Whitterer on Autism: 08/01/2008

Sunday, August 31, 2008

Review - a Laborious Day

Please scroll down for Magic Marker Monday

I reflect the morning’s events to determine what, if anything, I have learned.

As I think, I scrub the wall on my knees beneath the window sill.

I have learned that the new phrase was a mistake. Running around the garden shouting “no knickers, no food” did not have the desired effect. In the 93 degree heat, I learn that my voice carries one block with an easterly breeze and that no-one is allergic to ‘outside’ anymore.

My neighbour advises me that ‘drawers’ or ‘pants’ is more socially appropriate for public broadcasts.

I discover that my son will consume Ritz crackers as a substitute for Goldfish crackers but that eating them without suitable attire is a dangerous pastime.

I learn that our home is not entirely burglar proof, that it is possible to gain entry through a window and that a bug screen is no deterrent.

I am uncertain if I have a pack of lemmings or a co-ordinated team? I already know that I am an excellent cleaner as I remove the last few footprints size 13, 1 and 3, from the wall.

Replacing the bug screen will be a challenge. Teaching them not to retreat, go into reverse and climb back outside the window, is more of a headache.

I think that lots of "us" have issues with "containment."

A timely reminder to check our insurance coverage and renew my union dues.

Please pop over to my new blog "Sandwiched Genes" for further complications.

Half truths and grey lies

We leave the very small house. I wave as the front door shuts and take a lungful of air. I suspect it would be the same if it were a very large house, a mansion or a barn. “Oh mom, she is sooooo luckeeeeeeee,” squeals my daughter, enthused to bursting. Has she lost all sense after two weeks at camp?
“So .... she is.” I hope I sound genuine.
“Why can’t we have 19 cats too?”
“Um…..” I wonder if we could fit in an extra girl? But then children are always happiest with their own families. I know she is loved. I know she is happy and I am judgmental old numbskull. I opt for truthful, “well we do have two cats, that’s more than a lot of people have, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, I "spose.”

What senses would I trade for just a smidge of that innocence?

Magic Marker Monday

Group effort number one.

Group effort number two.

Bravery award to reluctant finger painter!

Saturday, August 30, 2008

Real gents

Please scroll down for photo hunters /scavengers

Ironically, the health food campaign comes a cropper. Suddenly I am a jailor on death row with my life set to 24 hour egg watcher, anything to stop him from grabbing the salt cellar and emptying it down his gullet. Maybe it’s the shapeliness, or the pastel colours, but something has revived his need for sodium chloride. Inevitably my back is turned on one or other whilst I use my best extraction services.

I spend an inordinate amount of time chasing him all over the house. As he runs he chants his new mantra, ‘you’ve got mail, you’ve got mail, you’ve got mail,’ with more animation and expression than I could ever have imagined. When I pin him down to pry open his grinning jaws and sniff for evidence, he responds with his alternative mantra, “greased lightning!” and a chortle. It occurs to me that I have a missed career opportunity as a tracker dog. I also regret refilling the container, twice. I’m tempted to empty it down the sink to refill with castor sugar but I believe that would constitute cruel and unusual punishment.

When I find the empty 16 ounce carton of raisins I realize that what with "one thing" and "several others," that my supervisory skills are overwhelmed. I examine the potential candidates for tell tale signs. Which one is the guilty party? I have far too much choice. I consider the effect of 16 ounces of dried fruit upon the average digestive system but I have no hard data to rely upon.

Several hours later.

Post play dates, I have one child to collect. I work backwards to allow us to arrive on time with an allowance for the unexpected. We prepare to depart an hour in advance. Two boys.

I hear a small bleat from the bathroom.

From this particular child, it is the kind of bleat that doesn’t really register, since volume control is generally off the scales. It is hard to find a suitable comparison. It’s the kind of ‘tsk’ noise one might make on finding a piece of fluff on clothing. A quick flick and it’s gone, of no consequence.

The bleat does not match the scene of devastation. I inadvertently squeak which brings his brother running in to observe, “what happen?” he asks unnecessarily as his eyes pop out on stalks. It is still a very small bathroom with very little room for manovres. It is difficult to know where to begin, so I make a start.

Once again I have cause to doubt my purchasing powers. Why did I buy the four pack of 16 oz raisins for $10 but shun the bargain of 32 oz bottle of liquid soap for $5.00?

