Monthly Archives: March 2016

Fucit Anyway. 

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I supposedly have conjunctivitis, also known as pink eye. Being as my eyes have been itchy as hell since November, and no one else around me has it, I’m kinda doubtful about the diagnosis. It’s meant to be crazy contagious, my eyes never turned pink or red, and I didn’t have eye-boogies. Just a lot of itching!

In any case, I finally got sick of it (pun intended) and went to my GP. 

With a list of other issues, of course. My bodily warranty ran out when I was 25. That’s when I started to need glasses, and discovered loads of other new and fun ways that a human body finds to break down. I’m a right wreck now that I’m about to be officially middle-aged. 

After the checkup: I had blood taken, skin issues checked out and okayed, a 24-HR blood pressure monitor (results normal, and I’m dead surprised at that). I’m on my second course of antibiotics for a wheezy cough, an allergy pill (I don’t HAVE allergies!), big doses of anti-inflammatories for my back (deffo helping), and now steroids (!) for everything, basically. 

I feel as though I’ve been to a vet instead of a human doctor, because a vet always seems to prescribe antibiotics and a steroid.

Did you know I really don’t care to take pills? Bwah-ha-haw! I’m good at it, but I prefer not to if I can. I’m now on…11 a day.

Back to the eye drops, which burn. They burn like I rubbed sand and cat-hair into my eyes and then dunked my face into lemon juice and bleach to rinse them out. It’s also thick and white and goopy and is so damn unnatural a thing to be deliberately putting into my eyes, I kind of didn’t do the twice a day every day for a week as I was supposed to do. It does help – but the cure is nearly as bad as the problem. 

With all of this going on, I never looked at the package for the eye drops properly. When I did, I laughed out loud – in my loudest, unladylike squawk.

  
Yes. Fucit. Fucit altogether! Fucit sideways with a barge-pole! 

Fuc it, I’m falling apart but at least I still have the sense of humour of a nine year old and can laugh at these things. And fuc it, I better put these drops in now and try not to cry all over the iPad 🙂

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This Is Draining.

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Hubby had the day off work for Good Friday; I did not. So I left him with drain-duty. He walked into town (we have one car), to learn that our town’s hardware store also had the day off. So, no caustic soda to be had locally at all. He did get some ‘kitchen blockage’ Mr Muscle stuff. It did nothing.

At 3:30 I rang the closest hardware shop to where I work, thinking for sure they were closed, too. Not for another 30 minutes! Luckily my work is awesome and let me have 10 minutes or so to drive up there and get some lovely, grease-eating poison. They had two bottles and I bought them both.

‘Course, I don’t get off until half six, so by the time I got home it was nearly dark and pouring rain. I put the soda in, waited the prescribed 20 minutes, and poured in boiling water. Managed to fit in nearly a kettle’s worth as himself had bailed the muck down to make room (yay).

Did it drain?

It did not. And it was, and is, way too miserable out there to try the snake again. Even the dog doesn’t want to go out to wee.

  
So…washing the cutlery in the bathroom sink was my only option! No forks left, as you can see. That’s my dish soap in the cut-glass cruet. I use that for dish soap as it looks nicer than a big plastic bottle.

Not that it matters when your dish soap is now in your bathroom.
Breaking update, even before I hit publish! I remembered that I have a bucket that will fit in the sink. So now I just have to carry that upstairs to dump out, instead. Hoarding tendencies for the win!

I Have A Snake In Ireland

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It seems I tried to use it a bit too close to Paddy’s Day, however, as the kitchen drainage pipe is still jammed up. My snake is weak! Or the grease is strong. For some reason I’m in charge of the drain-clearing at the house, despite the fact that the drains here are nothing like what I grew up with. I never owned a drain snake before (I had lots of real ones as pets, of course). We had a blockage like this in Florida once, and it required professionals digging up the front yard.  

Actually, that is probably why I’m in charge. I will always do it myself if possible!

Oh, and if you’ve seen the proof of evolution found on your body video, my Palmaris longis is showing! I can also wiggle the hell out of my ears. I am well aware when I lay them back like a cat does when annoyed, or perk them up to hear better. Go, Neanderthal me! 

Not So Prim and Proper

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I got a present! And it was totally unexpected. A lot of times people say they will do something, and you don’t actually expect them to follow through.

Well! On the ol’ FB, I admired a friend’s photo of a flower I’d never seen before. It was gorgeous and I had to know what it was. 

She told me it was a primula zebra blue. She said she’d drop one around to me – and the very next day I found this lovely sitting by my front door!

  
Isn’t it stunning? I admit I had to play with the colours – it looked purple in the original picture and it is NOT purple at all. 

I’ve never seen a primrose that wasn’t growing wild, and they are never this colour. Sure doesn’t look anything like the ones I dug up from beside the abandoned railroad tracks last year. I wasn’t even sure that it was a primrose, but made a good guess.

Here is her photo, that got me so excited.

  
I’m in love! 

Not Merely Boys with Vaginas

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This! Perfectly said.

Justine Graykin

My will is as strong, and my kingdom as great. My will is as strong, and my kingdom as great.

I’ve been a feminist from way back, and I have watched the evolution of the movement with interest. The spotlight is upon us, especially in light of the rise of women candidates for public office, including the most powerful position in the country, if not the world. Of course, other countries have had female leaders for decades. Iceland is a particularly interesting example. Jóhanna Sigurðardóttir became Iceland’s first female Prime Minister and the world’s first openly lesbian head of government. With a presidency of exactly sixteen years, Vigdís Finnbogadóttir is the longest-serving, elected female head of state of any country to date. It has been argued that the power of women in Iceland has had a profound effect. After all, they arrested and jailed their bankers when their economy collapsed; they didn’t bail them out and perpetuate the criminal travesty.

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It’s a Circus Around Here

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When I got home from work last night, iDJ was waiting at the door. “You’ll never guess what’s over our wall!” he said. 

From the odd look on his face I guessed, “Some kind of funky animal?”

“No…well, there might be…come look out the upstairs window!”

So I duly trudged upstairs and looked out to see a circus setting up behind our house. Seriously.

  
His pic from last night.

Of course when I got up this morning, I wanted to see how far they had gotten. Progress looked about the same at 8 am, but around 9, I was thrilled to hear the clanking of sledgehammers in sync as they drove the spikes for the tent. Out with the phone for a video!

I still don’t know how to embed. But watch it – it’s less than a minute – and funny, too. 

Never expected to get that on ‘film!’

Tonight, the tent is mostly up:

  
Irish, Irish, Irish – American? Okay. Well they do have that big ol’ American Freightliner truck hauling some of their gear. It is rare to see one here: it is hyooge. They parked it up by the main road as advertising – it works.

  
The view from upstairs tonight. Not much room to spare!

  
The view from standing in my back garden! I really think the dog is going to be less than amused to see this looming over her as she has her morning wee. I also really need to power-wash that ugly wall…

Our neighbors are not amused. But, the circus generator is very quiet (I’m sitting outside now), there do not appear to be any animals (good!), and the actual show is over by 9:30 at night so it shouldn’t bother us much. 

Awwwwww

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I was just petting Spot, our Bengal cat, and as I stoked him I commented on his single rosette marking, ‘His one rosette,’ I said to himself.

‘He has all the rosettes in my heart, though!’ says he.

Awwww.

  
I took this picture earlier in the week, as I thought Spot’s shoulder blades looked heart-shaped. The rosette is there, but rather fluffed up so not very distinct.

Got to love a man who unashamedly loves his cats.