Monthly Archives: January 2012

Socks has a Sweet ‘Tater (mmm-hmm)

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That mmm-hmm is meant to be in the style of yer man from Slingblade, just so you know 🙂

The potato in question is more long than round, so using it as a size guide is for length only – 5.6 inches and 6.7 ounces at 18 weeks (14.25 cm, 190 grams).

Apparently, the book to buy and read is called ‘What to Expect When You are Expecting.’ Socks says everyone reads it, but no one talks about how it doesn’t make any damn sense. We were trying to figure out how many months along she is, now that we can talk months instead of just weeks. The book isn’t logical. We already had complaints about the fruit-sizes (however, she did find a Florida avocado that was indeed larger than a navel orange). I think it’s funny that she now has an app on her phone for the fruit-comparisons.

The book does say that Button’s hands and feet, fingers n toes are now fully formed. Button is now starting to yawn and hiccup, but she probably won’t feel that yet. Socks did feel Button give a great big ol’ movement this week, though!

Baby’s bones are starting to harden, too. The book says that the first ones are the small bones of the ear. Socks thinks that maybe it is because they are the smallest ones. I’m wondering if there is an evolutionary reason for it, especially after learning that babies in utero hear and learn -and mimic- mom’s accent.

Socks is all excited to take a new belly-photo, too. She’s been taking one every four weeks. I think she should move that up to at least every two weeks, since Button is growing so fast now! She says she doesn’t feel fat, she feels pregnant. But already, the sink is a little further away than it used to be when she does dishes. She’s also flaunting the belly a bit when she goes out. Quote of the week: ‘I worked hard to get this thing and I’m proud of it!’

I believe the next ultrasound is the 19th, and it’s an important one. We get to learn if Button is a boy-Button or a girl-Button. I’ve rather arbitrarily decided (I can only be half wrong, right?) that Button is female. Maybe because my beautiful niece is the only baby I know right now, and I have trouble picturing a boy. What do you think?

Socks hasn’t bought a single toy, piece of furniture, item of clothing or even extra baby powder. She wants to know girl/boy first, as knowing sort of makes Button have a personality and she just can’t decide on ‘things’ without knowing even the gender of the person she is buying them for. Makes sense to me! She does have some items of furniture being gifted to her by family, but she doesn’t have them at her house yet.

…mentioning her house is tempting me to keep writing about non-Button stuff, because Socks and Bear are house-hunting at the moment. I love hearing about the places they go to see, and seeing the web photos on the realtor’s site. But, I’ll not change the reason behind the Socks posts. I can say they love their realtor, and I do too – because when one house had a creepy, wet, mouldy room hidden in the basement, the realtor told Socks that she shouldn’t go in because she was pregnant and didn’t need to be exposed to oooky stuff. Aww.

Why ‘Spiders’?

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Hi!!!! It’s Friday, and for the second time in nearly two years, that means something to me again! Woot! I have ‘me time’ for one evening and two whole days!

I’m having blogging withdrawals, and Brushes withdrawals. I’ve been working on a version of Usyaka, but I’m nowhere near happy with it yet, so I won’t post it tonight.

I thought I’d return to the reason I started the blog: the writing! I miss it. Sometimes I didn’t really feel like writing, but once I started I was happier every time. Except for the long-ass post that got lost, that still irritates me.

Anyhoo, one of the things I’ve been meaning to write about is my blog name, and why I chose ‘spiders’ instead of any other creature when ‘dragons’ was taken.

I used to be afraid of spiders, like every kid is, or should be. It is way easier (and safer) to teach your child that all snakes and spiders are dangerous than to wait until they pick one up and then decide if it is venomous or not. That never really worked with me as regards snakes – I could and did catch any of them I could find. I got bitten by a wild snake once, and to this day I have no idea what kind of snake it was because the bite worked: I let go. It wasn’t poisonous, thankfully.

In any case this was Florida. We had loads of dangerous spiders: the black widow and the brown recluse being the two we all worried about. But when I was small, all spiders were bad and scary so ‘eww’ and/or ‘eek’ would have been my reaction to any and all of them.

Until I did a chore for my father.

When we moved to Florida, we built a garage on to the ‘new’ house, which was a red brick ranch. The builders left a bunch of bricks and concrete cinder blocks behind. Dad stacked them up neatly at the side of the house, and there they remained for nearly a decade. One day he decided they needed to be moved – I think when we bought a shed and needed a wider path to get it around the back of the house. I was old enough, and strong enough, and tomboy enough, to either be chosen for the job or told to do it. I’m bad with time sense, but I was younger than 12 and older than 9… I think.

Every damn brick I picked up had spiders living in the three holes, or between the bricks. Every damn brick had at least three arachnid residents. Any other insect, I would have been fascinated. The spiders kept creeping me out.

