Our area has an overabundance of vanity plates and K and I enjoy deciphering what they say within their seven letter limit. For example:
GRUVGRL
Easy right? Groove Girl or more likely, Groovy Girl.
Well please help with this one:
1VUPRPL
one view purple???? What does that MEAN?
Monday, October 20, 2008
Wednesday, October 01, 2008
betrayed by the Presley sisters
Well my ED came back today and Lisa Marie and Priscilla went back in her office. They lurved all over her, kisses and cuddles and general excitement. Which means that now their real mommy is back, I have become chopped liver. Which is a cliche that doesn't work with puppies cos they like a little chopped liver here and there, I am in fact, more like um... chopped apples. All day long I begged and pleaded over the half-door, on the couch, even lying down on the floor (which is a hazardous thing where I work) for their attention, and the little ratters gave me none of it. I actually had to get treats out to even get them to notice me. This is the payment I get for cleaning up their poop for the last two weeks. herein lies a valuable lesson; clean up someone else's poop and they will eventually treat you like poop.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
LIsa Marie and Priscilla
These two came in a month ago as feral puppies. Which means that they had no human contact before arriving at the SPCA. for the first couple of weeks, as is custom amongst our scared puppies, they hid under or behind the toilet bowl.
They then upgraded to the director's office and slowly came out of their shells to give her their adoration. She went on vacation last week and so they moved into my office. Initially they couldn't work it out and just wanted to go back to her office. Slowly though they gave in to my ministrations (in the form of fishy smelling treats). They have been hiding under my desk and putting up with me cuddling them, but last Friday night I had a break-through.
I was playing hide and seek with them over the half door and they got so involved in the game they forgot I was human and therefore scary. Then I went into the office and they jumped and climbed all over me, tails wagging and eyes smiling.
This week they have been thrilled to see me every morning, even when I don't have treats. Lisa Marie play-bows and snuggles with me and Priscilla jumps up and down and licks me till I am gooey.
It's a very good feeling knowing that an animal who doesn't trust people thinks you are ok.
They then upgraded to the director's office and slowly came out of their shells to give her their adoration. She went on vacation last week and so they moved into my office. Initially they couldn't work it out and just wanted to go back to her office. Slowly though they gave in to my ministrations (in the form of fishy smelling treats). They have been hiding under my desk and putting up with me cuddling them, but last Friday night I had a break-through.
I was playing hide and seek with them over the half door and they got so involved in the game they forgot I was human and therefore scary. Then I went into the office and they jumped and climbed all over me, tails wagging and eyes smiling.
This week they have been thrilled to see me every morning, even when I don't have treats. Lisa Marie play-bows and snuggles with me and Priscilla jumps up and down and licks me till I am gooey.
It's a very good feeling knowing that an animal who doesn't trust people thinks you are ok.
Monday, September 22, 2008
It is late evening on an unremarkable Monday and I feel nostalgia filling me up, starting with my toes and working its way as high as my palms resting on the keyboard.
Autumn always leaves me with this feeling of being in between everything. The coolness in the shade and then the warmth of the sun on my back flips me back and forth from remembering to longing.
Something about this weather makes me think of so many fragile memories which are almost intangible in my mind. I was thinking of one night in high school where for some reason we were at school after dark and this boy I liked lent me his coat, it smelled like him and it was warm and too large for me. I felt cocooned in his scent, and elated by the thought that maybe he likes me. My body was so warm while my eyes were chilled by the night air.
I also remember riding our bikes fast down a hill with a best friend, the heat of the day still coming off the tarmac but the wind breezing past my ears was so cold and in front of me I could see the back of her blond head and the goosebumps standing high on my arms.
Later I was standing on Lion's Head with the city beneath me, the sun was just leaving and the shadow of the mountain was cold. I felt beautiful because of the way my future husband was looking at me.
Sitting on a porch playing cards even though our hands were freezing, blowing and sitting on them between rounds, refusing to allow that it was too chilly to be outside in the day any longer. Looking forward to hot apple cider that makes a mess all over the stove and fills the house with the smell of cinnamon.
not sure where this post is going anymore... just musing on spots in time where I felt the same as I do now, warm and chilled at the same time, with a feeling of tickling happiness low in my belly.
