Owner: The Domestic Minx URL:http://thedomesticminx.squarespace.com Join Date: Wed, 21 Mar 2007 02:32:44 -0500 Rating:0 Site Description: Being a minx is delicious.
Add a big dollop of domesticity and you could have a recipe for disaster.
A hip-swinging, shot-slinging, globe-trotting member of the jet-setting elite leaves her expat world for housework, teenagers and a chance to write her Site statistics:Click here
je ne regrette rien 2007-10-12 00:54:42
I am rather fond of a little tale where an elderly lady, pensive in her last moments, recounts all the things in her life she wishes she could change, redo, try again,
if she had the chance.
Yes, she would sit in the sun a little longer this time around, eat another icecream perhaps, allow it to melt deliriously down her hand, take her time over a cup of tea, smell the roses and live a little.
Oh, if only she could, for just a little longer..
I am fond of that story for many reasons.
It's lessons are many, not least the one that reminds us that, at the end of the day, most literally, there is less time spent regretting the things one has done than the things one didn't do..
And it gives me hope.
In the past I have often taken extra time to beat myself up for the vast number of thoughtless, foolish, selfish things I've done in my life.
We've all done them. Some of them I've done twice.
On more than one occasion I've gone back and done them a third time too..
Ah ye
boot licker 2007-10-08 05:25:06
It is Springtime here in this wide brown land, dear reader, and with it has come the proverbial Spring Clean; a cleansing, purging and general re-evaluation of one's shit.
It began for me in earnest last week with the cleaning of the closet .
It continued this weekend with a full blown assault on the shed at the back of the garden.
It was thorough, it was conclusive and it was infinitely, embarrassingly and disturbingly revealing.
Indeed it was Apocalyptic, for I discovered three more pairs of boots that I had neglected to factor into my collection equation.
It appears, dear reader, that I do in fact, have 39 pairs of boots.
Yes. 39.
39 pairs of fricken boots.
Good God. Somebody help me, for I am in Trouble.
There is no denying it. I am The End of Days and I need therapy.
I am the owner of a full blown, growling, snarling boot obsession.
Call me the Imelda Marcos of boots, a fanatically flagrant female fiasco of the foot fetish for I cannot help myself.
I thought 36 pa
bada bling, bada boom 2007-10-05 04:25:22
The French are glad to die for love.
They delight in fighting duels.
But I prefer a man who lives
And gives expensive jewels.
A kiss on the hand
May be quite continental,
But diamonds are a girl's best friend.
Indeed, you may think these to be my own words, dear reader.
You may imagine me a creature of greedy hands extended,
grasping fingers grabbing with avarice anything that sparkles with the illustrious and luminous energy of that most fabulous of God's creations,
The Diamond.
But alas, you would be incorrect..
For indeed, while I do faun at the feet of the magnificent stone,
mesmerized by it's fiery brilliance,
I have come to see it as a warning,
a betrayal.
Indeed, for me, it is The Judas kiss.
My epiphany came when I was living in Balikpapan, sprawling seaport city on the eastern coast of Borneo in the East Kalimantan province of Indonesia.
The land was ripe with resources and the city of Balikpapan did a rich trade in gold, one of the many assets in abundance the
off the cuff 2007-10-18 05:03:01
Alas, dear reader, there are times I have found myself on the wrong side of the law.
I do not wish to frighten you but I must admit that at one time I had two warrants out for my arrest.
I was not running from the law, just avoiding it.
Indeed, it is precisely through my history of avoidance and nonchalance that I found myself, in the summer of '92, walking under police guard to the Mandurah Courthouse.
As you know, I have a very cavalier, renegade, if not thoroughly irresponsible attitude toward bill payment.
Even as we speak I have one disconnection notice, one threat of license suspension for unpaid parking fines, one Pay Immediately and another so cheeky that I have been compelled (again) to write Fcuk Off on it.
Yes, we have discussed this before. I know the deal.
I believe I can't be arsed dealing with it.
I know I've got it coming and, sadly, I don't give a shit.
It's a shame really. It's a major thorn in my husband's side.
"Just pay the bills when they come i
in flagrante delicto 2007-10-24 02:44:24
Having sex where I might get caught used to be one of my thrills.
