Category Archives: People I love

Socks has a (large) Raspberry!

Standard

Howdy! Oirish Tirsday was back on Thursday again, so another marathon phone call took place.

After we got my job-interview sagas out of the way, I asked how Halloween went at her place, as this is the first one she’s had there. She was tired, but manned the door for the eve.

Best Costume was won by a dad who was dressed as Bob Ross. Ya gotta love a man who picks Ross as a costume! She’d love to know, are they artists? Or was he just a quick thinker with an Afro and a palette sitting around?

Second prize went to a small boy dressed as Mario of SuperMario fame. She offered him the candy bowl and his response, said in the manner of Comic Book Guy from the Simpsons, was: “Oh. Skittles. I have not seen those for a very long time.” Poor little geek-kid. You just know he’s not going to grow out of that voice.

We also talked about how neither of us ever did a trick to anyone. Except, she said, once on her birthday she and her friends toilet-papered a house. But that doesn’t really count, because her dad drove the getaway car, and bought the TP for them to use.

So, on to the baby-growing update! She’s still in fruit stages of development, and this week BabySocks is a large raspberry. I can’t help wonder what the book is going to say when she is further along…will they be brave enough to say cantaloupe? Watermelon? Don’t tell me, Socks, I love the giggle every week when you tell me the new fruit.

Raspberry now has a head bigger than the body and looks less like a lizard. It is growing hands, knees, elbows, lips, nose, and eyelids. There’s some twitching movement, too, but nothing she can feel.

Speaking of feel, the container BabySocks is growing in is now the size of a grapefruit, but she can’t feel any bump or lump yet. Seems like you would, doesn’t it? I asked if she is in the habit of sleeping face-down, because that would probably have to change. But she doesn’t, so sleeping will still be comfy.

Socks is still nauseated, and/or has a sour stomach. Food is becoming an annoyance – not a big deal, but eating has to be thought out in advance. Things that sound really, really, good turn out to be ‘meh’ when on the plate; the happiness of mealtime is a bit lacking. Even her home-cooked mac n cheese was “Not as awesome as it sounded on paper.”

She’s still tired, too, and can see a difference when she doesn’t get enough iron in a day. Zzzzz. Bear took her on a drive through the country to look at the autumn leaves, and she slept through them all. She was hungry, out of snacks and feeling ill from lack of food. But the restaurant he had planned on stopping at was closed. She said she felt terrible that she was spoiling the day by feeling sick and sleepy and didn’t want to tell him. As usual, more worried about others than herself.

All in all, not too bad, really! When she told Bear that she felt pretty good, and was surprised given her family’s pukey history, he leaned back, hooked his thumbs in his belt, and said, “I’m a cattleman. I can pick out a good breeder.”

And she not only let him live, she laughed.

Cucurbita maximas in flight!

Standard

My hands are all smelly and prune-y from cooking two massive pumpkins this afternoon. I have a lot of pumpkin now. I also have very little freezer space. Dammit. Because they weren’t pie pumpkins, they are really watery. I’m letting the massive clump of mush drain, but I have no idea where to put it all. If I have time tomorrow, I’ll blitz it in the food processor in the hopes of reducing the sheer volume of gourd guts.

20111101-191944.jpg
I might not have time because, drum roll please, I have a job interview tomorrow! Woot! It sounds like a good one, too – in other words, not retail. Although I’m not turning down retail at this point, uh-uh. However, I’ll take the higher pay that (hopefully) comes with an office job.

I used to have a doctor appointment tomorrow, finally, for my back. When the potential employer rang I said ‘yes I am free’ without even thinking about the damn orthopaedist. So I had to ring the hospital today and reschedule (they were closed yesterday for the holiday). I’ve been waiting for this appointment since June 2010, yes. But I’ve been unemployed since February 2010, so the bad back has to wait until the 16th now. They were very nice on the phone at least – I was totally honest and maybe that’s why it is only another 2 weeks instead of months. I know damn well not to call up and reschedule a job interview because I made a stupid mistake.

Oh dear. iDJ strikes again. He made a fire for me, and it isn’t staying lit.
Me: “Your fire went out again. The damn thing is useless.”
iDJ: “It loves you!”
Me: “Go away. Go away now.”

