Big News Implosion

Well, we thought we might be moving to Toronto for an internal job transfer that Jeremy interviewed for.

But, it a mix of sad and not sad, we are staying in London.

This is okay, it means we can really focus on the house and that we don't have to uproot Oliver (and goodness knows Oliver's welfare is always of paramount concern when making major life decisions.) so cor blimey and hullo guvnor I'm stayin in London!

Shock & Awwwww

So Oliver is like twice as big now, but this picture remains one of my favorites. Jeremy is still the same size. I like that he is wearing his Battles t shirt in this photo because it looks like he's having battles with a kitten and the kitten is totally winning. It wasn't really a battle though, it was a cuddle and everyone was victorious.

Surveillance

I can see two helicopters hovering in the sky over Central London from my window at work. I assume it's about this.

One has moved on but one is hanging in position as if it were being held up by wires.

In Detroit, at night, helicopters used to fly over head and shine blue lights on those of us below. It made even the most mundane activities feel vaguely criminal. Buying a pint of milk could easily become a covert mission. Not that I ever went out at night to buy milk when I lived in Detroit because that would be stupid and because I don't drink milk.

The second helicopter is back. A red balloon just floated up into the sky as well. That's a nicer thought, let's all think about the red balloon. Did anybody else have to watch that movie in elementary school? Whenever I think of it I think of an overwarm room and that little boy running down an alley. It's not really a good memory or a bad memory. Just a memory.

Better than bombs and helicopters though.

Torture by Kitten

Oliver was totally out to get me this morning. I left the house at quarter after seven and he was standing in the path next to our house waiting for me. I said, "Hello, little man, how are you?" This is a regular conversation starter for us. He put his head down and ran at top speed towards and then past me. I followed him to the street where he threw himself to the sidewalk and began to brazenly expose his soft wonderful kitten belly in a pretty shameless display. Clearly, he wanted me to stay home. Clearly, his need for me is greater than that of the File Factory. But I could not stay. I have an early meeting this morning and a mortgage that needs to be paid. So I sadly rubbed his belly once, then once more and told him, "Oh, little dude, I am so sorry but I must go." He followed me halfway down the block and then stood in the middle of the street and watched me walk away. Is this how it feels to take your kid to their first day of kindergarten? This hollow spot where my heart used to be? He'll turn away from me tonight, I know it. He'll move in with the new neighbors and shower his love upon them. Oh, the fickle love of Cousin Oliver the cat, I have squandered it. Foolishly, foolishly squandered.

Thank goodness I have a secret weapon. Duck chunks in gravy! They win his love back every time!

Conversations: Feminists discus rap music

At my bachelorette party in May of 2004 I had a conversation with my friends Lori and Harmony about Outkast, I was reminded of it yesterday when I mentioned the song Hey Ya and I thought it might be nice to share it with the world, because it was a sort of funny conversation. I've cut down on the actual use of the word dude to 3 occurences to make it flow a little more naturally for those of you who don't use the word as a crutch like we do. Keep in mind though that each Dude is said in a different tone and with a slightly different meaning. It is a sad but true fact that my friends and I could have an entire conversation consisting of the word dude. I don't know how this began, I just know that it is.

Lori: Carolyn, I bought that Outkast record on your recommendation and I've got to say I was surprised.
Carolyn: What do you mean?
Lori: There are a lot of misogynist lyrics in there, I just can't get behind it.
Carolyn: Dude, you listen to Snoop Dogg and Eminem.
Lori: Dude, the whole point of one entire song on there is about how a lady is a crazy bitch.
Harmony: Dude, did you listen to the song? She really is a crazy bitch.
Carolyn: (Laughs uncontrollably)
Harmony: (Laughs too)
Lori: (Shakes head and gets herself a cigarette)

A week or so later we had a conversation about how the perfume bottle for JLo Glo mimics the shape of her ass. I found it equally funny but it would be impossible to transcribe.

Something Happier : Our Song

It wasn't until we were about to get married that Jeremy and I finally chose a song that could be deemed OUR SONG. I think other couples pick songs fairly early on, but we waited 5 years. I don't think choosing your song is something that you should rush into, it is something you're going to be saddled with forever after all, no matter how much you like Hey Ya right now, are you sure you want it to be the expression of your love in 50 years (actually, maybe I would, but I assume other people wouldn't, other people obviously want to have boring family reunions when they're old, not me!).