Autumn always leaves me with this feeling of being in between everything. The coolness in the shade and then the warmth of the sun on my back flips me back and forth from remembering to longing.
Something about this weather makes me think of so many fragile memories which are almost intangible in my mind. I was thinking of one night in high school where for some reason we were at school after dark and this boy I liked lent me his coat, it smelled like him and it was warm and too large for me. I felt cocooned in his scent, and elated by the thought that maybe he likes me. My body was so warm while my eyes were chilled by the night air.
I also remember riding our bikes fast down a hill with a best friend, the heat of the day still coming off the tarmac but the wind breezing past my ears was so cold and in front of me I could see the back of her blond head and the goosebumps standing high on my arms.
Later I was standing on Lion's Head with the city beneath me, the sun was just leaving and the shadow of the mountain was cold. I felt beautiful because of the way my future husband was looking at me.
Sitting on a porch playing cards even though our hands were freezing, blowing and sitting on them between rounds, refusing to allow that it was too chilly to be outside in the day any longer. Looking forward to hot apple cider that makes a mess all over the stove and fills the house with the smell of cinnamon.
not sure where this post is going anymore... just musing on spots in time where I felt the same as I do now, warm and chilled at the same time, with a feeling of tickling happiness low in my belly.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Saturday, September 13, 2008
get off the roads
I think most of you know the story...
I am 30 and I can't drive. Not, I don't drive, but I can't. I mean I am sure I could get in and make the thing go if I had to and there were no clutch and K were bleeding from his skull and I couldn't get hold of anyone else or a taxi or an ambulance. Nonethelss...no driver's license anyway.
For many years I have been promising to get one. Starting with after I moved back from the UK and at the tender age of 20 I still had to get my Mom to drive me around. Then at uni, if anything had ever happened to my roomies, they would have been in a taxi, and that is not a pretty thought. The list goes on and it is quite long.
Well maybe the story ends now. For the last few months my bus rides have been things of misery instead of joy because I should be studying for the learner's test. Instead of reading whatever juicy novel was lurking in my handbag, I was supposed to be pounding the road signs into my grey matter. I detest having studying hanging over me while I read. So eventually I gave in and left my murder mystery at home and read a little different material.
Then the day came when K basically forced me to go down and actually take the test. I was convinced I would fail, but then at least I would know what to study for. Well blow me down like a dead tree in hurricane season but I passed the dern thing. Now I have no excuse for not getting behind the wheel of a car and endangering the lives of my husband, innocent bystanders and people who can't (*)**!_)%# use their indicators!
I can send text messages to those of you who would like to know when I will be practising in their general area if you'd like to get off the roads or stand by and jeer.
I am 30 and I can't drive. Not, I don't drive, but I can't. I mean I am sure I could get in and make the thing go if I had to and there were no clutch and K were bleeding from his skull and I couldn't get hold of anyone else or a taxi or an ambulance. Nonethelss...no driver's license anyway.
For many years I have been promising to get one. Starting with after I moved back from the UK and at the tender age of 20 I still had to get my Mom to drive me around. Then at uni, if anything had ever happened to my roomies, they would have been in a taxi, and that is not a pretty thought. The list goes on and it is quite long.
Well maybe the story ends now. For the last few months my bus rides have been things of misery instead of joy because I should be studying for the learner's test. Instead of reading whatever juicy novel was lurking in my handbag, I was supposed to be pounding the road signs into my grey matter. I detest having studying hanging over me while I read. So eventually I gave in and left my murder mystery at home and read a little different material.
Then the day came when K basically forced me to go down and actually take the test. I was convinced I would fail, but then at least I would know what to study for. Well blow me down like a dead tree in hurricane season but I passed the dern thing. Now I have no excuse for not getting behind the wheel of a car and endangering the lives of my husband, innocent bystanders and people who can't (*)**!_)%# use their indicators!
