Friday, December 31, 2010

The Last Post

Hello everybody.

This is the last post on Ataxophile.

The good news is I'm not moving far, and have a sparkling new blog with an almost sparkling new name.  As the result of a stupid, stupid New Year's resolution I will now be blogging at The Hungry Ataxophile.  I hope you can join me there.

It will be the greatest blog you have ever read.  It has charming anecdotes, beautiful artwork, and possibly the occasional dog photo.  And food.  Lots about food.  Go to the FAQ page to see what it's all about.

And happy New Year.

Sunday, December 19, 2010

Ellen And The Day Spa

As an early Christmas treat for Ellen we made her an appointment to have her hair done.

She was a little uncertain at first,

and she wasn't at all sure about having her ears washed,

but it didn't take her long to realise it was very nice having all that attention.

Even if a strange lady was doing things with a hose to her bottom.

And when it was all over, and she was nice and shiny, it was lots of fun to find things to roll in.

But the best fun of all was going to the dog park yesterday to show off her shiny new coat to her friends.

Doggy hydrobath: $35

Romp in a mud puddle with a ball two days later: priceless.

Thursday, December 9, 2010

A Tasty Surprise

I am a poor gardener, and a lazy and impatient one.

My compost, for example, is spread around the garden long before it has reached that crumbly, sweet-smelling stage.  Before, in fact, it has really composted at all.  Rather than compost, some might call it rubbish.  Amongst my seedlings a keen eye can pick out whole apples, pumpkins, newspapers and even the odd not-terribly-compostible thing, like an onion bag or a wine bottle.

Anyway, a little while ago I had an urge to plant things.  I'm not sure what came over me - perhaps I'd been watching Backyard Blitz, or perhaps the way the post-apocalyptic moonscape of our front yard was attracting foxes and carrion birds was starting to get to me.  Whatever it was, I felt I wasn't going to feel fulfilled until I had spent hundreds of dollars and many hours planting a shrubbery.

Unsure where to begin on the Shrubbery Project, I thought I would build a mound.  Plants like mounds, they are a fail safe conversation starter and they add enormous value to house prices.

So I emptied the compost bin on to the lawn, threw on some potting mix, chicken poo and lucerne that I found in the garage, and inserted some plants.  

I was very proud of my Shrubbery and I loved it.

And my Shrubbery was nurtured by my love and by the mystery nutrients of the compost, and lo it did grow and grow and grow.

And grow.

And it became a big green monster that scared away all the foxes.

And it grew some things that I hadn't even asked it to grow, but I left them there out of a mixture of fear and curiosity.

But then the Fella beheld my Shrubbery, and he said that the mystery things were not Good Things, and that we should remove them because they were bullying our very expensive proper plants.

So we pulled up the biggest one, and guess what we found underneath.....

Thousands upon thousands of magnificent purple potatoes!  Well, sixteen of them.

And I wasn't the only one licking my lips.

Saturday, December 4, 2010


The other night the Fella was saying to me that he'd never really spent any time on YouTube.

Had no interest.

Didn't understand what all the fuss was about.

Obviously, I couldn't let that pass.  When considered along with other grumblings of the week ("Lady Gaga? Who? WHAT? Where are my slippers?????", or "WTF is a LOLcat???"), it became clear that the Fella was in desperate need of An Education.

We started out with the basics, and although the Fella tried to look nonchalant, I could see that he was starting to get excited.  He was, in fact, chalant.

We spent a long time looking at the classics.   Longer than we wanted.

But the Fella was able to press on through these frustrations long after I had tired of the lesson.

Usually I am indefatigable when it comes to plundering the treasures of the interwebs, but even I have my limits.

I don't think he noticed when I went to bed, and I couldn't tell you if he joined me that night.

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