In fact, we only finally picked ours about 2 months before the wedding, and that was after a few false starts (Ben Folds - The Luckiest, Bird on a Wire as sung by Willie Nelson, God Only Knows sung by a French singer from the Gilmore Girls soundtrack) mostly, it was me saying how about this? What about this? and then Jeremy responding with an Ehhh. He was not especially helpful.
We were leaning heavily towards Willie's version of Bird on a Wire. I like how it's about the imperfection of love and that it makes no claims about never hurting each other and it acknowledges errors of the past, and also, I think Leonard Cohen and Willie Nelson are equal parts awesome and fantastic so I figured it was a good choice. Jeremy remained meh about the entire situation.

Then one fateful day I made him go to the Music Box to see Gigantic - A Tale of Two Johns the documentary about They Might Be Giants. He was reluctant to go because he was never a big TMBG fan. But he came anyhow, and was much relieved to see some of our cool friends at the theater when we got there (Jeremy always likes reassurance about his placement at activities that may or may not be cool, God forbid they end up being so not cool that they can't even be reclaimed with irony!) but he didn't try to pose and be all 'Oh no, I've always loooved TMBG they're my favorite.' He was honest about his apathy towards them but more excited about the movie.

So in we went to watch the movie, and lo, it was good. At the end there was footage of them playing a song that I didn't know called She's an Angel, a really sweet song with a line about shriners and a bit about falling off a building. As it played Jeremy leaned over and said "This should be our song." And I said, "Yeah, maybe." I didn't want to let on that I really liked it to since he'd been such a pain throughout the song choosing process.

The next day I went to the Dr. Wax on Berwyn and luckily was able to find it (Dr. Wax is always kind of a crap shoot). That night we did a test run of both Bird on a Wire and She's an Angel and She's an Angel, crazy tempo changes and all, was declared the winner.

A week or so later I was home for my bridal shower and I played the song for my mom. Her response, "It's interesting, but maybe you guys should pick a song that people will understand."

But we stuck it out and our dance was awesome. There was lots of twirling and even a dip at the end.

Here is a picture:

And here are the lyrics to the song. It was a good choice, no matter what my mom says.

She's an Angel

I met someone at the dog show

She was holding my left arm

But everyone was acting normal so I tried to look nonchalant.

We both said, "I really love you,"

The Shriners loaned us cars

We raced up and down the sidewalk twenty thousand million times



Why did they send her over anyone else?

How should I react?

These things happen to other people

They don't happen at all, in fact



When you're following an angel

Does it mean you have to throw your body off a building?

Somewhere they're meeting on a pinhead

Calling you an angel, calling you the nicest things

I heard they had a space program

When they sing you can't hear, there's no air

Sometimes I think I kind of like that and

Other times I think I'm already there



Gonna ask for my admission

Gonna speak to the man in charge

The secretary says he's on another line,

Can I hold for a long, long time?

I found out she's an angel

I don't think she knows I know

I'm worried that something might happen to me

If anyone ever finds out



Why, why did they send her over anyone else?

How should I react?

These things happen to other people

They don't happen at all



When you're following an angel

Does it mean you have to throw your body off a building?

Somewhere they're meeting on a pinhead

Calling you an angel, calling you the nicest things

I heard they had a space program

When they sing you can't hear, there's no air

Sometimes I think I kind of like that and

Other times I think I'm already there



When you're following an angel

Does it mean you have to throw your body off a building?

Somewhere they're meeting on a pinhead

Calling you an angel, calling you the nicest things

good music + drunk jerks = grumpy carolyn

Last night we saw The New Pornographers in Islington. It was at a really small venue and even though Neko Case wasn't playing with them they still put on a really good show (actually I think it is my destiny to only see them play shows without Neko Case, this being the second of 2). They played a really good mix of songs both old and new, and even though I'm not as keen on the new stuff yet, I have high hopes for the new album. Sadly, though, I must report on more than just the music.

I don't usually stand up at the front of shows anymore, but New Pornographers are one of my very very favorite bands and their music is so infectious and dancy and good that I decided screw this I'm going to the front and I am going to bounce my knees like a good aging indie rocker, oh and maybe my feet will even leave the ground, maybe, when they play Jackie Dressed in Cobras or My Slow Descent Into Alcoholism, maybe I will properly dance and shake what my mama gave me.

