Lunch with the Babe

Today, I had lunch with the lovely Bush Babe and her husband, Mr Incredible. Violet and Dash were there, as well as another lovely friend of BB’s with her 2 children.

I have to tell you – they are all LOVELY. Not at all the 2 headed axe murders that people think they may meet on the Internet.

Bush Babe is stunningly gorgeous and her husband is quite an eyefull :) The children are well mannered and so gorgeous, they are the picturebook family.

Oh – and there’s no photographic evidence. How slack are we?

Lunch was lovely and I hope we get to do it again.

Oh – and the gossip wasn’t bad either…  Thanks BB and family, travel back to your place of residence safely.

It’s not Really…

I took the skipper to see a new doctor this morning. As is common when visiting a new practice, he had to fill out a ‘new patient’ form.

Much to the amusement of others in the waiting room, he had to ask me what to write in answer to all the questions. “What medications am I on?” “What’s the name of the specialist I see?” Finally, I said crossly – “For goodness sake, I am sure you can fill in the form by yourself. What would you do if I wasn’t here?”

Grumbling, he continued to fill in the form in silence.

I could not help but raise an eyebrow when, in the ‘marital status’ section, he carefully pencilled in “De-Fective“.

Perhaps he meant something else, but I wonder…

And it’s…

Done and dusted. And we got the asking price, which was a nice finish. The ‘home open’ was held on the weekend, and we stalked our own house by sitting on the opposite neighbours front porch with them sharing a few cups of tea, TimTams and watching the parade.

Some of the things we have seen in the 14 days we have had the house on the market have been quite interesting, if not bizarre. For example:

The man who stood out the front one morning just after sunrise, then walked down the length of the side fence on the neighbours side and continuously climbed the fence rail to look into our yard from all angles. He walked around and did the same thing on the other side;

The young couple who parked their  car around the corner (so we couldn’t see it?) the stood on the neighbours fence and proceeded to take loads of photographs of the front (which is on the Internet listing anyway);

The woman who stood under the the little gate porch in the pouring rain at dusk and shone her torch around the garden;

Then there were some conversations.

The woman who asked the agent if the television in the bedroom  (a flatscreenon the wall) could be left behind so she could watch ‘certain’ pay TV shows on it with her partner;

The woman who asked if we had nice neighbours, since her 3 dogs barked all the time and she wanted to live somewhere where people didn’t complain;

The couple wanted to know if the tumble dryer was included in the sale of the house since it seemed to be raining a lot more in this street than other streets (!).

Anyway, the people we have sold to seem really lovely and not unlike us in many ways.

I guess we can now take a deep breath and prepare to move on.

 

This is your handbag calling…

You know my mother Iza, is always good for a story. You might remember the lesbian cucumber  post, for one?

Anyhow, between trips  from the Wild West to over here to our sunny shores for a family visit, she is taking 2 glorious weeks at Norfolk Island. So telephone communications have been a little more frequent of late, understandably.

When my mobile chirps and I see Iza’s name on the screen,  I look forward to hearing news from family so I answer. But all I can hear is her talking and laughing with friends. I figure she probably doesn’t realise I have answered yet, so I wait a minute.

Or so.

Still a lot of talking.

“Hello, hello!”  I repeat, several times. “hell-looo?”

Talking.

“hell-looo! HELLO!”

Talking. Laughing.

I figure she has repeated her often done trick and left her phone in her bag, unlocked. Connecting the ‘go’ button with the side of her purse or her lipstick or any one of the umptyzillion things a woman of a certain age carts around in her purse, her phone has rang me on speed dial and she has no idea I am on the end of the line*.

*Again.

As Iza is becoming hard of hearing, she often has the ’speak’ volume on her phone turned up very loud or on handsfree, so I figure if I yell loud enough and for long enough she will know I am there.  So putting on the voice projection thing (being a teacher has it’s perks) I begin. “Hello! MUM. Grandma! Pick up!”  “Hello! Grandma! GRANDMA! MUM!”

I hear talking. A cackle. Laughing. Clueless is Iza.

I delve deeper. In the biggest deepest voice I have, I yell into my phone.

“THIS IS YOUR HANDBAG CALLING. PLEASE PICK UP YOUR PHONE”.

Silence. Then I hear a woman say “Iza – your handbag appears to be talking to you”.

Shuffle shuffle bump – then a soft and quizzical “Hello?”

“Hi mum”.

“Oh – it’s you!” she says. “Hello love, how are you?”
“Umm just fine mum, ta – -”
“What can I do for you, love?” Says mum. 
“Mum, YOU rang me.” 
“No I didn’t” she says. “I’d remember that.”
“Well mum, if I had rung you, don’t you think you would have heard the phone ringing?”

“I did”, she said. “I heard you calling me from my handbag. We all did.” 

Sigh.

Iza, you are not the only one who needs a holiday…

Stalkers!

Maintaining a house that is available for sale is an exhausting exercise. I knew it would be demanding, I’ve done it before. But I had forgotten just how much of a drain it can be.

First off, people want to come in at the drop of a hat. A quick phone call from my agent – “Hi, had a query call, can I show some people through in around, oh – 10 minutes?”- has become the norm.  I don’t mind really. I think our agents are fantastic and are wonderful. I like that they prefer private showings and often schedule back to back appointments with viewers. They don’t rush anyone, they take their time. Some couples and young families have been here for up to 90 minutes.

What it does mean though, is that I am not able to be home much on the days I am not at school.

Secondly, to me presentation is everything. And I am such a fuss bucket that I would rather be caught with dirty hair than a house that looks less than perfect, especially for an inspection. But it’s hard to vacuum, mop or mow when you are not home!  The surface areas have to remain clutter free. The stove clean, the bathrooms gleaming, the beds wrinkle free.  Every exit from the house includes hiding away the cat bowl, emptying the bins, picking up dog poo (!!!) and keeping logs smouldering in the fire place to create a warm, cozy feel.  Turn on the waterfall in the pool. Flip on the stereo to soft music.  Straighten everything and make sure the beds are gorgeous. Don’t forget to take the dog and his leash. A lot of work to head out for a loaf of bread!

Thursday afternoon a couple came through at 12.00.  Just based on calls of interest and appointments, we were not able to come back into he house until 7.30 that night. Yesterday, the 11.00 AM appointment turned into back to backs until 4.30.   I had to have geek boy up the coast for a camp by 6.30 PM. I have had my mother here on a vacation for a week before she flies to Norfolk Island – the poor woman hardly had time to unpack her suitcase. This morning I had to have her at the airport t 6.30 AM for her flight, then a call from the agent as we headed home meant we cruised around the neighbourhood until 12.00 today.

In between, when we are home, we hear the slow motor sound of people cruising by for a sticky beak. As they slow to a stop outside the house, geek boy runs in and yells “Stalkers!”

Of course he upside to this (and I am so happy to report there is an upside) is he ever growing liklehood of being presnted wih multiple offers, which is very good for us as the sellers. 

I am home right now and have washing in both the tumble dryer and the washing machine at the same time. I should not be wasting time typing – I have the bed linen to change but I am worried I’ll get caught mid sheet flap. I might just nip off and vacuum while I have time, then I can mop when it gets dark.

Here are some photos from the real estate listing. Would you stalk this house?