“Gramma-Lady” type characteristics. Cooking, laundry and cleaning MANDATORY (yes, windows, too). Must be willing to endure ear-splitting decibels of all genres of music. Dancing to same will be considered an asset by the employer. Must have excellent bar-tending skills, most especially in the Art of the Cuba Libre, and the Dirty Martini. Must be fluent in Cat, Teen-Ager, and Gibberish.
Communication requirements minimal, but the following phrases should be memorized:
“Sit. Write. Eat.”
“Your bath is ready.”
“Your clothes are here, laid out in the order in which they should be put on.”
“Don’t forget your camera.”
“CSI is starting.”
“Of course it’s not too early to have a beer, silly! I’ll get one for you.”
Phone skills – To be memorized: “The Lady, she no home.”
Apply Where the Walls are Soft. All applications will be seriously considered.
Not-So-Random Song for the Day: “It’s a Hard Life” – Queen
I’m not sure why “Global Warming” Issues bring out the “Impending Ice-Age” Issues with me, but they did today. Maybe it was because it snowed again today – not enough to stay on the ground, but it was some cold, regardless. I was glad for my “hoodie-thing”.
Maybe it’s just that The Green Lady has never really left me… Bitch.
Anyway… I surfed the news on my lunch break and came across these distractions. I found it hard to concentrate this afternoon for thinking of that last one.
And even more interesting….
I mean, it’s from “accidental” stuff like this that incredibly cool Eurekas! are made. I hope I live long enough to find out where this one will be applied.
Random Song for the Day: “Climatize” – Prodigy
PS – Still sleeping. 😀
You noticed “Ruby” in the header, didn’t you? That’s why you’re here. My stats go waaaaay up when I post about Ruby. You should have seen the look on her face when I told her that the other week. Grinning to beat the band, she was.
And then she told me she didn’t think she had any more stories in her. I told her I didn’t believe her, but she insisted that, rack her brains as she might, she couldn’t think of anything she hadn’t already told me.
We went back to the crossword, both a little depressed.
Me, befuddled: What’s a 7-letter word for a “cream-coloured dog?”
Ruby, in the blink of an eye: Samoyed.
Me: How the heck do you know that?!
The post that I had half-written to go with this picture is now stale and moldy, and the time has passed.
The snow didn’t stay, anyway. I won’t leave the house without boots, overcoat, toque, gloves and my over-the-head “hoodie-thing”, either, though, because that’s when we’ll get the first real blizzard. Just like, if I hang my laundry out to dry it will rain, dead certain. Not that I hang laundry out any more – West End. Steel Plant. ‘Nuff Said.
But Hell froze over, anyway. I stopped blogging. I mean, I had no interest whatsoever. No time. Can’t be bothered. Couldn’t care less. That has never happened before. Even when I ripped the original blog offline and swore I’d never type another post, I circled the option like a vulture until I caved and started over. Blogging has become my entire social existence and I love that existence. But…
I’m sleeping, though, finally. It only took one day mashed into a teeny-tiny student desk, mashed in with 29 other teeny-tiny student desks overflowing with 29 other mashed-in students to finally cause my body to just keel over on the couch and sit up over 12 hours later when my cell phone alarm went off, but I slept. And this time, I didn’t wake up with a rodent chewing on my lip.
I woke up, and went back for Day Two of the Mash-In.
Ugh. A necessary step to The Great Escape, because I let my driver’s license lapse out of fear of driving (crashing) and I want to not be afraid of it anymore. I had the impression that taking a course in driving properly might make me more confident. Ha. I’m learning stuff designed to scare new drivers into being “good” instead of “stupid”, but they’re managing to make me scared shitless again.
I have two more days of the in-class fear fest before I “get” to drive with the instructor. I could have been driving for the past five years, mind you, if I’d had the opportunity and access to a willing certified driver (ummmm…. read “guts” there in place of “opportunity” for a more realistic picture), and gotten the G over four years ago. I wish I’d done that now, but I’ll have to be satisfied shortly that I’ve done it at all (and a possible discount on insurance on the new truck for taking the course rather excites me, too).
