xans

So I just got home from a nice few days away with Alan. He's got like three weeks of leave. The first thing we did was on the Saturday before we left, we went up to Palmerston North for the birthday of Chris and Cathy's granddad. It was nice, although the weather was shite. We also caught up with a good friend of his, Kat, and checked out our old stomping grounds, the Woolworths-turned-Countdown (looking awesome!) and the slightly smaller Mitre 10 Mega. Said hi to a few folks.

Anyway, on the Tuesday, we drove up to Cathy's place in the Taranaki, just outside of a place called Manaia. The mountain decided to be shy, so no photos. We caught up with Cathy, I got to meet her partner Scott, and Cathy's mum Marty came over for dinner. Next day we checked out Opunake, the wee town where Chris and Cathy were teenagers and got into mischief. Looked at a couple stores, had a really nice coffee at the cafe there, before heading off. We decided to drive up to Hamilton by the New Plymouth route.

New Plymouth is one city neither Alan nor I have been to, and I would like to go back there for a longer stay at some stage. There were some interesting shops to check out and a coffee place we were reccommended but did not actually feel like stopping at this time. It was overcast but muggy and just a bit too hot for coffee. Our drive up the coast revealed some rather fine land sheltered between ocean and high hills and cliffs, ideal for cutting off and developing into a zombie-free zone. There were even tunnels ideal for building gates.

Arrived in Hamilton, where we planned to spend three nights and two days. Wandered around town Thursday morning before going over to pandoras_evil_t to visit and see my goddaughter. Sorcha is such a little cutie. Had a nice little visit, managed to score some rum for Alan for his birthday, as well as the gin and instant kiwi as part of my chrissy present. The instant kiwi won me $2. I may have imitated that macca's ad with the ginger when I found that.

Friday the 19th was Alan's birthday. He may have whined a bit that he didn't have cake, so I was going to make one... but first we went shopping at the Base. That took longer than I expected, and by the time we got back, dad was making the cake. So I agreed to do the icing. The evening's plan was to attend this concert and picnic dinner on the Rhodedendrum lawn of the Hamilton Gardens, and that was very entertaining. There was even cake for Alan, complete with icing.

My dad and Suzy found this ginger kitten outside their house just after Christmas, that they brought in. Suzy named him Sherlock, and she's his human. She doesn't understand this, but I've told her she gets no say in the matter. She's his favourite, and that's how it's going to be. I'm glad they have the kitten, as all their pets are getting on in years, and the puppy my step-sister Carla gave them last year died of a congenital thing after only a couple of weeks. Anyway, their new kitten is a bundle of mischief. But so cute.

Oh, and Alan was driving over to the Warehouse near where my dad lives, listening to the Rock, and he happened to be following the Rock van at the time. It gets announced tha the first person to the rock van outside would win a free Hell's pizza, so hey! He hopped on over and won us a free pizza. Unfortunately it was only from one of two hell's pizzas in Hams, so we grabbed it that evening even though we already had dinner sorted. It meant we had leftovers, hee.

Saturday we headed up to the Coromandal. Dad gave us directions to take this country route, but he got me confused after the third or fourth left-turn/right-turn, so we went the sign-posted way, and caught ourselves a hitch-hiker. He was this young South African guy heading to Paeroa to interview an old woman there (I forget her name) who had been charged for growing cannibis (she took it for her arthritis) with all these miscellaneous charges of gang-related stuff and all that. He was doing a doco about it but his ride had to cancel and so he was hitching. We were nice. :D

Anyway, should we ever win lotto, I think we'll be settling down in the Coromandel; it's really gorgeous up there, and the prices are not that bad. It's more expensive here where we live! But we got to the motor camp, had a look at the options available to stay in, and settled on these cabin/caraven hybrids, that were kitted with everything but toilets and hot water, and were only $65 a night. We were going to stay one night, and then decided to stay for two. And then Alan promptly went fishing, while I got a bit of sunbathing in.

