Garden update

Standard

We have yet another bank holiday Monday tomorrow, so yet another 3-day weekend for me, yay! This one hasn’t been warm, or sunny, or dry. I have laundry on the line to dry, but I’m in sweatpants and a tshirt with my fuzzy warm ‘smoking jacket’ on over it. It feels and smells like a cool October day, not early June.

But I’m still outside! Unlike the hubby who seems to be trying for the record of ‘most crappy TV watched in one day.’ On my trips inside for this and that I’ve heard: an Aussie Baptist preacher spouting whatever nonsense he was spouting, BBC Jubilee coverage, bad Irish commercials for upcoming family events around the country, The Big Bang Theory (twice), The Simpsons Movie, and most recently both Big Daddy and one of those Honey I Shrunk the Kids films.

This after we watched Battleship, with his finger on the fast-forward button. I napped, then when I woke up and it was still on, I left to go do more gardening in the cold. Terrible, truly terrible, movie. We also watched Iron Sky – which is one of those I’ll have to watch again to see if it was bad or funny. I did laugh a lot, but it felt a bit forced even to me. Very much a political movie as well, which went oddly with the humour.

Anyhoo, I took a few photos of my plants on Friday evening. They aren’t great pics, except for one. Should I start with that one? Ok. it wasn’t dark out – its just a quirk that the background is nearly black.

20120603-193956.jpg

This is one of two massive blooms on my white climbing rosebush. I bought four rose plants a few years ago for €1.99 each from Aldi, and this one alone has proven to be worth the price of all four and then some. It was supposed to be planted out front, but I messed up and didn’t identify them properly. This is after I left them in a bucket of water for about a month (they were bare-root roses). In other words I did my best to kill them! But I’ve never had roses and they were so cheap, I really didn’t expect them to live. My intention was to put the two climbers out front, the white and a pinky-red. Then out back here, a lavender and a true red. Well, oops. The non-climber red one is a let down, its too pink and is a bit, well, boring. The lavender one has absoloutely gorgeous, if small, blooms but it nearly died two years ago and is only about 1.5 feet tall. It does have two buds on it now though – yay! They all got a feed today, too.

But, two days later, the white roses are really enormous. Hold on, let me take a current pic but not with the iPad, it just is a terrible camera…

20120603-201044.jpg
My very dry-looking hand in there for size comparison – and remember I wear a size large glove 🙂

Here’s the climbing rose out front – it was drooping way over so I wired it up to the wild ivy I let grow on the wall. Probably much to my neighbour’s chagrin – it’s technically his wall.

20120603-201351.jpg

And in the front corner of the same wall, my wild sweet pea. I had NO idea what this was when I grew it. I’d gathered the seed so long ago that I couldn’t recall what the plant it came from looked like. I had written, ‘pretty flowers, climber, likes sun’ on the zip-lock baggie, however – and I knew I got it somewhere in Akron, Ohio. In approximately 1999. But hey, why not give it a try in 2005 and see what happens? This is what happens:

20120603-201824.jpg
Now, these sweet peas are just only getting started. See that patch of bare dirt at the bottom of the frame? It’s bare because these friggin’ things go mental every year. They come a good 8 feet out into the grass and then go across the driveway! Again, I planted let wild ivy grow in the corner so the sweet pea had something to hold on to, and I put bamboo canes in a teepee formation in the hopes that they would go up and over the front wall instead. I’ve been working on that for a few years, but this year my plan seems to be working – the pea is mostly vertical and holding on to that ivy. Man, my neighbour must hate me. Also in shot – the pathetic remains of my tulips. They were expensive, and hard work to plant: lovely dark purple and white/purple variegated, but they just don’t like it there. This year after the foliage finishes dying I’ll dig em all up and find a better home for them. Somewhere. Maybe in pots?

I have most things in pots, due to lack of good soil, the massive slug problem (hate them! killed a dozen today at least), lack of room and the lack of any real plan for my garden. My blueberry bushes are in pots, and the warm weather made the one I bought last year double it’s fruit size in just a week.

20120603-194107.jpg
Yum, yum yum. Can’t wait to be going out every day and picking the ripe ones. So far we have no problem with anything eating them – the birds don’t seem to know what they are.

The strawberries are in the ground, not pots (despite birds and slugs knowing just what they are) and are the very first thing we planted when we bought the house seven years ago. This pic is of slightly more than a third if my strawberry patch. Unfortunately it seems they have a limited life span, despite all the new plants created every year. I don’t even have a single bloom, much less a berry. I hate killing plants, but I think I’ll have to dig them all up and buy new ones next year. Sigh.

