Merry Christmas internet!!!
The wrappings are just as good as the presents…
Merry Christmas internet!!!
The wrappings are just as good as the presents…
Oh hai! Would you like to see some nature photos?
Isn’t that a lovely branch. Nice and large, from one of the trees that line the scenic boulevard of Swan Street. Very large indeed, it was, as it SNAPPED OFF THE TREE and fell DIRECTLY ONTO MY WINDSCREEN as I was driving along the road. Holy jesus fucking wept, people. Nature attacks! Luckily I was by myself on the road; but – I was BY MYSELF ON THE ROAD! How unlucky do you have to be, to be driving along an empty road and have half a tree fall directly on top of you? Christ on a motherfucking cracker. I had no warning – all I heard was an almighty BOOM as it hit my bonnet, then a pleasant rustling sound as it BOUNCED up my windscreen and rolled over the top of my car. What can you do? After I pulled over, and helped a cyclist pull the branch out of the road (it took two of us), and took these photos, I had a look at my car. It had a big bark scrape up the bonnet, and the branch sort of mangled my windscreen wipers (it must have pulled them up and out as it FLUNG ITSELF at me) but apart from that it seems to be OK. No dents or scratches that I have yet found, and Mr T scrubbed off the bark markings last night. I tangled with a tree AND LIVED. Nature 0, Land Rover 1.
Look how THICK that is! If that had fallen at an angle it would have come directly through my windscreen and speared me through the heart. Or something. I’m not willing to rule it out at this point. Also I feel the need to accentuate my trauma, since I sent these photos to my boss yet got no stress leave or danger money. I did get to go to the pub for lunch though. Beer helps dull the pain of the post-traumatic stress flashbacks.
Onwards to more photos! Ones that don’t show the harbinger of my death!
I have been sewing and I have a little helper. He likes to lie on the wadding, and he likes to bat around the buttons, and he likes to jump upon a small piece of material and run off and hunch over it, nomming it like his life depends on it. But I emptied out one of my caddys looking for a zip, and when I turned back THIS had happened:
This is not right. I know there is space for two, but I don’t even want ONE. Actually, the more I look at that photo, the more I feel sort of vertiginous. It’s the angle, combined with the lines of the carpet, or something. I feel like my eyes are crossing. Maybe they are.
It’s been hot here the last few days, so the kittens are sleeping stretched out. WAAAAAY out.
Hey, that’s MY bed. And I made it and everything, which is a really rare occurrence, like, I don’t know, getting HIT BY A TREE or something. I’m not thrilled with you both lolling all over it, to be honest. Why don’t you go and sleep on someone else’s bed?
…Oh. You are sleeping on someone else’s bed. The poor dog is sleeping on the floor. That sounds about right.
Well, I’ve finally pulled the memory card onto this computer. You would think I would learn, after losing months of photos in a hard drive crash… but no, I’ve been walking around with all my photos entirely on my camera and backed up exactly nowhere. Considering I lose my mobile phone on a twice-weekly basis, this is not the best plan.
Glogg! Or, as some Danish friends kindly explained, it’s pronounced “glugg”. Or sort of more “gloog”. OK, like “gloog”, but like the Swedish Chef is saying it. Which is pretty much all you can say after drinking it. But isn’t the bottle pretty?
Oh hai we has a cat tree!!!1!! If I were cleverer, I would have tried to do that thing where one cat goes into the cubby and the other cat looks like it’s coming out at a different point, thereby creating a long and monstrous Giant Cat of Two Colours. That would have been cooler. Pretend that happened, OK?
I can has festivus? Here is my tiny tree. It doesn’t look that tiny here because of the Gigantor Payload of Presents below it. Trick: spread your presents out in a line one present deep, to maximise the aura of generosity. Also, for size, the tree is next to the TV cabinet – that’s the video clock you can see top right. Extrapolate the tree size out from the video size and you get quite a small tree. That carousel ornament is one I’ve had since I was 14 – my mum sent it over in my box this year. Hanging off the top is a pohutukawa angel, rather than a star.
I have stayed away from candles since the kittens burst onto the scene, but this one is brandied apple! Or apple brandy! Or something! Look, it’s festive is what I’m saying. It’s next to a tiny wooden bear I pretended I was buying for a five year old, but do you think it’s going to make it into his stocking? Even as I was pressing “Add To Cart” I knew I was kidding myself. Don’t tell him.
“So, dog, you try to ignore me. But you cannot ignore me. I shall not allow it. I shall get up from this spot and bite your jowls. Then you will know I exist.”
See, when I posted that last post, I thought to myself, “Must post again tomorrow to show I am not still drunk on heavily spiced alcohol”. And then of course I didn’t. I promise you I haven’t been sitting here half-tanked the whole time. Honest! I mean, I just about hot-glue-gunned my thumbs together earlier tonight, and I wrapped three presents then realised I couldn’t remember what they were or who they were for; but all of those things happened without the influence of alcohol. That’s just the way I roll. (I once used that in an important phone conference call at my last job. I was asked a question, paraphrased to: “Why did your counterpart do this stupid thing in this stupid way?” and all I could say was, “That’s how we do things here – that’s just the way we roll.” They wrote it into the minutes and everything. I am also available for solving world crises and mediating disputes! Form an orderly line!)
