Mousetrap

Anyone else enjoy this game in the sixties? It promoted the idea that catching mice was fun.
Well it's not.

Many of my friends have a mouse story to tell at the moment. Here, we've seen - and caught - the occasional intruder since the first one was sighted on Christmas Day, usually by setting traps over night and disposing of the body the next morning.
On Mothers Day I was sitting in the Comfy Chair reading when one brazen rodent trotted happily past, just a couple of feet away, and disappeared under the fridge.
I found a trap, baited it with a choc bit (cooking chocolate for the uninitiated) and went back to my book. A short time later, the mouse ended up with its head clamped in the trap.

But it didn't die. And this was the worst part. I was alone without backup, and worried it was going to escape and crawl under the fridge to die a slow and odorous death. I once killed a rat with a broom handle (because my boys were at risk) and was not keen to repeat the experience. I debated using the dust pan and brush to move it, trap and all, outside, admittedly to avoid having to witness its demise, but even as I moved closer to consider this, the poor creature gave its final death throes and passed into the rodent afterlife.

I found this really disturbing, and it put me in mind of a conversation with a young lad at work a few weeks ago who it seems "loves his shooting". Nothing better than a weekend with a gun and a few roos for target practice. When I expressed distaste he immediately trotted out the arguments about them being vermin, providing food etc.

But my issue is that people who shoot have no problem watching animals die. It doesn't matter why they're shooting, but that moment of watching a living, breathing creature suffer and become still, is not something anyone should relish.

I kill mice because I will not have them in the house and they haven't left when I've asked them nicely.

But I do not enjoy it.

Mothers' Day Catalogues

I wrote this seven years ago. I'm pleased to note that as well as pink pajamas, Mothers' Day catalogues now feature pink digital cameras, Nintendo DS and pink toolkits.

Mother’s Day

I’m leafing through the latest Mother’s Day catalogues deciding which items to circle and leave lying around in strategic places should the family need a little help.
This is what I’ve discovered so far:
Four different brands of hair straightener and one curling iron
I didn’t know straight hair was so popular!
Ten pages of perfumes and beauty products
No four-year old boy (or husband for that matter) should be encouraged to buy these for you unless your tastes are very well-defined.
Fluffy slippers and pyjamas with bears
I read somewhere recently that adults with bears on their clothing is a sign of serious psychological disturbance. But I guess they’re ok on the PJs. Still, a bit mumsy. Just because you’re a mother doesn’t mean you’re condemned to a life of flannelette.
Electrical appliances
Do NOT give Mother an iron (except one of those $500 ones I saw advertised recently, and then, only if it’s accompanied by someone to actually DO the ironing.)
Underwear
Would you buy your mother a bra for Mother’s Day? Should my four year old buy me one? No, no, no.
Chocolates
Well ok. I have no argument with this!
Exercise balls and get fit videos
You should tread very carefully here. This is a present that should not be given unless specifically requested!
And my own personal favourite:
Wind chimes that “simulate the randomness of natural wind”
Great – you can listen to irritating tinkling without the bother of actually going outside and getting your straight hair mussed up.
But of course all I really want for Mother’s Day is hugs from my special people.
Well ok, maybe hugs and chocolate.

Grumpy over grammar

Me: "A flat white coffee, please"
Coffee Person: "Any sugars with that?"
Me: "If I'd wanted sugar I would have asked for sugar (singular)."

Check out Person: "Did you want a bag?"
Me: "Well I did, but now I don't."

Serving Person: "Is that all today?"
Me: "I don't know. I may come back this afternoon."

Red things

Every year I particularly enjoy the grape vine outside the kitchen window as it changes through the seasons. It will be spectacularly red for a short time before shedding all its leaves for winter. The vine is rumoured to be nearly as old as our house which was built in 1891. I like the way it intertwines with my tomato bush which is still covered with green tomatoes in April.



Last week my sister came back from a holiday in Japan and brought me this beautiful red lacquer tray. Will have to find something very special to put in it.