20120603-203213.jpg
I think I’ll stop here – I could keep going but this post is already a bit long. By the way, even iDJ finally realised he was wasting his Sunday with that ‘Honey, I…’ film.

Socks has a Pumpkin!

Standard

Bwah-haw-haw! A PUMPKIN!!!! She’s got another living being, inside of her own living being, that’s the size of a gawd-damn pumpkin! Hahahahahhaa!

Okay, she understands why I think this shit is so funny, and doesn’t hate me for it – even though I did feel the need to explain to her yesterday on the phone why I did nothing but laugh last Thursday when we got a rare Skype moment. You see, to me, being so far away, she’s the exact same person she’s always been. I just cannot mentally picture my best friend being any different. She is who she is, and I love her to bits for it. I can hear about water weight gain, and swollen ankles and foots, but I just don’t see it. Not in my head. My mental image of Socks is probably not much like her actual physical being, though – being so far away for so many years, my head-image of her is a composite of the facial expressions I see in photos, memories, and her overwhelmingly awesome personality. Whatever an intelligent, no-nonsense, hardworking, logical, thoughtful, funny, irreverent, responsible, sarcastic, confident and just plain sexy (my personal definition of sexy; I totally think my BF is hot) woman looks like to you, that’s what Socks looks like in my head.

So… seeing her, in a tight, black and white, horizontally-striped tank top just set me off into paroxysms of laughter. She’s hyoooge! And I know she’ll snap right back afterward, back to someone I can see on Skype and not be giggling my hole off at. And I don’t mean physically – not exactly – I mean… I’ll know when she feels different, when she can move properly and help with the new house renovations and just… be Socks again.

Which might be a problem, in all fairness. Who amongst you moms found that you were almost a different person after becoming a mom? Did you notice? Did you think it was a change for the better? Could you go back to who you were, and would you want to? I’m wondering for a few reasons: one because I know damn well I’d be a shit parent of a human. Two, because this is something Socks used to worry over but now she doesn’t. I am someone who likes to observe and is fascinated by human nature, and I really, really, am interested by this change in my best friend.

I’d love your input – the people I’ve met via this blog are so very insightful and willing to give hard questions a proper mulling-over.

Okay just had a totally freaky thing where condensation from my beer-glass (previous post) dripped on the bottom right corner of my iPad and it went nutso for a bit – kept changing case randomly. Might be a temperature-difference thing?

Anyhoo – Socks has a Pumpkin. Last week was a ‘winter melon’ whatever that is. Neither she nor I can be bothered to figure it out. But last week, on Friday, she had her last ultrasound and everything is good. She’s got two weeks left, but if Button comes now she’ll be fine and at least 7lbs. Doc said there’s nothing to do but wait, and stop taking the baby-aspirin.

There’s no sign of Button coming now, though! Socks is just starting to have Braxton-Hicks contractions, which she says are usually over before she’s realised they have started. Her terrible swelling has gone down – 4lbs in the last week! – which startled her doctor until she explained just how bad it had gotten. Her cure? Loads of water intake, and watery fruit as a snack – grapes, watermelon, etc. Yum.

She’s also staved off stretch marks with sweet almond oil, and no sign of varicose veins either. Doing well, and lucky – not to say by any means these things are bad, it’s just sort of the last thing you need when even the Internet is saying you’ve got something the size of a pumpkin in your abdomen – and in only 9 short months, I’m amazed anyone’s skin and legs could keep up with that!

Yesterday, Socks and Bear drove to Ikea to buy a dresser for Button. Mostly because the shipping was $200 and I don’t care what you drive, a 3hr round trip won’t cost you that much. It was interesting to hear that Bear kept pointing out that everyone was staring. As Socks said, ‘I was in a bright pink tank top. I’d be hard to miss! But how often does anyone see a nearly full-term pregnant lady out in public? They don’t go out. They hide.’

Socks: ‘We worked hard for this belly, why hide it?’
Bear: ‘You couldn’t if you tried.’

Poor Bear, though. As the end draws nigh he is getting really upset about the idea that he has to see his beloved wife in real pain. He’s a big strong manly man, but this is one thing he knows he isn’t strong enough to handle. Or thinks he isn’t – Socks and I know he’ll make it, even if he does faint. Neither of us will think that’s a sign of weakness – it’s totally a sign of true love.

