It was hot today.
The mister went and sat under the Moreton Bay figs at the cricket. I went to a garden shop. The one where they sell ice creams. The boys sat on a garden bench with their pokemon cards and the promise of an ice cream, but not the Smarties one or the Bart Simpsons one. Those things are a rip off. And the packaging…
I desperately want to buy some of that bamboo or willow sheeting that you can pin against the fence. Our yard is so good neighbour fencing if you know what I mean. But that sheeting is all made in China, and I can’t bear the thought of all those pandas starving just to make my backyard look good for a couple of years until it goes out of fashion and I rip it down and send it to landfill. At this particular garden shop, the willow didn’t have any ‘made in…’ stickers, and I could have pretended that it wasn’t made in China. But I would have known. I said to the man behind the counter ‘is that bamboo sheeting made in China?’ and he preteneded not to know. If you want to do something about human rights abuses in China, slightly more active than not buying the bamboo sheeting, there’s a couple of actions on the Amnesty website at the moment. Now I’m so earnest, I’m even boring myself.
The mister doesn’t truly appreciate the genius juxtaposition of the geranmium against the succulent. I have shoved them between the gratings of the cast iron grilles I got the cast iron forgers to install, not long after the blinds. He has tried, but he doesn’t. I can tell from the way he dips, instead of nods, his head. It does kind of accentuate the grubbiness of the windows which we should have washed before the grilles were installed.
I am trying to re-create Frida Kahlo’s courtyard in suburban Adelaide. It isn’t going too well. I bought a grapevine as well. On a whim. To replace the other vine cutting, which seems to be just a stick these day. It’s a seedless flame grape that I bought today, but I bet it’s nowhere near as good as those flame grapes you can get from the House of Organics at the market right now. They are worth a special trip into town. I’ll refund your bus ticket if you don’t agree. Except if you live in Tuvalu or anywhere else outside Adelaide. Which is nothing personal. Just a matter of finances.
The discussion about where we should plant the vine turned into a disagreement about the state of the backyard, in particular the pavers, and what we should do to fix it. Like I said, it’s been a hot day.
And could someone train the dog not to jump on the table.
To end the evening, the mister has tried once again to convince me of The Iron Chef’s brilliance as a television show. I don’t get it. I still heart Survivor.
I think I got sunburnt today. Either at the garden shop, or later on, at the swimming pool where the boys got another ice cream, because they really were very well behaved.
One final thing: did you see that woman crossing Goodwood Road? Yes, the one with the Australian flags piercing her bun in that kind of geisha way. And her little girl walking behind, carrying that enormous bag of ice. It was strange, wasn’t it? Wish I’d had my camera.