Monthly Archives: April 2014

Laundry Wars

Standard

I have ONE CHAIR in our bedroom on which I put my clothes that are a little dirty, but not dirty enough to wash just yet. This includes my daily work clothes, which are really fuckin’ dirty after just two days but screw it, they can last a whole five days. I only have two pair of work pants that fit, and about three shirts I’m willing to destroy.

My darling dear has the ENTIRE spare room as his wardrobe; half-dirty clothes strewn all over the bed to be puked and shedded upon by the cats, his shoe collection lined up on the floor, under the bed, in the bottom of the wardrobe, and also piled on the dresser in their fancy original boxes. There is a perilous stack of shirts and trousers I’ve folded and piled up because I will wash it, and fold it, but I’ll be dammed if I’m putting it away in the nightmare he calls a wardrobe.

Did I mention the crap he tosses over the bannister ‘to air out’?

So. I get a little more than irritated when I go to get dressed in the morning and he’s tossed HIS SHIT on top of my ONE CHAIR in our bedroom.

I swear to fuck, next time he does it, I’m throwing the offending garment in the goddamn trash.

Rant over.

Advertisements

Tulips Again?

Standard

I’m amazed – the two tulips are still going strong. Opening up now, and have weathered some pretty high winds, too. I took this shot this morning before I went to work. I was late, a bit – but flowers don’t last forever. Unlike the daily grind…

20140429-234627.jpg

Everything else is growing like mad – no flowers yet, really, but the clematis is tall, the roses are all fresh red leaves, the sweet pea never died off in our mild winter and is already taller than the wall out front… I could go on but I should have been in bed about an hour ago!

Boys and Girls, Guys and Gals, Men and Women

Standard

Well. Isn’t that a broad topic? Gender and gender issues have been on my mind a lot lately. Always a big thing for me, actually, but I get outraged and angry so very quickly that I rarely get a chance to think rationally.

Anger is an energy, according to most of the former members of the Sex Pistols, otherwise known as PIL. Yes, it is, and if I could harness my own I could power a small city. (Great song by the way)

My family will confirm that I have always been prone to rage. “Temper tantrums” they said when I was little. “She’ll grow out of it.”

The thing is: I have never grown out of having temper tantrums. I have never seen the reason why I can’t be loudly outraged, to the point of kicking or throwing things, when shit is just that dammed stupid and I’ve had enough, enough, enough!

I can explain, or excuse, a good bit of my ability (or inclination, or sheer desire) towards letting loose and having physical expressions of rage by seeing my father lose his shit, and taking him as a role model. But my mom never did that, and my sister never did either: so why did I?

The only reason anyone has ever given me to not lose my shit, too, as an adult, is that women just don’t do that. So, is it a gender thing? is my first question. I have always been taught, by example, that women aren’t allowed to show anger. Or, god forbid, outright rage. Why the hell not? I certainly feel it, why do I have to hold it in? Isn’t that the same as holding in the tears when they want to come? Emotion is emotion, right?

Maybe not so much. Why is it that I refuse to shed tears unless I’ve really lost it, and only when I feel safe with the one I’m crying in front of. Or I do it secretly, which just makes me feel so alone and pathetic. I fucking hate it, and that’s a fact. Why did I choose the stereotypical male way of dealing with stuff that makes anyone want to cry?

Why is it that I have seemingly, unknowingly, chosen the male way of dealing with extreme frustration? Why do I react this way when my sister doesn’t? It can’t be nurture, it has to be nature. I had two older female role models, but what felt right to me was to be like dad.

So. Does that mean I’m a boy in my secret heart? Well. If it does, I’m a gay boy. Or a bisexual boy with a preference to other boys. My dad and my sister both read my blog, and while they don’t need details, I rather expect that they already know I’ve been adventurous with my sexuality. And I also know they both don’t judge me for whatever they think I’ve done. I love them both very much for that. (It’s not ever been as weird as you might think, guys! Or it didn’t seem weird to me…)

As usual, I’ve rambled.

I recently got quietly angry over a comment that I literally walked into at work. Some shit about how one fella’s wife has no ‘spacial awareness.’ I come through with a pallet full of boxes – that I personally didn’t put on that pallet, and the squeeze is tight and two of my boxes fall off. “Perfect example, women have no spacial awareness!”

Me: “you mean whoever loaded this pallet did a shit job of it, right?”

“Nope, women are shit at spacial awareness! Hahahahhahahahhaha!”