Earlier, I had to point out to him that he was talking to the fancy cheese he was nibbling on. I wonder about that man.

I bet I did something today that none of the rest of you did! I am totally willing to put money on it. Because I have none. I’d bet something really valuable, but on the tiny chance I lost, I doubt my cats would like you as much as they like me. I can stake a husband that talks to cheese? No takers? Okay then, you’d lose anyhow.

I watched someone try to start a helicopter while I was stark-ass naked.

Told you I’d win that one! I will, however, offer a consolation prize to the best guess of how I managed to view a failed aviation attempt whilst in the buff.

Don’t be scared…

Standard

I’m sitting in a house that’s only lit by candlelight, with a scary sound effect track playing. There’s a red lightbulb lit over our door, pumpkin and ghost lights in the windows, and a big scary streamer thing covering our front door. There are two big jack-o-lanterns, four headstones, and skull-bedecked cemetery fencing in our front garden. I’m wearing a wizard hat, and iDJ has on a creepy-as-hell clown mask.

20111031-180429.jpg
We are ready for trick or treaters!

We’ve had one uncostumed, dare-you, ToT attempt that we rejected, and three real ones so far. Two of the first three were in traditional Samhain masks, really good to see that.

The cats are unimpressed, one has left the downstairs entirely, and one is more interested in the fact we cracked the window a little bit to run the speaker wire outside. Dog is fine until the doorbell rings. In Ireland, they shoot off (illegal) fireworks for Halloween. So far, the dog hasn’t even twitched an ear at the booms, a good thing. Unless that first little barstid comes back and tries to put one in our letterbox…

A friend on FB just pointed out that this is the only time we encourage kids to visit. Damn right, and it is only okay now because we are doing our best to make them scream, cry, or wet their pants.

Oh, here’s how we tortured the dog this week:

20111031-181714.jpg
She only had to be Spiderman for a few minutes. It didn’t fit right.

20111031-181734.jpg
Ooo, aren’t we tough in our spikes? As long as Mr Carrot is around to protect us, we are…

We had a good time on Saturday night. The plan was a house party, then to hit as many of the three pubs in town that we could. Of course, we only ever landed in one pub, as you do.

Here’s me and the KIBIS-ers at the house party:

20111031-182607.jpg
Don’t we look great? I’m the tall one, obviously. I tried to squish my boobage flat (ha) and wear gender-neutral or even masculine clothes. The idea being that as long as I kept my mouth shut, no one would know if I was a girl or boy. It’s nice being tall 🙂 And it worked! In the pub, I scared a good few folks just by walking up and staring at them with my arms crossed. I found it really messed with their heads if I opened my eyes really wide to make crazy-person whites glow out of the mask. Yay!

My Harley jacket gave me away, though, to people who know me – I do wear it quite often, and as I’m the only biker chick in the town, well, they aren’t eejits here. Best response to me trying to fool someone came from the publican himself – “How’s the weather in America this week?”

Now for the piece de resistance! iDJ in his costume, assembled mostly by me and makeup by me.

20111031-183629.jpg

Any guesses who he is? How about a close up, then?

20111031-183934.jpg

Yes, he is Dee Snyder from the 80’s metal band, Twisted Sister! I really wanted to utilise his long blonde hair, and came up with Dee. I think he looks great! Even though he’s in my leggings, shirt, jacket, handcuffs, scarf, bandannas… hell, the only clothes that aren’t mine are socks, jocks and boots. Nice when a couple can share their clothing…

Socks has a blueberry!

Standard

I’m behind on my Baby-Socks update. Halloween got in the way!

We didn’t have our phone call until Friday, and it was short as I needed to get our Halloween costumes together. So, my update will be a bit short this week.

Socks had another ultrasound done, and got to bring home another photo. Due date is confirmed at June 14-15. Currently, the wee one is the size of a blueberry! I love the way her baby books give her fruit similes.

20111031-130622.jpg

She was shopping for a ‘pregnancy journal’ but they weren’t very good, nothing like what she wanted. So, she bought a new Moleskine and started her own. She works on it when watching TV, until she falls asleep… she did say she’s not as tired as she was, but still much sleepier than pre-Booberry. Nausea isn’t too bad, but she gets grossed out easily – even at cartoons. No cravings, really, but she not very interested in food right now. Except bacon. Mmmm, bacon! That in itself is a bit strange as she doesn’t eat bad things like bacon very often.

