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The Wheel of Time, Family and Work

Reading the 14 book series is taking all my spare time. Beyond family and work that is. Hey, I’m a boss now. To two people with the same degree and significantly more experience– something not’s right there, but at the end of the day I’m probably more a guide than boss, and only because I got there first.

So I’m only on book 6– pre-kids running through a series, even a long one, was a much quicker experience. I’m having fun though, I’ve wanted to do it for ages.

But I feel a bit like I’m holing up. As in, I have things I want to blog about, and then I’m like BUT I COULD BE READING.

Fuck it, no apologies. Will return when I come up for air…

No, Really, I Don’t Do Valentine’s Day… Directly

rose

I don’t have any problem with people attaching meaning to the day. I’m not anti in anyway. I’ve just never been into dudes who thought that that one day they had to wooooo me.

Someone told me that maybe women just get so sick of men never doing anything nice for them that it is actually good to have a scheduled date for it. You know what? I can see that. I have to remind my husband about all kinds of shit, mostly domestic stuff that I would like my partner to be handling with me. He’s also terrible with dates. These are pretty typical dude things, so I see just being like, hey, the world says you need to get your ass in gear, I don’t have to remind you. Hallmark lets me take the day off.

But on a personal level, I expect something different from my man. So it isn’t that my expectations are less, in many ways I probably put more pressure on. ‘You know what baby, I like the spontaneous things,’

Now he can think about what lovely things he can do to show his love. Throughout the year.

And here’s what else: I need to do the same fucking thing. I need to make sure that from time to time I do something that makes a statement to my husband about how much I love him. And not being into Valentine’s Day is actually a pretty fucking excellent reminder to be that person.

So, Valentine’s Day does good things for me, and I respect that.

Governor? Meh.

So my company just got some good news and etc etc the governor is holding a little ‘do’ in our building for it. Last time one of these happened the mayor and local uni pres came along too.

So I say to the husband: Hey we’re doing this thing, blah blah blah, do you want to come and meet the governor?

Husband: Why would I want to come?

Me: To meet the governor.

Husband: If you want support I’ll come. But I’m not that bothered.

Well well well. Le Husband is too good to meet the gov.

Or is it the dreaded jealousy? In an effort to shit stir…

Me: Why don’t you come? I like having a trophy husband on my arm.

Divorced People

Recently on facebook there are feeds from divorced and divorcing friends.

Reading their statuses makes me realize several things:

1. Divorce makes me sad, particularly when kids are involved.

2. People are extremely strong, positive and resilient.

Frankly, the fact that divorce makes me sad also makes me feel awkward. Because it isn’t that these people should be together, I haven’t yet come across an instance where the event was particularly surprising. It is because I want things to work out. I like love stories. I also hate seeing people hurting and they’re kicking ass by being so positive, but it tugs at me because it completely sucks that you have to overcome the heartache of breaking up with someone you thought was it.

Child Crap

poo

Literally.

I’m just going to complain about something gross.

My 3 year old uses the toilet. She’s pretty adept at the whole thing. You know, in a relative kind of way. Anyway, she is small and therefore sits forward on the toilet.

Her shit is also sticky.

So almost every time I use the fucking toilet there is some leftover smear of shit high up on the bowl. And I hate it.

That’s all.

Wheel of Time

eye of world

Ages ago I started reading the series. At first I thought it was chock full of cliche fantasy ideas. I pushed through and somewhere in the first book Jordan got off the regular track and started doing his own thing.

I read the first seven books, which was all there was at the time. I couldn’t stop reading. Some of the books dragged, then picked up again.

It turns out that when you read thousand and thousands of pages about the same characters without coming up to breathe you start dreaming about them. That was incredibly disconcerting because I got the story lines confused with my dreams.

At any rate, I said I’d reread the whole thing when it was finished. Jordan died, Brandon Sanderson finished it up (per notes and conversations with Jordan who asked him to finish it). I believe Jordan’s widow was also part of the finishing process.

November (I think) the final book came out. So I took a deep breath and plunged back in. The start is the same (more cliche than I like) and book 1 is finally hitting its stride.

It also takes much longer to read when you have children. They’re so needy. 

Posts Have Been Scant.

Apologise. As in, ‘I apologise,’ not as in the imperative.

This holiday and post holiday has been surprisingly hectic.

We just spent the last week in South Florida. Which doesn’t really jibe with hectic, but does when you include the 8 in-laws who were also there.

I’m doing something I don’t like, which is make excuses. Just as a general rule. This is a blog for fun.

 

Pick-Up Trucks

piick up

Recent observation and pet peeve.

Flash pick-up trucks (see pic/example) are never dirty. 

What the fuck? They’re not used. Not at all. The people who own these things don’t use them for shit.

Why the hell would you buy a pick-up, crazy horse power, and just use it as an A to B carrier? That’s a car. And a waste of energy.

Impulse Control

arson

I’m not a typically reactionary person. If someone is rude to me, it takes me so much by surprise that I don’t really process it until hours after the fact.

Carrying on from the Twitter bitch… recently I’ve had the odd impulse and wondered what it would be like to follow up.

Something… I don’t know… like grabbing my husband’s smart phone and smashing it to the ground. You know, something like that.

But the thing is I would never do something like that. I’m not wired to let those impulses rule.

Side note. I am  like that under certain circumstances. Like if I get hurt. Then I want to punch and kick whatever inanimate object is around me. If I stub my toe I will most likely make and ‘arrrgggh’ noise and then kicking the shit out of the stub perpetrator (a chair, usually).

Anyway, you know how you some people get into these really dramatic relationships where they scream and yell and throw shit? I guess they just don’t hold back those impulses.

So is control:

1. Because you inherently *feel* less?

2. Because you actually use a separate part of your system to override the impulse?

Fuck You Twitter

Twitter chaps m’nuts. It is also ruining my sports-fan status.

Because my husband checks, doesn’t post, just checks that shit every fucking five minutes.

Why? I mean, what do random comments and message boards hold?

I get needing to unwind. I get some quiet time reading up on shit you’re interested in. But the dude cannot put that shit down.

Even as we speak. Even as there is a game on. Right fucking now. HIS team. His favorite team. And he’s looking at Twitter.

I resent you twitter. You make me angry at you, angry at sports. Go twat yourself.

And yes, the husband, not the twatter needs a slap. I’ve been vocal, no fear.

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