Nostalgia has bitten me in the ass. And Rissa’s ass, because she was forced to watch four, count ’em, four 1980s movies with me. Floundering after Bowie died – it got me thinking that we hadn’t shared Bowie movies with Rissa. She’d never seen Labyrinth, or Absolute Beginners. And when I was ordering those movies…
It’s come to this: I am now answering Facebook quizzes in my own head. Without the computer. And not the normal ones like: Which Disney Princess are you? Which Shakespearean character would you be?What breed of cat are you? Nope, this mostly Pagan gal has this one pin-balling around her cranium: Which Bible character is…
The last time I went to Sky Zone Trampoline Park – for Rissa’s 11th birthday – I was unprepared. Even though I had ’emptied’ my bladder twice before stepping onto the trampoline, my baby-stretched urethra gave up on the first bounce. (Not to say that I gave birth through my urethra – childbirth doesn’t work…
“Is everything okay?” asks David, picking up on my funk. “Yep. All good.” I give him a big thumbs up with a side of overly-enthusiastic smile. He gives me a pointed look. I ignore him and lift my chin. Rissa says “Mama do you need a hug?” Yes, I do. I do need a hug. …
WARNING: This post contains ‘adult’ content.I’ve been mainlining Regency romances. Which is weird, because even in my romance novel addiction years (late teens, early 20s), I was never really into titles that had guys clad in extremely high-count linen shirts bending over corseted virgins on their covers. Contemporary romances with lots of sex and witty…
David asks. “Hmmmm?” “The octopus sex. How long has it been going on?” “Cupping. It was cupping. There was no octopus involved.” “Are you sure? Evidence suggests otherwise.” “It was cupping.” “Cupping…?” “Suction cupping. At the massage appointment.” “She put suction cups on you.” He is appalled by this explanation. “May I remind you of…
“I hate this game more than anything in the world,” says Rissa as we finish. My heart sinks. I’ve had such hopes. She’s an avid reader now – she knows so many words. I only tried to guide her word choices a… uh… few… (okay 6) times. She wanted to put down kinesis, but would…
“GAAAAAAAHHHH!!! HOLY MOTHER OF…!!!” I flap the dish towel in my panic. “What? What is it?” Rissa asks. “Treacherous insect!!” “What!?!” “Okay, so you know how when you said that there was a cobra in the kitty litter?” “I didn’t say there was a cobra in the kitty litter,” Rissa says, peeking around the corner…
It’s a good morning. I manage to wake up without whining about it. David makes me delicious scrambled eggs. I get dressed and throw a little makeup on, you know, just in case the really hot physiotherapist is at the clinic. I even volunteer to move the cars around so that I can make it…
“We need to kill all the cats.” “Huh?” I am lying on my side in bed, eyebrows so low that I can feel them on my upper lip. “WE. NEED. TO. KILL. ALL. THE. CATS.“ “You don’t mean that. You love the cats.” “4:45!“ “Hmmm?” “4 FUCKING 45 this morning Minuit with her fishy kibble…