My brain calculates other calculations. Is it safe to assume that this is the result of a raisin overdose or is that too many assumptions. Which is worse? Ask the play date host parent to return your child, even thought that wasn’t the original plan or take a child with an unstable digestive system into the car to their home to collect your other child? Is it o.k. if the wobbly child remains in the car at a safe distance? Is this o.k. if I can guarantee no contact and keep the windows wound up? Is any of the later acceptable assuming that the said child can be sanitized and dressed prior to departure? Is it possible to sanitize and dress the child prior to departure, and myself? Where is Miss Manners when I need her?

I contemplate the play date host, a man with shared custody and a complicated life. There are many families with complicated lives. I suspect that there are also a few families without any complications, somewhere? The common feature of most families, is their share of happiness, complicated or otherwise. I hear the front door slam to announce the arrival of the cavalry, my eldest daughter. I explain. “No probs, you go, I’ll be on bum watch.”

Horray! One less mind numbing decision to make.

I drive with careful speed to pull into their driveway where I meet 4 happy girls and a happy father with culinary skills, a blue tooth and a foreign accent.

But I would never be one to summarize a single dad in brief.

It seems to me that there are "dads" all over the "place," both "chaps" and "chapesses" that 'get it.'

Maybe I should add a poll? What would be the correct thing to do in such circumstances if the cavalry hadn’t arrived? You never know, you might be next, on one end or the other of the toilet plunger?

Friday, August 29, 2008

A recent jolly good comment award

Please scroll down for photohunters

With seven bodies in my care I find that I have completely lost track of time, hence this is an alternative to the 'comment of the week award.' I hope that normal service shall be resumed shortly or if not that, then longly.

[Inspired by "Scribbit."]

This one goes to "Empress Bee (Of the High Sea)" who blogs at "Muffin 53" for her comment on this post called "Good Fit"
where she says:-

'social issues? huh? man, times sure have changed! enjoy the cats honey!!!

smiles, bee
xoxoxoxoxoxoxo'

It appears that we are both lucky enough to be in the "i-phone" club too!

By the by, I came across this tidy blog during the week that someone else might be interested in too. So if you have a free mo, nip along and say 'hi de ho' to "Hammer" and his "caption contest" for his daughter's photo. Put your thinking cap on though first and hopefully she will enjoy a wealth of your wisdom, as I think it always helps to encourage small people with their creative efforts.

For the older generation or cat lover's or both, you might also want to try your hand at this "caption contest" over at "DJ Kirkby's blog," called "Chez Aspie" but watch out as the competition is pretty steep.

I also have something stinky going on if you fancy a "nibble."

Saturday Photo Hunters - Beautiful

This is where beauty really is in the eye of the beholder. That beholder is me. What I behold is a child who has spent the majority of his life with his "head and shoulders" completely off limits..............

......but apparently "no longer!"

PhotoHunt

Thursday, August 28, 2008

Anyone for tennis?

I collect the children from school to be immediately buried in half a hundred weight of trees.

What is wrong with these people? Haven’t they heard of the paperless society?

We have the technology, it’s called e-mail.

I am grossly grumpy as I sort through three sets of identical A4 sheets of paper, often with a mere one liner. I concentrate on a huge wad of stapled sheets with class room rules, as rules are made to be broken. I am to review the rules with my son before we pen our respective signature to the contract. My ‘fairness’ antennae are all full tweak and twitching.

My mind begins to “Whitter.”

I wonder if they use natural organic dyes for these papers?

I wonder if they use ground ant bodies for ink? I come to line 5 which reads:-

'All games are ‘open.’ Do not tell another student, ‘You can’t play.’

Game, set and perfect match for the whole school year.

Lucky us.

Of course other people overcome common difficulties in the public school system by "homeschooling" and boy does my hat go off to "them" or rather, I take off my crown, but I'll sure be careful not to sit on the pointy jewels.

The days are so short, but there's always time for a "snack."

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Thursday 13 # 3

guess about

Testing, testing 1,2,3

Name the following pictures [identify object]

Categorize into one of the following:-

1. Benign

2. Possibly beneficial for some

3. Instrument of torture

Good luck!

Answers below - sorry I couldn't write them upside down as that would have been way more fun.

1.

10.

11.

12.

13.

