ostrich

Well I have none of the photos we discussed recently; that’s just the sort of continuity expertise I’ve got going on over here. Look, there’s no point in being jealous. Also, speaking of continuity, I have finished the Aldi breakfast cereal mentioned over there —> in the sidebar. By the end of the packet I had remembered why I don’t like cereal; the flake things scratched the roof of my mouth, and there’s never the right ratio of nice bits to not-nice bits, and when I left the bowl of milk dregs sitting on my desk at work all day (something I did, sadly, extremely often) the milk practically solidified into a revolting remnant-filled pannacotta. What is IN cereal? I probably don’t want to know. So now I’m back to not liking cereal, apart from porridge, which doesn’t count.

Actually I’m feeling a little bit sick at the moment, not due to cereal I’m sure, but possibly due to cleaning all the old paint splatters off my ensuite bathroom window this afternoon. Not splattered from ME; they were there when we bought the house. And now, some 18 months in, I’ve decided to do something about it since they shit me every time I see them, which is twice a day minimum, which is a lot of built up irritation right there. Anyway, turns out the paint spatters are NOT on the outside as I thought; they are on the inside. So I spent a frustrating half hour with a bottle of turps and a safety pin, alternately rubbing hundreds of tiny paint spatters then scratching at them with the pin. And apparently being trapped in a tiny bathroom with a bottle of turps will give you a  headache. Hey, it’s not like I could open the window; because a) I was scratching at it with a pin, and b) it’s locked and we can’t find its key. Anyway, the window now looks MAHvellous, or at least at marvelous as a brown aluminium-framed window can look. There’s no photos of that either; think of a window. There, isn’t that nice?

Anyway, what I do have a photo of, and I had forgotten all about it, is this:

I know! A herd of bunnies! With little love-heart pockets on their bums! I made these several months ago as part of the toy collection for the Victorian bushfire appeals. Livebird did the same, but she remembered to post photos at a decent interval; please note she made multiple toys, with actual arms and legs and EYES, with carefully chosen fabric combinations. Whereas my inspiration was pretty much: OMG BUNNIES!!!1!11!!


BUNNIES! OMG!

photoless

I don’t know why I feel like if there’s no photo, there’s no point in posting. Why, when I started this here blog thing, back in the mists of time when I was typing on a DESKTOP missy, and none of your flat screen LCD monitors either, this was OLD SCHOOL, and… wait, where was I? Right, yes, back in the mists of time. Then, along with my peeps King Arthur and Run DMC, I very rarely posted photos. And now it seems I feel odd posting without one. Do you need the photos? You’ll come for just the whining, right? I mean, I can TAKE photos. Right now your choices are:

a) Orange cat stretched out to a ridiculous long noodle-like length beside me, down the side of the couch

b) The Roomba, newly revitalised with clean sensors and a new battery (yeah, my Roomba stopped working. Didn’t help that I used to have this grey cat who loved to stand on top of it and move his paws until he hit the Power button, then jump aside and watch with fascination as the Roomba reversed… then stopped, see: new battery above)

c) Mr. T sitting in front of me on the ottoman, drinking a bottle of water and watching Prison Break (note we do not watch Prison Break and I had to ask what program it was) (now he is mocking me typing, which I can do without looking at the screen, thank you fifth form shorthand/typing elective) (now he is back on the couch and seeing how long and noodle-y he can stretch out the orange cat) (LIVEBLOGGING, PEOPLE! Quick! To my neglected Twitter!)

d) No photos of the Brown Dog possible as he has put himself to bed in our bedroom and it is COLD up that end of the house and I’m not going there (at least until Mr. T goes to bed and warms it up to an acceptable level, ie. frost no longer visible on the sheets)

e) Two empty teacups on the side table beside me (let’s not also discuss the empty chocolate biscuit packet also on that table; hey, they lasted A LONG TIME, almost a WEEK even)

    Right, wait, what was I talking about? No photos, that’s it. Aaand… instead I’ve discussed the photos I didn’t take. This is SO MUCH better.

    biscuity

    Thanks for all your lovely comments on my cat, and from nobly refraining from slandering my wedding choices to my face. But hopefully you’re doing it behind my back, right? Right? Although it’s the internet, you know; you can actually do it right to my face and there’s not a damn thing I could do about it. Apart from delete you, like the (holy crap) 29 spam comments I just deleted. WordPress, you were worth it just for your delicious spam-catching abilities.