Her mom is finally reacting the way she was expected to all along – going bananas! Mr Socks (Bear), who is normally very shy, is telling people about their pregnancy all the time now. He’s even having conversations with male friends about “birthing plans.” I wish I could have eavesdropped on that conversation! Bear is also making sure she gets enough iron, because she can’t take those ginormous iron horse-pills right now.

So, over all – everything is fine, baby is perfect, she feels great, and her boobs have gotten 15 years younger. Yay for perky boobies! Enjoy ’em while they last 🙂

Gearing up for Halloween!

Standard

I’m sitting here with a smile on my face. It’s such a nice feeling. This is why I love Halloween!

iDJ and I spent about an hour this eve when he got home from work sorting through clothes for his costume. It got a little stressful, as nothing was working right. His stonewash jeans were too tight, and he needed something 80’s on his legs. What to do? Ah, trust in the resources of the SpiderQueen.

I found a pair of leggings in fabulous colors, and made him try them on. Oh, perfect! His legs look fantastic. He put on the boots he wanted to wear, and I quickly sorted out a shirt and the accessories to make a perfect 80’s costume. It says a lot about me that I actually still own clothes from 1985. Says even more that I can recreate the ‘look’ we wanted so easily. So he’s sorted, except for his hair and makeup tomorrow.

Except… for his junk.

He’s wearing tight leggings. Men are not meant to wear leggings. Especially not with just a t-shirt to cover their ‘bits.’ I told him that he was in charge of figuring out what undies to wear – he’s a boxers man – how? I don’t know. Nor do I want to see the experiments.

But! He posts this on FB:

Note: he always carries a man bag for his gear – another gender stereotype shattering difference I forgot yesterday! He has a ‘murse’; I hate handbags and refuse to carry one.

iDJ: My good lady had me play dress up earlier so my costume is sorted. Now if only I can figure out where to stash my junk…
Me: Oh my god. I can not believe you said that! Right, I’m going to have to buy you something that doesn’t show off your junk so well!
iDJ: Camera, phone, wallet with no money, hip flask, bible – that junk!
Me: Oh. Right.

Of course the facebook feed has gotten worse from there. We all knew he wasn’t talking about his iPhone! Braggart. I have no idea how to keep my pictures of tomorrow from being nearly pornographic.

To get our collective brains back into happy-land, here’s Dogzilla dressed as Spider-Man:

20111028-195429.jpg

I spent nearly two hours working with my mask today. It doesn’t fit well, and I have to wear a wig, too. The mask has to be glued into place, and I’ll need to blend makeup to cover the bare skin. I’m not a fan of masks, but this one is in two parts with the chin separate so my mouth will work as loudly as normal. The functional mouth was very important because I refuse to drink Guinness out of a straw. So, there was trimming, and fitting, and more trimming… and I found out that my liquid latex has gone hard and mostly unusable, so the edges of the mask will be really obvious, dammit. Also, I have clown white but no black, and I need to blend in grey makeup to match the mask. Bummer. A shopping trip that includes me is scheduled for tomorrow, but I can’t get proper professional quality makeup locally.

I’ve not even sorted my clothing yet. Uuuurgh. But really, I love Halloween!

A final note, if you’ll permit. I’m a terrible self-promoter, I couldn’t sell heaters to Eskimos. However, in keeping with the Halloween theme, I’d like to give you directions to the MP3 podcast of iDJ’s Halloween radio show. It is 2 hours, recorded live last night, and really, really, good. You’ll get my references to Glen Campbell yesterday better, too. Go here: http://bit.ly/vJS8fD and, if you want the playlist first or after listening, go here: http://bit.ly/ts8gXY

You’ll hear himself talking every half hour or so, getting progressively drunker and happier as he goes. That’s normal for his show 🙂

Halloween costumes and gender stereotypes, with random BS

Standard

Hi, and welcome back to another instalment of the continuing saga, “….

Nope, I got nothing. My blogging friend Michael could come up with something, I’m sure.

I’m a bit at loose ends tonight, as my BFF Socks has family over and isn’t available for our usual phone call. I know she’s having a great time, though, and not even I can begrudge her that. We’ve planned a conversation tomorrow, but it must needs be cut short due to my needing to assemble Halloween costumes.

