My husband is spending today door-knocking and collecting in for Red Cross.
We met at the bakery for lunch, where he asked the baker for a donation.
A lady turned to him and asked what he was doing.
“He’s walking the streets to make money,” I said.
Everyone laughed, so I added, “… bet he would have made more if he’d borrowed my fishnets.”
It’s official. I’m hilarious.
This morning, my man made bacon, eggs and grilled tomatoes for an Easter Sunday breakfast.
One of our guests dropped a little on her white skirt and commented that it was going to be hard to get the mark out.
“Make-up wipes will get it out,” I said helpfully.
“Oh, thank you! Great tip!” she said.
Just as she was putting more food in her mouth, I leaned over to my husband and whispered quite loudly, “She said I’ve got great tits!”
Just as I had hoped, my friend nearly spat her food out again as she laughed.
And then, as diplomatic as ever, my husband said,”I don’t think that’s what she said.”
“As if she didn’t,” I said, indicating the general area, “Check ’em out!”
And then nobody knew what to say.
Good times.
I would just like everyone to know that Sean is really, truly, great.
He always listens. He cares about me and my life. He encourages and defends me. He is a truly great friend and brother.
He reminds me that being under-appreciated is worse than being overworked or underpaid, and then he shows that he appreciates me.
And then he makes me laugh with inappropriate humour.
How could I not love this guy?
I’m so glad we adopted each other. I’m so glad he is as happy about that as I am.
Today, I bid my sixteen-year-old cat, Pip, farewell. She was old, losing her mind, and her time had come.
Pip was quite a nice cat, if you could get past the fact that she hated being cuddled, peed on the floor – and only occasionally, the kitchen counter – out of sheer, deliberate vengeance if she was displeased, and frequently left fragrant landmines outside the bedroom and bathroom doors of any visitors that she didn’t like much.
She had a cracking case of the condition known as Resting Bitch Face, in which she could look at you like she wanted you to die while she sat on your lap, purring like a Volkswagen Beetle and drooling on your clothes.
Pip had a penchant for tidbits of ham and tasty cheese, and had various members of the family trained to feed her off the kitchen counter or table when they were making lunch or a snack. She used to sit on the kitchen table beside my father-in-law as he made his sandwiches for lunch, and tap him on the arm whenever she thought it was time for him to hand-feed her again. She wasn’t afraid to use a claw or two when you were slow to feed her or pat her.
She used to run into the bedroom when she heard the alarm go off in the mornings, and wake me with a firm pat or two on the cheek with her paw. It wasn’t wise to ignore her – if she thought it was past time for me to be out of bed, she would put a claw up my nostril and pull on it to make me sit up. It’s hard not to feel loved by a cat that is so careful to make sure you get to the dairy on time, just so she can sleep in the warm spot in the bed that you’d left behind.
She did love a good rub behind the ears, and loved to “boop” my finger tip while sitting on my lap. That made her purr and drool more than most things.
Pip hated going outside, and actually managed to avoid it for several years at a time. It was only in recent months that she started to venture out of open doors, only to look very surprised when she realised where she was, and bolt back inside to the safety of her comfort zone as quickly as she possibly could.
Pip loved sitting on my desk while I worked. She’d hang over the edge of the desk, hoping that my fingers would rub against her ears while I typed. She would occasionally swipe me for a pat or some attention – it couldn’t possibly be all about the students, or my deadlines. Seriously.
She loved chasing the red dot, bits of ribbon or string, and flashes of light on the floor or walls made by sunlight reflecting on a watch face, cutlery, or a mirror. We didn’t let her chase the red dot too often, as it made her kind of psychotic and jittery. She’d walk past my study and jump two feet in the air because she thought that dot was going to pop out of thin air and get her.
Over the past few months, Pip got really skinny and started looking like her best days were behind her. She started sitting like a statue and watching us for hours, then walking in circles around the same piece of furniture before sitting down and licking her paws like there was nothing wrong. She started walking funny, hunching her back a lot, and she started to get incredibly skinny.
Last night, she sat in my study looking unhappy and uncomfortable. The red blanket that she loved to sleep on was on the couch, so I pulled it down onto the floor for her. She crawled onto it and curled up, but didn’t sleep. I knew she was unhappy and in pain.
This morning I took Pip to the vet, who concurred with my decisions about her health and her pain. We agreed that her time had come.
I tried to cuddle her and say goodbye, but she pushed away from me like she always did. I rubbed her ears and stroked her from the top of her head to the tip of her tail, just as she liked me to do. I said goodbye, and I cried.
She was a strange creature, but she was mine, and I loved her.
It’s weird sitting in my study without her sleeping on the couch nearby.
Pip will be missed…just probably not by my other cat. They were never friends.
At a family gathering, one niece arrived with her laptop and said to her sister, who had set up the room, “Tell me where to go?”
My response: “That’s not an invitation my sisters would ever give me.”
True story.
So, I forgot to tell the funniest part of last night’s fart story.
After she finished laughing, she asked me, “Is that all you’ve got? Or is there something else up your sleeve?”
And I said, “That wasn’t up my sleeve, honey.”
Riotous laughter ensued yet again.
As a woman, I’m led to believe that I’m one of very few who think that farts are actually funny. I try to maintain decorum most of the time, but on the odd occasion, I can compete with the best of them.
I’m generally quite private about m such things but, when you’re holidaying in a caravan and in closer quarters than usual, such discretion is not always so achievable.
So tonight, LMC heard me let a fart go for only the second time ever.
She thought it was hysterical. Honestly, it was really nothing special, but she cracked up laughing until she had tears and her stomach hurt.
It’s good to know she’s so easily and cheaply entertained. We can sell the TV.
In the car on the way to town, I said,”It’s hot in here!”
He said, “No, it’s not.”
“It is!” I insisted.
“It’s only really warm in here. The sun’s been on the car.”
It’s summer in Australia, and I swear he’s part fish.
Today as we were driving, we saw a guy running down the road.
I said, “There are easier ways to get somewhere.”
The my sister said, “I don’t even see anything chasing him.”
Yesterday afternoon, I went to meet LMC at the corner as she was walking home from school. I needed to go to the supermarket, and I didn’t want her to walk all the way home when I was in town anyway.
I waved as I saw her walking toward me, and she broke into a run. Then she threw her arms around me and said happily, “Boy, am I glad to see you!”
Before she had a chance to explain why, two ladies who had just walked out of the bank and stopped nearby both smiled at what they saw and heard. They probably thought I was her mum, and that she just loved me that much.
One said, “Oh! How beautiful!” The other said, “That’s so nice to hear! Just lovely!”
They both beamed at LMC and then at me, as if I had performed some kind of child-rearing miracle.
As LMC and I walked away, she explained that she wanted to go to the supermarket, and she needed to work out what to wear for a disco-themed out-of-uniform day for school. And could she have something special for an after-school snack? It wasn’t so much that she was happy to see me: it was rather that it suited her hopeful plans for me to be there at that time.
Even so, I’m glad she didn’t blurt that out in front of those ladies. It would have been awful to shatter their illusions of our idyllic family life almost as quickly as they were created.
An Aussie Maple Leaf, adrift on the wind... 