1. long handled things are the current talismen therefore benign and possibly beneficial
2. Laser pointer, jolly handy for getting reader’s eyes to track.
2 bGotta be clean or possibly die!
3. Theraband – helps keep those legs and toes in repose and increases bum to seat ratio.
4. Vibrating spoon and mouth massager as it makes those tricky textures more tolerable
5. Do not enter or do not touch precious thing underneath, territorialism isn’t always bad.
6. Balm for the skin and therefore the mind
7. Weighted vest to keep people grounded, it can be very inconvenient to have floating children
8. Increase fine motor skill and strength and help mum to boot.
9. P tube to chew. Helps jaw strength and reduces anxiety [take note smokers and other oral fixaters]
10. Another vest that squeezes, made to measure with Velcro [put your ear plugs in first]
11. Not for fighting but for protecting delicate digits.
12. T tube as above in 9.
13. A delightful Christening gift both a whistle and a rattle and the only instrument of torture.

Prizes =

If anyone get them all right then pop on over for a free bounce on the trampoline!

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Special Exposure Wordless Wednesday

Ambidextrous, mid line crisis or just plain fun?

Should you prefer a few words, I have some over here at my other site "Sandwiched Genes."

Ruby Tuesday

Scroll down to next post for "Tackle it Tuesday"

Post anything red!

How could I resist?

Take a bowl of cherry tomatoes from the garden and a handful of fresh herbs.

Buy a packet of that instant pastry.
Stab your cherry tomatoes so that they don't explode in the oven or cut in half. Spread over the pastry, sprinkle with the finely chopped herbs [or dried Herbes de Provence], dusty with Parmesan. Bake.

Cats on Tuesday!

I'm in heaven!

What a tail!

Monday, August 25, 2008

Delegation, art or fiction? – Tackle it Tuesday

Several years ago, the freezer decided to live an independent existence from the integrated fridge above. It froze itself shut, never to allow the light of day to penetrate. At that time I had a number of more pressing concerns. Since we had more money than sense, we purchased a small freezer from Home Depot, parked in the garage and admitted defeat.

Now several years later I commence a great number of new campaigns. The first campaign is to defrost the freezer in the garage. It’s all a matter of priorities. The second campaign shall be to conquer the freezer in the kitchen, because it’s always best to start the wrong way around.

With the contents already loaded trash sacks, I should have an hours grace to defrost, clean and refill, to avoid the threat of food poisoning. I rush around with the dust buster in one hand and my electronic toothbrush in the other. These are my last two chores before commencement of the main event. I take care not to muddle my tools.

I am ready.

I leave Nonna watching Yogi Bear in the family room at full volume. I pause. Does this constitute elder abuse? I listen to Boo Boo chat to Yogi. I’m tempted to join her on the sofa. As the Park Ranger arrives I take this as my cue. I leave my children, their father, the train set and the i-phone in the garden which should entertain and engage the majority, one way or another. I dash into the garage with a cleaver, a wooden spoon and a bowl of boiling water. I begin to hack away at the ice. For once, I am responsible for the increase in noise production.
“What?” I turn from my position on the concrete floor to the speaker. Nonna.
“I’m defrosting the freezer.”
She steps closer, gingerly due to the lumps of ice and water. “Dat’s bad.”
“I know.”
“Ow often do you do dat?”
“First time ever.”
“Ooo dats not good.”

I smell something odd, even though my nose is frozen. Something vaguely reminiscent of nail polish remover, which is peculiar since we generally avoid acetone.

I hear the doorbell, drop everything and dash to welcome our guest for the afternoon on the very last day of the Summer Holidays. I am surprised to see her mum dressed in attire to challenge Vogue but clearly I am ill equipped to advice on the appropriate dress code for a ball game, especially since I am uncertain which type of game the ball belongs to.

I meet and greet with frozen blue finger tips. I make mental notes in case the future requires me to attend a sporting function. I know that white is banned after Labour Day but we’re not quite there yet. I only wish I could have been that well turned out for my own wedding. It seems strange to me that such a diminutive slip of a woman should wish to emblazon ‘Giant’ on her chest but maybe it’s just wishful thinking. “My! your home looks so….”
“Messy. Yes I know, it’s o.k. to say it out loud.”
“Oh no I didn’t mean…..”
“That’s quite o.k. It’s not a dirty word.”
“Did you have a party here?”
“I suppose you could say that. Six people at home for six weeks, plus additional people here and there, now and then.”
She looks at me in silence because I am whittering.