My costume is mostly make up – well, actually, glue-on, good quality prostheses I bought in the US last year- and those terrifying New Rock boots I mention in my ‘about’ page. But iDJ – well. I am gonna have soooo much fun with him. I refuse to give it away, but we came up with a costume that utilises his beautiful, arse-length blonde hair. It also involves make up, but more like lipstick and eyeshadow rather than greys and blacks.

Despite us being married for over 6 years, he still gets called gay because of the hair. The hair I love. The hair that suits him. When they see him in costume (called ‘fancy dress’ here) on Saturday, they will say it even more. The thing is: only a man secure in his gender preference is comfortable enough to dress so oddly (and no, he’s not going to be in drag). So, you small town, insecure, gender-preference-repressed name callers – eat it and weep. He’ll be awesome, and he gets to come home with me.

I will post pictures. I know I’ll be unrecognisable, and he will likely be, too. I say that, because I’m still debating on keeping the blog anonymous. I think I have four out of 11 followers who don’t know me in ‘real life.’ However, I’ve not said the horrible things I thought I might say when I first started the blog. I was in such a dark place, I figured it would be non-stop bitching about everything. Instead, it turns out this thing helps me see the humor in my life, and makes me appreciate the little things more.

I also think I appreciate the bigger small things more, like my KIBIS nights. We did have one this week, not at my house but at MrsMMC’s apartment. We voted to include another member, but we didn’t say who was going to invite her… oops. Is that my job? I’m not going to detail the evening, but some things we talked about are things I want to ramble on about here, and I’ll give a KIBIS-mention when I get a round tuit.

20111027-203501.jpg

Yes, I know that is an old, bad joke. It makes me think of my dad, though. He had one of these, and he loves an old, bad joke as much as I do. Hell, my whole family loves stupid jokes. Would you like two that came from my great-grandmother, on my mother’s side? No? Tough. Please note, these jokes have to be over 150 years old, passed down over the generations.

What are the three dirty parts of the stove? Lifter leg and poker.

What are the three naughty vegetables in the garden? Lettuce turnip and pea.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Right, what next? If I hadn’t segued into bad jokes and KIBIS, I might have said some things about the seeming gender confusion in my household. That is completely the wrong term, of course. Stereotype shattering is a better term.

An example from right now! He is live on the air, playing his Internet radio show. Tonight is Halloween themed. He was playing a song that is new to me, and I like it a lot (a rarity, I’m picky). Afterward, he (was) is playing Glen Campbell, Ghost on a Canvas. He told me that he’s snuffling back tears because Glen has Alzheimer’s, and his memory only comes back for his songs, not his family or friends. So, Glen is now a ghost himself. Aw. (iDJ also said the two songs before the one I like made him weepy.)

Me? I’m considering deleting the part of my post yesterday where I admitted to feeling anything.

Okay, back to fun examples of why we are so good, and so odd, together.

He loves to shop for clothes. He knows labels, what is hot, what is classic, what isn’t worth the trouble and why. He always has, and spent hundreds on a single jacket or pair of jeans back in the day of the Irish Punt.

I don’t know, nor do I care, about labels or what is in fashion or cool, except to avoid what is trendy. I buy based on three things:
Is it an acceptable price for what it is?
Is it ‘classic’? Meaning, it better not be a trend and I’ll look like a twat next year because I’m not doing this shopping shit again any time soon if I can help it.
Does it look good on me?
Sometimes there is a no. four: is it so totally awesomely tacky that I cannot live without it?

iDJ is a shoe freak. Sneakers, trainers, whatever you want to call them. His passion is to re-buy all the trainers he had as a kid; sadly thwarted due to me not having any income. The good part about this is that he shops well. TK Maxx, aka TJ Maxx, is the best for inexpensive cool shoes. Even better is that after he checks the selection in his size he looks at my size, and has gotten me some really cool rare kicks. Oh lordy, he’s rubbing off on me.

Enough about clothing, it’s boring.

Next is, of course, that his hair is loooooooong. He’s not a metalhead, and doesn’t want to be taken for one. Hipster is more his style. Yes, he even wears cardigans. But, he has no piercings or tattoos and doesn’t want any. I have 3 tats, want another, and my ears are punctured 4 times left, once right. All my tats are on my left, too, it’s a thing with me. No, I don’t know why.