I eventually got sick and tired of saying ‘eww’ and started paying attention to them. I saw how they never even attempted to bite me. I saw how they were all sizes and body shapes and colours. Some were tiny and black with bright white spots and jumped instead of walked. Some had skinny, long legs and elongated bodies. Some were large and fat and a lovely grey shade with brown legs.

I found that I was beginning to like some of them, especially the grey ones. I caught some and kept them in jars. I would take them out and play with them – they were 2 inches long, or longer with their legs stretched out. They never bit, but they were fast! I always worried I would hurt one by accident. For all their size, they were soft and fragile.

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I just remembered this: a pencil drawing I did of my favourite grey spider when I was 13. I put the spider on the paper and drew points where her feet touched, so this is life-size.

I learned how to tell the males from females. I learned that if you blow a little puff of air on a spider, they freeze in their tracks. There goes the urban myth that spiders crawl into our mouths when we are asleep – I guarantee you they hate being breathed on!

Eventually I bought myself a tarantula. I named her Chrysanthemum the Tarantulum. She was incredible. Her feet were, to the naked eye, as round and smooth as a finger tip. But somehow they could hold on to you! You could feel the foot clinging. It was as if she and I were the opposite sides of Velcro. She was so strong, too – she peeled back the plastic lid on her massive pickle jar and held it open while she chewed through the screen to escape (found her in my closet). We obtained a terrarium.

My mother was fascinated with ‘Chrissy’ too. Her co-workers would catch crickets in the office for her to being home as food. If we had company over, mom would ask if they wanted to meet her. I’d put her on the kitchen table and we’d giggle as she turned her body sideways to go between the salt and pepper instead of going around or over. Then she’d put on a burst of speed and startle the hell out of all of us.

When I was 15, I learned how to give myself a tattoo. I sat on the couch and diligently branded my left hand with a spider tat. It was black ink but has been blue for decades because home-grown tattoos go too deep and the ink changes colour. But it still looks like a spider!

I don’t catch wild spiders to keep any more, and it is too cold here for me to want to get another tarantula. But I never kill them, and I always feel bad when Lokii gobbles one down.

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That blue blur at the bottom of the pic is my tattoo. It isn’t actually blurry, just a bad shot!

Oh noes!

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Wow, I think my hits today are my lowest ever, and my day is close to being over. I HATE that I can’t be on here much any more! I’ve barely played with Brushes in the last two weeks, too. Aargh!

I want to bitch randomly. But I’ll save that for when I have more time-ha…

Instead, here’s an adorable cat photo. Hoping it brings my views up for the day, otherwise I’m just going to be depressed a bit.

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More New Beer

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I got to try three new ales this week! I had to share with IDJ, but we didn’t mind as we like to try new booze but can’t afford a load of bottles.

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First one was a Christmas ale bought in Lidl: Shepherd Neame Tin’s Ale. I love Christmas ale, but this one, I’m afraid, falls well short of the mark. It didn’t have any spiciness, no hint of cinnamon, nutmeg, or even pine tree. I didn’t like it at all, unfortunately. Perhaps if I didn’t already have my palate set for a real Christmas ale, i would have at least liked it as a normal ale. As it was, nope. One sip was enough for me not to want more. Very low 4% alcohol, too.

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Next up was Morland Hen’s Tooth ale. iDJ didn’t like this one at all, and calls it ‘incredibly average.’ It was, but I didn’t mind. I’d drink it over Budweiser, Heineken or Carlsberg if offered it at a party. It did have a bitter after taste that came in pretty ‘after’ a swallow. Alcohol content 6.5%.

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Greene King Strong Suffolk Vintage ale was the best of the three, for both of us. At 6% it has a bigger flavour than the Hen’s Tooth, and a really nice burnt caramel taste – which is a flavour that is easy to do wrong. We don’t care for warm beer, and ale isn’t meant to be ice cold… and even we would admit it was better after warming up a little.

How to Roast a Chicken – With Jokes!

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iDJ and I perform what I think of as tag-team cooking. For one meal, I have my cooking tasks and he has his. For example, I cut up the peppers but he cuts up the mushrooms. These rules are not set in stone but rather the way we’ve worked out how to share cooking duties.

When we roast a chicken he gets his hands dirty and I do the spices. He picks off any feathers, and rubs oil over the whole bird. I do the spices on one side, he waits, then he flips the bird and oils the other side. Then he can wash up. Saves us both having to get raw chicken yuck on our hands and/or saves him from having to wash his hands several times. Pretty efficient, we think!

Tonight he got a little ahead of me and took out the spice jars in advance. I sprinkle on salt, pepper, garlic, oregano, basil and thyme. Sometimes not all of the green ones, but he had them out so I used them all.

Then I noticed he had both types of thyme on the counter. One is chopped, one is ground to a fine powder. So I told him, for his future reference, that I only use one thyme at a time.

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Yes, we are that nerdy.

Happy Nollaig na mBam!

