Wednesday, September 27, 2006

Insy winsy spider

Insy winsy spider is not climbing up the drainpipe. No, he is currently undertaking an army invasion on my house. It must be the September weather - cold and damp - making the HUGE spiders decide to come inside and warm themselves by my Freeview box. I don't know why, but these spiders seem to love lurking around the Freeview box. BBC Four is a fantastic cultural channel, perhaps it attracts the beasties... Anyway, I am sick chasing them with my baseball boots around the house. Last night Lee could not believe how much my heart was racing - not at or with Lee - but on the assassination of the said spider. Yes children, an animal was harmed in the writing of this blog. Ever watched the film Leon? I am the hitman of the spider world. Splat.

I decided not to place a scary picture of a large hairy spider, so instead here's a romper suit I embroidered for my lovely niece Sophie. Afterall, poodles may bite, but spiders always scuttle.

Sunday, September 17, 2006

I'd have gotten away with it if it wasn't for you pesky kids!

Yes here's me dressed up for Jo's annual fancy dress party! I'm Velma from Scooby Doo and Lee's a scary dude from Clockwork Orange. As if you needed telling! I'm typing this rather slowly, as I'm so sleepy today but it was well worth it. I won a jar of peanut butter and a mood necklace in the crap tombola draw (crap being Jo's word, not mine - I'm delighted with my prizes...). We had a great laugh, I solved some mysteries, Lee didn't attack strangers with a giant penis (see the film, it's a tour de force) chatted inanely to folk and giggled at some funny outfits.
My alltime favourite fancy dress costume has got to be a little girl that turned up at my nephew's birthday/Halloween party. She was wearing a fairy princess costume and had fake blood spattered about. We asked who she was, "Princess Diana, after the car crash." she whispered sweetly. Ah the walking wounded are so witty!

But back to the peanut butter; winning my prize reminded me of a strange phobia that I'd read about last week - arachibutyrophobia - fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of your mouth. And I'm not laughing, it's kind of icky when peanut butter clogs up your speech ability. Or is that just me worried about not being able to talk for even one second?

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

Lack of witty blog title.

Today I'm suffering from lack of witty blog title. So I've done without.
It's been a hard week for me, my health has been bad again. I had that minor operation (or procedure as it's often called, though for some reason I find that a rather creepy word..) and though it went well my M.E has flared up again. For those that don't know me, I've been ill with M.E (also known as CFS) since I was thirteen. My health fluctuates from being reasonable and managing nice walks and shopping, to being stuck in the house, unable to do little more than read or watch television. I guess this is my ill health 'coming out' blog. But I don't like to go on about it; ill people are such a bore, and I'm sure that in the future I'll post more about my health and the hilarious adventures of living with M.E.....
So my mum came over this week for a few days to keep me company and give me some of that magical mummy tlc - it was fab! We enjoyed a cheesy movie starring Sarah Jessica Parker, cups of tea and a jaunt into town that left me exhausted but the proud owner of a new pair of trainers. My mum likened them to sandshoes and disputes their usefulness in the rain, but actively encouraged the purchase...or at least that's my excuse.
Last week my parents brought through two marrows - both huge. I asked for the small one and managed to make two batches of soup from it. Nice and nourishing for when I'm low. My sister's taken the larger one, I reckon it's more like a caveman club than a marrow. The photo shows my marrow next to keys to give you an idea of size. I'd hoped to find a poignant link between being ill and marrows, soup or visits from family members, but I don't want to push a naff metaphor on my readers. Basically, there is no marrow to this tale. See, I've left you with a rotten pun instead. Get it? Marrow/moral...c'mon people!
Miso Funky Market