Pavlovian Response

As most of you know my main method of getting the child to do anything, ie clean her room, is by removing the internet cable, and it is quite often removed on a Sunday afternoon while I wait for the room clean to be done.

Yesterday, Sunday, after I chauffeured child back from a friends I was called in to work. I spent an hour or so there then went off to visit the tomato and organic potato growers for a wee catch up. While I was enjoying the Pinot Gris child texted to say she was hungry and had cooked dinner for herself. As I didn't have to race home and cook dinner I then stayed chatting a while longer.

When I finally got home I had been out for about 3.5 hours. As I walked in the first thing the child said to me was "can you please put the cable back in". I responded by telling her "it wasn't out!"

She then cast her eyes down to the port in the wall by her foot and said "don't say anything!" I of course couldn't as I was using all my energy to hold in the hysterical laughter, dancing, and also doing the universal arm signal that is accompanied by the word YUSS!!

During the day I had moved my laptop into the dining room and plugged into the port next to her computer and my cable was still plugged in there. The child had therefore walked over the large 20 metre coil of white power cable, and then walked over the 30 metre coil of adsl cable that also snaked across the floor to the port by her chair, and at no point looked to see if it was plugged in.

While I was gleefully pondering this I suddenly thought "bedroom" and raced upstairs.  Yes, it was another round of laughter and YUSS as the bedroom had been cleaned.

I have been chortling all day over this as it's a perfect example of Pavlovian conditioning, and teenagers are not immune!

The "One"

Over the last few weeks I've been fascinated by the almost daily entries on a friends facebook page. Said friend also happens to be an 'ex', a fairly significant one as she was the woman I left the sperm donor for, but that is irrelevant to this post.

She has recently met a new woman and instantly fallen in love in true lesbian fashion. They are making a very public display of their feelings for each other via their facebook walls and below is a lovely example. I will admit that it is from the very early days of, oh, at least five weeks ago.

I see our relationship as a tiny, tender seedling. Its warm seedcoat has cracked. And, this tender, fragile little being has started to peek out. Fears of every kind cause it to timidly raise it head to peer over the edges. What does it take for this fragile being to raise it's head and grow strong?Gentle nurture. Tender Care. Loving touch. Seeking my gentle touch, it straightens a little more. Now a little stronger. Yet still, oh so tender and fragile.

Quite frankly if anyone ever wrote something like that on my wall I would delete it immediately, and probably delete them as well no matter what I felt for them.

Also in true lesbian fashion they are now engaged! I have a fairly accurate timeline on this relationship as the ex texted once needing advice of a sexual nature, so I know exactly when first shag happened. So first shag to engagement, 3 weeks. First shag to ex quitting her job to move cities, 5 weeks. However I digress.

I made a vomit related comment on one of these facebook posts and then got severely chided for it. Sadly they didn't see that my comment was made about the sickmaking nature of the wall posts, and not their relationship. The response to my vomit comment was that when I met 'The One' I would know, and be as happy as them. This of course has got me pondering the whole concept of "The One",  the idea that out there is one person, one soul who is the perfect match for you. The one to make the two of you a whole, the one you are destined to meet so you can live in perfect harmony forever. Fuk me, their sickmaking dribble is rubbing off on me.

Lesbians love this idea, and lots of hetero's appear to as well, though I do suspect that is probably fairly heavily weighted towards the female of the species. Of course this makes me ask a few questions such as:

• In the case of the ex, how does that make her previous girlfriend of seven years feel and
• If she wasn't "The One", why did she spend seven years with her?
• What happens if you and your "One" are born years or even centuries apart? Are you supposed to stay single as it would be too mean having a relationship with another as they are not the "One".
• What about those who don't believe in the concept, one of whom may be in a relationship with the person who is actually your "One".
• Again, those who don't believe in the concept of the "One" but in are in happy successful relationships, are these relationships not valid then?
• Do we all get a hetero "One" and a gay "One", so we don't miss out if we have difficulty staying with one gender?
• Trans "Ones"? Or does that mean we now all have three "Ones"?
• Or four to cover both versions of gender reassigment?
• Asexuals, do they have a non "One"?
• What happens if you can't afford a plane ticket to travel and go hunting for your "One", or will the single policy apply?
• What about the narrow minded provincials who never leave the town they were born in. Is their "One" going to be in their home town, or are they not allowed "One" because they are too dull and unadventurous?

