I love Australia, and I love a day off to celebrate living in this bloody marvellous country. But celebrating it on January 26th is becoming increasingly controversial. Whether you agree with the reasons for this or not, you have to admit that commemorating the day that a bunch of Poms sailed into Sydney to off-load their unwanted is quite frankly, un-Australian.
So let's choose another day. And what could be a more Australian way of doing this than finding a period in the calendar that needs a public holiday.
The last Friday in November.
~The second half of the year is a bit light-on for public holidays.
~The weather's nice at that time of year.
~End of year exams and assessments have either finished and there's not much happening at school, or
~It's in the middle of exams and a break would be nice.
~It shortens the Christmas build-up to just December.
~It commemorates nothing, so it would upset nobody.
How great would that be? A day off (long weekend, no less!) with its only purpose being to celebrate living in Australia, that absolutely every single person in our wonderful country could enjoy.

Any way they want, even dressed as a Hills Hoist

I woke up this morning plagued by a question than I'm sure had troubled almost everyone at some stage... 'Why has no-one combined cake and popcorn in the one dish before?'

Well, people - wonder no more! I give you the world's first Choc-caramel butter popcorn cake....

To clarify - I'm showing you what it looks like, and I'm telling you it tasted bloody good - but I'm not sharing the recipe on the triple w's.
Oh no, if you want me to give you the recipe for this cross snack-group treat, you'll have to prove your worthiness - by showering me with compliments, or buying one of my books, or telling me how I can stop the popcorn from sinking to the bottom!

Well, I've been a devotee of rocking for a bit over a week now, and I can already  see why rocking chairs have, throughout history, been the favoured chair of many great minds. (eg Abe Lincoln, Pablo Picasso, Mark Twain, JFK and Dwight Eisenhower** were all enthusiasts of rocking.) 

   It's amazing - the minute I sit on my chair and settle into a genteel rocking motion I can feel myself transforming into a wise and perceptive being –  capable of complex thoughts and profound utterings, with quite the serene demeanor.


As you can see.

**While many American presidents were fans of sitting on a rocking chair, George W Bush was almost always off his rocker.


Anyway, with a  bit of research, I've discovered many other, more believable, benefits of rocking chairs. The following list is a combination of Google Facts (GF) and Trudie Facts (TF). Some of them might even be true – although probably not the TF.

1.The rhythmic rocking motion releases endorphins, which reduces anxiety. (GF)

2. It improves the flexibility and strength of knees, especially helpful after knee surgery. (GF)

3. You can burn up to 150 calories per hour rocking. (GF) Which means eating a Tim Tam an hour while you rock is a calorie-neutral activity! (TF)

4. It engages the core muscles. Rocking for one hour gives the same abdominal benefits as a 2 minute plank, or 100 situps.  It also works the calf muscles , and if you've read 'My Dot Points' you'll know how important that is to me.(TF)

5. Improved circulation helps prevent varicose veins. (GF)

6. Rocking increases creativity. The constant motion, combined with the sudden changes of direction of rocking mean that the synapses in the brain are jolted into making unexpected neurotransmission connections. (TF)

7. The negative effects of sitting and being sedentary are not applicable in a rocking chair. (GF)

8. Kids (even teens) will do previously ignored jobs in exchange for a turn on the rocker . (TF)

9.Students with ADD and ADHD focus better because the rocking motion satisfies their need for movement, meaning they can stay alert in the learning environment. (GF)

10. It's just bloody good fun! (TF)

So there you have it. Get yourself a chair because rocking rocks!

This is the old night-time coop in the duck pen. Phoebe and Mike are in the foreground. Mike is a girl. (This is a gender statement,  not a comment on Mike's throwing ability,)

This is the flash new coop my husband built. He even varnished it.

It opens into the fenced pen, but the back of it is in the general yard.

This is the back. On Mac's first night in the coop one of the beagles dug a hole here. Not so big a beagle could climb into the coop. But big enough for a curious duckling to wriggle out. (Can you guess where this story is going yet?)

We searched. And called. The clever beagle knew just what we were looking for., and proudly retrieved him from where he'd left him.

(The hole has now been filled and concrete is setting.)

This is where Mac is now. And before you put your judgy hat on... no, we didn't bury him a nice resting place in the garden, because  a) if we did that the damn beagle would dig him up again, and b) he was a duck, not a great-aunt.

This is the beagle.
Tried.
Found guilty.
Jailed.

This is us.