Harry Is Not Amused

When I asked for help in keeping these orange beasts sorted out, my sister told me that Harry is the one who always looks pissed off.  And it’s true, she does.  She is the only female and the only mom and she has the stupidest name, so who can blame her for her ill tempered little face.

Last night I met a delightful little girl for the first time, got a tour of a beautiful new home, and am now able to put a face and a place together.  We are so happy to have her as part of our family and hope this little while can turn into forever.  It’s a process I’m somewhat familiar with and know that these things take a long and agonizing time to resolve.  Fingers crossed – we’re hoping for a happy ending.

This morning I had my hair trimmed because it was starting to look a little ragged around the edges.  And I did promise that I would get myself to a professional when I got the urge to start hacking away at it myself.  This time it was blown dry first and then cut – I must say there are fewer surprises doing it that way.

And today is the day my neice had her tonsils out.  She’s not six, (she’s over twenty six) so of course she’s heard all the horror stories about what happens when adults undergo this procedure.  So far she’s doing very well, dozing on and off, taking her meds, eating freezies and jello and ice.  We all watched the Blue Jays game on tv.  And watched and watched and watched.  All sixteen innings of it, which they finally managed to win over Cleveland.

So baseball season is open before the hockey playoffs begin.  Even the weather is confused.  There was a huge dump of snow in Edmonton this morning, so some of that crappy weather may be coming this way.  W told me the furnace is in and running at last, and his satelite radio has been delivered, so there’s really nothing to keep him home now except perhaps the snow.  That won’t hold him for long when the island is calling his name.

And last but not least, I have to confess that when we left the house this morning I closed my bedroom door to keep the cats out of it.  Several hours later we came home to discover that I had shut Harry inside of it instead of out, which caused her to be even more indignant than normal.  Sorry Harry.  But I know you had a lovely long undisturbed nap on my pillow, so if I’m not sounding as remorseful as you’d like, that would be why. So please stop glaring at me, I’m not falling for it.

Love to Hate

Well here’s a full-bodied character. He’s the alien I didn’t write about yesterday. It’s hot and he’s sweating profusely and very pissed off at himself and the planet earth in general. Lost his space ship in the parking lot somewhere. Don’t you hate it when that happens?

I don’t want to write about aliens and hateful characters because today I feel like deciding what I’d name a boat if I had one. And actually I DO have one, sort of, although it’s not exclusively mine, but a family owned pontoon boat which we refer to as the Good Ship Lollipop. I think it deserves to be called something more original than that.

So that’s what my brain is going to focus on today, and not the personality traits of aliens and why we have the oh-so-annoying human habit of wanting to hate things for pleasure. Sorry, guy on the bench who is probably a really sweet man and was born and raised in Winnipeg.

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