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!
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.
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.
"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
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."
"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
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.
“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."
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!
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.
Scroll down to next post for "Tackle it Tuesday"
Post anything red!
How could I resist?
See I do get homesick sometimes. Slavishly stitched by my mother's own fair hands for my delectation.
Cats on Tuesday!
I'm in heaven!
One Rascal being cuddled by another. [not a claw in sight from either party!]
Wise words for the day = ignore your paperwork for 3 months and then it is all so out of date you can simply recycle it. T
On second thoughts this should probably be a lazy person's guide to efficiency?
I think it would be fair to say that I’m a bit of a Luddite on the quiet, or more accurately, technically challenged.
A computer is merely a glorified typewriter and somewhere to lose photographs. A cell phone is something that always needs charging and also hides photographs. This serves to remind me that I have my own special needs, but they could probably all be addressed by a crash course on ‘electronics for beginners.’
As the pace of life speeds up into hyper drive, I take heed of wise words from wise people. My first step is to tackle my spouse, or rather explain that my cup runneth over and I’m in dire need of a jolly big sponge. As is so often the case with the male of the species, he downloads into fix it mode.
“Do you still have that pager I bought you?”
“Pager? Oh….the one when I was pregnant with…..somebody or other?”
“Yes that’s the one.”
“Lummy I haven’t seen that since…..the last umbilical cord was surgically snipped.”
“What about the phone?”
“What about it?”
“Do you ever use it?”
“Of course, although I let most of the messages go to the answering machine.”
“No, not the land line, the cell phone?”
“Oh no, never use that thing if I can possibly avoid it. Anyway, I thought it was just for emergencies?”
“Did you ever manage to recover the data from you Palm?”
“Nope, died with the lap top hard drive and that was that.”
“Any luck changing the shutter speed on the camera?”
“Nope. Can’t find the manual.”
“You know……….you really need to get more organized.”
“?”
“I mean, ……nothing works properly.”
“User friendly my eye!”
“Exactly. I have enough trouble getting back to the basic codes because it’s all basically Linux based but you…….” He looks at me, the body that houses the tiniest working memory on the planet.
“Right!”
“Right?”
“I mean……..what time is it?”
“Er…….late. Dark.”
“Battery flat?”
“Yes, my watch has one of those little round flat batteries and I don’t know where to buy a replacement.”
“I’m off then.”
“Off? Off where?”
“To get you fixed.”
“Fixed as in mended, or fixed as in fixed up?” Or maybe something much worse!
He beams as he leaves which means that he goes to visit Fry’s which means he’ll be gone for hours which means I might as well give up and go to bed.
I do.
The next morning, early in the morning, whilst it’s still dark, because the children are on full charge, I charge downstairs to greet the coffee machine and small people, although in the opposite order.
I am rewarded for my opposite order.
At the coffee machine, where the cup normally fits, I find something else entirely, and no manual.
I squeeze my eyes shut, very tightly, to stop my automatic translator from functioning, as I know it represents several therapy sessions, countless grocery trips and several tanks of petrol.
Who need flowers matey!
Or follow the link "here."
The "Gray Centre" and Carol Gray's "social stories," a non-profit.
Lots of children enjoy their own "stories," where their creative talents can blossom.
One day I shall remember to make some notes first!
"Words" return to our household.
Details later, if time allows.
As a direct result, I see fit to stamp all over them.
****
“Oh WeinO!”
“No potty talk!”
“Oh Butt O!”
“Listen to me Sunny Jim. I said no potty talk!”
“Oh Wein Y !”
“I said no potty talk! Is anybody listening to me today!”
“Oh toilet paper Y!”
Horray!
When toddlers first begin to lie it can be rather endearing to some "indulgent parents." Other parents, indulgent or otherwise, sometimes have to wait a little longer for such ‘skills’ to emerge, however wobbly.
It’s the sincerity that floors me:-
“It wasn’t me, it was a herd of "Wildebeest.”
I am a Snapdragon - this is "fun."