Last one, then I’m done, honey, I promise.

He drives a MINI Cooper. I drive a Harley-Davidson Sportster.

Because this has gone on long enough and I have to end on a high note, don’t I? A thing i am very happy indeed about: He isn’t threatened, is indeed relieved, to let me do most of the mechanical repairs and assembly around the house. I love putting together flat-pack!

Why is my dog purple?

Standard

I took the Queen for walkies today, go me! The weather was good (not pissing rain or looking like it was about to, not windy) and I was up, washed, motivated, and looking out the window at 3pm. The timing is important, because the local school lets out at 3:30 or thereabouts and I detest walking Herself through hordes of tweens. She doesn’t like them, they hog the pavement (sidewalk), and sometimes they try to pet her, which really freaks her the fuck out. I’m not thrilled to deal with them either, though I do like it when one says ‘that dog is savage!’ when we pass, because ‘savage’ means ‘awesomely cool’ and not ‘vicious throat-ripping beast.’

We had a good little walk, with no excitement. She did get to go into the post office with me, a rarity. I won’t take her inside if there’s a queue (unless it is people we know). She’s a big dog, I don’t want to scare anyone, and our post office is usually chock-full of old ladies. The Queen loves old ladies. When she loves you and wants to say hi, she does this funny front-legs bounce which can be intimidating. She’s under control, but just looks a bit excitable.

Today she got to put her feet up in the service window and say hi to the clerk; that was good.

We also went in the Paper Shop, to see if my mother in law was working. She wasn’t, but I had a little chat with one of her co-workers on issues of little importance. I do like my town.

We also had a short visit with Chris. Chris is… not all there. I believe the story is that he lives in a home for the handicapped, but by his own admittance. He always wears a suit, no tie. He perches his bony butt on the windowsills of various businesses up and down the main street and chain-smokes. Some days are bad days for him; when you say hello he doesn’t answer and his upper lip is caught on a snaggled lower tooth, making him look a bit deranged. Other days, like today, are good ones, and he’ll actually talk a moment and ask about the dog. He never remembers that he always asks the same things.

On the way home, Dogzilla likes to walk on the church wall as it gives her a nice perspective to survey every.last.moving.thing. I lean and wait while she checks out the ‘hood. Today, I noticed a purple spot on her lovely white fur. And another, smaller one, near it:

20111024-191733.jpg

I know the pic sucks. It’s just for funsies.

It took me a moment to puzzle out why my dog had purple spots. Then I remembered: she was on the couch with iDJ last night after dinner. He was drinking wine. Red wine. He spilled wine on the dog!

I think he could officially have a drinking problem… at the very least, getting it into his mouth!

I am emotionally attached to my plants.

Standard

Pre-script, written after but edited to go before the post: I’ve made myself snort a laugh about this post: I just told a friend it was hard to write because I hate to get ‘sappy.’ Get it? Its a plant-pun. Oh, leaf me alone, I like puns.

I took and posted a picture on FB today that got me thinking about plants:

20111022-193654.jpg

The pic is of one of my lantana bushes that I grew from seed this year. I am very much in love with the four that grew and thrived for me, and I don’t want them to die. I’m so worried that I brought them inside last month so the hurricane winds and rain wouldn’t kill them. I’m also afraid our winter this year will be harsh again, and I know these are semi-tropical plants. I also think they aren’t too pleased to be indoors, and I keep a close eye on them.

I love my lantanas for two reasons. Firstly is because the house I grew up in, in NW Florida, had an empty lot next door that was full of native plants and scrub-brush. Prickly-pear cactus, strange fungi and mosses, wild rosemary, palmetto, pine trees, and lantana bushes. In retrospect, I actually did pay a lot of attention to the flora around me, but that’s probably because I was a very lonely and outdoorsy kind of kid. Anyhoo, the lantana were very close to our property, maybe even on it, as I was never sure where the boundary actually was. I never gave them much thought – they aren’t that pretty and the foliage has a strong smell – until fall arrived. In the autumn the Monarch butterflies would come through on their trek down to Mexico – not the great hordes you see in pictures, but enough that catching them with a butterfly net (ok, it was actually a little fishing net) was great fun and entertainment for hours. I’ve always loved the fall, and always will associate it with lantana: the unique smell it has, the pink and yellow flowers, and the delicate sipping tongues of the Monarchs.