As you see I could go on and on. In response to my telling off on facebook I pulled out the yin yang card, salty sweet etc etc, pitching that for every person who believed in the "One" is another who is quite happy having more than one lover, and that ultimately the only "One" you can ever get true happiness from is yourself. That shut them up!

Not learning from being berated, I again commented on a post about distance relationships, that they are HOT and not rubbish, but that is a whole other story for another time.

One More Reason

I have found yet another reason (and resists impulse to sing Tracy Chapman), other than those I have already talked of, for keeping a boi around.

When I found out how keen he was to do this, and the gardening chores involved at the end of his trek, I realised that I hadn't needed to bribe him at all. However being a good femme I followed through on the bribe, and bless, he had so much fun spraying napalm on the back deck.

I seriously know how to keep a boi happy!

I Did, but then I Didn't!

I did think of something to blog about this morning, but as the day turned into one of those  where one sweated ones makeup off before 8.30am due to too much multi tasking, my scintillating blog idea appears to have vanished. I also think the fact that I have said the words 'meta data' about 67359482 times today may be a contributing factor as well.

I did however eagerly await to see if the fruit was delivered on time this morning. It appears having the fruit arrive on time has become an issue this year. Yesterdays excuse was my favourite which was, "the driver broke the truck because he forgot to put petrol in it". I guess that wasn't listed as a key competancy on his job description then. Todays was somewhat dull, "You do know we have moved locations this year". As you can imagine I almost exploded from resisting the urge to yell loudly, "did you not think it a good idea to leave earlier then?"

So really all I can think to waffle on about is one of those deep philosophical conundrums which is; why is it when you are poor the shops have masses and masses of clothes and shoes that are screaming at you to purchase them, yet when one has some loot to fritter there is nothing around that appeals?

I Wish I Was 5 Again

....so then I could throw a huge screaming kicking tantrum in the middle of the street so that Mummy would buy me this;

Oh Trelise, why have you not made it in big people sizes, I just know I would get soooo much wear out of each item.  Yearn, yearn.

The Sunday Fair

Last Sunday was the annual fair in my fab city fringe suburb, where the streets are closed off and the masses from all those not so fabbo suburbs come to browse the stalls, eat the food and listen to all the music provided.

The day always starts quite stressful for me as I have to get to the market for my vegetables and get home in time to not lose my car park. This also has to be done sans coffee as I can't get to the coffee shop because of the road closures. It turned out that this year the suburban unfortunates started to arrive much earlier as I lost my car park. As you can imagine I was Not Happy, and yes that was me driving round in circles with the window open yelling "you dumbfuk c***face stupid people, if you parked properly I could get in there!". The suburban unfortunates had parked so badly there were lots of almost car sized spaces, but none large enough. However with the aid of a couple of wheels on the footpath I managed to "park". A quick unpack of the veges then it was time to wander down amongst the masses.

Now that I have a new pink gadget I can give you some images of the afternoons wanderings. The first thing that caught my eye was this chap and all his feathers

At first I felt sorry for him thinking how hot he must have been with his costume and all the feathers, but as the tune he was playing took 48 hours to leave my head, I hope he sweltered and got a rash to match.

A bit further on was a t shirt stall with a couple of prints that amused, and of course as I'd had a coffee issue that morning this one was most relevent.

One didn't purchase any though as my companion for the day, who works for a t shirt screen printing business, was having some form of apoplexy at the prices. We hurried on. The next stall I was keen to see was one I visit every year in the futile hope they will have one in my size.

Sigh. A good tutu is hard to find. I yearn for a tutu.

This book also caught my eye, I'm sure it could be useful, but I didn't have enough loot.

