TALK ABOUT too much time on my hands

Usually it's the complete opposite. I love irony, but today I DO have too much time on my hands - of course, it is time that could be spent actually doing some WORK. Which leads me to the disturbing thought that any of the higher-ups at work could read my blog and they might take note of the times of day that I blog and then I could be up some serious shit-creek.

I'm taking the opportunity to tie up a few bloggie loose ends.

I blogged ages ago that I was reading 7: A Novel by Julie Hilden. Well, I finished it and I liked it, although I thought the obsessive-scary-lesbian-stalker part was a tad Hollywood. Loose end number one tied.

Then I blogged a few days ago that a friend of mine was visiting from Auckland. It was the first time I had seen her since her move north nine months previously, so I was looking forward to it immensely. Well, she visited last Friday; once at work, then at my house later on that evening. She has and she hasn't changed; she hasn't, because she was still the same bubbly, vivacious woman she was when she left... and she has changed, because she now has this incredible aura of dignity around her, like she is a lot more sure of her place in the world now. The new things she is learning has, paradoxically, also given her a sense of humility that is totally endearing. I didn't think it was possible for her to become a lovelier human being, but there you go. I am really chuffed that she is so happy. But then she had to go and I missed her all over again.. waahh. Loose end number two tied.

I also started reading "We need to talk about Kevin"... I tried really hard, but I don't think I was in the right headspace to read it, as I was getting more and more pissed off with Kevin's mother and her self-flagellation. So I have passed it over for now - it was on request for someone else, so I had to give it back anyway. I will get back to it as some stage, as I thought the whole notion was quite fascinating. Loose end number three tied.

Yay, it's nearly hometime (and the weekend). Although I think my car is about to die.

Cheese Dreams

I've always known that eating cheese at bedtime gives one alarmingly freaky dreams, but I'm concerned that, even after consciously avoiding the cheese, I am still having very oddball dreams.

The first, on Monday night, involved my visiting a hardware store to buy Blutack (a squishy, putty-like substance which is a temporary alternative to sticking pins in your walls). There was no Blutack, but I DID find a packet of teal-blue, just-add-water-and-mix-your-own powder. It was astronomically expensive at $27.95NZD, but I'm sure it would have lasted a long time. It was called "Oozie" (I KNOW! I even dreamt the name!). This - as far as I'm aware - doesn't exist, so I was quite excited at the notion of becoming an inventor and thus becoming richer than 3M.

My second dream was a little more alarming; the only part I could remember was standing somewhere in New Zealand staring at three rather enormous tornadoes on the horizon. They were coming toward me at a rate of knots, so I was relieved to either not remember the rest of the dream, or to have woken up.

I checked into a dream dictionary , which told me that to dream of seeing several tornadoes represented "people around you who are prone to violent outbursts and shifting mood swings. It may also symbolize a volatile situation or relationship. " Eeww.

Funnily enough, I couldn't find anything about Blutack OR Oozie.

Fairy Godmother was on acid

We went to Fairyland yesterday for the Smallest's 6th birthday. I'm always apprehensive about trying (and paying for) new birthday ventures, tending instead to go for the safety of McDonald's or Lollipops parties. In this case, rightly so - when we first got there, Fairy Godmother's helper (who looked remarkably like a ordinary old man) asked the girls to take off their shoes. This wasn't so weird, until he asked them to "sing a song, any song and I'll be back in a minute"... and wandered off, leaving seven little girls standing in the foyer with blank looks on their faces. That was the moment I stared thinking "oh god, here we go". He appeared again after a couple of minutes, went through a half-hearted session of Simon Says, then told them to sing ANOTHER song and vanished again.

We eventually got into the Fairy Room... I don't know what kept Fairy Godmother, but it soon became apparent that she was probably using this stalling-time to pop one last tab before she greeted the children, because she was off the planet. Grey hair in pigtails, an affected little laugh and comments like "I can't do all the fairy work darlings, I'll die because I'm old" had us grownups staring at each other in disbelief.

