Is it wrong that I am crying? With laughter?

Excuse the link. Can't embed this one. But trust me.... it's so worth clicking.

The scariest cut

I'm talking when there is hair. Too. Much. Hair! The first hair cut. Like, proper, take-lengths-off-the-ends hair cut. Not just the neatening of the fringe cut.


I have been searching for a hairdresser, listening out for good recommendations - none have been forthcoming, or none have come through anyway. The cheapest I've found have been in the $15-19 range and I think that is just ludicrous. Although, there is no price on a safe and happy-fun-slide experience for the LGBB's first time in a salon chair because, damn, she's going to have to get used to them and I would rather her experience be jolly. Not as if she's going to see the dentist. Or orthodontist. Podiatrist. Physiotherapist. Psychiatrist. Or any 'ist that causes fear. We're into 'paths in this house - homoeopath, osteopath.... psychopath, you know, the usual alternative stuff.

Now, I know what you're thinking: and yes, it also crossed my mind fleetingly as the shears hovered above her locks, that it may have been impulsively bold of me and could very well end up in tears and absolute disaster (especially given that her birthday is next weekend and she'll be "on show") but... I went for the cut myself. Last night, just before dinner, at the peak of her squealy-excitement at Daddy coming home earlier than usual (thank you, EASTLINK), I grabbed her little nail scissors and went the chop. What the hell was I thinking?

The result, I have to say, isn't bad for free. Especially, also, that there is the double whammy of the two or maybe even three cowlicks (courtesy of yours truly, who only began to learn how to tame hers in her late teens, and unsuccessfully even then for a a few more years). These cause the hair that begins at the roots in Lolly's fringe on the left side of her head to end up over on the right and vice versa: the right-rooted hair ends up crossed over to the left. Hmmmm. Tricky.

The LGBB was intrigued about being able to look into one mirror, held by Daddy, and see the back of her head in the one behind her. What's this! I have a back?? So I did get a good clear, oh, I'd say 40 seconds to get the lengths off. The ends that were going ratty and had started to say more loudly, "MY MOTHER IS GOING FOR THE CELEBRITY BLONDE HAIRED SON LOOK." And let's just remember, people, they are little boys. And the LGBB has eerily similar hair which has been disturbing me lately.

So, without further ado, here is your average none-too-shabby home cut (courtesy of Tommee Tippee nail scissors):




Compared to before:

Does anyone get it?

I speak of Ready, Steady, Cook. One of you (or more than one) must surely like it, because it is STILL on. Nobody asked me if I wanted my one tiny window of maaaaaybe, if I'm lucky, catching a glimpse of something on tv to be bloody this.

I don't understand. What use is it? Really. And that guy, that one freaking guy (a floor manager or a camera man or a, I don't know, a gaffer or something) who "WOO-WOO-WOO!!!!"s so bloody annoyingly each time they go to a commercial break or press the audience 'Applause' button. He shits me. And the theme music makes me shudder. Urrrgh.

You'd think I watch it, but I don't. I simply have a vehement dislike for it and have to turn it off if I happen to (rarely these days) have the telly on in the background while I work. Like today. And, oh God, I must go and change the channel. Immediately.

It makes me very cross. Which may just answer some of my questions regarding whether I am unduly stressed, contributing to my current health concerns....

She loves me, she loves me not...

Faced with the eternal moral dilemma for a dog, Jazz must choose whether to accept the rare kiss or go for broke and steal the sanger from the LGBB's hand (Mummy overruled and allowed the former only).



You can see the struggle in the young dog's face - the nose and mouth are turning upward as if to pucker up. The eyes are concerned she'll miss her chance.

But a brave dog knows she has nothing to lose by trying. So she does and is foiled by the lightning-fast Copperfield-esque moves of the LGBB, who manages to confuse poor Jazzy's pea-sized, one-track brain.

Nothing in this hand.

All played out

Can I get y'nother beer there, Ted?

Teddy recovers after being played to the extreme by one LGBB and this is how we found him on the couch. All strung out and in need of a good lie down.

Aren't we all.

Just an out-loud train of thought

It's so surprising, the number of people who will compete over anything. Anything. And so subtle too, sometimes.

Stick them behind the computer screen and out they come. On many forums, anywhere.

The interesting thing I find is that I don't often come across people IRL who are as willing to puff out their chest and oppose something one has just said. Thank God. How tedious.


*slaps wrist* STOP looking then!

Without further notice???

No NO NOOOOOOOOO!!!!! Surely not! Isn't there some other way? (There isn't any way around it, I've asked...)

I am not allowed to drink coffee until given the all-clear.

I have had a persistent heart palpitation since waking on Wednesday morning. Comes in fits and bursts and in the late afternoon to evening, it becomes downright uncomfortable - I feel my heart drop in my chest and if I have a finger over the artery on my neck I can feel it skip the beat then follow it up with a great whooshing echoey beat the next one after that. It's causing breathlessness and compression headaches and neck pain. And er, yes, it's become a tad alarming. Especially when I have to mention my apparently genetic predisposition of "heart trouble" - Grandma, Dad and of course, we cannot discount Ella.

Even when I went to my conservative, dare I say rather anti-establishment, Homeopath and he told me it would be wise for me to get some further tests done, I admit to doing a little bit of a silent poo in my dacks.

So, readers, let's just wait and see. I haven't told my family, it just doesn't seem necessary. Dad would worry; he has what has apparently become a life-long fibrillation, despite numerous procedures to get his ticker working normally again, and he now manages it with some heavy duty drugs. Dad! The fittest mid-60-year-old I know. He can't have coffee anymore either. But he's twice my age.

No. Let's not panic or get ahead of ourselves here......... I have not been handed a life sentence without my beloved nectar of the cacao bean. It's just for the time being, til the tests come back. I have to book for bloods and an ECG to be done. Soon. So they can shrug and say they "dunno" what it was, "but you can go back to drinking now." Yep. That's what they'll say.

I will have to sit on my damn hands in order not to get my shaky mits around my coffee plunger. The lemon tree will be getting a good plucking and I plan to sip hot lemon water.

Urgh.