So I was up at the front, doing my knee bounce and getting ready for more when the drunk jerk arrived pushing his way into a nonexistent space knocking me and everyone else about with his belly until he was standing between my friend, Dave, and I. He immediately started to flail around and jump and bang into everyone. At one point he was leaning into me and dancing and I tried to shrug him off me and he laughed and leaned closer to me to try to explain his purpose. He said something like this "Blah blah blah me favorite band blah blah gonna have fun no matter blah blah blah if I blah blah blah shove me!" All the while freaking me to The New Pornographers. So I said "I will," and assumed he would back off, he didn't, he grabbed my shoulder and laughed and started to rub all up on me some more, so I put my finger on his chest and gave him a shove. He backed off and made friends with Dave and went back to dancing. He kept banging into me but I just kept giving firm pushes back and it was okay. Normally, this kind of thing would make me move to the back. But last night I decided no, this is one of my favorite bands too and I don't have to move back (I swear I was like Rosa Parks, except, you know, not even a little bit).

The drunk jerk kept leaving and returning, each time banging into me with his stupid gut but he wasn't as bad as before. Until the encore, they had just finished This Boy's Life, and the one about Spanish Techno (I think, I am bad with song titles) and were about to do the one that I always think is about Al Capone's speakers but is actually about blown speakers, when the dunk jerk came back and was standing directly behind me. He banged into me and I gave him the tiniest elbow to the gut, totally almost accidental, so he grabbed my shoulders and shook me.

I hate being touched on the back as it is, and I hate being approached like that from behind, and just in general, I hate it when strangers think that they have the right to touch me in a familiar manner, because they don't. No matter how drunk or well meaning you are, you don't. So I turned around, looked him in the eye and said, loudly, Stop. I turned around to face the stage and he grabbed my shoulders again and gave me another shake. So I turned around once more, grabbed his head, looked him in the eyes again and this time yelled, "Stop!" I admit, this was probably not the best tactic to take, but I was feeling rage at a really good show and I didn't like it and, mostly, I just wanted dude to leave me the hell alone.

But this time as I turned back towards the stage, he grabbed my wrists, hard, and held me in place. At this point, Jeremy had noticed that something was up and before I could figure out what to do to get away he had reached across the drunk jerk and pushed him back so he would let me go. The stranger on the other side of him had also put his hand on the drunk jerk's shoulder. Once he let go I began to walk away to go to the bathroom and calm down because I was shaking and angry and scared. As we walked away the drunk jerk shoved Jeremy hard into me and sent us both stumbling into the people around us and then when we turned back he put up his hands in the international Let's Fight pose.

We just walked away. I went to the bathroom and started to berate myself for putting my hands on him in the first place but then I thought, no, he put his hands on my repeatedly throughout the show with relatively little reprimand. He made me obviously uncomfortable and acted like a dick all night. Then I looked at my wrists and saw the marks his fingernails made on both of them and where he had actually broken the skin on the right wrist and thought fuck that, just fuck it. Maybe it wasn't a smart thing to do, but he had no right to run roughshod over me all evening long, he had no right to touch me at all.

I hate that my immediate reaction to situations like this is to blame myself for not giving the jerks more space or for not moving to a different spot or for not doing any number of things when the thing is they shouldn't be jerks in the first place and none of us should have to put up with that shit, at least not at a New Pornographers show. At other shows I would and do expect some aggressive dancing, but seriously, at a show featuring those Canadian indie rock darlings? Hardly.

Anyhow, I came out of the bathroom and watched the last two songs from the other side of the venue and then we took the scooter home. I was shaking for the rest of the show and part of the ride home. I don't know if it was fear or anger or both. We didn't see the drunk jerk again. My friend Paula thinks I should file a complaint but I don't want to. I don't know his name and I don't think anything would come of it.

I guess this qualifies as my first bar fight, sort of.

I still really liked the show despite all of it, they played well and had a really good rapport with the audience. The opening band, The Envelopes, were really good too. Sort of surf rocky, but from Sweden I think. Who knew they were even allowed to play surf rock in Sweden?


ETA According to Dave, the drunk jerk was an Australian Squaddie. I'm not sure what that means but it sounds jerky.