Having gone to an all-girls Catholic school for eleven years had messed with my mind. By the time I was having sex I couldn't get enough of it.
It was decadent and naughty and all the delicious things that were guaranteed to send me straight to Hell.
Like icecream I had my favourite flavours, but guilty, bad-girl, naughty sex was the tastiest. The naughtier the better.
Indeed, it was the very badness of sex that made it so addictive.
Oh and I was greedy. Where and when didn't matter as long as I got it when I wanted it.
No one wants a tantrum now, do they?
So I always got my treat.
I got it in the car, I got it on the beach, I got it in the University typing room, I got it in the library, I got it in a hollowed out log in the bush, I got it in my wardrobe, I even got it behind my friend's sofa when she left the room to make a cup of coffee.
Intoxicating and exhilarating, the thrill of inappropriate pleasu
a slap-up meal 2007-10-21 00:31:37
I must confess, dear reader, there are times when only a meme will do.
When one has been inordinately consumed with writing one's novel, wrenching spirit from the very heart of one's innards, ignoring such trivialities as meal preparation, general housekeeping, the call of the wild;
When one's free time has been spent further avoiding such business by shopping, answering emergencies with wine and cigarettes, doing lunch, entertaining girlfriends;
When the time that one should be spent sleeping off such over-indulgence is assigned to such previously avoided tasks as sweeping, mopping, dusting and all other wretched and tedious fundamentals of basic housekeeping;
And when one inevitably becomes poorly...
Today (whimper), grieved by a sore and scratchy throat, a head awash with mucus, and with limbs flaccid and feeble, I discovered to my curious delight that a meme was anxiously awaiting my input. Courtesy of the very darling and deliciously talented Christina of Pa
eau de nil 2007-10-29 19:14:06 How beautiful it is to do nothing
and then rest afterwards...
Old Spanish Proverb
For someone who predictably delights in unabashed busyness and dashing about pell-mell, I admit to feeling increasingly endeared by the concept of reclining upon my arse and doing nothing.
Well, very little that is, except for The Absolutely Necessary.
After having been consumed almost every night and day for the past week with one social engagement or another, I am feeling a little frayed.
My colours are beginning to run. And I have become testy.
Not only have I found myself without the time to devote to my cruel mistress, "The Book"(She Who Demands to be Written) and indeed My Blog and all her friends, it appears there are areas of my home that have risen up in revolt against the lack of attention.
It was obvious this morning as I entered the kitchen that there was conspiracy afoot, my dishwasher, pantry and bench top all wearing that uncomfortable expression of contrived disregard. There wa
neighbourhood watch 2007-11-02 06:44:18
As the weather warms this wide brown land, the burgeoning bloom of Spring bringing with it longer days delicious and dry, it is with trepidation that I sniff the air.
Yes, for something wicked this way comes; a cloud looms portentiously, a shadow expectant and hovering over this very house.
Well, across from this house. Over the road actually.
It comes in the shape of my neighbour, a good neighbour really.
A friendly one.
Rather too friendly.
Unless you have been introduced on a previous occasion, dear reader, I will acquaint you now with Underpants.
That is how he is known round here.
For that is pretty much all he wears.
Everywhere.
Oh, not the tighty whitey kind, no.
Not, and I thank God for this, the Speedo, the Budgie Smuggler, Dick-Sticker variety.
Our Underpants favours instead the Scoop, the short, short scooped boxer-short style.
Offering maximum sun exposure, while gently disguising any sneaky running tackle displays, they ride high and loose on the thigh, nestled s Read more:watch
je ne regrette rien 2007-10-12 00:54:42
I am rather fond of a little tale where an elderly lady, pensive in her last moments, recounts all the things in her life she wishes she could change, redo, try again,
if she had the chance.
Yes, she would sit in the sun a little longer this time around, eat another icecream perhaps, allow it to melt deliriously down her hand, take her time over a cup of tea, smell the roses and live a little.
Oh, if only she could, for just a little longer..
I am fond of that story for many reasons.
It's lessons are many, not least the one that reminds us that, at the end of the day, most literally, there is less time spent regretting the things one has done than the things one didn't do..
And it gives me hope.
In the past I have often taken extra time to beat myself up for the vast number of
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