    Anyway, none of you are spam and I appreciate you, and should write you a thank-you card within 4-6 weeks. Or is that the wedding? I forget. Anyway, all my invitations have been addressed and sent out so WOE BETIDE anyone that asks me about the cake. Also, I’ve realised that nowhere on the invite is my or Mr. T’s last name mentioned. Oh well, if you don’t know my last name you’re probably not invited, no? That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Just eat your free cake, dammit. The addressing of the envelopes was quite a performance in itself; because I can’t write in a straight line, I printed out some nice dark lines on printer paper to slip into the envelope and use as guidelines. However my envelopes were too thick to see the lines through the front. What do do? I need a light table, is what I need. Which is why you would have seen me addressing envelopes cross-legged on the couch, leaning on a glass baking dish on my knees, with an Ikea lamp between my legs and shining up under the glass dish. Voila! Instant light table. Of course, it’s quite hot having a lamp between your legs, but it just encouraged me to finish the job quickly. 60 watts of encouragement, as it were. Luckily there are no pictures but I’m sure you’re all very imaginative.

    What else? My car has died AGAIN. I really do like my car, but the advice of the mechanics who currently have it is, “Once we fix it, sell this car immediately”. Um. OK then. Cue Mr. T pretending to drive me to fun places like Target (I had to buy Lego! Do you know how expensive Lego is? It is WICKED expensive) and on the way suddenly swerving towards car yards and making me walk round them. This weekend just gone in Melbourne was BLOODY FREEZING and also FUCKING WINDY and the last thing I wanted to do was walk round goddamned car yards. However this rates as one of Mr. T’s Favourite Things to Do (it’s a guy thing I think) so he was more than thrilled to expound on the virtues of this car or that car. My input? Sitting in the driver’s seat and making sure I can see to the edges of my bonnet (I hate not being able to see the front of my car) and that I don’t sit too low (I like the high sitting position of 4WDs, being a shortarse myself). That’s it. That’s my sum total of requirements for a car. Wait, and cup holders. So I am interested to see what I end up with. It’s in Mr. T’s hands now. But as of the last few weeks I have not had a car, requiring me to catch the train into work, which has been fine (seeing as it’s been school holidays here). Tomorrow: not school holidays. And it’s not that my train fills up with schoolchildren, it’s that a lot of people take leave in the holidays. In theory they are all back tomorrow. And I have been enjoying having a seat and reading my way through the Narnia series too. Oh well, it was good while it lasted.

    And in actual fact I haven’t been in Melbourne; I was in Sydney for work, where the weather looked like this:

    Yes it’s the middle of winter in Sydney too. Yes I was wearing long sleeves, but not long sleeves plus a coat plus a scarf plus arm warmer/glove things. It’s times like this I can see the attraction of Sydney, I really can. And I also found a fantastic IGA with heaps of my favourite Asian snacky things, like this:


    It’s a cowboy! Who is also perhaps some type of pretzel! I haven’t eaten him yet, but I’ll keep you informed.

    The eldest Oyster looked at him,

    Reading:
    The Narnia series, books 1-7. I say, you needn’t be beastly about it.

    Listening:
    The high-pitched whine of motor racing on the TV. How did this season come round again so fast?

    Watching:
    Don’t Mess With The Zohan. I feel as if I’ve seen this movie before… ah, that’s because it’s basically the same as EVERY OTHER Adam Sandler movie ever made.

    Eating:
    Aldi homebrand version of Special K with Red Berries. I find Aldi fascinating.

    Liking:
    The heater. I fully embrace the heater. I fight with the cat for the heater, but he’s quite small and usually loses.

    Pondering:
    When your co-worker comes into your office EVERY DAY to see what’s arrived for you from eBay or Etsy, does that mean you have a problem?