We say our farewells and the girls flee in glee to their own recluse. I check the garden party, fine. I check Nonna, who has moved on to the comic book Baby Blues and then rush to the garage and the drips. I hurl bucket loads of ice out onto the flower bed together with silent prayers that the tomato plants don’t get frostbite in August.

I hear agonized screams from the interior of the house and dash back to find who has been wounded with what? My youngest son hobbles on his heels with a bead of blood on one big toe. I grab towels and a damp cloth as Band Aides are banned for this child. Nonna appears with a handful of ice and a handful of tomatoes, my shadow. “Ere what I do with deez?” but it’s hard to hear over the screams. Ice drips as does tomato pulp. He latches on to a ditty, considerably quieter, “talk about a space cadet, talk about a space cadet, talk about a space cadet.”
“What he is saying?”
“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” I bellow.
“What is wrong with im?”
“TOE!” Nonna peers to see the microdot of blood.
“Ere put dis ice on it,” she offers and reaches as he jumps to his feet and scarpers at the speed of light. “So …….ees alright den…….”
“He doesn’t do ice.”
“So I see.”
“Right. I must get on.”
“Oh…..I got im to elp you.”
“Who? Help with what?”
“Dey were too eavy for me, but I got him to take out all dah rubbish to dah trash can.”

Well I suppose that's one way of crossing something off your list of 'things to do.'

Excuse me, I’m off to IceLand, not to shop but to climb into a chest freezer and pull the door closed.

Nip over for a "nibble" if you haven't already and make sure you leave your URL.

Sunday, August 24, 2008

Knock, knock, knocking

In the 87 degree heat, I net the school for a swim.

Lucky us!

I dither. Maybe I could read my book whilst they swim, but "Bill Bryson" eludes me. Those last 22 unfinished pages, have haunted me all summer long. I still have the book mark but not the dratted book.

Probably just as well, as there are already far too many distractions.

Nonna announces that she will retire to her room to rest, due to a combination of heart burn and leg cramps, two facts that she mentions in an off hand manner, over the shoulder, a mere after thought, but diabetics are like that.

After very little thought I grab the lap top, bound into the garden, open the pool safety cover and park myself on the edge.

Whilst the children swim, I research with a combination of brain burn and crampt cranium, as well as a slightly numb bum. I calculate the odds. If the lap top is splashed or drowned, will this provide sufficient grounds for my husband to divorce me, ignoring all other contributing factors?

In the house, Nonna knocks on the open window to attract my attention, just enough attention to startle. “There’s someone at the door Maddy!” she calls. I reply with hand signals, ‘no! can’t leave the children!’ She signals back ‘o.k never mind.’

The Pokemon swimmers are in full battle mode complete with volume. I shall wear them out, come what may. I strongly suspect that the more they swim, the more strong they become, so the more output is required to reach the original state of tiredness, but it’s just a theory.

After 90 minutes I have drawn no conclusive evidence for any one of my competing theories, as my attention is too fragmented. With the pool cover locked, I shower three small people, dry them and assist dressing. As I examine a split toe nail, the source of much weeping and wailing, I notice a shadow in the hall, a dim figure, an unfamiliar adult male person. I bark and shoo children away to the family room, the furthest away.

I step cautiously towards the hall. I realize that I should have adopted American sports after all. We must be the only family in the locale without a handy base ball bat. I do not recognize the blue T-shirt, jeans and white sneakers, nor the wide shoulders, thick neck and black hair with a glint of gel. I calculate our respective BMI, Blimp to Male Index. “Hello? May I help you?” He spins around to face me. Good grief, the painter from 3 weeks ago. “His Miz Maddy. I just come to check. To ...er .....follow up.”
“Oh…..I see…..but…….”
“Yur mom let me in. I’m happy to wait, it’s o.k. I dun need to be nowhere. I liked chatting with you last time.”

I blink.

He must have been waiting…….an hour and a half, at least, in 87 degree heat, in the hall. Clearly I need to brush up on my hand signals. “Well come along into the kitchen then, I’d better make us a cup of tea. Um.....on second thoughts, you go ahead and put the kettle on, I just need to check something,” I beam.

I leg it over to Nonna's room and take a peek. She lies on the bed in the darkened room, covered by a tropical print cotton sheet. Slightly tousled with open lips, her small frame is inert. A faint waft of eau de "Moustiques Mortes" and Tick Tacks. Her limp arm flops to the floor with her glasses directly by her finger tips on the carpet next an over turned coffee mug. A small dark treacly brown stain and not a breath of air in the fustering heat.

