No, not ME!!!

Oh how fun it is to blog with a snuggly little baby skinny pig sitting on your lap… Judd is just so so tiny! Plus, since Emilio’s in full-on “I am the Dominant Male! I am going to wave my butt around and hump everything!” mode (hey, sounds like some other guys I know hahaha) he’s not in the mood to be snuggled at all.
Anyway. Here is how tiny he is, that he fits in my one hand (and anyone will tell you, I have freakishly small hands):

And remember how I said that he was all scabby? He is. I tried to take a closeup (turned out pretty blurry) of his scabby self. All those pink lines on the brown part of him? Scars. And the black dots? Scabs. Poor little leem.

Now in case anyone’s wondering this in NO WAY means that I love Emilio Estevez any less. I just don’t want him to hump me right now.

ALSO:

My parents will be here in TWO AND A HALF HOURS!!! And THE HOUSE IS NOT CLEAN YET!!! I must admit I went a little gung ho yesterday. Instead of really cleaning, I took a bunch of stuff OUT to put it in our (newly-acquired) storage space. So the house looks messier now than it did before I started “cleaning”. I still have dishes to do (yes I know that’s Rob’s job and he usually does it but he’s been tired after work), vacuuming, mucho throwing away of junk, etc. etc. etc.

Hopefully they will stop for lunch somewhere.

I’m a little bit worried about the actual reason my parents are coming. It’s not just a friendly visit. Not to say that they’re going to be hostile toward me or anything. My mom is allergic to a lot of things, including all metals, and pretty much any local anaesthetic that’s ever been used on her. Meaning she’s had to have her teeth filled under general anaesthetic because locals make her go into anaphylactic shock and almost die. Also, she broke her leg in five places a few years ago, and they put a metal plate in — which is, of course, causing her a lot of problems.

So her doctor is sending her here to Halifax for some more advanced allergy testing. They’re going to be testing every kind of anaesthetic there is on her– which means that her body will be under a lot of stress– so that she can actually go to the emergency room if she needs stitches and not have to worry about having to be admitted for four days because she nearly died (it’s happened before). It will ultimately be a good thing, but the process is going to be sucky for her.

EEK IT’S 10:30!!! I have to GO! Because THEY’LL BE HERE IN TWO HOURS AND TWENTY MINUTES!!!

… the newest addition to our family:

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Rob’s working extended hours today and my parents are coming to visit TOMORROW and so I am cleaning this house like there is no tomorrow. Wait. If there was no tomorrow my parents wouldn’t be coming to visit tomorrow so I wouldn’t be cleaning. Meh.

Is it wrong that I actually made a conscious effort to tune in to CBC Radio at 11:30, because I knew there was a show about cheese coming on? I was like “What time is it? Is it time for the cheese show yet? Nobody’d better phone– the cheese show is on the radio!”

I like cheese.

A lot.

My upstairs neighbours seem to be combining construction and hunting.

For the past 20 minutes, there has been the sound of 10 of 15 strikes of a hammer, and then what sounds suspiciously like a duck call, repeated ad nauseum.

Oh well, I’m going out anyway. Hopefully they’ll be done when I get back.

Weirdos.

Guess not that many people have questions about me– you probably know more than you ever wanted to, I talk so much Oh well.
Pie– I wrote about where the name cow-dog came from sometime before… but even I can’t find it in the archives so I’ll try it again:

It all started back when Rob was still living on Fraggle Rock, and we were stuck communicating by phone/IM. It was during the time we were separated that we realized we loved each other. We also were silly-heads and didn’t want to SAY ‘I love you’ because who knew how long we’d be apart, and it would only make things worse, etc. etc. etc. Another thing was that I had an asshole roommate who would listen in on my phonecalls (not pick up the phone and listen in, just sort of listen. Whenever I was on the phone) and then comment on things that had been said, later, or just break in and comment right then. It has always bothered me when people do that, and this was no exception– in fact I hated it more when he did it since I hated the guy with the burning fire of 1000 suns. The ex-roommate, not Rob.

Anyway. One Friday night Rob and I were on the phone and it was pretty late. We’d been on the phone for something like seven hours. Yes, we were nuts. Anyone who’s been to my apartment knows that it has those horrible popcorn ceilings (and walls– yeah, EVEN THE WALLS). I was lying on my bed staring up at the ceiling and started like… seeing things in it. Started telling Rob about it all. “Rob! I see a cow on my ceiling! Only it looks like it’s part cow, part dog! It’s a cowdog!”

Since it was 4 am we both found that hilarious. Every few minutes we’d go back to talking about the cowdog. “So, what does the cowdog think of that?” etc. etc. etc. Then I started using it as– okay, you know how the Smurfs will take verbs, and change them to “smurf” — like “I was just smurfing along and I smurfed upon Papa Smurf smurfing in the bushes”? . I started using cow-dog as a verb. “I’m going to cowdog you! Right in the nose!” …

Eventually somehow (and Rob is probably better at remembering this than I do, PLUS if I ever find it in my archives that one explains it better) ‘cow-dog’ ended up meaning ‘I love you’. So we could say it anytime in front of anyone, like if I was on the phone in front of my roommate I wouldn’t have to risk saying ‘I love you’ and having him get all “oooooh you loooooooove him, well you know long-distance relationships don’t work. You don’t really love each other” etc etc.