All the sitting around is causing me to drop into Dreamland around 10 pm, though. I’m not lying there waiting to fall asleep. I’m not popping awake 8-10 times through the night. I’m not suffering “White Nights” with no sleep at all several times a week. I’m hoping the next three weeks of Weird will just turn the 10 pm thing into an automatic occurrance. After that, my schedule will return to a more normal (for me) pace, and I’ll be able to get back to Ruby (damn, I miss Ruby!), and visiting my Dad, who’s still in hospital, but coming along nicely now, and blogging my idiot thoughts as I think them. I miss this too, now that I’m typing all this, so hopefully I’ll manage to steal time from panic sessions of NaNoWriMoing somehow through the rest of the month.
Random Song for the Day: “Death of a Cheerleader” – Marcy Playground
David McMahon wants to know: Do you have ESP?
Short Answer? Christ, I hope not.
But, my kid seems to have some creepy abilities that make me wonder about “powers” that I don’t like to think about, including nightmares about losing Grampa the night before we got the call that he was taken to hospital recently.
And then there’s the little “TV Repair-by-Mind-Control” trick. Our ancient console television’s picture tube is slowly dying. When the thing is powered on for awhile, the picture squishes itself down, bits at a time, ’til we’re looking at an inch-high strip of colour in the middle of a black screen. For awhile, turning it off for about ten minutes would solve the problem (temporarily), but I knew I was looking at buying a new TV just when I was getting the Visa paid down again, finally. Damn.
Then, the other day, when I was swearing over the non-picture again, Ky said, “Wait for a commercial before you turn it off.”
? ! ?
I reminded her that the picture tube was going. It didn’t matter what was on the screen when we turned it off, the problem was with the parts, not the signal. She replied that that may very well be so, but if I waited for a commercial before turning it off, the picture would be fine the next time I turned the set on, and would stay fine until I was ready to turn it off again.
Now, I know enough about electronics to know that this is not possible. I told her so. She agreed with me, but insisted it worked.
I reminded her that (given her “trouble-shooting” solution was possible) just because this station was running a commercial, the chances that all the stations would be running commercials at the same time was probably nil. And besides, THE PICTURE TUBE IS DYING, DAMN IT. Again, she agreed with me, at the same time insisting that her solution, impossible as it sounds, works.
And it does. It shouldn’t, but it does.
If I turn the TV off in the middle of a program, it will screw up when I want to watch it again later, but as long as I remember to wait for the next commercial before turning it off, even for a minute or two, it behaves perfectly. For hours. No matter how many times I change the channel. Thankfully, the little Mind-Bender does not need to be home/awake for it to work, or I would always be calling her/shaking her and aiming the cell phone/her tired little face at the television.
Somebody please come up with a reasonable explanation for this. If you can’t do so, I’m going to have to let her trouble-shoot the fridge light that won’t light, and the oven element that won’t “element”. I’m reminded (again, creepily) that if not for the miracle of modern medicine, my daughter would have been born in the caul.
For the record, my child has never claimed to be a vampire. But from the ages of 4 through about 8 she insisted her “real” mother was a werewolf. Then she would pat my hand and apologize for hurting my feelings by reminding me that she wasn’t really “mine”.
Maybe she’s a changeling…
Random Song for the Day: “Ol’ 55” – The Eagles
My bad habits are haunting me. I just couldn’t wait to start NaNoWriMo… until the start date, that is. Now, I’m restless and can’t seem to concentrate. Hmmm, my coffee cup is empty, excuse me a minute.
The story is there. All I have to do is sit my ass down and write it. Geez, I didn’t eat breakfast, yet. Gimme a minute.
I know exactly what my problem is. It’s because I’m supposed to be writing it, that’s what it is. Now that I’m supposed to be writing it, I can think of a million other things to fritter my time away with. And do.
The Official NaNoWriMo Handbook (“No Plot? No Problem!”) reminds me that a fairly fast typist can burn through about 2000 words in an hour or so. When I’m up to speed I can type fairly accurately at 80 wpm, assuming I’ve managed to set my fingers on home row and don’t look up to a pageful of gibberish later… So, why am I not doing that?
I have to just sit here and do it, damn it!
Said Handbook also reminds me that many NaNoWriMoers dick around for most of the month and then fly through the last 35,000 words in the remaining 3 or 4 days before the deadline. Me, I don’t know if I’m up to that kind of marathon. I would rather continue to remind myself that I wrote a novella in three days not so long ago, so thirty days should be a walk in the park, no?
Excuse me again. I’m going to take a walk in the park and see if that helps at all.
Random Song for the Day: “Dare” – The Gorillaz