More rock 'n roll wisdom of Freya

"Oh, look at my face
My name is might have been
My name is never was
My name's forgotten"

While listening to Hole in the car, Freya said:
"Courtney Love doesn't know her name.  I'll go and see her and I'll call her Courtney Love.  I'll knock on her little singing door and I'll sing along with her!"

Slightly sad...

Last week there was a magnificent, massive orb weaver spider in the back yard.  She built a spectacular web between the clothesline and the lemon tree.  Then the hot days came and that was the last we saw of her.

O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!

Our trusty old washing machine, which gave out last week with the ominous sparky sound of sparks, has been resurrected by our trusty miracle working local repairman.  Happy happy, joy joy I say.

Later on Reb was waxing philosophical with Freya, discussing the big D (death, that is, not something else beginning with D).  When talking about the cats shuffling off their furry mortal coils, she said "then we'll have to buy a bunny!".  Later, when talking about humans going the same way, she said "then someone will have to buy another person!".  Funny girl.  She was quite happy with the conversation until Reb mentioned the beetles that might munch on our remains, and she got a bit upset.  "No beetles!".

This milk has fire in it!

So said Freya, regarding the bubbles in a glass of cola.  Not the symbol of Free West cola however.

More Freya funniness...

Freya has been telling lots of improbable stories about a boy called Joshua, who is loosely based on a real boy who used to go to creche.  They tend to go along the lines of "Daddy, when I went to Joshua's house the other day, he was picking his nose and eating boogers".  On Friday night she was beginning one of these stories, and she paused and looked at me with a smile "Daddy, I just like making up stories about Joshua. All sorts of different stories."

We were discussing the revolting heat wave which has laid waste to our garden this week.  I said to Freya that the last time it was this hot in Melbourne, Uncle Dave was a baby.  "Did he have a beard?" she asked. She then told me about a baby she had seen who had a beard and teeth and could talk and run.  In later versions of the story the baby kills people.

Today I mentioned that Uncle Pete used to bite Uncle Dave.  "Did he have a bruise?" Freya asked.  "I guess so," I replied.  "It went away because he heals up very well, even though I know he's really old."