I see the elusive, unfinished "Bill Bryson" gently rise and fall on her chest.

Ahh tea!

Afterall it’s thirst quenching and very good for shock.

p.s. Yesterday I inadvertently used a phrase that's common enough in England but may not translate well into American. What I meant to say was 'unable to orchestrate a convivial social gathering in a Californian Winery' not 'couldn't organise a piss up in a brewery.'

My apologies.

Although free mo's are in very short supply, please nip across and say hello at my "new blog," if only to admire the technical genius of my first, nearly proper, blogroll.

Saturday, August 23, 2008

I Love Your Blog Award

"Leech babe" over at "Stuff with Thing"

The rules of the award are:
1. The winner can put the logo on her blog.
2. Link the person you received your award from.
3. Nominate at least 7 other blogs.
4. Put links of those blogs on yours.
5. Leave a message on the blogs of those you’ve nominated

I love lots of blogs......um......is that a surprise?

Anyway, due to excessive amounts of summer holidays and lots of spare bodies flopping about all over the place, I have be far too neglectful.

I have to be careful about this one, as although there are lots of blogs that I read, some of them are a bit rude. It would be just my luck to link to someone who chooses that day to be extra rude, and then where would I be!

I feel a fit of the vapours coming on just at the mere thought of such a possibility.

I think I shall play safe. [Note yellow stripe down back?]

First to "Scribbit" who I visit regularly even though she's buried under rubble at the moment. Oddly enough when I first went there, I thought she was just a little blog like everyone else because there weren't many comments. I assumed that she was just bimbling along with the rest of us. A lonely little lady in the frozen wastes of Alaska with me all isolated in San Jose, almost the perfect pen pal. Just goes to show that appearances can be deceptive.

My newer ones are "5 Minutes for Special Needs Mums" although I can't for the life of me think why?

"Slurping Life" is a regular although the photo challenges are driving me quite batty.

I recently re-discovered "The Blogess" but the font size is a strain on the old bifocals. It's an easy place to hide and she always gives me a little escape giggle.

"O Mighty Crisis" is a great site. I admit that I am black and white biased of course but her writing style always keeps me intrigued and amused. What more could anyone ask for?

"Carrie" at "Fully Caffeinated" is very much a kindred spirit. If this is a new one for you, then I would suggest that you start here at her post called "house rules" as I need one of those signs too! Although "Nature Corrects" is also excellent as is "Chaos Theory." Oopsie, a little bit carried away there.

"Mommy dearest" has the most delightful [very short] video up at the moment over "here". It's only vomit inducing for the truly sensitive, and we don't know anyone like that do we?

Is that seven?

No. Only six. Also to "Joey's Mum" over at "Joey Andy Mom." If this is a new one for you, then you can get a head start on your "holiday shopping." Not the Summer holidays but .......the other one!

Near enough then.

Cheers dears

Friday, August 22, 2008

Photohunt = Wrinkled

PhotoHunt

Yes it's true, once upon a time I did make note cards.

I could send this one now:-

Dear "Poor Mouth"
I have it on reliable authority that
you are out of date.
Love
Me

If you fancy some words, they are over here at my other site "Alien" which I am considering renaming......."The Sandwich Generation."

Brillante Weblog Award

"Isabel" over at "Change Therapy" is a woman that I admire hugely as she does the psychobabble for real! Be assured that if you have a 'problem' which of course we never refer to as a 'problem,' she has the matter covered from every which way and back again.

Awardees, when you receive this post, here is what you are invited to do:

1. add the logo of the award to your blog
2. add a link to the person who awarded it to you
3. nominate at least 7 other blogs
4. add links to those blogs on your blog
5. leave a message for your nominees on their blogs

and here they come.

Drumroll! I shall number them this time merely so that I'll know when I reach 7. Warning! All the following people have very big brains. [Visit with dictionary in your back pocket or prop yourself up on the double OED like me!}

1. To "Emily" at "A Life Less Ordinary" and you'd better believe it! Just ignore the fatty pants.

2. To "Mom - Not Otherwise Specified" at "Momnos" because parents who work out of the home deserve all the awards in the world.

3. To "Kristina Chew" at "Autism Vox" but don't call her proff as that would probably be disrespectful. Do you know why proffs carry those proff bags? For their overflowing brain particles. Can't be seen leaking in front of students.