Finally hunger and heat got to me so it was off to the roti caravan for a scoff, and new this year was a portable wood fired pizza stall, double scoff. I then turned around to start on the last few stalls and what do I see on the main stage but a pair of lesbians.

One of the performers tried to tell me to fuk off and sing at the same time, so I had resist the urge to yell loudly, "new gadget Geri, you are sooooo all over facebook!"

Those of you who were also at the fair will notice that there is one type of stall I haven't mentioned or provided an image of, and that is the soap stalls. The fukkin soaps stalls to be exact. It seems making soap, and the associated smelly products that are sold alongside it, have taken over from preserves as the market stall de jour. Sorry guys, give me a bag of fudge and home made cake any day.

I finished the day with  a wee visit to the tomatoes and their owners,

And came home with a bag of freshly killed organic spuds which I am still slowly consuming.

All to be repeated the same time next year, except I will rememer to put sunblock on. Whimper.

It's all Pink

I've just had a huge week with some exciting surprises in amongst the outrageous hours I did at work. The only slight low point was putting RTTB back on the plane home for another few weeks. Whimper.

My first suprise was the letter handed to me Monday morning. The actual letter wasn't a surprise as I had my own to hand out, the number inside it was. I know I should just acknowledge that it's the result of all my hard work, but I do still feel very blessed and lucky.

The other surprise was an unexpected parcel that arrived later in the week. When I got home and saw it, I quickly whisked it upstairs to open, all the while wondering why the child wasn't clamouring to see what was inside. Not wanting to ruin the surprise I opened it with my eyes closed at I didn't want to read what was on the customs slip.

I was most surprised when I saw what was inside, a lovely piece of electronica that is bright pink, and no smut minds it's a gadget, not a toy. I immediately opened it and got the battery charging so I could play with it, well figure out how to use it really. I then went to clean up the packaging on my bed when some more pinkness caught my eye, I hadn't really seen it in my haste to open the initial box, and there it was lying on my bed. Pink Bubblewrap! It is just soooooo cooooool. I've never seen pink bubblewrap before.

The next day at work I was talking with my colleagues about the pink bubblewrap (and the fab gift) and they were equally impressed by it's awesomeness, and were as divided as I am on whether to pop it, or put it away for use at a later date. I did promise them a wee section. In my thank you email to the kind benefactress I did point out that the pink bubblewrap has garnered as much excitement as the gift itself.

I am now torn, as I promised my workmates some pink bubblewrap, and I know that I should give them some as one must share good fortune around, but I am feeling very petulant and selfish about it.  I have of course been good and cut off a piece for them, and now due to the other piece of pink awesomeness I can show you.

I think I've been very generous really under the circumstances.

Self Inflicted Child Abuse

Over the last few months the child has decided that Mummy's healthy salads and wraps are far too dull for one as worldly as her, so has taken to getting her portion of protein and cooking her own dinner. Sometimes she forgets to cook the protein, especially when she has made mashed potatoes, but I guess with the amount of butter and cheese put into them, they have enough protein on their own.

Tonight she has made chicken breast curry as there was coconut cream leftover from sago making yesterday. She googled an "easy" curry recipe, totally ignoring the two Asian food and cookery encyclopaedic books on the shelf, and another cook book that is only curry.

I started to pay attention when asked if we had any garlic powder, as of course I would never have anything as vile as that in the house. I pointed her to the basket of fresh garlic and the mortar and pestle. After a while a rather pleasant aroma started to waft through so I went to check out the cooking. The curry looked a nice colour and smelled fine, so I bravely poked a fork in and fished out a piece of potato (and that is homegrown organic backyard Kilbirnie potato, no ordinary spuds here). As I was about to sample the piece I was told that it was a bit spicy, so steeled myself. I did manage to consume the piece of potato, just.

I then calmly enquired as to what was in the curry. It really was quite hard to keep a straight face when told it contained a TABLESPOON of cayenne. I fear the child may suffer "repercussions" after she consumes her dinner.

Bliss, I think I'm going to enjoy this form of Mothers revenge.