Rick

All look same?

I just had the funniest (and slightly worrying) conversation with RIck.

Me: What’s the name of the Asian Wiggle?
Rick: What do you mean, there’s no Asian Wiggle!
Me: Yes there is, the one who’s always falling asleep…
Rick: You mean Jeff?
Me: That’s the one – he’s Asian!
Rick: No he’s not.
Me: Yes he is.
Rick: No way!
Me: Are you kidding me – how can he not be Asian?

He then reached for my iPhone and Googled it.

Oh and guess what? Jeff Fatt is Chinese, and is in fact “one of the most popular Asian performers in the world.”

Thank you internet, Google and Wikipedia.

I really don’t know what to make of this, except that perhaps being married to an Asian has somehow dulled Rick’s ethnic senses? Which then makes me wonder – what would he say about Dorothy the Dinosaur….?

(Did you know that All Look Same is now a blog?)

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Separated at birth?

Have you ever read your child a children’s book and been struck by how much one of the characters remind you of yourself or someone you know? This is from a book called ‘Reading’ by Jan Ormerod, and oh my goodness, this could be Rick with any one of our boys! Love it!

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Wedding flashback

I won’t lie, I suffered from a bit of royal wedding withdrawal over the weekend. The British Monarchy has never featured highly on my list of obsessions, but something about William and Kate’s wedding really captivated me. Even today I was still Googling the wedding and skimming through the official Royal Wedding blog and the British Monarchy’s Flickr stream and I even found myself imagining Rick in a red irish Guard uniform. But then I remembered – red’s not really his colour.

Our own wedding was also on a cold winter’s day almost seven years ago. Rick was all smart, handsome and ‘schmick’ in a black suit and ivory tie, while I was wrapped up in a gorgeous gown that literally made me feel like a princess. I had been pretty determined to find a fitted dress, but the moment I tried on the full gown, I knew that was it. It was so wonderful and so flouncy, but most of all, it made me feel happy. Very happy.

We got married before our minister at the church where we met before a multitude of our family and friends. I remember feeling like a bit of a celebrity with the countless cameras flashing before our eyes, especially when we walked back down the aisle together to the sound of I Want to Hold Your Hand by The Beatles (slightly less regal than the abridged version of William Walton’s “Crown Imperial” march, I must admit, but still British music nonetheless).

We had many of our wedding photos taken at The King’s School chapel, which Rick attended and where his dad Peter taught for thirty something years. The chapel was absolutely beautiful – even if it was a hundred times smaller than Westminster Abbey. It rained the whole time, but our photographer managed to capture some stunning shots anyway. And thank goodness someone had thought to bring an umbrella. It was also at the chapel that I discovered just how ‘handy’ my groom was – one of the straps of my dress had come unstitched and Rick deftly mended it for me in a matter of minutes. Talk about coming to the bride’s rescue!

Afterwards, we joined our guests for our reception luncheon at the nearby Oatlands House, which happened to be the same place where Rick’s parents held their wedding dinner. We were greeted with a beautifully cosy room, lit up with candles on every table. I remember how grateful I was for the warmth, having been outside in the cold all day (with nothing much covering my arms). It was such a thrill to be able to walk into the room, arm in arm with my new husband, and being introduced as Mr and Mrs Mason.

Funnily enough, I don’t remember actually sitting down and eating the food that we had so carefully chosen though I have a faint recollection that I missed one of the courses. I do remember, however, how truly special it was to be able to celebrate our marriage with some of our closest and dearest friends and family.

And of course, we waltzed. Just a little bit, anyway, seeing as we hadn’t intended to and consequently hadn’t bothered learning how to do it properly. Woops.

Most of all, I remember crying non-stop as I hugged my parents goodbye. Especially when I hugged my mum – my beautiful, selfless mum who had taken care of me and looked after me so well for twenty-four years.

But the most amazing highlight of the day?

I got married. To my husband. And every morning when I wake up, and every night when I go to sleep, I thank God that I did.

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Photo booth Wednesdays

One thing you should know about us Masons – we’re not ashamed to use that Photo Booth application! I hereby declare Wednesdays a photo booth day – a day where you get to see just how silly and shameless (and oh so very fun) we are here at casa Mason.

Today, Angus turns two and a half! So I thought I’d kick off the photo booth series by digging up something from the archives that always brings a smile to my face. It’s amazing how much these shots of Angus remind me of James, especially the head-propping technique that Rick is so skilfully showcasing here.