I used to have a lot of exciting shoes. People meeting me in the street often looked first at my feet. Since giving away all my high heels I've struggled to maintain my standards.
I found these this week for $45. I'd just been to visit my sister's sister-in-law who was in the neurosurgery ward after falling off her horse. Whilst there I talked to the Lord Mayor who had fallen off his motorcycle. He told me someone I'd worked with was also on the ward. In the last week she'd had surgery, lost the ability to read and been given 18 months to live. I spoke to her briefly. What do you say? She said at least it was 18 months rather than one day. A chance to do all those things you've always wanted to do, I suggested (but couldn't because you were being sensible, or waiting until it was convenient).
I'll think of her every time I wear these shoes.

Junkmail Junkie

My name is Beth and I'm a junkmail junkie. A closet catalogue collector.

Every week at least a truckload of catalogues get shoved into our letterbox. I rescue them, smooth them out, then sit down with a nice cup of coffee and enjoy leafing through.

My boys give me a really hard time because they say it's a huge waste of paper and hypocritical given my views on sustainable resources.

So I wonder, would I enjoy catalogues as much if they came by email? I already get a few that way, various things that I've subscribed to including retailers that I've handed my details over to because they shamelessly promised me discounts and frequent shopper points.

And yes, I quite like them, though I tend to read them in a hurry, while I'm sitting at the computer doing other things.

So I don't think they give me quite the same buzz as free, unsolicited catalogues in my letterbox. There's something about the unknown, and the unexpected that surpasses things you've chosen to have delivered. You never know just what might be lurking in the pile (it was a huntsman once, but even that didn't deter me).

And they're useful when there's a birthday coming up, because you can circle something and leave it lying around in the hope that someone will get the hint.

So I keep resisting the calls for a "No junk mail" sticker on the letter box, and any day now the Mothers Day catalogues will start arriving. These are not just fun to read, but make some interesting statements about society's view of mothers.

But that's for another day.

I am woman, hear me roar, if that's convenient

I'd heard a rumour that there's a generation of women out there who think that feminism is a dirty word, and that it was all very well in its time, but that time is over and done with.

I'd never met any of these women until today when I found myself involved in an online "robust discussion" after I'd expressed surprise at a young man referring to his wife as "the wifey". Wifey I find old-fashioned and irritating, but THE wifey I find dehumanising.

Apparently this expression is now viewed as "cute and ironic".
How views have changed in the space of one generation. Yes, I'm old enough to be these girls' mother, even though my sons are only 10 and 14 (I was a late starter).

I missed by just a few years being part of the generation of women working for the public service who immediately went from Permanent to Temporary when they married and then had to resign as soon as they became pregnant, but I am old enough to have experienced overt and direct discrimination.

When I first started teaching, women only had to contribute 2.5% of their salary to superannuation. For men, it was a compulsory 5%. At 21, retirement seemed a long way off, so I opted for more take-home pay.
Now, those men who started at the same time as me are planning their retirements soon with a very healthy retirement benefit. Not so the women of the same generation, particularly since they probably had broken service to produce and raise the offspring.
I started saving for retirement seriously at age 31 which means I've still got a few more years to work.

Another event happened when I was working in the UK in the late 80s. I was told I could not wear trousers to work. Didn't matter if I had to routinely crawl under desks to plug in computer outlets, Women Did Not Wear Trousers. If I hadn't been on 3 months probation at the time I wouldn't have taken that one lying down.

And there are countless other examples of much more subtle discrimination. It still goes on, and anyone who says otherwise just hasn't been around the traps long enough.
I've worked for some fabulous bosses where everyone was equal, and I've worked for one or two where this was not the case.

My sister who is a senior IT manager in a company in Sydney comments that in order to stay up to date with all the company gossip routinely exchanged between other managers, she would have to play golf or hang out at cigar bars. Very much a boys' club.

So the glass ceiling may come as a surprise to the new generation who still believe in their invincibility.
Or maybe they will just refuse to accept that such a thing is possible and thus shatter it once and for all.
If that is to happen, it will the require the new generation of men to also refuse to accept any form of discrimination.

And that includes language.

Chocolate and technology

I love my new blog image. I think I'll use it for Chocolate Before Breakfast (the novel) as well. Nothing says chocolate and technology like a milk chocolate keyboard!
But to correctly attribute its source, I found it at www.livbit.com and it was designed by Russian Michael Sholk, who apparently lives in St Petersburg. The link to his website is broken so I'll have to do some research if I want to get his permission to use it.