Socks, on the other hand, isn’t afraid of the imminent pain. She’s just excited. I hope I can relate this properly – she said that all of this time, Button has just been a concept, an idea. Not to her – once the terror of another miscarriage had passed – but to us. To everyone else, on the outside of her body, Button is still an idea, a theory. Socks is thrilled with the idea that she will soon get to share with others the person she’s been interacting with through pokes, kicks, hiccups, random movements, sharp pains, and those long, slow nights when she just listens to what is happening inside of her and plans for the future.

What I’m doing right now.

Standard

It’s warmish, and only a bit rainy, so I’m outside. Hubby brought home New Beer – new to him, and Ireland, anyway. I’ll eventually cover all the new beer I’ve tried lately, but as a warm up to writing a Socks post, I wanted to share the environment I’m writing in:

20120601-205702.jpg
The birds are going mental all around me, and for a rarity there isn’t a car or building alarm going off. I hear cars going past, but no mowers, no tractors. Even the local cows and donkeys are settled tonight.

Wish I knew how to sample my background noise to share it with you all.

Mostly I’m glad to be out here and away from my loving hubby and his constant music – how bad am I – but the birdsong is so much more relaxing.

Face chewing…

Standard

Warning: for my regular readers, this gets graphic in description but there are no visuals to avoid.

Right, I rarely do this… But I just heard and saw the stills and footage of a man in Miami who ate the face off another man. Rudy Eugene was shot to death by police, four shots. I wouldn’t be talking about it at all if I hadn’t read a load of comments about this incident on a website. The reactions just astounded me.

From America: I like that cops kill people that are eating other people’s faces off. “Get over it” (the bit in quotes from several commenters).

From everywhere else: How terrible that the cop had to use lethal force and shoot the man four times to stop him. Surely something else could have been done, we don’t allow our police to have guns and you Americans are too trigger-happy. Tasers, pepper spray, baton bludgeoning, and shooting the assailant in the legs were all mentioned as possible methods.

Okay, you’re both wrong. “Get over it” is not a valid argument. Neither is stating that you are happy that you live in a place where the law can kill people just because they are allowed to. I’m the daughter of a retired cop, and almost became one myself. Cops are people, and they make mistakes just like people do: all the time, every day. Being glad that you live in a place where those mistakes can be legally lethal isn’t something to be ‘proud’ of. If you can’t come up with a logical reason for why you think this shooting was justified, please don’t talk. You are the reason other people don’t like Americans.

The system needs work; I believe that human error is a terrible thing when lives are in the balance. I am not anywhere near qualified or educated enough to offer up a solution.

Now, the non lethal suggestions. The victim and assailant were on the ground, prone, and by appearances they were both naked or barely clothed on a hot summer Southern Florida day. Tasering would have further injured the bleeding man, because their bodes were in contact via various bodily fluids and actual fucking TEETH. I’m pretty sure the attacker had to have at least one hand on his victim, because it’s hard to rip someone’s face off without holding said face still. So – no taser, an instant decision by the officer on scene, if he even had one: and correct.

Next, pepper spray. Now, would YOU spray pepper in the face of a man with no face? Because the eating was still in progress, you know. Bad man’s face right there with faceless man’s. No, you wouldn’t do that. Another instant decision.

Leg shooting? No help here, the guy isn’t running away! What would sudden, non-lethal injury do to him? Not much other than perhaps cause more damage to the victim.

Not suggested: going up and grabbing the guy’s leg to drag him away, after repeated commands to cease and desist were ignored. Um. You’d really have to have balls of steel to do this, and a lot of back up in case the assailant turned on you. A uniform and bulletproof vest isn’t going to help against someone willing and able to tear off another’s face with his own teeth. The idea would have crossed my mind, were I the officer on the scene -but I’m pretty sure that sort of risk is discouraged in training. It’s really, really risky and not guaranteed to help the victim at all, and actually might put not only the cop but any bystanders at risk if the assailant escapes.

Baton/nightstick blows? Again, no – you’d have to get too close, and the risk to yourself and the victim is too great. No guarantee it would work, either – and in the meantime, someone is being eaten alive right in front of your eyes.

