I hope the kids don't fight bedtime and that there is no huge storm. What are you reading? I finally settled on The Color of Magic, which I had started reading ages ago, misplaced, and then found again when we moved.
Spike's Bitches 41: Thrown together to stand against the forces of darkness
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risqué (and frisqué), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
We're getting thunder here, but no rain yet. I watching Feasting on Asphalt and trying to motivate myself to chop up some onions and garlic so that I can make scrambled tofu tomorrow morning. (Anything that needs to be chopped for breakfast must be done the night before. I don't trust myself with a knife in the morning.)
I'm reading stuff for Drollerie. But I have have to go put Liv back down because I can hear her frolicking in the toilet in the upstairs bathroom.
Anything that needs to be chopped for breakfast must be done the night before. I don't trust myself with a knife in the morning.
This is a good rule. I'm awful at making breakfast in the morning. I tend to burn things because I'm not awake enough to pay close enough attention.
But I have have to go put Liv back down because I can hear her frolicking in the toilet in the upstairs bathroom.
Hee! Such a cute image, although maybe not for you.
Speaking of cute, Matilda is like a totally big girl now. Kids are growing right under my nose! This must stop!
Okay, damn, right now I pretty much want to empty my bank account, get on a 'plane and go round up Tom and Allyson and...well, okay, not hug them breathless or snog them to death, because - personal bubbles and no vodka. But quite possibly turn up on doorsteps, smile shyly and do some awkward Sochul Skillz: I'm doing 'em wrong head-ducking and then track down their respective parents and whack them repeatedly with crowbars (futile and unempathetic as that might be).
Jesus, you guys. I'm furious that you got dealt such fucking lousy cards, and weeping uselessly at your guts in working on dealing with the fallout. Stupid fucking universe. Stupid fucking Orcs.
You are both LOVELY, and eminently desirable and loveable and likeable, and you both deserve VERY MUCH BETTER than you've been handed so far.
Seriously. Crowbar. ijs.
(They'd never see it coming! Eccentrically clad Englishwoman with crowbar. And witnesses would just be all "...there was a hat...she had these ruby slippers, there was this silk handbag - actually, it all co-ordinated kind of disturbingly well - oh, and a big ass... her face? Damn. No, didn't notice, too busy staring at the hat..." and then I'd be off to Thailand, disguised in sneakers and jeans, cackling quietly to myself. Possibly murmuring something about burning baby fishes.)
...yeah, okay. Two wrongs blah blah blah healing process blah blah blah. I'm still thinking crowbar.
This Feasting on Asphalt marathon is great. Though Kool-Aid pickles still weird me out.
I don't know whether to be scared or delighted at the image of crowbar wielding Fay.
Personally, I believe she should be wielding an umbrella with a sharpened steel point at the end. It goes with the hat.