Small pill... SO much blood...

I'm taking baby aspirin.  In these wee, tiny, little pills - scattered amongst my morning vitamins.  They seem so innocent and nothing at all like blood thinners. 

Recently, when I maybe, just perhaps, gouged compulsively into my inner thigh, digging for a covert ingrown hair (for the love of Eastern Block Estheticians, can we please stop with the extra hair?!?), there was some self-surgical fallout...     resulting in lots and lots and lots of blood.  So much so, that I started quoting Lady Macbeth.  (Had I hit a freaking artery?!?)

I applied pressure with wadded up toilet paper for several minutes, but when that didn't work, I then sought out cotton balls... and band-aids.   And maybe a tourniquet.  Later, when I was taking the band-aid off, the teeny, tiny wound started to bleed again.  All this from one freaking baby aspirin a day.  Who would've thunk that such a small pill could be so powerful?  I'm glad that it was only one teeny-tiny ingrown hair that left me wounded - I'd have bled out if there'd been two.

Eat more! Get skinnier!

I think I need to eat more.  At meal times.  Since I started working 'outside the home' again, my eating habits have gone to utter crap.  Over lunch I usually have a dozen rice crackers with one of those wee cans of tuna - or maybe I'll have a Lara Bar and wash it down with some herbal tea.  Here I thought with me NOT having a calorie-laden lunch - I'd be back down to fighting trim, but it seems the opposite is happening.

The muffin-top approacheth.  When I sit at the computer (which is pretty much what I do at work, and then at home when I'm writing), I am now aware of my stomach over top of whatever waistband I'm wearing.  I think it's because when I get home from work, I now feel the need to snack/binge on salty and/or chocolaty things.  On account of the fact that I might actually be, I hate to suggest this... HUNGRY?!?

So today, I'm trying something different. I'm going out on a limb. Doing something crazy.  I'm adding applesauce at lunch.  Unbelievable, right?  But maybe if I have that little something more, that's actually good for me, I might be able to get a handle on these snacky cravings that I'm having later in the day.  I might even have some carrot sticks. (I don't want to go too over the top, but it might just come to that.)  I'm trying the 'MORE healthful calories during the day = LESS compulsive salt/chocolate bingeing in the afternoon' plan... ergo... EAT MORE!  GET SKINNIER!!  Fingers crossed my hypothesis will work.

What Would Jesus Sing?

This song was playing this morning - on our way to Easter Brunch...  All I could think was... PERFECT JESUS THEME SONG!!!  I just had to make this:

Jesus sings The Clash

Then later I thought what if they rolled back the stone, and found this Easter morning?  So I had to make this one:

(I know, I know...  I'm going to Hell.)

I've lost my nuts!

I bought them.  I know I did.  I specifically got a container of the non-salted roasted almonds in the bulk section at the No Frills.  I remember, because last time?  I'd bought the salted roasted almonds and now as I'm trying to cut down on my salt intake, I picked up the non-salted kind.  On purpose. I know I bought them.   I have a distinct memory of putting them on the bench by the front door, so that I would remember to take them to work as my quick protein fix.  I have no freaking clue where they went.

I thought that David might have mistaken them for regular groceries and put them in a cupboard, but when I asked him about them, he looked at me, well... like I was nuts.  So either we're both losing our minds, or Rissa's trying her best to Gaslight us, or the cats have figured out how to transport 500 g containers.  Steve and Lola, could maybe work together, but without opposable thumbs, I don't think that they could move it onto a cat forklift their own, which means that they'd have to call in Minuit, and we all know she is NOT a team player.

I also think that my purse might be the Tardis.  In the last week alone, I have looked in the purse probably a dozen times for objects that should be there - am UNABLE to find them and then, when I check again 3 minutes later...  the objects ARE there. ?!?

I know what Occam's Razor would tell us.  Occam's Razor would tell us I've already lost my mind.

Would you say this is weird?

"Hey Mummy, would you say this is weird?"  Says Rissa, upon her arrival home from school.  She pokes her head around the corner and sticks her tongue out of her mouth and makes this noise: "Lardl-lardl-lardl-lardl..."

"Yes.  I would say that is weird."

"How 'bout this?"

She ducks out of view for a second and then comes around the corner once more, her face screwed into a fishy semblance making this noise: "pwuh-pwuh-pwuh-pwuh..."

"That, too, is weird."

"Would you say they are equally weird...?

"As opposed to?"

"One being decidedly more weird."

"Let me see them again."

Like daugther like mother...

Ryan could come stay with me... I mean us...

http://www.cbc.ca/news/arts/story/2013/03/21/ryan-gosling-acting-break.html

I'm just saying.  You know, if Ryan Gosling really needs a break and someplace to chill.  He could chill in our attic.  It would be a no-stress environment for him.  I mean, apart from dealing with the mid-40s woman pretending she's all nonchalant, who just happens to be on the floor below him, imagining him doing pushups right before bed...  on top of her. 

I could be all caj...(that's short for casual, see, I'm hip)... I wouldn't fawn over him or anything, that would be so déclassé. Occasionally I'd invite him to a family dinner, "Ryan, we're having pot roast!  You in?"  Ask if he wants to go the library, that sort of thing.  Small provincial town - if he wore a ballcap I'm sure that folks wouldn't recognize him.  Just sayin.'

Poohsticks with Rissa

Poohsticks from A. A. Milnes' The House at Pooh Corner.  Illustration by E.H. Shepherd

 
We played Poohsticks last weekend.  We had to be careful, and not cross the bridge willy-nilly on account of the fact that, for a small country road in Lanark County, there's a lot of traffic.  David, Rissa and I gathered our sticks - made sure we weren't going to be squished flat by asshole drivers who don't follow the 40 km/h speed limit - and launched our precious playing pieces into the Tay River.   We ran to the other side of the bridge, waiting for our sticks to come out, but to no avail.  We saw... nothing.  Where did they go?  Who had won?  The sticks must have been too small.

"We need bigger sticks," said I.

"We need Pooh LOGS," said Rissa, in her Eureka voice.

David and I shared a glance.  "Ummmm... I don't think we want to call it Pooh LOGS..."

"Why not?" asked Rissa.

"Well, it kinda sounds as if we're throwing bowel movements over the bridge.  Or maybe like we're sitting on the edge of bridge and poohing over the side."

Rissa thought for a second.  "I'm totally going to call it Pooh Logs from now on."

We all are.