I can send text messages to those of you who would like to know when I will be practising in their general area if you'd like to get off the roads or stand by and jeer.
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
a little whine and a moan
Yes I know I have been a bad bad blogger. I have not only been inconstant I have been missing for months at a time. And then I posted bad photos. AND NOW I am mostly logging on to complain. Smokers, really, must you?
We passed months of winter bliss in our little house. The windows were shut tight and nothing got in or out. Our warm little haven was perfect. Then summer hit, and as you know it was H.O.T. Every window in the house is open, top and Bottom. We share our little house with someone who lives in our basement. It very quickly became clear that she was a smoker. She smokes before she goes to sleep. She lights up before she showers in the morning. She takes a drag on her way from or to her car. She inhales shallowly while on the phone to her girlfriends in the back yard.
Therein lies the crux of the matter. The back yard. She is not allowed to smoke in the house (thank goodness) and so she stands just outside her door and puffs away. It is so gross. The smoke wafts in through the bathroom window, and is actively spread through the house by the fans in the spare room and in our room. The smell of second hand smoke just makes me feel ill and my lovely clean washing directly under the fan need to be aired.
So WHY don't I just head on down there and say; "hey roomie! Won't you take your bad habit to the bottom of the yard?" SIGH. Because, I am the Queen of Passiva Aggressiva land and K is my King. Instead we just run around the house closing windows and turning fans to point outwards. We are so pathetic, but I must say that I feel better now that I have whinged to you.
thanks.
We passed months of winter bliss in our little house. The windows were shut tight and nothing got in or out. Our warm little haven was perfect. Then summer hit, and as you know it was H.O.T. Every window in the house is open, top and Bottom. We share our little house with someone who lives in our basement. It very quickly became clear that she was a smoker. She smokes before she goes to sleep. She lights up before she showers in the morning. She takes a drag on her way from or to her car. She inhales shallowly while on the phone to her girlfriends in the back yard.
Therein lies the crux of the matter. The back yard. She is not allowed to smoke in the house (thank goodness) and so she stands just outside her door and puffs away. It is so gross. The smoke wafts in through the bathroom window, and is actively spread through the house by the fans in the spare room and in our room. The smell of second hand smoke just makes me feel ill and my lovely clean washing directly under the fan need to be aired.
So WHY don't I just head on down there and say; "hey roomie! Won't you take your bad habit to the bottom of the yard?" SIGH. Because, I am the Queen of Passiva Aggressiva land and K is my King. Instead we just run around the house closing windows and turning fans to point outwards. We are so pathetic, but I must say that I feel better now that I have whinged to you.
thanks.
Friday, August 08, 2008
crayzeeee
Funniest thing today - a squirrel crossing the road and then going up a tree, carrying a whole flower in his mouth. The image is taken with my phone camera so its not great.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Something I have just remembered.
A friend of mine has a blog in which he just wrote a piece about being bitten by ants. Reading his post brought back a very strong memory for me, so strong that I once again felt the disappointment and longing from that day.
I was in Primary school, which means that I was younger than 13, perhaps as young as 9. We went on a school trip. I don't remember where or what for. I know we were packed into a combi bus and there was no aircon. The bus was very hot and very loud and all the kids were in high spirits. We stopped on the side of the road, and again, I don't know why. I do remember very clearly that there were some clouds in the sky but not enough to soften the glare from the sun. I was one of the last people to get back on the bus and while I was waiting I felt first one, and then a few, and then many tiny, incredibly painful pricks, all over my legs. I panicked, not knowing what it was and flailed about, jumping up and down. It hastened my getting on the bus considerably and it took some time to find all the red ants that had bitten me and were stuck in my socks etc.
Of course the bites are not where the disappointment and longing come from. I think the things in life I coveted most was stationary. I have always been a stationary fiend but stationary is something you get for needs, not wants. Shortly before the school field trip my Mom had bought me a set of sparkly, shiny, multi-coloured pens. I loved those pens. I kept them close to me and I used them judiciously to make them last. These kinds of pens abound now that I am an adult and I have bought many since then, but none have meant as much to me those did. Somehow, those pens made me feel special to my Mom. She is also a stationary fiend and there is no question as to where my adoration of the stuff comes from. Pencils, long and sharp, writing paper with kittens and flowers on it, cool to the ball of your hand and pens that feel weighty, where the ink slides out onto the page so that words come smoothly from your mind.