Clearly the guy is nuts, NO ONE does that sort of thing. So, he’s nuts…not in his right mind and probably not deserving to die for it. No one else deserved to be hurt or killed either. I think his only recourse was shooting the assailant to death – I can’t say how far apart those four shots were, but if it were me behind the gun, I’d be dammed aware that the last one hadn’t quite done the job and another terrible, horrible, necessary, shot was needed. The other critique I read about the shooting is that the victim and perpetrator were, indeed, face to face – and there was a risk of hitting the victim as well. Maybe, maybe. I can’t recall the last time a cop shot a victim while aiming for the criminal, though I suppose it has happened. If it were me, I’d take the chance – not only as the fastest and most secure way to stop the attack. I’d also be thinking, in the back of my mind: poor fucker, I wouldn’t want to live like that, if I miss it will be doing him a favor.

Not saying that’s a justification. Just saying, ‘if it were me’. I sure as shit would rather die than live with what this man will have to live with – if he lives at all.

I’d love to hear what my father has to say about this – maybe he’ll allow me to post a comment on his behalf…

What do your cats mean to you?

Standard

Cats n Co did a post a few days ago called ‘Why Do You Love Cats?’ that I’ve been saving so I could reply properly. I ended up gettng rather long-winded (no, me?) and so I’ve cheated a bit and saved my comment to repost here. But I’m going to get even longer-winded, if I have the time…

Oh where to start… there was a Siamese in the house before I was born, so I never had to live without a cat. My baby blanket was finally taken from me when she died and she was buried with it – my mother knew me so well even at the age of five/six. She knew I could never say no to giving my most precious possession to Samantha Jane. And how clever of her to think of such a thing when she was so upset herself!

I learned from all of the cats I’ve ever known – I even pick up physical habits from them. My cat Seymour used to nod his head upward from the chin several times when he was looking at something of interest in the distance, and I still do the same even though he’s been gone 20 years now. I catch myself trying to curl my tongue like a cat when I yawn. I can do an impression of an angry kitty that fools real cats, and have been attacked by a kitten for saying something truly offensive.

A Siamese we had named Bambi wasn’t very friendly to me as a kid – she liked my mom best – but Bambi would always come and comfort me when I was crying, which I did a lot. She would also be my companion on midnight raids of the kitchen for milk and cookies, and I’d share both with her. She liked to lick the middle out of a sandwich cookie, and it has never occurred to me that letting a cat drink out of my milk glass is unsanitary.

I’m never alone with a cat around. I always have someone to sit with, to talk to, to take care of, to play with, to cuddle.

I know what they are thinking – when they are bothering to do any thinking – and I know when they are just happy to exist in a sunbeam. That’s a lesson I’ve learned, and well! My hubby tells people that I follow the sun around the garden like a cat. I like that I can tell when Spot has an itchy ear and is about to have a scratch, and how I know Lokii wants to curl up just there.

They are never deliberately cruel, they are always ready to play, they look beautiful, their fur feels like the most luxurious material ever invented, and they even smell good! The smell thing came up for me a couple of times today, and I realised I’ve never mentioned that my cats smell great. Different from each other, too. Lokii smells like perfume, even though he has dandruff. Spot is less flowery but still smells…good. Clean, warm, cat-smell. My boys aren’t allowed outside, but I still remember from when I was a kid how the a cat smelled when she came in from outside, especially if she had been under a car – an interesting scent of hot cat and oil/gasoline.

Cats require work, and sacrifice, and dedication, and responsibility. None of these are bad things.

They give so much: beauty, tactile sensation, play, and the best naps ever. I always know that when I lie down with the intention of having a good nap, I’ll have both boys with me. They are the only reason I even can have a nap, I think…

20120529-223506.jpg
Spotty’s little feet on my neck as we nap on the couch. He always makes an effort and stretches out to put his feet on my face when he’s happy, warm, comfortable and sleepy. How I love him so.

Never will I choose a life that is cat-less. My life would be smaller, diminished, without cats.

I had to share…

Standard

I’m burnt to a crisp, but unlike my Irish brethren it actually suits me… I know that tonight/tomorrow my country will be filled with lobster-red uncomfortable people. Hehehehehh. Me? I’m done to a turn nicely. Yet another good Irish term…

I had my MRI today! Man, I’ve been through a few but maybe I blocked the memory or sommat… In any case, I was fully aware that I could not sit up, move my arms , or even open my eyes because seeing the ceiling of my prison was too scary… I’m usually only claustrophobic in crowds, but daaaaam, that’s a tight fit.

But again – because it was and is a nice warm day (despite the wind) I dressed in next to nothing, for me… A way-too-tight/small sports bra, a tank top (known as a vest here for reasons unknown to me) and best of all, a spandex ‘skorts’ thingamajig that Socks sent to me years ago.

