Feb28

I Think I’ve Been Insulted…

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Probably not. Probably they have to ask everyone.

But it didn’t make me happy to be asked if I “want one of the lads to carry that out” just now at the shop. ‘That’ being a 24-pack of beer that I carried to the register in one hand, put on the belt with one hand, and carried out in one hand (until the plastic started to tear).

iDJ says they ask him the same question… so I shouldn’t be frowning right now, right? Or maybe they think he is old and weak, too? I somehow can’t see a 20-year-old lad getting asked the same question.

No blame to the clerk, no hatred and I didn’t throw a strop about it, of course. It’s just a little annoying.

Feb13

Fifty Shades of Grey – Best Meme Ever

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Second time I’ve posted this. My good friend created this way before the rubbish book that is 50 Shades became a rubbish movie. Since the rubbish movie is opening, this is what I have to say:

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Don’t buy cable ties and duct tape. Help out a real grey with a sad history instead.

Feb9

Laughing at Lokii

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Short post!
This scene unfolded an hour or so ago. It happens a lot, but this time I managed to get a photo:

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Having a bath on my legs, his legs akimbo, as cats are wont to do. So hey, why have cats if you can’t make fun of them now and again?

To give him some dignity – he was licking his leg, not his furballs!

Feb4

A Touch of Frost, of Spring

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I’m happy to announce that my drive home was, for the first time in what is probably months, not pitch black. Considering I don’t leave work until 6:30pm, that’s a very good thing. We are on the upswing to spring, folks, I promise!

I have some flowers to prove it, of course:

First, some idiot roses, now freeze-dried.

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One of the massive white ones out back. Clearly wasn’t ready for the cold.

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And one of the small pink/red ones out front. What were they thinking to bloom in mid-winter? Okay I do know that roses can’t think. Maybe. I did a science experiment back in the day that made me wonder about that, actually.

On to less-dead things. Of course, the very first flower we see in Ireland is the snowdrop. We haphazardly stuck a few in the ground 3 or 4 years ago, and they are reproducing like bunnies on Viagra.

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Love them! These are closed, sorry – I’m not home during the hours of the day when they open up and show their green, bee-orchid bellies.

Crocus are on the way up too. Not open yet, but the poor things are in a spot where we are likely to walk on them. Oh well.

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Is that snow? Not by my Northern Ohio standards. It will have to do.

The daffodils caught us by surprise . This time of year I rarely go into the corner where they grow unless I’m doing dog-poop-scoop duty.

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They are about 8in tall already – 20cm. Can’t believe I only spotted them on Monday! Guess that means my weed cover grass is too long.

Lastly, the clematis. I have little knowledge of how to care for this plant. I stuck it in the ground at the base of our weed-tree (a grey willow) and let it go to town. iDJ loves them, so these are ‘his’ plants despite me being the caretaker. Any green you see is clematis, or moss…

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This one is a couple of years old now – maybe three? I have a bad time sense. Want to say this is the second spring for it, anyway. These buds look so tender, it makes me worry for them. It’s below freezing now and has been most of the day. I have to trust they know what they are doing. Oh – this photo is taken at my eye-level, and I’m 5ft8in (rounded up to 173cm). So, I’m pretty sure the plant is happy and healthy.

Hope all of you are happy and healthy too, and have some signs of spring in your life.

Jan31

Roses for Mama

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Reblogging my own post – a first – because today would have been my mother’s 74th birthday.

heretherebespiders's avatarheretherebespiders

I bought myself a new rosebush recently – a peace rose. We had one in Florida, at the house where I did most of my growing up. Mom loved it. She wasn’t much of a gardener: the rose didn’t get a lot of attention and bloomed rarely. But when it did, she was ecstatic. I remember. I will never forget.

The 17th anniversary of my mother’s death is September 1. That year, 1997, it was also the Labor Day holiday – which meant exactly nothing to me at the time but makes it worse for me when they coincide again.

This post is for you, mom. I know you’d be thrilled with all of my beautiful flowers. But these roses are just for you, and I will think of you and smile with every new bloom.

