The Mamanator and the kids have been in Melbourne since Friday, leaving me alone to work on a bunch of projects around the house and especially the yard. Today is Monday and the family will return tomorrow. I’ve had 4 days on my ownsome, and I had a long list of things to get done in that time.

One of them was to write a couple of posts, but I discovered something. It is hard to write about your family when they aren’t around. I thought to myself “I’ll have oodles of time to put something special together”. Then I stared at a blank screen. The cursor blinking at me furiously, as my brain proved to be blank.

Oh I did plenty of other things. Have a quick look

I half built a chook house.

This is going to turn into a house for our chickens. One wall and a roof to go

This is going to turn into a house for our chickens. One wall and a roof to go

I sawed and split a not insignificant amount of wood (this is almost half of it…)

How much wood could a Dadinator...... Who cares?

How much wood could a Dadinator…… Who cares?

And I went around in my protective gear smelling of sweat and two-stroke from the chainsaw.

Trying to look hardcore. Failing miserably.

Trying to look hardcore. Failing miserably.

So I wasn’t left idling at my wit’s end. I did stuff, had stories to tell about how horribly incompetent I was with the axe on the first day, and how it suddenly got better this afternoon as I worked out the correct technique. (There is little in life as satisfying as splitting a log in a single stroke. Trust me. )

I could relate my experiences about how one thing you should spend money on if you’re doing hard work in the yard is good gloves. My cheapies failed miserably….

I could talk about how the last few days have made it crystal clear to me that I am no longer in my 20s.

But, honestly, I don’t feel like it. Because….

I miss my family. There. I said it. I admitted it. I’m a man, and I have emotions. I’m not in some sort of single guy heaven where pants are always optional. I’m not playing loud music, drinking beer from 1pm or watching cricket non-stop (disclaimer: I did watch some cricket, I mean come on it was the Boxing Day test).

No. In the words of Dusty Springfield: I don’t know what to do with myself… (da da da da – that was the trumpet bit. Sounded great in my head). The house feels empty.

And, right now, this blog feels like it’s missing its muses.


There they are.


Still everyone’s back tomorrow.

So I guess I should put my pants back on by then.