I'd gone to grab the camera, and by the time I got back to Alan on the rocks, he'd caught his first snapper. It was only a little one, just barely legal (possibly) that was a fine addition to our dinner of fish and chips. Then Alan went for an evening fish, where I got some lovely sunset photos, and he caught another snapper, again small, but still legal. I don't know how we managed it, but we did wake before dawn and so he was able to get in a morning fish. One was too small and he had to throw back, but the other was fine.

We took a drive into Whitianga, where shops were amazingly open on a Sunday, and bought a couple things, checked out the local Mitre 10, and got some supplies from New World. Like beer. :D So in the afternoon I got some more sunbathing, he had rotton luck at fishing, before we went for another drive and explore... He tried for another evening fish, but nothing wanted to get caught, and they didn't in the morning, either.

Finally yesterday was the drive home, and it was a long drive home. Not only because of (extremely) slow drivers, and (frequent) roadworks, but because we did a bit of a tiki-tour without the aid of maps to show us the quickest route. I saw more of back country roads than I expected to, and learned I ought to be more assertive in my opinions, because the route I thought was more direct was the more direct, but he was leery of following a gravel road. No matter, it just meant we had a long day of him driving.

Coming home kinda sucked, because Joe and Heaven had been making use of the entire house, and that's fucked with my OCD. Things in the kitchen weren't where they were supposed to go, and they'd helped themselves to more than just the perishables we'd said they could use... I apologised to Alan because I kinda started bitching inside of five minutes, and it didn't help that I was tired (and thus, cranky) and that Joe wanted to fill us in on all the things that had been happening while we were gone and hear all about our trip right then and there. I think I told him a couple times we just wanted to relax and unwind a bit, if that wasn't too much trouble.

As it is, Gratch has formed a new bad habit. It started just before we left, but she has taken to curling up and sleeping on the dining table in the kitchen. I have taught her from an early age that kitchen benchtops and tables (be it dining, outdoor, or coffee) are off-limits to kitty. Now I'm going to have to fight her on it all over again.

Anyway, I posted some pictures from the holiday on my facebook, for those who are interested (and if you're interested but don't have me added on fb, feel free to make the request). So yeah. That's life.

Fin.

You know, there's this beautiful process known as the Process of Elimination. If I didn't do it, and Alan didn't do it, that leaves two other people in this house who must be resonsible. So why is it every time I confront them about something that's been done (or not done, or used, etc.) that I get an automatic denial? Unless we've got an invisible flatmate, and it's not me or Alan, it's got to be Joe or Heaven. Yes? Yes. So don't fucking tell me that it wasn't either one of you. :(

Fin.

Yeah, went and uploaded some new icons. Needed the revamp. Have decided I really do rather adore my layout and colour scheme, have done so for over three years now, I believe.

It is a likely possibility I will be in Vancouver, BC in July next year. And that means a trip down to WA to see mum and Gary and show off Seattle to Alan.

This means I really, really need job to save up dosh and everything. And this is also remembering I still want a sea kayak by this summer. Because, yeah, I live by the beach!

Um, if you're curious, go have a look at the sg1_five_things latests posts after they're unscreened on September 14. I decided to write for a couple.

Banana choc chip muffins and Banana Cake are still made of win.

Joe and Heaven being back is made of fail.

Alan wants the computer, so I better stop all this now. I'll be happy when he gets his own box again.

Fin.

Okay, so, wow, my last update was way back at the beginning of the year. Since then, Alan's son Joe has moved into our sleepout, and more days than not, his girlfriend Heaven lives with us as well. Not best pleased about this, but he's Alan's boy, and while Joe's an aggravation, I understand not kicking him to the curb when we can offer him temporary shelter. The problem is that Joe is lazy and has little motivation to get a job, which he needs to afford a flat.

