blondes have more fun

So my sister has this car. Sometimes it doesn't have a roof. She drives around, when it isn't raining, without a roof. Sometimes she drives through the hills, when it's sunny. And it looks like this.

Come late January 2010, she's gonna be looking like this from the south coast of Victoria, right across the dry brown land - battling wild kangaroos, camels, horses and backward bogans - all the way to the upper reaches of the Northern Territory. See, she decided to move to Darwin. And she's taking our cousin-slash-honorary-brother with her.

She's kind of prone to spontaneity, especially of the outrageous variety, and for better or worse she lives for the moment. When I think of my sister, the image of her blonde hair and multicoloured headscarf flying in the breeze with youthful abandon as she cruises the open road is apt, to say the least.


In lieu of my (only) sister, I will have to turn to this cheeky blonde monkey for some uninhibited fun on my visits home next year. Here she is - my cousin's irresistable second child - playing hide-and-seek while her younger sister (also known as my delightful goddaughter) watches on inquisitively. Also pictured is the tree that hid more than a few of us during the brief play session one bright Saturday afternoon.


If my beautiful little girls are too busy sleeping, playing with others or, god forbid, growing up, I might end up having no-one to frolick with. And then I will just have to go back to being a grown-up.