Everyday someone gets married but that doesn't mean they are in love.
Everyday someone gets divorced but that doesn't mean that that is their choice.
Everyday someone becomes pregnant but it doesn't mean they can make someone love them.
Everyday someone becomes a parent but it doesn't make them a family.
Everyday someone becomes rich but it doesn't make them happy.
Everyday someone cries but it doesn't mean they are sad.
Everyday someone dies but that doesn't mean they are dead.
Everyday someone makes us smile and sometimes that is enough.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Friday, September 24, 2010
Robots 101
Apparently I am "good with children". In my life that could mean anything.
"Thanks for coming to our wedding! Because you don't have a date and you are so good with children we have put you on the kiddie table. The kids are going to love you!"
"Oh why do you have to leave the BBQ so early? It has been great having you look after all 20 of our kids while us parents have been getting trashed. You are soooo good with children."
"Because you are so good with children Angelina Jolie would like your phone number."
The funny thing is that I am good with children. Probably because I relate to them more than most adults and they serve as my scapegoat at social functions. At least if I am running around with kids or sitting at the kiddie table no one seems to notice that I have rocked up alone and usually the only one to do so. I would much prefer to hear, "Wow you are so good with kids" than..."So why are you almost in a retirement home and still don't have a boyfriend?"
So when my bestie calls and says she has a job for me that involves looking after kids all day and building robots, I get very excited.
All the parents are bringing their kids in to see where they work and I have the station called: How to build a Robot.
I have five different groups of kids, ages ranging from 4 to 16.
The teenagers are my hardest audience, as building robots out of duplo blocks is not exactly "cool". I have an hour with these kids and after 10 minutes they are done. All eyes are on me as I wonder what to do for the next 50 minutes. Needless to say it resulted in me making an ass out of myself as the kids taught me dance moves such as the sprinkler and dared me to do the splits (which I did and freaked them all out when I could actually do it -even though I am very old!)
Younger ones were much more impressed, as I take my building robots very seriously. The kids had to come up with names for their robots plus pass a gruelling Q&A with me about facts on their robots such as what kind of weapons they have, where was the robot born, who are its enemies and of course what was the robots weakness. The kids had some great answers.
One of my fav's was when asked if their robot was good or bad the child replied, "Well it is both. At night it is bad and at day it is good. But when the sun is coming up or down it can't decide as it can either be angry or happy. A bit like my Mum really."
Lots of fun!
"Thanks Paula. Kids had a great day. Did anyone ever tell you before that you are so good with children?"
That's great. Now if only I could be as good at dating as I am with kids.
Could always build my own robot and call him: Husband. He was born in Spain, weapons are oven mitts for pulling out pizza from oven and his one weakness is me.
Might just upgrade me from the kiddie table.
"Thanks for coming to our wedding! Because you don't have a date and you are so good with children we have put you on the kiddie table. The kids are going to love you!"
"Oh why do you have to leave the BBQ so early? It has been great having you look after all 20 of our kids while us parents have been getting trashed. You are soooo good with children."
"Because you are so good with children Angelina Jolie would like your phone number."
The funny thing is that I am good with children. Probably because I relate to them more than most adults and they serve as my scapegoat at social functions. At least if I am running around with kids or sitting at the kiddie table no one seems to notice that I have rocked up alone and usually the only one to do so. I would much prefer to hear, "Wow you are so good with kids" than..."So why are you almost in a retirement home and still don't have a boyfriend?"
So when my bestie calls and says she has a job for me that involves looking after kids all day and building robots, I get very excited.
All the parents are bringing their kids in to see where they work and I have the station called: How to build a Robot.
I have five different groups of kids, ages ranging from 4 to 16.
The teenagers are my hardest audience, as building robots out of duplo blocks is not exactly "cool". I have an hour with these kids and after 10 minutes they are done. All eyes are on me as I wonder what to do for the next 50 minutes. Needless to say it resulted in me making an ass out of myself as the kids taught me dance moves such as the sprinkler and dared me to do the splits (which I did and freaked them all out when I could actually do it -even though I am very old!)
Younger ones were much more impressed, as I take my building robots very seriously. The kids had to come up with names for their robots plus pass a gruelling Q&A with me about facts on their robots such as what kind of weapons they have, where was the robot born, who are its enemies and of course what was the robots weakness. The kids had some great answers.
One of my fav's was when asked if their robot was good or bad the child replied, "Well it is both. At night it is bad and at day it is good. But when the sun is coming up or down it can't decide as it can either be angry or happy. A bit like my Mum really."
Lots of fun!
"Thanks Paula. Kids had a great day. Did anyone ever tell you before that you are so good with children?"
That's great. Now if only I could be as good at dating as I am with kids.
Could always build my own robot and call him: Husband. He was born in Spain, weapons are oven mitts for pulling out pizza from oven and his one weakness is me.
Might just upgrade me from the kiddie table.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Aliens
Quiet one on Saturday night. Excited for my new book and happy to be in pyjamas and warm and cosy in bed. Yet my days of the home invasion are not done.
It is about 12:30am, the wind is blowing like you wouldn't believe and I am up to Chapter Five where the girl is being attacked by a group of guys.
I think my mind is playing tricks on me when I hear that group of guys not just in my head but in my house!
"Hello, is anyone home?" I hear someone call, as I sit in my bed wondering if I should pull out my baseball bat that lives under it or just poo my pants.
I do neither and instead go down and greet my new guests. There are four of them and they look drunk. They are now standing in my lounge room looking like they own the place.
"Hi guys can I help you?" I think being polite is a good way to start.
"Yeah your door was wide open so we thought we would come and say hello." This guy is looking through my cupboard and pulls out a bag of chips. I wonder how long these guys are staying.
"Well, thanks for dropping by but I am going to sleep now. You are welcome to take the chips though."
They all look a tad confused, like something isn't right, but soon I am escorting them down to the front door - that is just as they said: wide open.
My visitors are gone and I send them out into the wild wind (and turns out the party a few doors up).
After getting up five more times, as my front door continues to blow open all night, I decide I have had enough and stack a huge barricade of boxes, with DVD's of my documentary inside, in front of the door.
Night ends with a sleeping bag and mini camping trip behind door all night.
And yes I think at some point there I did poo my pants (just a little bit).
It is about 12:30am, the wind is blowing like you wouldn't believe and I am up to Chapter Five where the girl is being attacked by a group of guys.
I think my mind is playing tricks on me when I hear that group of guys not just in my head but in my house!
"Hello, is anyone home?" I hear someone call, as I sit in my bed wondering if I should pull out my baseball bat that lives under it or just poo my pants.
I do neither and instead go down and greet my new guests. There are four of them and they look drunk. They are now standing in my lounge room looking like they own the place.
"Hi guys can I help you?" I think being polite is a good way to start.
"Yeah your door was wide open so we thought we would come and say hello." This guy is looking through my cupboard and pulls out a bag of chips. I wonder how long these guys are staying.
"Well, thanks for dropping by but I am going to sleep now. You are welcome to take the chips though."
They all look a tad confused, like something isn't right, but soon I am escorting them down to the front door - that is just as they said: wide open.
My visitors are gone and I send them out into the wild wind (and turns out the party a few doors up).
After getting up five more times, as my front door continues to blow open all night, I decide I have had enough and stack a huge barricade of boxes, with DVD's of my documentary inside, in front of the door.
Night ends with a sleeping bag and mini camping trip behind door all night.
And yes I think at some point there I did poo my pants (just a little bit).
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