Good things

1. Discovering new parts of London - This weekend we stumbled onto Hackney Broadway near London Fields. It is like an oasis of cool (but not too hipster cool) between Shoreditch and Bethnal Green. Then we walked along Regent's Canal and took the train home.
2. Dominoes - The game. I love playing Dominoes. Whenever we go to the pub we take our set with us because we are geeks. I like slamming the bones down and talking smack with Jeremy. Whenever I get a really good play and he gets all mean I like to look at him and say "Don't hate, girl, don't hate, get down." But he doesn't listen to Kanye West so he never knows what I'm talking about. He likes to quote the inimitable LL Cool J whenever he gets a good play and jumps into the lead by saying "Don't call it a comeback . . . " and then I say, "Don't worry, it isn't, jerk!" Anyone watching us play Dominoes would think we hate each other, but really it is the glue of our love. You should see us play Backgammon.
3. Fancy Cocktails - On Friday we went to this bar called Liquorish in East Dulwich. They do really nice fancy cocktails and the bartenders are always super friendly (It's like the Trader Joe's of pubs, except with DJs and more drinking). I had something called a Kentucky Julep. I don't know what makes it from Kentucky but I know it was good. It had smashed up strawberries and mint, lots of Bourbon (is bourbon from Kentucky?) some kind of Cherry liqueur and ice. It made me feel a little bit loose (as they would say in a novel by Hemingway or Fitzgerald)
4. My cat - Listen, Oliver is a totally awesome cat. He likes me best and I like him best back. We cuddle until he gets sick of it and bites me. Sometimes I let him attack my knitting needles. And whenever he gets caught in the rain he comes running inside and I call him my soggy mogs and dry him off with a yellow towel and then we cuddle more. This usually makes him purr. He also sleeps with his belly exposed a lot of the time and this is perhaps the cutes thing ever. Please see pictures in earlier posts for evidence.
5. Jeremy - Jeremy is pretty awesome too. He makes me laugh a lot and I like it that he sometimes freaks out about open windows and has to go home right away to make sure we haven't been robbed, because then I feel better about myself when I have to do the same kind of thing. Also, he is very charming and really good and talking to strangers. And he is very smart, he's a Mensa Member, no joke. This means he is a genius. When I lose at Backgammon I remember this and I don't feel so bad, it's not like I lost to Cletus the slack jawed yokel, no I lost to a Mensa member. It doesn't help me feel better about losing at Dominoes. Also, he is awfully cute in a dorky way and he is very funny. Sometimes he is a pain, but mostly he is the bringer of the awesome. That is why I married him.
6. My niece - My 15 year-old niece can break concrete blocks with her bare hands (she is almost a Black Belt in Tae Kwon Do) but she freaks out if a bug comes near her. I think this is really funny. When I asked her who she would vote for when she is old enough, she said oh I'll probably just look at the ballot and say oh she looks good. I like that her inclination was to say she and not he without thinking about it. She was also really surprised when I said I would probably vote for Barack Obama, I think she just assumed I would vote for Hillary Clinton. But I explained my attachment to Obama and she seemed to understand. Although her taste in boys is totally suspect, she thinks that kid who plays Draco Malfoy is cute (grody) and she likes Logan from Gilmore Girls more than Jess or Dean. Clearly she is smoking some kind of crack that makes her find pale creepy boys attractive, but I can overlook this.
7. The New Pornographers - I am going to see them play in Islington tonight at the Bar Academy. I don't even mind that Neko Case isn't touring with them, they are one of my favorite bands and I can't wait.
8. Cooking - Last night I made a really good dinner. Bow tie pasta with water cress, artichokes, halloumi and preserved lemons using a recipe from a cookbook we just got. It was so tasty! Not a combination of flavors I ever would have figured out on my own but I am very glad that the cookbook author, I can't remember his name right now, pointed me in the right direction. I also grilled some aubergine slices to eat on the side. They were tasty too.

Meme, the first one I've ever done on this blog

INSTRUCTIONS: Remove the blog in the top spot from the following list and bump everyone up one place.Then add your blog to the bottom slot, like so.

1) What Greg Likes
2)A Blog of a Good Time
3) Classy (c'est moi!)
4) 5 of 9er
5) carolynintheuk

Select five people to tag:
Alannah
LorMo Inc.
Reckenroll
ByOtherMeans

I think everyone else on my list has been tagged. I'm not so blog popular yet

What were you doing 10 years ago?
Getting ready to move to Detroit after spending a year in purgatory at my parents' house in Port Huron, finishing up my stint as computer sales person at the Best Buy, writing lots of melodramatic confessional poetry, having a big crush on a boy who reminded me of Neal Cassady, chain smoking, and drinking lots of beer. And just generally waiting for something better to happen.

What were you doing 1 year ago?
Temping in the Old Brompton Public Library and trying to decide if I should keep temping for a pittance or take a job that paid more but looked kind of dull as a team leader in the file factory. I was working harder on my novel then too.