Didn’t say a dammed word at the time, because I was furious. I grumped about that for hours, really annoyed. I couldn’t decide if they were having fun with me as a member of the crew, or if I’d actually been slighted, hard. Truly, it was meant in fun. However. It put me in a shitty mindset, and that helped me make the decision: that was fuckin’ sexist and I had a right to be annoyed.

I never want to be the annoying asshole, but I also think I can, and should, speak up when it sucks to be the butt of a joke just because I’m female. I am sooo tired of that old joke. How do I respond, however, in a way that I can not only show that I’m not getting really angry (I’m not) but that it isn’t fuckin funny, either – so next time maybe don’t, okay?

All the over-sharing background just leads up to the last question. Is is me? Is who I am and what I feel based on my genitalia? I didn’t have a choice about what I was born with, but I’ve been dealing with people badly, awkwardly, my whole life. I never seem to quite understand anything other people say or do, confidently. I’m rather more comfortable at the moment with my interactions with the guys, and have a lot more fun with the boys than I ever did with the girls. It’s nice to take an insult as a joke, and a compliment with ‘shut up you’re distracting me!’

I’ve gone nowhere with this, and I’ve been writing for hours now. What do I tie this up with? I guess this: most of my followers appear to be CIS women – so how do you feel? Did anything I’ve said hit a chord in your heart-strings?

*sorry, dad, if I’ve upset you in any way. I know you aren’t the same person I knew as a kid. It’s still my history, upbringing, and the things I took on board when that was what kids do.

How…What… Plants are Friggin’ Weird.

Standard

iDJ got me a heated electric propagator. So far I’ve killed a lot of corn, grew a few tomatoes and a few super hot pepper plants growing in it. The heat makes stuff shoot up instantly or rot to mould instantly, so I’m still figuring it out.

Last week, I popped in some sunflower seeds, and also something I figured would be hard to grow: Buddleja, or Buddleia – otherwise known as the butterfly bush. I got the seeds free from my mother-in-law, of course. And I’m damned glad about the free part! We were at a garden centre over the weekend and holy shit – €4.99 for a pack of seeds!?!? No. Even worse that they wanted €7.99 for one plant I can grow from a tuber or bulb for €5 for three. Anyhoo, it is the most expensive place around, but also the only dedicated plant place around.

I’ve rambled.

The Buddleia. It’s a damned bush. So I expected some rather sturdy seeds in my free packet. Ah, no. They were tiny; so very tiny they were smaller than grains of sand. My only choice to get them started was to stick my damp finger in what looked like dust, dabble it on top the soil, and hope.

Hope worked. Or my green fingers did, who can say for sure? Either way, the tiny little sumbitches are growing.

20140425-231346.jpg
I’m not sure how to explain just how microscopic these seedlings are. Do you see the tiny white things? Those are beads of what we used to call styrofoam. Not sure what it’s called in these post-CFC days. No matter, the beads themselves are tiny. Wee. Itty-bitty. Minuscule. And my buddleja bushes are way, way smaller and so very fragile looking. I have no idea how I will ever transplant these buggers!

Have you seen a Buddleia bush? They are quite large!

20140425-232935.jpg
(Photo credit http://www.seedterra.com)

For true scale, I also planted sunflower seeds. Just take a gander at these ginormous things:

20140425-232200.jpg

The sheer wonder I feel about growing from seed, hopefully visualised. If these tiny babies live, I will have enormous bushes for decades from the wee sprouts, but only one late summer batch of flowers from the big mofos.

Tulips are Better than None

Standard

Two autumns ago, I made a half-hearted attempt to move my tulips into containers, as they get no sun where they are and rarely bloom. I missed a ton of bulbs, and never finished the job. Also, my husband’s gardening uncle tried to throw cold water on my tulip-growing efforts by telling me that they wouldn’t come back more than twice, so we’d wasted our efforts even planting them at all.

Well.

We both were wrong.

20140419-204621.jpg
I started digging up at this end of the row – for sure I thought I’d moved these. Nope.

20140419-204715.jpg
How wonderful! A lovely surprise, strong and healthy, in a dark space along a very dark wall at this time of year.

Plants are amazing. I can’t even kill them when I want to!

Easter Radio Special!

Standard

Not for the religious: or at least, not for the religious who can’t stand hearing a good bit of what is probably blasphemy. Show starts in 30 minutes, and of course I’ll put up the link to the podcast afterwards, when it is all said and done and all the wine has been drunk!

Facebook link: https://www.facebook.com/soulshenanigans

Radio station link: http://www.radio23.org/

s o u l s h e n a n i g a n s
“playing funkpunksoul’n’such” on freeform radio
this 17th April 2014 PST: 12-2pm EST: 3-5pm GMT: 8-10pm
This week: EP 267 :: a secular Maundy Thursday supper to cater for all of y’all Easter needs!

