choreplay

I found this gem in the Sunday Life section of The Age a couple of weeks ago.

"Choreplay" is a term born after research found that having a partner do the laundry, unload the dishwasher or vacuum the living room doesn't just put women in the mood (for sex I assume), it also reduces stress and improves their general health. 

You don't say? And there's that phrase again down at the end, domestic gods... What is the world coming to?

In other news, there's been an increased level of washing and other housework here the last few days. The house had reached a level of filth neither of us could abide, and we have guests arriving to sleep on the foldout and on the floor. Musty bedlinen has been washed and aired and last night as I sat at my computer and listened to the thunder and rain, I thought, oh well there's washing on the line but, yeah it's raining. Rain is good. Sheets wet, can't be faffed, will deal with it tommorrow. Imagine my delight when I saw that G had thought (and acted), with no prompting from me, to bring the washing in. How cool is that? 

bajamas

I think I love the Bananas in Pyjamas Playtime Book (Katrina Van Gendt,  ABC Enterprises 1992) more than any book linked to a TV show deserves to be loved. Indeed I love this book much, much more than Bananas in Pyjamas on TV which I find irritating and puzzling. On the TV show, the bananas are twins and the teddies are somewhat incompetent adults (as far as I can work out).

These books, of which there are three (all out of print and expensive online, but turn up at the opshop) are charming. Playtime (Grace calls it the bajamas book) was a favourite finisher for pre-bed reading for ages, followed by singing the song. In these books the teddies are clearly toddlers and pre-schoolers, doing familiar ativities and the bananas are most definitely their carers. There are other carers, like beetroot man and zucchini in bikini but they're not on every page. I'm not exactly what role the bananas have here but it's way less stated than on TV. And I just love the final page where one of the teddies is asleep in a Banana's arms and another teddy is being carried upstairs by the other Banana. It's so tender and sweet. Grace often goes awww and presses her face to the page (quite a common reaction when she sees affection in books). The Bananas could be foster carers, or run a wildly fun childcare centre. Perhaps gay male parents. Or some other set up entirely. I love how open it all is.

This ilustration is from the page: On Friday they all played with water. We've been doing quite a lot of that here lately. Setting up the plastic shell under the clothes line, once it's shady. Normally at the end of the day after I've bought the washing in. Gee, I miss the sprinkler though and squirting the hose. And deep play pools. We fill ours with one bucket. And I'm sure even that's illegal.

Still, there's something very Australian about this picture. We don't have frangipani and banana palms much in Melbourne. Maybe it's set in Queensland? Grace always points to the Banana hanging his pyjamas on the line saying, and his clean socks too. Do you think he might be yelling at the teddys not to squirt water on his nice clean washing? Oh no, a banana wouldn't yell at a teddy. Even if it was really, really hot and he still had to do some housework while everyone else played in the pool. Hopefully he got to sit with his feet in the water for a while afterwards. Without a constant barrage of requests for drinks and other stuff each time he sat down.

Feck it's hot.

crisp cotton sheets, drying in the sun

I do love to watch sheets billowing in a warm summer breeze. Knowing that they will be completely dry and ready to fold at the end of the day. That the smell of outside will keep in the linen press (in the bathroom even) for a good couple of weeks. The way the sheets snap when you fold them.

Feeling and smelling that outside crispness when you crawl into bed. Especially when the day was so long and busy that you forgot that you changed the sheets that morning.

This doona cover is 300 (or 350, but more than 250 which is the standard below which I don't think it's worth going) cotton percale from Target in a sale a couple of years ago, with many more years to go. Not my favourite colour doona cover (although getting better as it fades) but the nicest feeling one. Affordable luxury of the best kind. We also have a sheet set in cream, which I bought at the same sale. Divine.

ironing al fresco at midnight

Ya, haa, ha, ha. How far away from the truth is this? Mothers (and some fathers too, I guess) everywhere have been working away preparing for the Chrsitmas frenzy of feasting and exchange. I've seen women in the supermarket today with big round, I'm so tired but I just can't stop until it's all done eyes. I never realised how much work Christmas with children could be until this one. It should be more fun. It will be more fun.

And talking about presents, who in the right mind would give someone an ironing board for Christmas? Unless they really, really wanted one? The Christmas my dad gave my mum an axe as a present is legendary in out family. Don't do it fellas.

This picture is from a 2002 Home Beautiful, from a little section the back (hence the less than clear picture) where they poke fun at the appliances and household trends from the past. In the future it'll be breadmakers?

I feel as though I'm well behind here. Several pictures ready and waiting to have words put around them, including two from others which are my favourite sort. Hopefull there'll be some time for idle writing in the post christmas lull. Or I may just watch dvds on the couch. I certainly won't be ironing (unless sewing realated) that's for sure.

 

So anyway, I'm nearly all done. Because otherwise why would I be doing a blog post? Tonight after Grace unwraps presents from her Tasmanian side of the family (presents on Christmas eve is a German tradition so I'm told and spreading it all out works for me), eats some chocolate and goes to bed (hopefully), we're going to wrap her presents, put them under the tree and drink a bottle of lambrusco. All of it. And then tommorrow will come as it will.

So Merry Christmas readers!

first day of summer

Yesterday was gorgeous, warm but not too hot. A flower scented balmy breeze wafting through the garden. G did a load of washing and I watched it dry as I sat in the sunroom with my sewing. The washing stayed out all night but that's alright, it's summer now. Now, he's bought it all in because he's mowing the law, before the plums start to fall. Maybe I should go help with the folding, ahem.

No doubt, it will get hotter and drier. The balmy nights will give way to those awful, too hot nights. The sort where you don't sleep well and the next day is hard because it's still too hot and everyone is grumpy and tired, and complaining about the heat. Yet it's kind of relaxed because it's too hot to actually do anything but drink beer and other long cold drinks and eat icypoles. Early summer though, just lovely.