To return to my story; when I had divested my socks of ants and the bites were calming down, I realised that my pens had fallen out of my pocket. All of them. It was my own fault for overreacting and I was devastated. I recall the feeling SO clearly. Everyone on the bus was still loud, the sun was still hot and I was miserable. I did not want to cry, I was beyond that, I was incomprehensibly disappointed. My lovely pens were gone and there was no way that we were going back for them. I would not even ask. I think the worst part was knowing in the back of my mind that my Mom had enjoyed giving me the pens. I doubt that she would now recall it, and even then they were never mentioned after she gave them to me. I did not say anything about the pens being missing to anyone, it was too petty, and at that age - how would I explain - they were just pens.
Like a poppy seed stuck between two teeth, I have returned to this memory again and again in my life and wondered did someone find the pens? The next people to pull over? Did they dessicate, fade and die? Will I ever find a set with gold stars on them that writes quite like that, and feels as precious?
I was in Primary school, which means that I was younger than 13, perhaps as young as 9. We went on a school trip. I don't remember where or what for. I know we were packed into a combi bus and there was no aircon. The bus was very hot and very loud and all the kids were in high spirits. We stopped on the side of the road, and again, I don't know why. I do remember very clearly that there were some clouds in the sky but not enough to soften the glare from the sun. I was one of the last people to get back on the bus and while I was waiting I felt first one, and then a few, and then many tiny, incredibly painful pricks, all over my legs. I panicked, not knowing what it was and flailed about, jumping up and down. It hastened my getting on the bus considerably and it took some time to find all the red ants that had bitten me and were stuck in my socks etc.
Of course the bites are not where the disappointment and longing come from. I think the things in life I coveted most was stationary. I have always been a stationary fiend but stationary is something you get for needs, not wants. Shortly before the school field trip my Mom had bought me a set of sparkly, shiny, multi-coloured pens. I loved those pens. I kept them close to me and I used them judiciously to make them last. These kinds of pens abound now that I am an adult and I have bought many since then, but none have meant as much to me those did. Somehow, those pens made me feel special to my Mom. She is also a stationary fiend and there is no question as to where my adoration of the stuff comes from. Pencils, long and sharp, writing paper with kittens and flowers on it, cool to the ball of your hand and pens that feel weighty, where the ink slides out onto the page so that words come smoothly from your mind.
To return to my story; when I had divested my socks of ants and the bites were calming down, I realised that my pens had fallen out of my pocket. All of them. It was my own fault for overreacting and I was devastated. I recall the feeling SO clearly. Everyone on the bus was still loud, the sun was still hot and I was miserable. I did not want to cry, I was beyond that, I was incomprehensibly disappointed. My lovely pens were gone and there was no way that we were going back for them. I would not even ask. I think the worst part was knowing in the back of my mind that my Mom had enjoyed giving me the pens. I doubt that she would now recall it, and even then they were never mentioned after she gave them to me. I did not say anything about the pens being missing to anyone, it was too petty, and at that age - how would I explain - they were just pens.
Like a poppy seed stuck between two teeth, I have returned to this memory again and again in my life and wondered did someone find the pens? The next people to pull over? Did they dessicate, fade and die? Will I ever find a set with gold stars on them that writes quite like that, and feels as precious?
Saturday, July 05, 2008
A-dorable
We had a little baby puppy of four weeks in our office yesterday. She widdled everywhere, but cos of her plump little romping and happy nibbling we forgave her. And ahhh the puppy breath.
Friday, July 04, 2008
My strange job
When I walked into my office on Monday there were two large garbage bags full of these tiny jerseys for dogs. It is unknown who donated them, or what we are going to do with them.
My Basil's back and we're gonna have a party
I thought my basil was dead so I planted lemon balm, which the basil obviously liked cos look: new leaves.
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