Yep, I’m 40, and chubby… But half the battle is being confident, right? I looked awesome for an old fat chick. And! I actually made an effort and shaved me legs, woot… AND! Painted my toenails. I promise you, this is 100% a shot of me feets, right now!

20120525-205737.jpg
Dogeen is NOT impressed! She wants the good stuff she smells cooking.

My Aday.org photos

Standard

Did you do the Aday.org photo challenge? If not, and you have pictures from May 15 and you’d like to be part of an international project of photos taken on just May 15, you still have two more days to submit them. I’ve just uploaded my two, and while one is much better than the other, I still thought ‘what the hell’ and uploaded both.

20120522-195302.jpg
The ‘meh’ photo – but there’s something about it I still like. Hubby is watching the dog to make sure she is being good, and has no idea I’m upstairs taking a sneaky shot. Yes, my garden is tiny and full of crap and my dryer vent hose has fallen apart – and he’s in his “lounge pants!” Maybe that why I like it, this is really 100% ‘my view.’

20120522-195536.jpg
The better one – and the only one I was going to upload as I thought we only got to upload one pic (you can send 10).

This is the front of our house, which is a semi-detached (sorta like a condo in the US). Mostly the neighbor’s side of the house is in the pic, but I took it from inside the car in our driveway – hence the rain spotting. The neighbors had a chimney fire and had to have builders in to fix it, so we had this scaffolding up out front, half in our yard and half next door, for two days. May 15 was the first morning I woke up to looking at this ugly-ass thing and I took a lot of pics, but this was clearly the best.

The part of the story I didn’t include on the Aday site is that the builders offered to paint our chimneys because they had never been painted, ever. We left a bucket of our house colour paint with the neighbors (our house is light yellow, theirs is more of a peach). Chimney was meant to be colour-split up the middle, just like the houses are.

Well, when I came home the next day the scaffolding was gone and even with my three-years-out of date glasses, I could see the entire chimney stack was peach… With just the rim at the top half painted yellow. Yes, the part that should have been white like ALL the trim is on both houses. It looks stupid.

The neighbors were killed apologising. Apparently the contractors painted it, took down the scaffold, and then asked, ‘what do you think?’

Um, we think yer eejits….

Socks has a Honeydew Melon!

Standard

Time for another Socks update! I’m probably four weeks behind now, but two of those are because what with house moves and baby showers, we didn’t have our OirishTirsday phone call for two weeks. The other two weeks’ delay is just me being my usual slacker self. I need to be more diligent, because I only have four weeks left of baby-cooking blogging left. That’s right, four short weeks – and that was as of last Thursday.

I won’t be continuing on talking about Socks and Button after Button makes her big debut. I will probably relate a funny story or two along the way forward, but that’s because Socks makes me laugh more than anyone else, and I just know she’s going to have me puking laughter as she learns how to be a mom.

Because she doesn’t have a clue. She’s not a baby person. She doesn’t go all gooey and giggly and want to hold them when she sees one. Remember way back when, she said she wasn’t having kids because they are oooky? Aha hahahah. So, not a lot of hands on experience. Her mom asked her if she had enough diapers – her response was an honest, “How the hell should I know? I don’t know how many I need. I don’t know how many a baby uses!” Mom asked for the count on hand and said it would do.

So, despite being a complete neophyte at taking care of a baby, she seems to have things well in hand and all sorted out. Socks is a planner, a reader, and a listener – and she’s especially skilled at listening to her own body. She’s met her paediatrician, and likes her, and will take a tour of the hospital this Thursday. She’s sorted the supplies, equipment, and fun stuff from her baby shower and has actually – finally – started buying things for Button! I’m not joking, she didn’t buy anything until now. Shopped, researched, planned – but no purchases. But even now that the crib is bought, the baby carrier is bought, and the diaper bag still being sought (hey, it’s a hard decision: it has got to be pretty cool, she’ll be carrying the damn thing everywhere for the next…forever…) she says it still doesn’t feel quite real.

It doesn’t really matter, though, not knowing how everything is going to be, because there is no way, ever, any new mom can know how it’s going to be. All the preparation in the world won’t make a difference, so why stress about it? Being parents isn’t going to feel real for a while, I suspect. At first, the incessant changes will come so hard and fast that there won’t be time to realise a routine is being created. And babies grow so fast, the changes never stop.

I think maybe, just maybe, that by the time Button is old enough to go to school it might feel real.

