Monthly Archives: November 2012

What I learned this week Nov 4-10

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I’ve just now, just this instant, come up with an idea for a new weekly post. And now you get to see if it is worth a shit or not! Introducing:

What I Learned This Week.

I learned via the blog that I’m not as weird as I thought I was. Or, I learned that I know and like a lot of weird people. I’m guessing it’s a bit of both.

I learned that raw pumpkin in its natural state rots fast – but if it is cooked it a bit to get the skin off, you’ve got another week before you have to freeze it.

I learned my mother-in-law has room in her freezer for a ton of pumpkin.

I learned that eating too many roasted pumpkin seeds gives me a tummy-ache and a sore tongue from the shells and salt.

I learned that if you goose Lokii when he is all hunched up, low to the ground, ears flat, butt-a-wigglin’, ready to attack something (be it a toy, a ball of paper, his brother, or something only he can see), he will forget that he was about to attack. I totally expected that when he was so focused he would jump a mile.

I learned to be super-careful wearing the new socks with built-in soles that hubby bought me. I didn’t smash my face when tripping up the stairs, but only a fast elbow jammed into the baluster saved my nose (I was carrying something and only had one hand).

I learned that it worries me more when I don’t want to bitch to my best friend. She’s not judgemental: it isn’t her. But if I start closing myself off from her…well, that can’t be good. Or maybe I’m sick of hearing myself whine. Hmm, maybe I didn’t learn anything there, yet.

I learned that my dog has started shitting in the middle of the lawn, instead of just around the edges. Ick.

I learned the new John Irving book is too much like his others. I’m sad about that.

I learned that my coworkers had no idea who I would prefer to win in the US presidential election.

I learned that people here ask me, very cautiously, thinking they are being clever: ‘who do you want to win?’ because they are totally going to judge me on my answer.

I learned I always gave the answer they were relieved to hear. But I’m a bit sad that they ever thought I might be for the other guy.

I learned yet again that people can be cruel on the Internet. Even when apologies are offered and explanations given.

I learned not to look in the shopping bags until after hubby finishes unloading the car. Dangerous new socks were supposed to be for me, for Christmas.

I’d like to learn why Lokii is currently upstairs saying mmm, mmmm, mmm, mmmm, over and over and over…

A very strange question

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Not so long ago, I was chatting to my physiotherapist, and asked her something that left her stumped. I’m wondering – am I really that strange?

Sometimes when I scratch one part of my body, I feel an echo of the scratch. I feel it really, really far away from the source. Like just now, I was rubbing my feet together and felt a sensation in my right armpit. Or I could scratch an itch on my thigh, and feel it high up on my abdomen. It happens all the time. If I keep poking at the same place, the ‘echo’ is still there. The next day, the next hour – nope.

It doesn’t feel exactly the same – it’s not as if I feel fingers or toes touching me. But a nerve jumps, twitches, reacts.

This is one of those things that has gone on all my life but only after the conversation with my physio has it come to light that it might be…odd.

Anyone else experience this? If not, any friggin’ clue what is going on?

Death of an important kitchen tool

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Aww. I went to take the pork roast out of the oven just a moment ago, and half the dish stayed in my hand while the other half stayed in the oven.

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At least there was no meat-juice-spillage, because I always double up on the foil. But still, I’m a bit sad. This was a pretty damn good baking dish. Used at least three times a week for at least five years, and damn if I didn’t keep it pretty clean. What about all that burned on oook? It’s due to HIM not washing it before using it again. Usually to make me breakfast. Ugh, how do you balance bitching with gratitude?

Best thing? I wasn’t the last to wash it before it exploded. BOOYAH motherfucker, I won’t have to scrape burned grease off of you ever again.