So yeah. Not a very entertaining post, but quite… informative.

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A new blog-friend (whom I enjoy immensely) has requested that I write a post to tell new readers about me– only I have no idea what to write about. So any of you out there who have questions I should answer/suggestions as to what I should write? Let me know.

TWO DAYS? and NO BLOGGING?

Something ain’t right!!!

Actually everything’s fine, I have just been kind of lazy lately. Sleep, knit, sleep more. New computer came yesterday. Rob set it up last night. Then he stayed up playing with it til 3 am, like a good geek should. I stayed up playing Mario Brothers on his gameboy.
Damn I hate those friggin hammer guys.

May I just say, seventeen-inch flatscreen monitor? Oh yes. yes, I may.

There’s other stuff, too, geeky “oh look, RAM! GIGS! WOOT WOOT!” stuff that I don’t really know much about, so Rob will regale you with tales of love and hard-drivery later. Hard drivery. Sounds kinda dirty.

My father is just fine– we can’t figure out what was going on with the punchy guy. Dad’s 57-years-old and drives like it; he’s never cut anyone off in his life so the road rage thing doesn’t seem plausible. Mistaken identity seems like the most sensical explanation– what with the “i’m sorry” and all– and the police haven’t really had much to say, so it looks like this will all be a mystery for the ages. Dad and I were talking yesterday (the day after the incident) and I asked him if he was alright. “Yes, I’m fine– a little stiff from being knocked down but I’m okay. And your mom and I went to town today and no one got me, so I guess they’ve heard about my kung-fu action grip and are scared now”. Funny dad. Kind of sucky for whoever did that to do it in front of a nine year old kid, but then, lots of people these days seem like assholes. What can you do?

I wonder if this will work? If it does, you’re probably quite annoyed. Ah well. BE annoyed!

Wednesday and Thursday are Rob’s ‘weekend’. So today we’ve been reading to each other (oh we’re so cerebral) and he’s been helping me with the friggin hammer guys.

I’m boring. Love me.

I think I hit Emilio in the head with a piece of orange. I don’t know for sure, but he looks kind of annoyed. Then again, when does he not?

The tax people sent me a letter. “You owe us $107.00. Pay up!” Then they sent me another letter. “We owe you $900. But you can’t have it right now, you have to wait til next year”. Oh and also, “You overpaid your Canada Pension Plan but since you didn’t ask for it, we’re not giving you back the overpayment”. Tax people? Kiss it.

Seamonkeys: They’re ALIVE!!! They’ve actually gotten big enough to see without squinting. I’m not sure how a photograph would turn out.

However I’m a little disappointed. They seem intent on swimming around and eating and COMPLETELY IGNORING ME, THEIR QUEEN AND SUPREME RULER.

I’ll have to teach them.

My father mentioned to me earlier on MSN that he had taken my niece her dentist’s appointment this afternoon, but that the freezing hadn’t worked so they will have to make another appointment for her another time. Okay, fine. AND NOW, I just have THIS msn conversation with my mom:

Mom says:
I talked to your sister earlier
Mom says:
she dropped in on her way home to see if dad was OK
Louise says:
what’s wrong with dad?
Mom says:
When he pulled into the parking lot at the dentist’s office, some guy
pulled in behind him and started swearing at him
Louise says:
huh?
Mom says:
dad was holding Amanda’s hand and walking to the building,
Louise says:
and some random guy just started cursing at him?
Mom says:
when dad turned around to find out what the guy was swearing at
Louise says:
weird!
Mom says:
the guy punched him and dad ended up flat on his behind
Louise says:
WHAT????
Louise says:
Okay how come he didn’t mention any of that to me???
Mom says:
then the guy ran to his vehicle and yelled I’M SORRY and drove away
Mom says:
he didn’t want to worry you i guess
he said the guy scratched him with one hand and punched with the other, he did knock the glasses off with the hand that was scratching
Mom says:
but didn’t break them
Louise says:
So dad was assaulted? Did he talk to the police?
Mom says:
Ya he called and told them what happened cause the dentist called them first

—snip!—

Uhm. Some random dude just ran up to my dad and clocked him one! Then my niece was so upset about it that the freezing didn’t work on her.
Strange days in Summerside.

How does one break a wig?

Apparently my head is gigantic. Immense. Too huge to be contained by the power of the lowly wig. I put my wig on my head this morning, and it busted apart (the wig, not my head). The elastic broke at the point where it attaches to the front– so it’s not really sewable, because that would be very visible. I wore it anyway, but it felt like it was going to go flying off my head when I went out in the wind.

Whatever. It’s 80% covered by my insurance so all I have to do is run to my doctor and get another copy of the letter that I have to use then run to the quick pay office with my receipt(s) and then it will all be okay. I think.