Five snacks you enjoy:
1) Cadbury's Crunchie Bars
2) Rolos
3) corn chips and guacamole
4) Top Shelf Ramen in the blue pack
5) Jam Cream Biscuits

Five songs that you know all the lyrics to:
1) Baby, Would it Matter by Jenny Toomey
2) Silient all These Years by Tori Amos
3) Blister in the Sun by The Violent Femmes
4) Sweet Caroline by Neil Diamond
5) Veronica by Elvis Costello

Five things you would do if you were a millionaire:
1) Buy Oliver a diamond collar
2) Buy a lot of old typewriters
3) Turn the second bedroom into an awesome writing room
4) Go out to really expensive restaurants more often
5) Quit my day job

Five bad habits:
1) Procrastinating.
2) Being Messy
3) I can be really forgetful
4) Sarcasm
5) I love getting food delivered but I hate calling to order it

Five things you like doing:
1) Reading books
2) Trying to write a book
3) Watching teen movies
4) Cooking
5) Drinking Sangria on a hot day

Five things you would never wear again:
probably
1) Troll earrings (novelty earrings of any sort really)
2) A black plaid trench coat
3) My beautiful pink graduation dress (it doesn't fit any more, not by a long shot)
4) Pin rolled acid wash jeans
5) Khakis and a Best Buy uniform shirt

Five favorite toys:
1) Dominos
2) Cat fishing pole
3) Bust-a-move
4) Scrabble
5) Frisbee

HAM Radio or My Dad is a Way Bigger Nerd Than Your Dad

My father has been crowned one of the king nerds. This has taken years and years of dedicated hard work and familial neglect all in the name of HAM Radio. Dad has been a HAM Radio operator since he was a teenager. In fact he almost flunked out of high school and was sent to military school because he was spending so much time with his radios (he worte is final paper on William Morse).

Last month he was entered into the QRP Hall of Fame, QRP is the contesting organization he belongs to. You can see pictures here. He's the happy fellow with the white hair being toasted and then handed an envelope (at one point he can also be seen with his call letters hanging around his neck, K8DD, kilo eight delta delta (or duck duck, Duck is his nickname. He can do a pretty mean Donald Duck impersonation too)). He will also receive a plaque. Oh, yes, no expense is spared on Hall of Fame members. I make light of this, but according to my mother, he actually cried when they announced his name. Even though he's on the board of directors he had no idea they had nominated him so the whole thing was a big surprise. Mom says that at some point in the evening after he accepted this great honor and came back to their table a lady came up to Dad and "Congratulations Hank, you must be so proud,@ and then she looked at Mom and said (I shit you not) " And you too, he couldn't have done this without you." Mom tried to brush off this high praise but Dad put his hand over hers and with a catch in his throat said, "No Kathie, it's true."

This is probably the most romantic story I have ever heard about my parents.

Mom also says that the radical QRP group The Flying Pigs ("What makes them Radical?" I asked, "Do they use phones?" "No," said Mom, " They mostly just wear funny clothes, they're real live wires.") were super excited, see my dad is a secret member, and clearly he is beloved.

So, as you can imagine, it was an eventful year for Dad at the Dayton Hamvention 2007. It's not every day you get chosen as a member of the Hall of Fame for your chosen obsession/hobby. Mom says the whole thing has him feeling pretty big headed, but rightly so, he is one of the nerd kings after all.

Plans for today

1. conduct team meeting where I tell everyone "It has come to my attention that people on our team have been discussing other team members in locations where they can be clearly overheard. This has to stop. If you have an issue, a work related issue with one of your colleagues, you need to speak with me in private and you should also be prepared to put the information in writing, should it become a larger issue. Likewise, if you have an issue with me and you are not comfortable addressing it with me you need to take it up with my manager. If you absolutely cannot fight the urge to complain about your coworkers you need to do it outside of the building and out of earshot of both your coworkers and the client. If this behavior persists it may result in disciplinary action."
2. "Oh, also, stop referring to people by their nationalities and or race. For instance, it is not appropriate to say, The German just brought me a new request, or this came from The Coloured Girl." Learn names or refer to seating locations."
3. Try not to shoot self out of disgust that people can't figure this shit out for themselves! I mean for real! How hard is it to figure out that neither of these behaviors are appropriate? It shouldn't ought to be that difficult. I can already predict that one person's reaction will be that you can't teach an old dog new tricks, but you know what?g Fuck that. Neither of these are particularly difficult tricks. They are common courtesies and I'm tired as hell of having to act as mother to my department as well as Team Leader/Manager.
4. Try not to punch the person who said "While you were gone, I had the first headache I can remember having in years from answering all the queries you handle and doing your collection." i think my response was something along the lines of "oh can rememebr my last headache without any trouble at all."
5. Weep on the inside.

so much for trying to stay positive, hey?

