Tuesday, 29 June 2010


Stef made marshmallow yesterday and all the marshmallows in these pictures are GONE! Stef took some for her co-workers and the rest went to Mrs. A, my boss and Savannah's friend who just returned from Thailand.

They were soft, fluffy and awesome to eat. I plan to make marshmallow cones soon...

By the way, Stef got into the Sarjeant Art Gallery with her chips poster!

Thursday, 24 June 2010

Random bits

So, the little baby was in a cat fight (again, god I raised a hellion!). Few minor cuts here and there. She did manage to get quite a sore looking bite on her front right leg (arm?). I stuck her under dads nose and forced him to give a diagnosis. He assured me, with plenty irritation, that she'll be fine and she'll probably get an abscess. Then he waved me away as if I were holding the plague or a telemarketer. How can you resist that face? Who wouldn't want to cuddle Twinkles?

All that aside, its back the topic of: what's the use of having a vet-dad when he won't look at Twinkles? He'd rather chop sheep heads off and get their brain stems then touch her.

Isn't she adorable? Really! How could anyone resist that??? <- This is serious if I'm violating my 'only one question mark' rule.
Picture taken by Stef.

On to the next thing, here are the photos from the card board boat race.

Team Photo. By the way, I made the uniforms. I shouldn't say that, should I? They were...rustic...and that's putting it politely. Mines been banished to the bottom of the never-to-be-found again laundry pile.

News Paper article. Isn't that a hoot!

Even funnier! My mug shot! My name was Ava Bomber and I was apparently sent to Alcatraz for attempting to blow up NY Fashion week.

Any-hoo. Moving on, still haven't decided what to do next year. It is becoming a traumatic experience because I swear dad is hypnotising me to do Bachelor of Communications...I've never had a notion to do so before, but he's been quite persuasive, as if it's exactly what I've wanted all my life. Now I'm hyperventilating about needing that specific degree to have a life, never mind that I've already got a perfectly good bachelor. Mum scoffs at my soft dependent brain and says: "Stop listening to your father. You should do hotel management---you can get a job on a cruise ship."