I feel slightly hypocritical to critisize his laziness in job-hunting, since I have been pretty slack myself in the months since we've moved here. The difference is that Alan's salary is able to support both of us and thus, while I would like a job for my own spending money and to help cover some of the bills, it is not exactly urgent that I be working. Joe, on the otherhand, has to pay board because of the extra food costs feeding him and his girlfriend. I could go on with my complaints about them, but perhaps I shall save my rant for later.

One nice thing about living where we are is that we now see Chris and Tarns (and the grandkids) more often. The twins are as cute as ever, although Isabella is definitely my favourite. Danielle has a tendency to cling to her nana (Tarn's mum Lisa) and cry if anyone else tries to hold her. Sadly, Lisa's husband Danny (Danielle's namesake) passed away from a heart attack at the end of May. He had lung cancer and was very ill, but while not unexpected, it's still sad for Tarn's and her family. Apparently his ghost likes to haunt their new home a bit and switch the tv channel to the crime channel all the time.

Speaking of cancer, my grandpa (dad's dad) has all sorts of cancer through his body, and is not doing so well. I've had a bit of pressure from Dad and Iain to find a way to see him and grandma before it's too late, since I haven't seen them since 1993. One thing that stops me is that my US passport is expired and NZ one is missing, and so I have the cost of replacing those, plus air fares... Naturally if I take a trip to the US mum will expect me to stop in WA for part of the trip, so that's an extra cost to work out. Currently I don't have the funds, and while Iain has offered to help, I'm still a very independent girl.

My other problem with this is that, while they may be my grandparents, they are rather Christian goody-goods and I do not feel I have a lot in common with them. Naturally I will hear the same encouragements about finishing my degree and being the last of nine grandchildren to do this, that, or the other thing. There's also the fact they refer to Alan as my 'friend' rather than boyfriend or partner, which, little thing though it is, makes me want to grind my teeth a little.

In November it will be two years for Alan and I, which is rather cool. He says if we make three years he will seriously consider making it legal. Which is sweet. I love him dearly.

As some of you commented in my last entry, yes, my 24th birthday was just a couple of weeks ago. I got most of my presents early, in a couple sweet parcels from my mum, and then what Alan bought me. He promised me two things: a particular lego set, and rack of lamb. Plus something else unspecified. In the end that unspecified gift turned out to be a set of earrings and necklace that are tear-drop rubies. :D Very pretty and nice and totally unexpected. Plus the lego, one of the new pirate sets, and then on my birthday we went to a restaurant where I had rack of lamb.

I haven't got it yet, but Joe and Heaven asked what they could get me for my birthday and I requested the book Pride & Prejudice and Zombies. Ever since I saw it advertised in the Warehouse mailer I've wanted it for the sheer crackiness of it. I think it could be all kinds of awesome.

Wiki- According to Grahame-Smith, the original text of the novel was well-suited for use as a zombie horror story:

“You have this fiercely independent heroine, you have this dashing heroic gentleman, you have a militia camped out for seemingly no reason whatsoever nearby, and people are always walking here and there and taking carriage rides here and there,” he said. “It was just ripe for gore and senseless violence. From my perspective anyway."

One of my motivations to get a job, actually, is that I've put on a bit of weight in the time I've been with Alan. I'm not fat, or any such thing, but I've gone from a size 10 to a size 12-14, and 34-D to 34/36-DD depending on style. It's not that I want to lose a lot of weight, but I'd like to be a comfortable size 12 instead of an uncomfortable 12/borderline 14. Also I just wanna be more fit so that if/when the zombies arrive I'm not so out of shape that they can catch me.

In another week and a half I'm going to to Hamilton to hopefully be present for the birth of pandoras_evil_t's parasite. Provided the baby's on time. Anyhow, here's hoping that doesn't imbue me with either the strong desire to copy, or the strong desire to never do the baby-making thing. Should be fun, eh? :D

Fin.

Yet another story out of my cousin John recently, same old style, but not the usual subject...

