Are the yabbies more important than me?

Was the hot topic in my addled brain on Friday when Mat arrived home (finally finally!). Instead of my pork roast, he opted for the fresh haul of yabbies he brought down from Payne's Find (I felt a bit like Tom Cruise coming up against the lamb roast) which we went and cooked at Paul's place. I was hormonal and a touch hysterical, I've really missed him these last few weeks where the weekends seem to disappear without trace. The yabbies, however, were bloody delicious!

So on Saturday I woke feral and unhappy (and really, all created by myself for myself, because he was lovely the whole time) and decided the best way to cure the mood was to go to Bunnings. I bought herbs and peas and beetroot and asparagus (dare to dream) and set to work planting before I headed in to Northbridge to find the Moon Cafe and go to the poetry reading they have there apparently every Saturday. And you know I couldn't do it. I mean the going to the reading. Finding a park in Northbridge was hard enough, but when I walked into the cafe and saw the cohesive group in the back room I somehow felt a pause that wouldn't allow me to go ahead. On the walk back towards the gallery where I was parked I saw Janet Jackson (the poet, not the singer, thankyouverymuch) looking not much different to five years ago, when we had more in common than perhaps we do now.

I ate a sandwich at the gallery and read the newspapers and sat for a while, in the pooling warm sunshine of late afternoon. Then I bought a watch in the Myer stocktake sale and came home. And from then on, the afternoon and the evening were wonderful.

I came in to the house to find Kili on one couch, playing playstation, and Mat on the other with Richard in the crook of his elbow, both of them dozing.
We ate dinner together with candles, and even Kili finished everything but the pecan stuffing from the roast. The chocolate-mocha-chilli custard was a hit.
Prince of Persia the movie was not.

Yesterday, after a wonderfully sunny Sunday breakfast at Hilary's the boys went south for some blokey time and I fired up the lawn mower, and Richard retreated under the Landie. It was glorious, being outside all day. The lawns took ages, because I have let it go for too long, but bit by bit and bag by bag, I got it done, with another trip to Bunnings in between. So now I also have a new compost bin, that Rich and I assembled together, and some rustic terracota pots that I've put around the lemon tree as a bit of a border.

Then when it was all done, I sat and listened to random French country music and read my book. M and I went to Paul's to finish the cabbage and then watched Underbelly at home before a very unrestful night began. Stupid dreams, and cockroach encounters in the bathroom in the middle of the night. When the alarm went at 4 neither of us could get up. So we woke again at 6.30 and now it will probably be 11pm by the time M gets back to Newman, but I'm glad of the little extra sleep for both of us.

Today: analysis with Richard asleep at my feet, gym later on, then perhaps a drive to discover my new beaches. And of course, a little more pottering in my beautiful green kingdom.