A Little Bit of Nothing

Last year for our anniversary, my husband and I celebrated by going out for tea.

Our friend and his girlfriend baby sat for us.

As we pulled into the driveway, I noticed a cucumber lying in the foot well of the car. It had fallen out of the shopping bags earlier in the day. I was now faced with a dilemma, take the cucumber in, which might look pretty weird, or leave it in the car where I wouldn't be bothered to get it later and it would be rotten by the next day, as it was summer.

If I was to take the cucumber in, should I explain myself? Or would that just draw attention to it? I didn't want to be drawn into a potentially embarrassing conversation about why I might think it was unusual to be seen carrying in a cucumber on our wedding anniversary night. I could just imagine myself blushing bright red as I said, "It fell out of the shopping...."

So I decided to just take the cucumber in, which I did, and I tried to be inconspicuous and nonchalant about it, just casually placed it on the kitchen table like it was a normal thing to do. Did they see?

We would have been quite happy to sit and chat with our friends for a while before they went home, only shortly after the polite amount of conversation about whether or not the monkeys had given them any trouble, our friend said, "Well, we'd better go and let you get on with your celebrations...."

Was it my imagination or did he say that in a slightly pointed way? I badly wanted to explain the presence of the cucumber, and not that I care what other people do but it wasn't included in any further celebratory plans, only what if they hadn't noticed? What if that hadn't even occurred to them? So I let it go, and I still don't know.

I wonder what sort of night they had?

In-Laws

I just thought of a very good reason why Washington D.C. could have been an extremely attractive option.

Update on Washington D.C.; it's not going to happen.




Ooooh! and I have a meme, I've seen it around, it's the book one, where according to my old friend Cocktails I open the book I am currently reading at page 123, skip the first five sentences and share the following three.

At first, like Cocktails I thought I would have to do the book I last read (Which was The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini, it's good.) Only then I remembered I am sort of in the middle of a book, Captain Underpants and The Perilous Plot of Professor Poopypants the Fourth Epic Novel by Dav Pilkey, so like Cocktails my selection is also, and for completely different reasons a children's book.

Page 123, brings us right into The Incredibly Graphic Violence Chapter (in Flip-O-Rama)

"While you are flipping, be sure you can see the picture on page 127 and the one on page 129.
If you flip quickly, the two pictures will start to look like one animated picture.

Don't forget to add your own sound-effects!"


A little background on my friend Cocktails:

I first met her in kinder (or prep) where we became fast friends and I taught her to play doll house in the dirt with a twig of pine needles and a few sticky up tree roots. Sadly she moved schools soon after, and it wasn't until high school that we were reunited with each other.

I think the only time I ever cheated in school, was off Cocktails, and it was in a music test, in year 8. I was musically deprived, particularly where popular music was concerned, my childhood was pretty much devoid of any secular music, lest I become possessed by the devil or something. Anyway to demonstrate my pitiful music knowledge I will tell you what the answer I read from Cocktails' test was; Michael Jackson.

I love to check in on her wild, child free life, though I admit all that music talk still goes over my head, though I'd still be just as happy to receive a mix-tape from her. (I wonder if she still does those?)

We lead completely different lives, far, far apart, and yet somehow we remain friends. Perhaps the next time we are reunited* it will be in a nursing home. I hope so.

I mean, if I do end up in a nursing home, wouldn't it be nice if she was there?

*Visits don't count.

Tooth Fairy! You're Fired! (again)

I don't know what it is about the Tooth Fairy. She just doesn't like visiting our house. I can't understand it, night after night she forgets.

After the first tooth, it took her five days to remember, that's right FIVE days. Useless. The next tooth, she forgot again, several times.

Third tooth was her last chance. She failed, so we had to give her the sack and don't tell me under the circumstances you wouldn't have done the same. I graciously took up her duties, as the teeth continued to fall out, I coughed up the required gold coin there and then, on the spot, in the cold hard light of day. Good system, I thought.

Only it's much more exciting to get the coin under your pillow, or so I'm told.

So, we decided to give the Tooth Fairy one more go.

It's exactly seven days since the latest tooth fell out. SEVEN DAYS. Tooth Fairy still hasn't come. How can you forget for SEVEN days in a row? How? Again I say how?

Bad fairy.

Wordless Wednesday

Fresh Meat

It has occurred to me that with this blogging thing I now have a fresh audience for all my stories, you know those ones you tell over and over, the standby party stories?

I did intend this blog to be mostly about knitting and spinning and stuff, but it just hasn't worked out that way so far. Anyway our camera has just broken, so I can't show you anything anyway. I have never made a new year resolution, never. I make up for it by making little mini resolutions to myself nearly everyday. My latest being, I will start doing more craft posts on my blog. But then the camera broke.

Anyway so, you may have noticed that while a few weeks ago I was grumpy and out of sorts, at the moment I'm happy and chatty and such. You (or at least husband) will be pleased to learn that I have just purchased some evening primrose oil tablets, which I am hoping may alleviate the mood swings. Actually what I have just experienced was I think pre-menstrual depression, quite different to ordinary PMS. I didn't even know it existed, but I have been looking at the Beyond Blue website, evidence enough that I was having more than just ordinary PMS. Anyway, I wasn't going to talk about that in this post, perhaps another day, if you are interested.

Anyway so, in the absence of a camera, I will now tell you a story, sorry Stomper, you've heard this one already. Too lazy to do links today but Stomper's post about some unwelcome guests reminded me of this one.

It was a few years ago, before I had children, and in between boyfriends that I lived two minutes from the pub. I spent many hours there, a kind of substitute lounge room, and a welcome escape from my house mate. I had a pool playing buddy, under whose tuition I could actually pot a ball occasionally, and who would often pop by the house to see if I was in the mood for a game of pool at the pub.

At this time it had been my misfortune to have received a visit from some unwelcome guests who took up residence in my hair. They were stubborn little blighters; having already survived two attempted evictions, I purchased a 'leave in all night' lotion.

I painstakingly applied the lotion ensuring every strand was covered. Just as I had emptied the final drop on to my head there was a knock at the door, it was my pool buddy.

"I can't possibly come to the pub tonight, look at my hair, I have to leave it in all night."

"No one will notice, come on."

"Are you kidding? I look like I've dunked my head in some kind of grease pit."

"Please? Come on, you look fine, really."

"Well, I guess it has stopped dripping, I'll just tie it back, you sure it looks OK?"

"You look fine."

"Alright."

It was 30 minutes later, while I was standing at the bar that I noticed a male admirer sidling ever closer. Not in the mood to attract attention I studiously tried to avoid eye contact. Not to be deterred, my admirer found his way to my side, (as close as he could get, what with me inching away feeling most uncomfortable) luckily for him the bar was crowded or he wouldn't have had a snowball's chance in hell of being within earshot, and then it came, the ultimate pickup line;

"You smell nice, kind of....medicinal."