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I’d like to wish all of my female readers a very happy Nollaig na mBam – which translates into English as ‘Women’s Christmas.’ In Ireland, this is the day when the women folk would take down the decorations and after that, they weren’t meant to do a lick of work around the house for the rest of the day. In particular, no cooking! It is the day for the women who have done all the work of preparing and cooking for the holidays to relax and have a sherry or even a glass of the porter.

I just might take the idea on board this year. My tree is divested of tinsel and ornaments already, but only because it dropped needles like some ladies of poor morals drop their undergarments:

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Is that not the most pathetic looking tree ever? We were warned that this would happen. We had a very warm November so our native trees didn’t ‘set’ their needles for the winter as they normally would. But daaaaamn, this is horrible. I usually take a few weeks to cut up and burn our tree for firewood, and I’m having trouble figuring out how to do so without making a mess day after day after day. As iDJ said, we should have decorated that ginormous Umbrella plant instead.

So that’s one reason why I might celebrate women’s Christmas. Another is that I should, by all Irish reasoning, celebrate my first week of working by going out to the pub.

Another is that my Canadian friend is back in town after being away (close, but not close enough to drink & walk home) over the holidays. We should go have a girly drink together, no boys allowed.

The only thing holding me back is (besides being broke) that I have a cold… I’m pretty damn tired. But I sorta feel like a girly night out…

Gak, ‘girly’ is such a misnomer when it is women like us! But I don’t mind for some reason when it is me saying it.

Socks has a Vidalia onion!

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A double-Socks (a pair of Socks?) post today!

This one is short, and as sweet as the onion in question is supposed to be. I hate the things, so I can’t comment on that – she just said a ‘sweet onion’ because they are larger than most. I chose Vidalia as I know how very much my onion-loving family appreciated them when they were in season. I know they are large, and not as smelly as most onions, and are apparently really really nice raw, if you like raw onions. Vidalias are grown exclusively in the state of Georgia, USA, and in only seven counties there. They have protected status there, and if the US had laws like Europe does, they would enjoy the same protected geographical status as Champagne, Gorgonzola or Parma ham. The Georgians have every right to be proud of their onion!

Even if I dislike them intensely, I feel a bit of loyalty to the bulb and would rather that Button was a Vidalia than any other allium. Button is already 5.1 inches and 5.9 ounces (13 cm & 167 gm) at seventeen weeks. I think at this point, I’m a little – ok, more than a little – amazed at how fast a whole human can be grown. We are remarkable creatures to be able to make whole new people inside of us! I’d rather reproduce by mitosis myself, but still, it is rather amazing.

And even more amazing that my best friend chose to do this, and is loving every minute so far.

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Socks has an avocado!

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Right, so…I’m a bit behind. Today is Oirish Tirsday and I haven’t written an update from last Thursday yet! I also have to go to work in a bit and don’t have a lot of time to write.

So, instead of including the huge intro I have been including, just check out last week’s Socks update and it has all the links to previous posts, otay?

Actually there isn’t much to update about: everything is fine and normal and growing like crazy. We both wonder in what universe there are avocados bigger than navel oranges, but who are we to argue with pregnancy books?

I did try to find ‘Button’ in different languages last week. Bouton (French) is the nicest version, but I also like Tecla (Portugese) and Tasto (Italian). At least according to Babelfish, anyhow. I was probably a bit drunk and was trying to translate the word zipper instead.

Bear has also gotten into the spirit of names. He’s been randomly throwing out ideas here and there. Socks can’t really focus on a name until she knows the gender of Button, though – and I agree. I can’t name a pet until I meet it, how can you name a baby when you don’t even know boy or girl? Of course billions of people have done so, but hey, she has the technology and she intends to use it.

Button is moving around a bit more now. No ‘big’ movements, but Socks can tell there’s something different going on inside her. She said someone told her the early movements would feel like popcorn popping. She thought that was sort of strange…but now agrees that is the best analogy.

At this point Button can also hear Socks’ voice, pretty cool, eh? Even cooler is that from here on, babies hear and remember their mother’s accent, and actually even cry in that accent when born. I heard about this on television, and the best article about it I found (quickly) on the net is this one. I find this pretty amazing, myself.

Time to get ready for work, yuck… But I have one last Bear story. Apparently he has such a phobia of ‘outie’ belly-buttons that if Socks’ navel pops out when she is further along, she might have to hide it with a Band-Aid.

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AAAAA! The horror! Run away, run away! 😀

Earworm OTD

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Cat Stevens, The Wind.

I think this was in a movie I watched recently. Or it was another one off the same Greatest Hits CD of his I own. In any case, this is the one my brain played for me while I did dishes waiting for the coffee to brew this morning.

My sister and I started to like Cat because his music was featured in one of our favourite movies ever, Harold and Maude. If you’ve never seen it, change that as soon as possible!