For anyone new – the DJ is my darling dear hubby, known here as iDJ. He’s been doing this show for over five years now, and knows his stuff!

He also does a new poster every week, and since the show is on Thursday, this year his theme has been throwbacks. Gotta love this one, on his confirmation day (he gave the name back a few years ago).

20140417-193444.jpg

Podcast/playlist: http://soulshenanigans.podomatic.com/entry/2014-04-17T15_37_58-07_00 . Can either stream it, or download it.

I Got Nuttin’ to Say

Standard

So here are cute pics of my fur-babies.

20140413-012415.jpg
I know I give more e-time to the cats than the dog; so here she is having a nap on a freshly-washed rope toy. She is gorgeous.

20140413-012634.jpg
Might not look like it, but Spot was passed out hard with his chin on his “brother’s” flank.

20140413-012832.jpg
Brotherly lurve, including the underside of Spotty’s pink tongue.

20140413-013000.jpg
The best photo that wasn’t. If I’d gotten this in focus, it would have been right amazing! But I didn’t, so it isn’t, but you still are looking at it.

Red Dwarf Season 11!!!

Standard

I am inordinately happy about this. Yes, I’m a giant geek.

http://www.giantfreakinrobot.com/scifi/red-dwarf-blasts-eleventh-season.html

Some of the text from the website GiantFreakinRobot:

“Fans of deep space wackiness, robots, amazing absurdity, and a creature descended from the common house cat, have a lot to be grateful today. Once thought long dead, the venerable British sci-fi sitcom Red Dwarf is coming back to life one more time. Co-creator Doug Naylor has signed on to write an eleventh season, one which is already scheduled to shoot later this year.

For the uninitiated, Red Dwarf is the story of Dave Lister (Craig Charles). Through a series of unfortunate events he is the last living human in the known universe, and is stranded on a mining ship lost three million years in deep space. His only companions are the hologramatic recreation of his former bunkmate, a twit named Arnold Judas Rimmer (Chris Barrie); Kryten (Robert Llewellyn), a neurotic maintenance droid with a head that looks like a pencil eraser; and Cat (Danny John-Jules), a vain, ditzy humanoid that evolved from Lister’s cat Frankenstein. There’s also a time-addled computer, who has gender reassignment surgery part of the way through the series. The crew has all sorts of crazy adventures, meet all manner of space creatures, robots, and half-mad killer cyborgs, and even travel through time on occasion.”

Let’s hope this works: YouTube link to a really good top ten best of clips. I’m grinning like crazy still.
http://youtu.be/UVmKeisK2cU

How Many of Your 9 Lives Are Left?

Standard

My darling dear had a terribly close call while driving to the shops recently. An auld wan pulled out right in front of him, on a wet road, when he had a young wan about a meter and a half off his bumper. (For the non-Irish: wan means woman, basically just ‘one’ but rarely used for men.) Cars coming the other way, too. He made the quick decision to pass the old dear right snappy, nearly clipping her wing mirror in the action, and facing down the oncoming traffic. He made it, and left the young woman tailgating his arse to deal with the slow car instead.

Braking hard would have made a sandwich of our Mini, and steering while under ABS braking isn’t ideal. So he went for it, as I would have too, because while the Mini is 11 years old and just went over 125,000 miles on Friday, she is quick when you need her to be. I trust in that car daily when faced with slow arseholes behind slower tractors going around hard curves on narrow ass roads.

There is a dammed good reason Minis are used as rally cars!

As usual, I’ve gone off into a story instead of getting to my point. Which is entirely based on the Facebook update he did after arriving home: “Many thanks to the lady who pulled out in front of me (doing 65mph) today. If I braked, Ms tailgater behind would’ve been on my lap so boot to the floor into oncoming traffic & bye. Missed her wing mirrors by inches & lost one of my cat lives.”

Cat lives… we say that cats have nine lives, of course. I know hubby has had some bad times and if he thinks this is a number down, I believe him. I know of one other time he came close. So unless I want to get him all grumpy thinking about other times, I’ll say he still has seven. In reality, it’s probably six, but I don’t want to put him in a bad mood by asking. Maybe five. Who knows. Four? Sure there was at least one close call when he was very small.

I already did one post about a time I could have died, so I won’t go into the others. That post was gory enough!

How many cat lives out of nine do you have left? Tell me a story or write a post and link back if you find it’s a really good story!