Life has definitely been much more colorful since Angus came into this world two and a half years ago. Just yesterday in the car, he called out, “Mummy! No roof!” I looked over to where he was pointing and sure enough there was a red convertible driving by.

And when Rick and I confuse Pete and James’ names (which I am ashamed to say happens every few minutes or so), Angus is always there to correct us: “No daddy – baby James!” or “No mummy – Peter!”

Thanks little man – what would we do without you?

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The colour red

Red is the colour of strawberries, which I love to blend with milk and honey to make thick and tasty smoothies.

Red is the colour of my two favourite Japanese restaurants – Mitzu in North Ryde and Jugemu in Neutral Bay. One serves the freshest salmon sushi and the other does an utterly delectable spinach salad.

Red is the colour of Rick’s old schoolbag when he was in kindergarten. It is actually a small suitcase, and inscribed on the inside is the word “Junk” in Rick’s youthful handwriting. We still have it in our home today – we use it to store Angus’ wooden train set.

Red is the colour of Peter and Mary’s Range Rover. They lent it to us when we needed to drive down to a wedding in Wagga Wagga with our friends Mike and Nikki. I remember clearly Rick’s excitement at finally being able to drive his dad’s Land Rover. Nowadays, Angus calls it “Pa’s big red car.”

Red is also the colour of Angus’ toy motorbike – a present from my friends to him on his first birthday. To me, the red motorbike is a novel reminder of the motorbike that Rick used to ride when we first started dating…

Red was the colour of my roses bouquet the day Rick and I got married. They were a rich, wine red and they stood out starkly against the ivory white of my wedding dress.

Red was the colour of my ‘qi pao’ which I wore to our Chinese banquet the next day. I remember how the ‘qi pao’ fitted me like a second skin and how I never wore it again after that night.

Red was the colour of the twelve roses Rick gave me on our first Valentines Day together as husband and wife. It was the first time he’d ever bought me flowers.

Red was the colour of Cameron’s lips. They were a dark, crimson red. For the rest of my life, I will never forget those beautiful, precious lips…

Red is the colour of the dress I wore on Christmas day, three months after Cameron’s death. The colour and vibrance of the dress masked the heavy grief that weighed down my heart.

Red is the colour of the spare chair in my studio. When Rick comes home on Friday and Sunday nights, he often finds me working at my desk. He sits down on the red chair, I swivel around in mine and then we talk and share and catch up on how each of our evenings went. I looked forward to those chats a lot. They are the rare moments of the week when it’s just the two of us.

Red.

One of the many colours of life.

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Chop, chop

Internet, meet my new fringe.

I have three things I would like to say about it:

1) I cut it myself.
2) Because of #1, I saved $50.
3) Because of #2, I now have an extra $50 to spend on something else.

I bet you never thought cutting your own hair could make you extra pocket money.

One friend has asked me how I managed to get the fringe so straight. Honestly, I don’t know. It was late one night and I badly just wanted to get to bed so I chopped it as quickly as I could (confident in the knowledge that my mum could probably fix it up for me if it went terribly wrong). But I have heard in the past that using a bowl helps. In fact, it seems quite straightforward to me:

Step one: Put bowl on head upside down like a helmet.
Step two: Cut hair following the edge of the bowl.

Of course, the challenge for me would be to find a bowl that’s big enough to actually sit on my big head. But that’s my problem, not yours.

Anyway, as you can see from the photo, the Love Me Baby wrap is back on deck in the Mason household! Oh, how I’ve missed it! The only thing is that Rick’s constantly throwing it in the wash, thus depriving me of the joy of actually using the LMB for more than a couple of days in a row.

I’m not quite sure how I ended up with a spouse who’s so much more concerned than me with clothing being clean. But at least it means that on most days, our family smells nice. Napisan nice.

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New big car

Daddy finally has a new big car.

Or so Angus will tell you.

It’s true though, we finally have replaced “the big car” with a new one. And not a moment too soon, considering James is popping out of me in ten days time and we actually need a bigger car so that the boys can fit in the back.

We found our replacement in Tasmania. Rick’s dad and sister actually flew down on the weekend and drove it up for us. This is what Masons do. Big cars. And road trips. (And motorbikes – but that’s another post.)

And so Angus came to compose his longest sentence ever:

“Pa, Sue pick up daddy new big car.”

That’s eight words, my friends. Eight.

Prior to that, the record had been four words: “Daddy big car down.” And to think we’d been worried our boy would never say more than just – “car”.

