Acknowledgements

I have been enjoying the poignant posts that so many bloggers have been writing under the title ” I am”. They read like poetry. They evoke feelings of familiarity about people I have never met and places I have never seen. I can almost smell and taste the responses. I was invited to complete one of my own. My sister did one first. Hers is so beautifully written and contains so much of my own childhood that I am going to allow hers to speak for me too. Please note though, as the eldest, I ALWAYS had a window seat in the back seat of the car. Our experiences differ there!

Alice offered me a tantalising invitation to tea. It should only take me six months to drive from here to London, but at least she knows that all of my u-turns will be performed legally!

Recently, while I was off being a bit downer and not reading any blogs, two very kind bloggers offered me an award. Stomper girl says that I make her day, even though she has some linking problem in her middle ear or something. Tanya says that I am a rockin girl blogger because I show life and motherhood with grace. I know that this is true because I have passed that grace on to my daughter.

Who could resist a text message like this?

acknowledgement.jpg

Quite frankly her name should have been Grace…

17 Comments

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17 responses to “Acknowledgements

  1. It is also my duty to pass the awards onto deserving others. I hate to do that because I don’t want to leave any one out. SO… if you comment here, or if I comment on your blog, then you may have either award for yourself.

    Why?

    Because I said so. That’s good enough for me.

  2. This … this was good for a belly laugh!

    Your daughter is not only lovely but also has a gift for succinct prose.

  3. twolimeleaves

    Ha! That’s every bit as good as Clancy’s “Shoes dead. No money.”

  4. That’s hilarious…So, I’m not the only one who takes photos of a type of screen. *heehee*

  5. Think positive – ass is better than heart.

  6. Doesn’t that tea party sound good?

    Ashy is funny.

  7. OMG…send help, fast. She’s obviously having a lot of trouble with her donkey.

    Is she losing sight of her Aussie roots already? Surely it’s her arse that hurts? Or does the predictive text on her phone only speak American? Or perhaps I just speak old-fashioned Australian?

  8. Fairlie funny!! I love those I Am posts too, still not sure if I can manage one. We had to *bags* the window seat but as a sufferer of motion sickness I generally got one.

  9. What an inspiring message, it just makes you want to pick the phone right up and call, doesn’t it?

    Can I ask…WHY does it hurt? And why has nobody else asked that question?

  10. As one who considers down-hill skiing as a near-death experience, I understand completely what Ashleigh is relaying. If it isn’t the glutes, its pain from tumbling/falling. Ouch.

    I really enjoy the “I Am” poems as well but my family reads my blog so I can’t be completely blunt in my descriptions! I am pondering(as I read Auntie’s last night) and am contemplating how to do this…

  11. Sorry for Ashy’s pain!
    Gave me a good laugh though!! haha.

  12. HAHAHA…thanks for making my day a little brighter. And thanks to Ashley, too.

  13. That’s hilarious. Swiss finishing school next on the list?

  14. ashyinfrance

    I was snowboarding! Just standing up on the frickin board, not moving, I fell over. This was not a laughing matter. My ass was blue from bruises and my hip is still yellow.

    And then I moved on a snowboard down a mountain.

    And mother, that’s my personal ass in that message.

    And arse is English. There was some English girls in my snowboarding lessons and they kept saying arse so I went with ass just to prove to the French instructors that I really wasn’t English. They spoke a lot more to me after I said I was Australian.

  15. I knew you’d spack it. That’s why I posted this while you were off snowboarding.

    Frankly, my dear, with the amount of my money you’re spending I own your ass for a very looooong time!

  16. ashyinfrance

    Sorry my darling mother but to quote you, you never could control me.

    And daddy said I could.

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