Archive for the 'Rambling' Category



I Believe


Hola From Hell

Post nasal drip hell to be exact.

It isn’t autumn if there isn’t a cold floating around the house. Himself came down with it first, the Misterpants. I finally succumbed last Friday but not after kicked, screaming, and whining about it. Four days in and I am full of snot and have a wicked cough that would give even the worst smokers hack a run for its money. All I want to do is sleep but I can’t because I am too busy coughing and trying to read a stupid large amount of assigned reading (yo profs, wtf gives?). Oh, woe is me.

Autumn Tactics

My favourite season of the year is finally descending on Puget Sound. Cue the rain, soaked socks, and umbrellas, autumn is here and no amount of bitching will make it go away. For me it signals an ability to wear thick wool socks and free reign to ignore my unshaven legs. For the kidlet it means a hat and scarf to wear while wearing for the school bus. For the cats it means being stuck inside, glaring at the sky and wondering at what lengths it will take for them to drive me nuts.

Be A Dear And Get Mummy Another Martini

It is time for our biannual trip to Southern California next month and for the first time we’re bringing Misterpants with us. Himself’s Grandmum turns 90 on September 11th and with her failing health, rising age, and living in another state we decided to make an appearance in Malibu and surprise her. This means a two and a half hour flight with a five year old in tow and ruining the day of the five other people seated in first class on out flight. I apologize now folks but you should all be glad he has grown out of the colic. Just sayin’.

This also means missed days of school since the kidlet starts kinder at the start of September. He is beyond looking forward to it, every day around here starts with, “So, Mum. When will the school bus pick me up?” The answer to that is Unholy:30 kiddo. Make sure you’re dressed and your underpants are on, k.

I’m not in disbelief that he is starting school, but still rather in disbelief that someone is still allowing me to raise a child to begin with. I’ve seen more than one person lament about how they are going to be lost or without something to centre their day around. I secretly want to rack my head against the wall when I see this. I am positive it has something to do with refusing to lose my identity the day I lost the placenta. Get a hobby, get a job, get an education. Shit, get a puppy. But stop your whining, you’re making those of us who click our heels and squeal as the bus pulls away look bad.

Yeah, Hi.

Its uh, been a while eh. Perhaps I should work on updating more often.

In the past month I have finished school until September, had five hands in my mouth while sitting in three different dental chairs, looked for a job with zero results, and I am now at home with a five year old who picked up the chicken pox while at Pacific Science Center. Seems we got a little something extra while taking in Kung Fun Panda at the IMAX theater. At least this means I won’t have to fight with the school district over exactly why my child has not been immunized against a generic childhood illness.

Meanwhile I’ve been working on my Mum’s socks, spinning a three-ply sock yarn for myself, and rescued a Baby Surprise Jacket from the clutches of Captain Evil the Cat, the little fucker. Adventures in oral health continue into next month and I have to say, thanks Mum and Dad for the shit genetics and juvenile disease. In the meantime I’ll be on the back patio sipping something fruity and rimmed with Xanax to get through Misterpant’s case of the pox.

Thanks Mum

I spent six hours cleaning Misterpants’ bedroom yesterday. To say that it was an unholy pit is a bit of an understatement. His floor was a covering of books, old clothes, and paper instead of the wool carpet I know is in there. Even the fish tank got a cleaning, good because the fish that was in it got flushed so long ago I don’t want to admit when it happened. Even now I still have a box of assorted toys and crap that need to find their rightful homes. As I sit here writing I can hear him in there tearing through the trundle of wood train parts and I want to cry.

In the middle of it all I had a sudden appreciation for my Mum, the woman who would wait till we were at school and then tear our rooms apart. I’d arrive home and everything would be in its proper place. Then I’d spend the next week bitching about the invasion of privacy and how I couldn’t find anything (yes, even at six years old). But now I know why she did it. Thanks Mum, for all the hard work. I may not of understood your need to do it when but I do now.



I fly home tomorrow, my suitcase a little heavier and my wallet a bit lighter.

Learning To Fly

I leave in a couple days for a week in Atlanta which means my already sporadic posting will be even more sporadic. It has been over seven years since I was there last and I am sure a lot has changed. When I get back I’ll have pictures and stories and yarn from Knitch (Anna made me promise to go there).


As I lay here in bed at 1 AM, surrounded by Himself, Misterpants, and Hugo D. Kitty I realize that there is far too much peen both in my bed and in my life.