When I moved to Ireland I was shocked to see tiny lantana plants for sale in our local posh (expensive) garden store. I tried not to shout, but what came out of my mouth was, “That’s a weed! How can they sell it for €20? It’s a stinky, huge weeeeeeed!”

But I secretly wanted one.

Last October, I got to go to visit my sister in South Carolina, to meet my only niece for the first time. I won’t go into great detail about the visit – it was a year ago and I was there for two weeks! I’d be here all day. Wish I had a blog then, though. Anyhow, one fine day we went to the beach, my little niece’s first ever visit. On the way back to the car I spotted a scraggly lantana, in seed, at the edge of the parking lot. So I gathered a few berries to bring home, not having any idea if, or how, they were meant to germinate.

Double-special, these little plants! A reminder of one of the few good memories of childhood. A bit of home, when I am so very far away from all the places my memories were formed, and a physical memento of a great visit and a ‘baby’s first’. Hopefully, I will have these little green friends forever.

Here’s another plant, a houseplant, that I have an emotional connection to:

20111022-193854.jpg

Doesn’t look like much, does it? It’s a common Christmas cactus. But it is special, because it comes from my grandmother’s cactus, originally. Grammy died in… oh hell…I’m guessing 1976, 1977 at the latest. I was really young, so I don’t have a reference point to pin it down more accurately. Grammy was our mom’s mom, and Mom inherited the cactus when her mother died. The cactus lived outside (Florida, remember?) and it bloomed around Thanksgiving (end of November) rather than Christmas, so we called it the Thanksgiving Cactus. Although, as you can see, it blooms for Halloween in Ireland – and also in late April or May – an Easter-ween cactus?

Fast forward to 1998, the last time I lived in Florida. When my mother died, I took a cutting from the Thanksgiving Cactus and started my own plant.

Fast forward again to 2005, when I moved to Ireland. I wasn’t allowed to bring my plants! I took cuttings from nearly everything I had growing. I couldn’t use soil, to prevent any potential disease being brought in. I put them in water, in glass jars, inside double zipper bags and then boxed them up in my shipping container in the dark for 5 weeks…

Some cuttings survived and grew again, but very few. The one I was really worried about was the Thanksgiving cactus – and you can see, it is fine, happy and healthy.

I have known this one plant for over 30 years. To me, this bit of beauty is more than a plant, it is a living gift from two beautiful women. I don’t have them anymore, but I do have a cactus that has grown and flowered for three generations of my family. Of course I love it.

Socks has a sweet pea!

Standard

Ooo, lookit me, blogging on the night of Oirish Tirsday instead of waiting until tomorrow! Socks had stuff to do, and I’m suffering a hangover and wanted an early night, so we only talked on the phone for 2.5 hours. Yes, that’s a short call!

iDJ is still broadcasting his live radio show upstairs, and the floor is shaking, the walls are thumping, and he is singing. Oh dear. Sounds like Testament is on now, so he’s really rocking out!

I had to go up and share the fun, it was indeed Testament, Trial By Fire. Yay! I’m a metalhead, and really like it when he gets in a bit of old school thrash during his show. The next song was Megadeth, Wake Up Dead – oh yah, baby!

Our neighbours must hate us on Thursdays.

Anyhoo, Socks had her first obstetric appointment today! Everything is fine and good and normal, hooray! She is six weeks along, and the due date is June 14. There’s another ultrasound in a week to confirm this, but we’re pretty sure that’s accurate, since every moment has been planned and documented by Mom.

Wow, I got to call her mom! This is so strange and new to me, and I’m not even centre stage here. But I can only write about my reactions, right?

Socks had an ultrasound today, and got to see her baby for the first time. She said her first reaction was “Oh my god, its real!” Baby is TINY, the size of a ‘sweet pea.’ I had to ask for clarification on how big that is – bigger than an orange seed, apparently. BabySox is currently developing a jaw, cheeks, kidneys, and has the barest beginnings of ears, eyes and a nose. Pretty cool, eh?