The fairy food was ok, if you didn't take into account what we were paying for this little shindig - lollies, popcorn, chippies, chocolate buttons, mallowpuffs with icing swizzled on top. This all got the little fairies amped up on sugar enough to have a little fairy dance - to the theme of the english-policeman TV show called "Heartbeat".

All the while, my ex-husband (Chief Pixie, according to Fairy Godmother) was grinding his teeth, shooting me hateful glares and whispering "this is YOUR fault". To which I smiled back serenely and told him at least he'd have something interesting to tell his workmates today.

On the plus side - the little girls loved it; Hannah kept staring at Fairy Godmother with a look of adoration one would reserve for a fanatical cult leader and her friends said they loved it. The Fairy Room was amazing - twinkly painted walls, plants with fairy lights strung through them all over the place and a little pond in the corner of the room.

We got the whole thing on video, so if any of our friends consider going to Fairyland, we can show them the footage and save them from the clutches of the Spazzed-out Fairy Godmother.

The cause of the Meh

I got a migraine this afternoon; my mood gets odd beforehand, hence the Meh. I am a walking lurgy, I'm sure of it. I started getting the aura twenty minutes before I was due to read stories for our preschool programme... I suddenly noticed stars and black spots in my vision. A panic to get the appropriate drugs into my system before the pain set in ensued, although Nurofen do bugger all except stop me puking.

It was most inconvenient; the ex-husband and I had the p/t interviews tonight... the upside was that both of our children are little angels at school and are doing really well. I just sat there, feeling really wasted, making the right noises of encouragement... I think I fooled them.

Meh.

A total case of MEH

I'm having one of THOSE weeks - I have a total case of "Meh" at the moment, otherwise known as a case of the "blahs". I can't be bothered doing anything. Anything or anyone that requires my attention and takes away from my Meh is causing a disgruntled sense of resentment. I'm yearning for my dressing gown, the couch and the TV, all at once.

I have Parent/Teacher interviews tonight. For once, I'm not afraid of what The Smallest's teacher is going to say (on account of her being such a deviant... for which, incidentally, I was reprimanded for teaching her to say), as I have had positive comments from her teacher lately that she has been a "good girl", which is a mean feat for her. I have also realised she is a quickfire, photographic speller - on the way to school one day last week, she fired off "Mum, what does m-i-t-s-u-b-i-s-h-i spell?"... "Where did you see that?"... "On that car back there that we just drove past"... I thought it was suitably impressive for a six-year-old.

I am still angsting over pasting HTML (it IS that, right?) stuff into my template to allow for a "blogs I read" link in my sidebar. I have tried it on numerous occasions and it just will not work. Which is aggravating the hell out of me, as I have been reading some great blogs. Yet another something to put into my "Meh" category.

I can't believe it's only Tuesday.

How much I hate The Sickness

I have a raging cold. I HATE colds. The thing I hate most about them is the blocked nose, so I am always diving for the nasal spray, which I invariably end up becoming addicted to (yes, it's addictive!) and have to spend the next two weeks weaning myself off the stuff. I also hate the coughing - the dry, tickly, totally un-productive cough thats sweats you up with the effort required and leaves every muscle in your body feeling like you've been assaulted by a Swedish masseuse. Not to mention it's totally inconvenient... I have too much to do! Although, I made it to work this morning (and am still here!), so I deserve a bloody medal.

The highlight of my week was news from a far-away friend telling me she is visiting next week. I haven't seen her since last year, so I'm looking forward to it immensely.

My fella and I were discussing some finer points of Moving Day, which is looming. I find myself becoming preoccupied with the notion of "forgetting" how to live with someone other than your children - I haven't done it for 3 years, so I'm out of practice. I'm worried I won't be able to `do' it properly anymore and I don't want to offend the other half with my crotchety old ways, especially seeing as it's him making the move and giving up lots.

Meh - I have suddenly lost my train of thought and need to go and snuffle into my tissue.