I spent yesterday wandering around the Blue Mountains (I'll do a whole other post on this) and this morning prancing around with preschoolers dressed as first a pirate, then a fairy.
The first party was for 3 year olds, adorable as they are I must say there is an alarming lack of innate intelligence apparent in the latest crop of youngsters.
5 years ago when I first performed children's parties the 3-5 year olds astounded me! They were intelligent, intellectual, conversationally adept (as much as 3-5 year olds can be) with some verging on astute!
Somehow in the past half a decade the median intelligence quota for this age group has reduced alarmingly.
4 and 5 year olds now seem to be slightly "with it" mentally but 3's are downright dimwitted! Wether it is attempting to coax the attention of them while dressed in suspenders and a hard hat as "Bob the Builder's sister Jane" from where it perpetually rests in most Mosman houses - firmly on their mother's manicured hand clutching her Riedel glass brimming with Dom Perignon - or explaining not to eat the plastic paper from the sides of a cupcake these children are..rocks! The opposite of the "sponges" people often synonym young children to.
Personally I think I would be extraordinarily upset if I accidentally produced one of these simple minded small-fries! I would imagine that if I put in the effort of gestating the thing for 9 months and signed in blood for the hundreds of thousands of dollars it costs to raise one I would feel cheated!
Although it's not often admitted to I imagine most would feel the same way. And of course prospective parents are too wrapped up in the excitement of jumbling their genes in a roll of the deoxyribonucleic dice to consider that this is plausible, much less possible! Everyone thinks their little Jimmy or Jenny is going to be the next Einstein, Barack Obama or at least manager at the local upmarket dining establishment. Then again I suppose that is what keeps us procreating..the possibility of progressing the population through our progeny.
Blech, musings on a topic which really doesn't interest me. I must be tired. Must be all that left over fairy bread I didn't want to let go to waste..those Hundreds and Thousands are lethal, you know..!
Due to the extraordinarily chilly temperatures already present this winter I have begun an ingenious practice I call "tag toweling". Count your blessings, I will now share its brilliance with you.
It is a commonly acknowledged fact that there are few things more pleasurable then hearing the "BUZZ" of the clothes dryer finishing its hot cycle, rushing to the appliance and climbing into whatever article of newly heated clothing promptly presents itself. (Then again I generally put everything on and bask in the shudder of pleasure that follows) This is the principal behind "tag toweling".
My bathroom coexists as the laundry with the aid of a sliding door. This means I can place my towels into the dryer before my shower begins and, faster than the speeding bullet, leap from my lobster-bath on tiptoe the two steps to wrench open the dryer door and wrap myself in the toasty cotton treat which awaits me.
Australia, Sydney in particular, is in for one icy winter they tell us. (So much for "Global Warming"! I think "Global Cooling" would be more appropriate. I think I'll teach myself to hibernate if we ever reach another ice age. Eat too much, curl up in a ball, sleep. ...Ok, not much to teach..)
The temperatures have been steadily dropping and lately I have found that one balmy bath blanket simply doesn't hold enough heat to satisfy my craving to close my eyes and imagine I'm on a beach in the South Pacific for the desired amount of time.
So, I hired it an assistant! My two blue towels, one light and one dark (somehow the dark one seems to get hotter..I have no idea if this is scientifically possible but hey, I'll take what I can get!) wait for me to eye the shower with anticipatory excitement, pop them in the tumbler, flip the dial to "hot - 60" and proceed to lather up and wash down for as long as our pathetic hot water heater will allow (still leaving some for my poor housemate).
When the dials are eventually spun to the right I burst forth from the glass cubicle and mantle myself in the light blue towel. Quickly the heat wears off and in one fluid movement the towel becomes a bathmat and I am engulfed in the dark blue towel.
Soaking up the placebo of its greater dark-blue warmth a catlike grin appears across my face at my unending ingenuity.
Please folks, feel free to try this at home.
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