Anyway, I have really opened this browser window to tell you “Sons and Daughters” is currently on TV. I KNOW. It is like I am fourteen again and slumped in front of the television in my school uniform, knowing it was either this or hours of maths homework. It is actually very creepy seeing these stalwarts of Australian soap history all young and fresh-faced. Also: shoulder pads vs pastel-coloured sweaters. Discuss.
My Christmas tree is tiny and fake. That would make me sad, because my tiny and real Christmas tree did not survive the move to this new house and is currently in prime position just outside my front door all brown and dead (I wish I were joking); but I am so excited to have a Christmas tree at all. People, I have two kittens and a Christmas tree at knee height and ALL THE ORNAMENTS remain on the tree. And no one has chewed on the lights cord and electrocuted themselves. I mean, currently one kitten is sitting in the dog’s bowl eating his food, and the other one is gnawing on the flap of an empty box; but these things are perfectly fine because there is a sparkly, unmolested tree in my line of sight. Aaah.
OK, when you go to Ikea to buy yet more glass kitchen canisters? (I know it seems likewo i go to iKea lots, but I work really reallyreally close) It is probabably a good idea to go to the Food bit after you buy stuff, and get a hotdog (although I didnt get a hotdog) and buy the seasonal food. Because, I mean., who doesn’t like christmas food? And whene you go there, and buy your gingerbreadd hearts and your little horses filled with caramel (oh those are sooooOO good, you should totallyget some of those) you should buy a giant can of Santa Beer, I’m pretty sure thats what it’s called, and you should definitely, DEFINIETLY get some glogg. That stuff. will bput you on your arse.
Mny tongue is numb. This stuff is wickedd spicy.
Go go go!
New Zealand has Google Maps Street View now, so naturally I looked up everyone’s houses. When I searched for my parent’s house, what should I see but MY DAD walking down the drive. He’s an internet celebrity! Which makes ME an internet celebrity! Unfortunately for his fame, he’s facing away from the street, heading down to the back of the house; and he’s in scruffy outdoor clothes, no doubt reinstalling the guttering or some other neverending job. When I told them about it, dad was just annoyed that he hadn’t turned around to see the Google car with all the cameras on it.
There has been An Incident on the new carpet. I don’t wish to discuss it, and if you’re eating you should be glad of this. Suffice it to say I got home from work and a grim-faced Mr. T had arrived just before me and was filling the mop bucket with hot soapy water. When I questioned this, he wailed, “But I don’t know what else to do!” Since nobody was having a baby, clearly hot water was not the answer. The answer was: cardboard to scrape the carpet, lots and lots of baking soda, and renting one of those carpet cleaner machines. Oh yes. It was that bad. I have no idea what the dog had eaten, but the true indignity was the CAT PAWPRINTS leading through it, thereby dotting the surrounding carpet with tiny stamps of filth. Oh, you didn’t want details? Really? Because they are seared on my memory in full technicolour glory. However, no real harm done: the carpet is back to very close to normal, and the dog’s intestinal fortitude seems quite returned. He is seven and he has never done anything like this before in his life. Of course, if he wants to live to see eight, he will never do it again. And the cats have no excuse (and who am I kidding, it would only have been one cat, I AM LOOKING AT YOU, NOSY GREY WEASEL).
I have started Christmas shopping, and I am very proud. I am glossing over the part where I bought lots of stuff for myself, including shoes which don’t kill my increasingly temperamental feet. Maybe it’s just that I’m not prepared to wear uncomfortable shoes any more, but I have become very fussy about footwear. Oh look I’ve found them on the internets. The heel is too high for my complete endorsement, but the wedge balances that out. …wait, didn’t this start off by talking about Christmas and the joy of giving? To others? Um. Ho ho ho! Anyway, getting back to the shopping: I have my dad ticked off (always difficult), most of my mum (excluding the hand-made stuff), most of my sister (ditto hand-made) and I know what I will get most other people. This leaves Mr T’s family, and he shits me to tears with stuff like this… he will walk around and whine about how he hates the crowds and shopping at this time of year, but then refuses to make a decision and ends up NOT BUYING ANYTHING. Which only means we will have to go back out AGAIN. Or, I don’t know, send his family a plant or something. They can have our dog, now that I think about it. Just don’t tell them about last week… but seeing as how the Black Dog chewed through their laundry door as a puppy, I’m sure they’re not expecting too much from any of our other immaculately behaved animals.
Did you get to see the smiley moon? I think the northern hemisphere got a frowny moon, but ours smiled at us. It’s a crescent moon with Venus and Jupiter visible as the eyes. Photo courtesy of my tiny point-and-shoot, tinged with fear of death as I stood on the water tank stand and rested the camera on the shed roof. You’re welcome.