4. To "Autism Diva" as that "video" needs dusting, but then you can't expect people with lots of letters after their names to be bothered with cleaning, that's my role, to nip round with my feather duster and bird brain.

5. To "Estee" at the "Joy of Autism" but don't phone her as the line is permanently engaged at the moment.

6. To "Abfh" at "Whose Planet is it Anyway" where we can do politics too! Don't be afraid to weigh in with your opinion!

7. Finally to "Oddizms" and I bet you've never seen anything like that before! But I'm always happy to be corrected.

Cheers dears

Comment of the week award

[Inspired by "Scribbit."]

This week goes to "Kathryn" from the "fritters family" from the very aptly named "Seeking Sanity," for her comment on the post called "Well I Never" where she commented as follows:-

'HAHAHA!!! I often catch myself telling the boys no for a reason that makes little sense. My boys must think I'm crazy! ;)'

because really, we're all in the same club.

If you are currently reaching the end of your summer holidays and need a last quick dash to somewhere watery, you can check out her charming post "here," called "The Rosy glow of summer," although I have no idea what the 'psf' means?

And if you need a "visual" giggle, nip along to this "site." Very topical what with the rain in England and the Olympics.

Additional giggles can be found over at "Jayne's" site "Our Great Southern Land." It's quite odd really. Each of her posts are described as "Trivial History" together with the date, this may be accurate but it fails to capture the escapist element when I visit. Trivial just doesn't do it justice. I hope you also enjoy it. Of course you can start anywhere, but this one is "current" and certainly tickled my funny bone, of which I have several, funny bones that is to say.

If anyone can explain the purpose of the 178 pieces of spam that Askimet caught last night, I would be forever grateful?

Lastly, please pop over and enjoy a little ageism and sexism with me at my new blog the "Sandwiched Gene," where I shall be nibbling from time to time.

Cheers dears

Thursday, August 21, 2008

Well I never!

Sometimes we should just take a step back and listen to ourselves, as other people hear us:-

He holds one each hand, when I catch him near the washing up bowl.

“Don’t put your balls in the water dear they’ll rust!”
“But dey are be dirty.”
“We can wipe them clean, just don’t dunk them in the sink.”
“Rust! Rust? What is it be ‘rust’?”
“Oxidization…..um…..rusty….orangey red coloured, because they’re made with metal, er steel.”
“No……my balls are be made of plastic.”
“They have a steel hinge. That’s what allows you to open them and snap them shut again.”
“Dis fing here?”
“That’s right. One side has the button, the other side has a hinge.”
“Oh dat is bad for balls.”
“It is indeed. If you get them wet they’ll seize shut and you’ll never be able to open them again. Then where would we be?”

Now wouldn’t that be a tragedy. Save us from ourselves!

This is why children need emancipation.

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Piles of corruption

“Oopsie!”
I put down the unpeeled onion and skip over to my son buried in half a tonne of dried cat food.
“It broked,” he explains unnecessarily and delightfully.
“Never mind dear. I’ll soon get this swept up.”
“He is be hungrary.”
“Yes I guessed that because of all the yeowling.”
“But you are not be feed him.”
“Yes I’m sorry about that I was trying to feed the humans first.”
“Maddy!”
I dash out of the utility room into the kitchen where Nonna is helping empty the dishwasher. She waggles a wooden spoon at me. I give up "speech" and try hand signals instead. I point to the wooden spoon pot on the cooker.
“Mom!”
“Yes dear.”
“Look it’s funny!” he gaffaws. I jump into the family room where the BBC news has finished and the telly shows a scene of supreme unfunniness followed by a haemorroides advertisement. I snap off the power.
“Mom?”
“Yes dear?”
“When’s dinner gonna be?”
Next Wednesday if there’s a full moon and an R in the month.
“Probably about half an hour, hopefully.”
“But I’m starving now!”
“Have a banana.”
“Can you pass me one……please?”
I look at my daughter in a sea of Webkins on the green carpet.
“They’re in the fruit bowl dear, help yourself.”
I run back to my onion and hack it for speedy skin removal.
“Mom?”
“Yes dear?”
“Where’s the fruit bowl?”
“On the dining room table.”
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Why do we call it a dining room?”
“Because the nosebag room is less sophisticated.”
“Right then!” mutters their father with a face full of biscuits.
“Right then what?”
“I’m off to work.”
“But you’ve only been home 5 minutes?”
“Three actually. See you later.”
“Right then,” Nonna repeats to no-one in particular.
“Right then what?”
“I’m off to bed. Good night.”
“You can’t go to bed yet!” I bellow at her retreating form.
“Why?”
“It’s only half past six……and you’ve not had any dinner yet.”
“Wot?”
I point at the clock above my head with a very sharp sparkling knife dripping with onion juice.
“Wot? It has stopped?”
“No, if anything it seems to be going faster.”
“Where’s he gone den?”
“Work. He’s gone to work,” I yell.
“Oh…….it is breakfast time?”
“Not until tomorrow.”
I stop the conversation with an attempt at rapid chopping, which of course is a silent exercise for many people. I put the knife down on the counter and take a deep breath wondering what to explain first. My son charges through the kitchen with a four foot broom in one hand and 12 inch magic wand in the other shrieking, “ seals leaks instantly! Seals leaks instantly! Seals leaks instantly!”