In the meantime, Button is nearly as physically mature as she can get inside there. Her lungs have a bit more developing to do, but she’s already practicing breathing. She probably will gain another pound in this last month – and Socks is wondering just where that’s going to fit as she is chock full o’ baby already. I have an example from last week, which is something that has probably only gotten worse… Socks can’t get off the couch by herself any more. It takes forever to get comfortable in a position where she can breathe because Button has her butt right up under Socks’ ribs, squashing her lungs and stomach. Once she’s down on the couch, there’s no way back up without a helping hand from Bear. I guess if he’s not home, she doesn’t nap on the couch…

Bear, of course, is even farther back on the ‘feel real’ scale. He’s hoping he can help with the birth via text.

Oh, and is it wrong of me to laugh my ass off at her description of what her swollen feet look like after wearing flip-flops? I’m picturing perfectly manicured toenails on the Pillsbury Dough-Girl’s feet.

20120521-214149.jpg
(yes, there was a Dough-Girl in the early 70’s. My sister had this very set, and I’m sorry I stole this photo from the net but if I had them still, I’d take my own photo, I promise. Maybe is sis still has them she’ll offer me a non-nicked shot).

Finally, I’d like to offer my prediction that Socks isn’t going to go all the way to her projected due date. That baby is huge and I think she’s at least a week further along: not only because Button is more like a bowling ball than a nice polite mother-of-pearl ornament, but because Socks had one scan early on that indicated she was farther than her obstetrician thought. For some reason, I really believed those people.

Then again, I’ve been known to be wrong. I ever so much wanted Button to be twins so I could really laugh my ass off.

I’m in a Good Mood… Should I be Worried?

Standard

I finally have had the time and motivation to read posts from blogs I follow, and comment, and I’m also goofing around on a few FB feeds, and in general I have a big stupid smile on my face.

It feels a bit strange, I haven’t had one of these things on my mug for a while! But, of course, I wouldn’t be me unless I dissected why it is, exactly, that I am in a good mood…

Now, before you go thinking that I’ve turned all sappy and soft and that this is going to be a list of stuff that I’m grateful for – well, it might be. I’m cheerful! It’s rare! But HEY! I’m not soft and sappy so just shut that train of thought down, ok?

Right! Easy one: it’s Friday, and I don’t have to go anywhere until tomorrow night, and I don’t have to go to work for two whole days which means I don’t have to get depressed again until mid-afternoon on Sunday.

Tomorrow I get to go to a housewarming party which I am looking forward to immensely. People I like, a comfortable flat, a greyhound and a kitty to play with, and iDJ doing the tunes! Oh, and home-cooked fooooooood. All-around winner!

The happyish feeling of having caught up, a bit, with what is going on in everyone else’s blogworld. I went away, mentally, for a bit there. I didn’t want to comment or read anything, and I didn’t much feel like changing that situation. I think I’ve staved (stiven? No. But it should be a word) that off for now. I’m glad to be back and interacting again. Hopeful that this carries on.

I made a really, really, bad joke tonight that not even I laughed at. I didn’t laugh because I was amazed at my own brilliance at such short notice. I boggled at my own wit. Someone had to, other than my hubby who didn’t laugh either, but actually clapped. I’m not sure what that means, as he gets the brunt of my fast-thinking humour – unlike this writing kinda humour that requires me to think and spell at the same time.

He said I did a bad job of posting my hilarity on FB, so here’s the long version: he was nattering away about electronics needed for tomorrow night’s housewarming gig, and I was sort of listening but not really understanding much of what he was saying. He talks a lot, and I’m not a DJ. He just needs to say it out loud to get it clear in his head, and I don’t even smile and nod any more… Eventually he lost interest himself in what he was saying and noticed that Lokii was sitting next to my leg and licking himself.

Imagine, if you can, my Irish hubby speaking in a Beavis or Butthead voice: ‘Heh. Lokii’s licking his ass.’

I looked down. Lokii was not licking his ass.

“He’s licking his elbow.”

Small pause.

“Are you telling me you can’t tell his ass from his elbow?”

Drumroll, hi-hat crash, I rock. Thank you, I’ll be here all week!

With a big stupid smile on my face, hopefully.

It’s that kinda night

Standard

I don’t have time to do what I want to do, just what I need to do. But I did take a moment to capture my boys sleeping. I don’t think I’ve ever seen them so nearly-perfectly in the same position. And, you can tell by their ears, they aren’t really asleep and are a split second away from looking up to see what I’m doing!

20120516-231340.jpg