There is no denying it: this inexplicable love for big cars (read: Land Rovers) runs deep in our children’s blood – so much so that it actually empowers them to speak!

Even James starts bouncing around like a ball whenever I’m in the new car. Unfortunately for me, this causes undeniable contractions of my uterus and major concern on my part that I will end up delivering in the back of a Land Rover vehicle.

Anyway, in lieu of a photo of the real thing, the above is a model that Angus built to represent daddy’s new big car.

As you can see, the model has all that Angus considers as essentials: a spare wheel on the back (a “wheel back” – Angus), a big blue bar at the front, and a DVD player as represented by the orange Clippo in the centre of the car…

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To my best friend

So today is Valentine’s Day.

Rick and I aren’t the most romantic of people but today he did write me a poem:

Roses are red.
Violets are blue.
Today is Valentine’s Day,
And I’m thinking of you.

Gold, right? I mean, you can tell he put so much thought into that.

To reciprocate, I decided to dedicate the above collage to my better half.

These self-taken portraits seem to be our ‘thing.’ Along with Akubras and sunglasses. Don’t ask me why.

From top to bottom (left to right):

  1. This was back when we were dating in 2003. Very mature I was.
  2. This was on our honeymoon on the Gold Coast in 2004. You can’t tell, but we’re on a boat. I am clearly the maiden trying to distract the captain from his steering.
  3. January 2005. We went camping! Haven’t been back since.
  4. You guessed it, this one was taken in China outside the Forbidden City (who can spot Mao in the distance?).
  5. Holidaying on Hamilton Island in 2006, when I was still able to wear a bikini.
  6. At Lake Macquarie in April 2007, when I was 4 months pregnant with Cam.
  7. In Merimbula in December 2007, exactly 3 months after losing Cam.
  8. In Port Macquarie in April 2008, when I was 3 months pregnant with Angus.
  9. At the historical Gundagai train station, only 3 months away from Angus’ arrival.
  10. At the Memorial Gardens in March 2009, on Cam’s 18 month anniversary.
  11. Last September, on Cam’s three year anniversary.
  12. In Hervey Bay on our first family holiday with Angus and Pete in December last year. (Not sure how we managed to get two seconds without the kids to take this photo…)

To my husband and best friend, I love you deeply.

May our life together forever continue, whatever it may hold. I will follow you wherever you go. (Wow, I almost made that rhyme.)

Thanks for being you.

(And for always letting me position my head a bit further away from the camera so that it doesn’t look too big next to yours…)

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From shock to scrapbooking

What does one do while one recovers from the shock of one’s spouse being in a shocking car accident?

One does scrapbooking of course.

Here are the 427 miniature photos that I finished cutting today for Pete’s ‘first year’ journal.

It was a brainless task which my brain was very happy for me to be doing. It’s great when my brain and I agree. It happens once in a while.

Though my fingers are a little sore, there’s no time to rest.

All 427 photos need to be stuck down and I need to come up with somewhat meaningful and funny comments to go with each photo. Hopefully my brain will co-operate, having had a break for most of the day.

And for those who are wondering: The big car has been officially written off.

But my husband is alive. Thank God my husband is alive.

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Our big car is no more…


Our big car is no more.

On its way to Dubbo yesterday, it swerved into a ditch (to avoid a semi) and rolled. Thankfully, Rick and his mate both escaped with only cuts and grazes.

I am still in shock. Rick is still in shock. Angus is walking around the house saying, “Daddy no big car.”

I managed to hold it together until Rick got home last night. Since then, I’ve been a little bit of a bubbling mess.

I had had a bad feeling about the trip – but I had decided I was being paranoid and that the guys would be okay. I just can’t get out of my head how close Rick came to being seriously injured in the accident – or worse.

Plus I honestly can’t believe our new big car is gone. Our garage seems so empty without the monster of a car that took up almost all the room in it.

Even though we only had the Discovery for two or so months, I’d really grown to love it – which is weird, because I never knew you could actually ‘love’ a car. But it really had become a part of our family and family life in a very short time: we went on so many road trips in it, the boys absolutely loved it and even I didn’t mind having to jump in and out of the driver’s seat whilst being seven months pregnant.

But now it’s back to square one with finding a ‘big car’ before James arrives in two months’ time.

Anyone know anyone who’s selling a Land Rover Discovery (Platinum) with seven seats, automatic transmission and something under 170,000 kms?

If so, let me know. For now, it’s back to therapy for me.

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