Now that’s something I could really use.

This must be why we all blog, for a little "Escapism." I really should get out more often.

On a side note, if you have also missed the Olympics here's a "link" that gave me my daily "giggle."

The Ministry of Mis-information

I decide that my brain is over loaded with extraneous distractions. BBC America’s news broadcast blasts from next door as Nonna catches up with the world. Pokemon fly in every direction followed swiftly by their child masters. Everything is far too busy.

"Where am I den?" I nip into Nonna with a cup of reviving tea late in the afternoon.
"You're in the family room."
"No."
"?"
"I mean .....where am I?"
"In America."
"No......what is the date today?"
"20th."
"So dey're over then?"
"What's over?"
"The Olympics."
"I don't think so. They've only just started."
"O.k......so you are turn it on for me then please."

I turn on the telly and whizz back to the kitchen to continue cooking.

“Ooo is it den?” asks Nonna waving at the wall. I put down the onion and nip into the family room still clutching the cleaver for safety. I look at the walls decorated floor to ceiling with my children’s creations.

“Do you mean who drew it?” I bellow. I wonder if I should go and search for her hearing aide?
“No. Who it is?”
“Mario or Luigi, I’m not quite sure.”
“Who?”
“One the characters from one of their games.”
“It’s not im den?”
“Who?”
“You know?”
“?”
“Er ……wot is is name again?”
“Um…..”
“Who was de original one?”
“Original what?”
“President?”
“The first president?”
“Yes.”
“George Washington?”
“Ah yes, such an English name isn’t it? It’s im isn’t he?”
“Er……I don’t think so. I doubt if they’d be motivated to draw anything so conformist?”

Whilst I stare at the wall awaiting inspiration, Nonna turns her attention back to the telly. She is my direct source of information about the Olympics.

“So…..did you know he is out?”
“Who is out?”

I turn to face the screen too.

I see advertisements, very loud ones.

“Ooo wot’s is name again.”
“Er….. which sport were you watching?”
“Glitter something.”
“Gold medalist?”
“No……dah criminal.”
“Which criminal? A drug user?”
“No…..underage.”
“Underage sports?”
“No. I know! Gary Glitter.”
“Gary Glitter?”
“Yes he’s out of jail.”

Please will someone lock me up, preferably in a padded cell.

“Ask er?”
“Ask who? Ask who what?”
“Ah! dere she is!” My daughter appears with armfuls of Webkins. “Tell me, ooo is dat,” she points with a querulous finger and taps the paper on the wall.
“George Washington,” she beams with confidence.
“Really dear? Are you quite sure? How did you know that?” I ask bewildered.
“Coz it looks like him,.... kinda, and it’s got his name on the back.”
“Well I never, I must be slipping.”
“Don’t worry,” beams Nonnna, “it appens to us all as we get older.”

Move on over Methuselah!

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

Special Exposure Wordless Wednesday

Now is that exposed or protected from the sprinklers may I ask?

I take the advice of a pal!

Coincidence or not!

Cannot find the original Recipe for this "Million Dollar Shortbread" but this one is pretty "close."

In fact it may be even better due to the nuts.

Shall we make that pounds as the current exchange rate should be in my favour?

p.s. if you are a cat lover [don't tell me if you're not] then nip over and watch this "video." Caution = do not drink coffee at the same time. Kindly thanks to "Sam's Stories" for putting me straight, in a slightly wonky fashion.