Socks was so happy to see the living proof, too. So very happy that she got all three doctors in the room excited and happy along with her. Even the student (that she gave permission to attend) told her congratulations. Aw! She really made me giggle when she told me that this tiny dot is the cutest baby ever, with the most beautiful heartbeat! There’s a good mom in the making. It is fascinating to see Socks change the way she thinks and feels so fast. She admits that if you told her a week ago she would think of such a small, unformed thing as beautiful or cute, she’d have laughed you out of the room.

She’s sleeping a lot, and just starting to feel a little whoopsie at times. Oh, the fun is just beginning! I bet she names the toilet, because she’s gonna get so intimate with it they should be on a first-name basis. She’s also craving savoury food and not sweets, and meat more than she normally would. She’s already a fantastically healthy eater, and it will be fun to track cravings. Doritos are apparently off the menu already, and Swedish meatballs are on. For now…

Love you, Sweet Pea! Thanks for bringing me along 🙂

Wine sucks

Standard

I have to write something! I’m sitting here, just goofing around fingerpainting instead of putting words on paper. Um. Pixels on pixels? Just what the hell is it called when you write digitally, anyway? We need new clichés.

I actually do use paper on occasion. Mostly to make a quick note to remind me of something funny, or a good turn of phrase I want to keep, something I want to Google later, or a date of importance. I have a crap memory. I blame it on all those drugs I did in the 60’s. Drugs, at least, would explain why I cannot keep to a single topic in a paragraph. Bad writing? Probably. Do I give a shit? Obviously not. This blog is me upending my cerebellum and splashing around in the puddle.

How many topics did I fit in there? I could have kept going.

Right, notes. I have four from last night, two from conversations with iDJ and two from the KIBIS meeting. One of the ones from my beloved relates to wine, and I have a photo to share, so without further ado, let’s talk about wine!

It sucks.

Okay! The ‘meeting’ was great craic of course. I’m glad we are making an effort to have a get-together regularly. Lawsy me, I do need a social life. We mostly talk about our pets, because we are all animal people and all have at least two fur-persons in our respective homes. Our representative from Italy (hereafter Mrs MMC) currently has way, way more than two, in two countries and at least three houses. Wow! Loads of stories, and despite English not being her first language, she can really tell a funny tale. But I can’t share them, because I wasn’t taking notes. Well, except for those two times I mentioned…

Mrs MMC and I share our homes with menfolk, along with the other animals. We have picked menfolk who are particularly good at letting animals manipulate them. If one of their cats miaows at her hubby he panics, trying to figure out what kitty wants: Do you want me to make you a sausage? Some take out? A curry?

My other note was about when they are at his parents’ house. Now, they feed a lot of local strays, and there are a lot of strays. Mrs MMC catches and has them vet checked and sterilised at her own expense, by the way. Thank you! Anyhow, there are always a rake of kitties outside on the back patio. When the parents aren’t home, Mr & Mrs MMC leave the door wide open and let the furry masses troop in and out as they please.

Right, maybe you had to be there.

Back to wine. Here’s iDJ’s temporary workstation last evening:

20111019-203410.jpg

Yes, my Halloween decor is over the top. Feic off. I love Halloween.

Please note he has the essentials: Plastic Halloween wine glass, Mac laptop, and a box-o-wine, all ready to hand. Blargh! Even if I could stand wine, I cannot imagine boxed wine decanted into plastic tastes good. Yes, dear, I know we’re broke (that is for when he reads this and gives out to me for making fun of cheapo wine in a cardboard bottle).

Ugh! Just now: I needed to check the internal temperature on my pork roast. I’m not allowed to bend over cuz of the bad back, so I got on my knees in front of the oven (I’m tall, this put me eye level with the meat thermometer). iDJ starts in right away about how he never sees me on my knees anymore. Like, as in prayer (we are atheist). I told him I was praying to the pork, then wished I never, ever, said that.

Back to wine. See, I hate it so much I can’t even be arsed to keep writing about it for 10 minutes! M’man was giving me stick about not liking wine, and pulled out his old standard, “One of these days. I’ll keep working on you.” This got him a glare of rage and a rant about how, at my age, I fucking well know what I like, and no amount of different colours or flavors of wine was ever going to convince me that wine is palatable.

He kept at me, and I finally shut him up by threatening him with the words that have been uttered many a time since blogs were invented – just not said by me.

“Don’t make me blog about this!”