"Mischief is your middle name, but your first is friend. You are quite the prankster that loves to make other people laugh."
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I stole this from "Lime" from "House of Lime" recently.
She notes, 'the idea is to write the first reaction you have to the prompt and don't change it. Consider yourself warned...'
Usually, my limit is seven, but I'll have a go. Rules are not really my thing.
1. My 'ex' is still....[now residing in Australia, a great distance away last time I checked]
2. I am listening to...Pokemon conversations.
3. Maybe I should... interpose and shoot for a non Pokemon conversation.[but they're too cute to interrupt!]
4. I love..........anchovies, anything in brine, chutneys, anything salty, I'm just pickled.
5. My best friend(s)......... live too damned far away.
6. I don't understand..........very much, and less with every advancing year.
7. I've lost my respect for..........never had any in the first place.
8. I last ate............a vat of espresso. [Hey it has crunchy bits, it's a solid]
9. The meaning of my display name is.... I believe they're both self explanatory, although I wish I'd started the name with '1A' rather than a 'W'.
11. Someday............I shall be alone, probably when I am dead.
12. I will always.............dither
13. Love seems to be..........pink in America.
14. I never ever want to lose............. teeth.
15. My mobile phone is..........mobile, out on a jaunt on it's own account.
16. When I woke up this morning........it was still dark, I fell out of bed and ran downstairs three at a time, at thrice the speed of light.
17. I get annoyed at/with.........just about everything.
18. Parties….......infrequently, unless you count home grown celebrations, just teeny tiny ones, every day.
19. My pets...........have behavioural issues.
20. Kisses..........hip bones and elbows, should progress to upper arm and rib cage as the years pass and height increases. For those who are dentally challenged, it is infinitely better to receive than to give, for both parties.
She doesn't mention tagging. Am I supposed to tag? How many people am I supposed to tag? Never mind, if you want to have a go, just let me know.
Meanwhile, should you be in need of a little "cheer," take a little "peek" at this quickie "video" and then cheer some "more."
Here are some other videos I found quite by chance, "Temple Grandin" et al including a "fabulous quote from Temple's mum." Thanks "Purple Medical Blog."
Cheers dears
I rush around the kitchen like a thing possessed, prior to the arrival of our guests. It is already hot, so I must prepare now or pay later. Due to the heat, it is Nonna’s habit to wear a housedress, loose cotton comfort in outrageous 70’s colours.
It’s the only way. We fashion icons must stick together.
I reach above my head for a saucepan from the rack, which is mysteriously empty. I pause. My son is still silent, "mute" but hopefully voluntarily. I notice a footprint on the cooker where the pot of wooden spoons should be. Someone is trying to derail the cook, a conspiracy campaign no doubt.
Nonna appears in the kitchen, I beam “good morning, did you have a better night’s sleep?”
“Eh?”
“Sleep. Did you sleep?”
“Am I o.k.?”
“I don’t know. Are you?”
“Am I, you know……..?” She smiles hugely with a little shimmy.
I beam back none the wiser.
“I am dressed!”
“Ooo so you are.”
“So?”
“So?.......well done!”
“No…....am I….....….you know…...….o.k.?”
I push back my bifocals and take a better look at her, all dressed in immaculately laundered white, with a speck of childish innocence.
Oh of course! A special occasion! Guests!
“Yes, you look lovely.”
To see and hear someone who is the real deal when it comes to also psychobabble, pop along and say "hello" to "Bonnie."
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1. Finish dream. 
2. Remove duct tape from eye lids. 
3. Wake up between 5 and 6! 
4. Drink vat of espresso in record time. 
5. Sterilize "retainer." 6. Clean teeth, a 2 minutes timed exercise under "fear." 7. Save time. Multi-task. Clean teeth in shower. 
8. Dress. 
9. Skip make-up, apply Happy face of choice. 
10. Shift into Cheerleader mode. 
11. Adjust volume control 
12. Last chance! 
13. I'm Ready! 
Tuesday, August 12, 2008Snippet - Sugar Coated
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