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Jan26

This is Relevant to my Interests

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Full site here – historical thesaurus of drinking words – but I’m going to take screen shots in case you can’t be arsed to follow the link. Perhaps you might be half-shaved, toxic, poggled, shickery, or peloothered yourself right now. Why not, it is a Monday, after all!

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I love language. And I love drinking. We still do use a lot of these terms commonly, of course.

In Ireland we have quite a few that may or may not be on the list. I’ve had a few cans and I’m not going back to look!

Rotten (usually preceded by absolutely), rat-arsed, baloobud (likely regional to my town), steamboats, mashed, pished, totalled, poleaxed, writ off (also regional, apparently is said ‘rit aff’), buckled, spannered, slaughtered, wankered (sounds like a really good night, that), pissed as a fart (I love that one), langered or langers, locked, off yer head… it does go on!

Did you find favourites in the list, or have any new ones for the class?

Jan20

Conversation With a Siamese Cat.

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That’s the face. The face I get before he starts talking…

Mraaahhhh
Yes.
Mraaahhhh
Uh-huh.
Mraaahhhh
Okay.
Mraaahhhh
Yep.
Mraaahhhh
I know.
Mraaahhhh.
I know.
Mraaahhhh
I KNOW.
Mraaahhhh
I heard you!
Mraaahhhh
Enough!
Mraaahhhh
Stop.
Mraaahhhh
Stoooppppp.
Mraaahhhh
Oh god shut up.
Mraaahhhh
What? What do you want?
Mraaahhhh
Anything, anything to make you shut up…
Mraaahhhh
What do you want from meeeeee?!?
Mraaahhhh

Mraaaaahhhhhhhh!

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Jan17

Provenance

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Right, so. I’m behind on posting, on writing, on interacting with all my lovely blog-friends. My brain just hasn’t wanted to share. It’s been months actually since I’ve made an effort. So, I have very little today.

I have a lot of followers from the USA, and I wanted to talk about the differences between the meat I buy in Ireland, and what you all get in the US.

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First of all, we have a national quality standard.

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Secondly – dude! I can go to this farm and meet your man, if I want to. His name, his address, is right there on the package of steaks.

The provenance is always listed on non-processed food – not only meat, but fruits and vegetables. It makes me wonder why the US can’t, or won’t, do the same for their food. Wouldn’t you like to know that you are buying potatoes from Israel when you live in Idaho?

Jan6

New…Art?

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It’s been yonks since I did anything creative.

Oh: yonks is Irish slang around here for ‘a long time, probably too long.’

Recently – okay a month ago, or longer – I had the time, and the iPad, and a strange enviro men in which to play. Probably about 15 minutes.

I need to play more often, I miss it.

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Jan5

Spot Has a New Dirty Trick

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If you have cats, you probably have experienced what we call ‘Now, where the hell am I supposed to sit?’ wherein said cat(s) immediately curl up in the space your warm butt has just vacated. Spot is a master at this, taking only seconds to claim as His the butt-heated chair/cushion/couch/bed.

So. A few months ago, I obtained a slightly ripped, slightly dirty but still brand-new duvet. As I had no real need for it myself, I folded it up and put it into Neko’s bed, because it is an old dog bed and rather thin on the padding.

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(round one of seasonal “blowing the coat”. No freakin clue why she does this in the middle of winter)

Considering how much fur she has, Neko still likes a nice warm and soft bed to sleep in. Until she gets too hot and lies on the wood floor, of course.

How do these two stories become one evil cat-habit?

Spot has learned that if he tries to sleep with (or on) Neko, she gets irritated and gets up out of her bed. I’m sure at first, Spottie just wanted doggie cuddles. Once she left the bed, he suddenly had kitty-acres of warmth all to himself. After a few days, Spot had realised he could make Neko leave her own bed, and he now does it every night. Several times a night. Neko got so disgusted she actually left our bedroom and slept downstairs, the poor thing!

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(before Spot copped on and they were “sharing” the bed)

I’m still trying to figure out a way of breaking this habit without having to wake up several times…