweeney can ride a bike without training wheels. I had no idea. I think he had no idea, either. He just wanted to be like his friend Frank;
• he's been pottering in the garden with me, now that the afternoons are stretching out a bit. Noticing buds forming on trees, flowers on the bean seedlings, the bowl of hyacinths blooming on the deck;
• he's been catching up with his cousins, especially Victoria and William, who were up for the funeral;
• actually, the funeral was an absolute blast for him - he wore his Spiderman shirt, enjoyed hot and cold running uncles, aunties and cousins, the lovely Jackson, chocolate slice, football out the back of Grandad O'Neill's house, throwing clumps of clay into Grandma's grave with William while the uncles filled it in. When we got home, he curled up on the living room floor to go to sleep - so knackered;
• Blessing came for a sleepover last weekend. Everyone was completely exhausted by the time it was over. Just how it should be;
• Sweeney's been just the loveliest company the last couple of days. Actually, much longer than that, but there was a Terrible Incident on Wednesday and it blew the good run. I hate to say it, but I think sticker charts really work at cutting back the obstreperousness ...

Here's a picture Sweeney took on the night of Joan's funeral. We went home the long way and stopped at Breaker Bay to take in the hysterically full moon and the water.
Oh, and so much more happened, but I can't remember what I had for lunch today, let alone anything from last week. We did stuff. It was nice.

Holiday

Go on, love. Have a day off from the chores.
And for goodness' sake, put a cardi on. You're 52, and it's freezing outside. You'll catch your death.
Happy birthday, Madonna!!

Om(mmmm)a Rapeti

I've been getting a lot out of yoga classes over the last month. I'm especially trying to make the most of the relaxation stuff at the beginning and end of each class, but I meet with varying success. The meandering thoughts are one thing, but today I couldn't even keep physically still. Here's how it went:

Teacher: "Focus on the breath. See where the breath takes you."

My mind: "Man, I'm loving marmalade right now. Funny how you go off things for a bit, then rediscover them and ... oh, breathing. Brea.thing. Oooh, breathing feels nice. I can sooo take longer to exhale than that person next to me. No, no, no, that's not why you're here, is it? It's all about ... no, it's just not about competition. But still, heh, what an amateur she is. I am soooo excellent at exhalation."

Teacher, who has clearly been issuing instructions to the class for some time: " .... and that's the pivotal part of the body, so concentrate, focus everything on this part of the body ..."

My mind: "What the?? What part of the body?? Good grief. Oh well, no-one can see that I have no clue as to what the most important part of my body is. I'll just keep breathing. Breeeeeeathingggggg. Did I put the washing on before I came out?? Did I check Sweeney's bag for dirty clothes?? Oh, back to breathing. Breathing."

Okay, it's not as bad as the day I dropped off during the relaxation and awoke to find people doing actual moves. I love yoga so.

The picture above comes from this blog. I've been reading it this week - genius.

In other news, I made delicious spuds to go with our dinner tonight. Lemons and anchovies, vege stock. Awesome. One day I'm going to go the whole hog and do a vast fish to go with them, as the recipe says. Tonight, we found them enormously satisfactory with steak and salad.

And then I happened to be in the car when Peter Fry's show came on National Radio. He played an absolutely charming 1939 recording of Bud Flanagan and Chesney Allen singing Run Rabbit. I went home the long way, so I could hear it all the way through. Gorgeous.

There's a Mouse in the Kitchen

Our new flatmate, Maose, died a hopefully-not-too-heinous death in the cupboard under the sink. I've been sinking under the weight of that mouse for too long now.

I took a naive approach to start with, thought I'd be reasonable and just remove any chance of him having a nibble, and cleaning everywhere I'd seen that he'd been, with strong-smelling cleaning products. But it just forced him out onto the bench when he thought I'd gone to bed, and I'd hear him trying to penetrate the packet of rice crackers. So Dad got a trap, and smeared it with peanut butter and popped an almond on top. Yes, I researched bait a little bit.

It totally worked.

And the following night, it worked again.

I'm a little frightened that there's a whole community in there, and there'll be new little mice to trap every night, and they'll get progressively smaller and more adorable.

In other news, Sweeney's busting through the left knees of all his trousers, and his uncle Dom turned 40 on the weekend. There was much revelry. At Dom's birthday, not Sweeney's breezy knees. Happy birthday, Dom!!