*yawn*

[xans]

Dad babysits Joel on Mondays. Joel is the three year old of this woman Cindy--and her mum Carol is my dad's ex. They parted on good terms, obviously. But yeah, he likes doing this babysitting stuff. He's been ready to be grandfather for years, he says, but Iain and I are simply too young to be starting on giving him grandchildren yet, thankyouverymuch. *rolls eyes* Anyway, little dude comes over on Mondays. And dad has some lovely tricks to get the hours to pass without seeming to, and getting errands done at the same time. Like, if the weather is nice, get Joel to help with the gardening. Or, if it's not so nice, go grocery shopping.
It's so weird. I don't know where I picked it up. I figured it out somehow, anyway. When we were at the supermarket, a way I kept Joel sort of occupied was giving him the job of holding the shopping list. And having him help me take the cart to one of the little trolley park things. Just, y'know, giving him little errands or something to hold so he would feel useful--and stay out of trouble. And I have no idea how I knew to do that, 'cause I don't ever remember anyone ever telling me. It's not like I watch those Little Angels or Supernanny shows... not very often anyway. Although the bits I have seen have given me some clues as to what to do/not do whenever I do get around to having my own rugrats.
Anyway...
Last week pandoras_evil_t took her bike into the repair shop to get it all checked out and fixed up. Well, they told her the back tire and brake pads needed replacing, and she said, "Do it!" All's well and good, right? Right. Well... no, not right, actually. She picked the bike up, and was riding home, when, at a place where she needed to stop, horror of horrors--her brakes didn't work! She crashed into a fence. Thankfully it was only a fence. When she called up the shop, the guy there said he'd forgotten to mention--the brake lines needed replacing as well, and how much that would cost. Later that day, though, the manager of the shop called back and said they'd do that job for free, since there'd been such a cock-up and it could have been much worse.
Well, on Tuesday Ange asks me if I want to come with her to take the bike back in, and "look scary." She... just doesn't know how to do intimidating like I do, lol. Well, off we go, and the manager surprised us--he gave her a full refund on the whole job. Well, now she has a whole $58 more than she had last week, and as she took the money we both noticed that, well... her helmet's in pretty bad shape. May as well look at getting a new one, yeah? *laughs* Kind person that I am, I was oh-so-complintary of how the helmet's looked on her when she tried them. But, yeah, picked one, and the manager only charged her $40 instead of $45. Good stuff!
After that we skipped across the road to the McCafe for some coffee. Mmmm, latte. I don't know how I've not managed to get addicted to coffee. pandoras_evil_ loves to tell me Cancerians have addictive personalities, so it's strange I don't really have many addictions--but then sometimes it seems as if people become addicted to me! Well, we were at the McCafe enjoying our latte and mochacino, when who showed up on his lunch break? Her boyfriend. So he came and chatted with us for a few mins before he went to actually grab something to eat and we went back to her place for the afternoon.
Got another fic rec, this one being Lupin/Snape. I enjoyed it. How Severus Snape (Didn't) Kill Nymphadora Tonks. 'Sfunny, I really haven't read too many fics lately, and recced even less... but, eh, what kind of fics I want to read fluctuates and varies so I never know when the mood is going to strike me to read whichever pairing or gen...
And, yeah, this was an icon used by someone commenting on my last entry, made by quietlyhonestly. Is tres cool, no?


One year my mom went to my sister's house for the traditional feast. Knowing how gullible my sister is, my mom decided to play a trick. She sent my sister to the store for something. When my sister left, my mom took the turkey out of the oven, removed the stuffing, stuffed a Cornish hen, and inserted it into the turkey, and re-stuffed the turkey. She then placed the bird(s) back in the oven.

When it was time for dinner, my sister pulled the turkey out of the oven and proceeded to remove the stuffing. When her serving spoon hit something, she reached in and pulled out the little bird.

With a look of total shock on her face, my mother exclaimed, "Patricia, you've cooked a pregnant bird!"

It took the family two hours to convince my sister that turkeys lay eggs.

Fin.