Negative Nancy

5 of 9er posted the other day about being a jerk. Not that I think he is a jerk, not even at all, his internet presence is singularly enjoyable and pleasant. But he mentioned the prevalence of blogs being used as a means to complain and that's something I do a lot. Especially lately, with my health acting up again and my general state as stressed out harridan.

I've always been prone towards negativity and as I grow older I see the same attitude in my brother and parents as well. My mom hides it more than the others do, but it's still there. I try hard to counteract it without forcing myself to be too Pollyanna about everything but it can be hard to find the right balance. I think I am often at my funniest when I am being sarcastic and negative, but I can also see how it wears people down to be around that kind of presence. And while I don't think I go too far too often, I know that when I do I can be really hurtful and miserable to be around.

It's a tricky balance. I don't want to hide how I iactually feel to the point that I become some sort of passive aggressive she-beast who doesn't realize what a jerk she is. But I also do not want to be the negative asshole in the corner who makes jokes at the expense of others in order to deflect her own insecurities.

I know I don't have to be one or the other, but i'm not sure where in the middle I ought to fall. And what if I am actually just destined to be an asshole? Like Stompy the elephant on The Simpsons.

Sorry, I'll post more stories about Oliver soon to counteract this downer of a post.

He tried to rub against my legs this morning after I got out of the shower, stopped, looked apalled at the idea of all that water and then tried again as if it would have changed in the 2 seconds it took him to be disgusted.

Ho Hum

i have started 2 entries, on yesterday about my recent Myspace blast from the past (unwanted) and one today about how I am quite certain that Oliver and I are suffering from separation anxiety (he won't even let me go to the toilet by myself anymore, clearly he needs me at home!).

But the first was too personal and probably not a good idea to post in an unlocked type of entry and the second just made me sound like a crazy cat lady. I also thought about posting about my current work situation. I have to be the bad cop on Friday and tell everyone to stop acting like a bunch of goddamn 12 year olds. Except without the swears that I would like to use, and definitely without the name calling, screaming or tearing of hair (my own or that of others).

And then there is my stomach, which has been hurting again. And the pub quiz last night that we lost (the shame) In case you were wondering a horse jockey's uniform is called his (or her) Silks. Laos is the most bombed country ever. John Candy was 43 when he died. And Ving Rhames was in Pulp Fiction, Con Air, and Entrapment (I got the last one right with my mad movie skillz).

None of these things are especially interesting though, so I have combined them all in the hopes that I will create one decent entry. If not, let me know and I will create an entry full of lies. that would probably be more fun for everyone.

back in the mines

My medical leave is over. I should not be taking the time to type this but I am feeling low and reaching out to the interwebs is clearly the only way to lift my spirits.



Today or tomorrow we will find out if the potential big news mentioned recently will actually be big news or will have taken up our time and concern for naught.



Yesterday we went to Richmond Park with some friends and saw the parakeets that have nested there after being set free (or rather, after their domesticated ancestors were set free) and we rode our bikes an ungodly amount. I am a sedentery person, it is only through the good graces of my metabolism that I am not a huge fatty who has to wear muu muus and be air lifted out of her house. Physical activity is not my cup of tea unless it involves a short walk to the pub, restaurant or chocolate shop. Therefore, this bike ride over hills and in traffic kicked my ass. I know it was good for me and I know, intellectually, that it was a really good way to spend the day. But my ass hurts and yesterday my thighs hurt so badly that I could barely walk up the stairs to my bed.
This is a picture of all of us at the end of our picnic. Our friend Tom took the picture from a tree. The picnic was my favorite part of the day because it involved cookies and sitting and parakeets.

Food hangover

Food just isn't good anymore. I had perfectly nice fish and chips for lunch, with better than usual mushy peas even. But they had nothing on my dinner Wednesday night.

And I know, I know, a girl can't expect food like red pepper sorbet or hand made ravioli served on asparagus with a frothy sauce made from Jerusalem Artichokes every day, but WHY NOT?

Why can't i have chocolate fondant made from 70% dark chocolate and served with it's own special liqueur and vanilla ice cream every day? I deserve it and it would make me happier, no joke.