Yesterday we were celebrating Thanksgiving with a family from our church. I don’t recall how the topic came up, but somehow I found myself talking about my childhood, specifically the story you’re about to read. Thinking about it was so fun I decided to write this story. No, this is not my typical story about my zany adventures at work; this is a story about being a juvenile delinquent.

So there I was…

…Sitting in my sixth grade science class listening to Mr. Brannon, my teacher, wax eloquently about the structure of atoms. This was my first foray into nuclear science, and I was fascinated. I sat transfixed as he described the way protons, neutrons, and electrons interact with each other and bond to form atoms. Right then and there I decided to be a nuclear physicist. Of course, that didn’t last once I learned my brain doesn’t wrap itself around differential equations and other types of math that doesn’t even involve numbers, but that’s not the point of the story.

It got even better when Mr. Brannon explained the process of electrolysis, where electrical current is run through water to break apart the hydrogen and oxygen molecules. He demonstrated it by running current through a beaker full of water, and we could all see the tiny gas bubbles forming on the electrodes.

I said to myself, “Self,” (that’s what I call myself), “We have an easy, cheap way of obtaining two pure, highly flammable gasses. Now what can we do with that?”

Imagine, if you will, the metaphorical light bulb over my head pulsating with sheer delight when I came up with the idea. I rushed home after school and went right into the garage, not even bothering to drop my backpack in the house. I got a five-gallon bucket, filled it with water, and brought it back into the garage. In hindsight twenty years later, I think maybe doing this in the garage wasn’t a good idea, but that’s neither here nor there.

Once I had a bucket of water, I stole some wire coat hangers from in the house and cut the straight bottoms off them. That way I had two straight wires about a foot long each. I set those aside. I dug out dad’s car battery charger and set it up next to the bucket, then put the wires into the alligator clips. I stuck the alligator clips into the water and made sure they didn’t touch – I wanted the current going through the water, not completing a circuit between the electrodes. My next step was to put a garbage bag over the bucket and tape it off with masking tape (I didn’t use the ol’ standby of duct tape because I didn’t want the bag to tear when I tore it off). Finally, I plugged in the battery charger.

Being merely twelve years old, I had the patience of a twelve year-old. I could barely contain myself waiting for the bag to fill up, which took almost a week if memory serves me. It felt like it took all year, though, and at times I wondered if I was going to be married and moved away before I had a garbage bag of 2/3 hydrogen and 1/3 oxygen.

In the meantime, however, I got a two-foot length of cannon fuse from a friend, James. You see, hobby shops at the time regularly sold cannon fuse. It wasn’t hard to come by, wasn’t controlled, and apparently no one assumed twelve year-olds buying cannon fuse were up to anything dangerous (don’t let your twelve year-olds read this, but it still holds true today. Just go to the black powder section of Sportsman’s Warehouse).

Ok, the longest week of my life (up until then) was over, and the bag was full of flammable gas. I couldn’t stop myself from giggling as I carefully pealed the masking tape off, then quickly closed the bag so as not to lose any of the precious material inside. I inserted the fuse so about twenty inches or so was sticking out the bottom, then taped the bag shut.

Essentially, I had just created a garbage bag-sized balloon that was lighter than air (due to being 2/3 hydrogen) and had a fuse for a handle. HOW AWESOME!!!

I hadn’t bothered to tell any of my friends about my little “science experiment,” for fear their sixth grade mouths would run and tell someone. I took my experiment outside by myself into the alley behind our garage, lit the fuse, and let go.

It was a beautiful thing to watch that brown garbage bag float higher and higher, anxiously awaiting the impending earth-shattering kaboom. I had planned for my own safety very well, however, by making the fuse so long – I didn’t want to be anywhere near that thing when it exploded. In the two minutes or so it took the fuse to burn down, the balloon floated so high I couldn’t even see it anymore. “Darn,” I said to myself, thinking it would be too far away to enjoy the benefits of my labor.

BOOOOOOMMM!!!! Came the report. I couldn’t actually see the bag anymore, but a big orange and blue ball of flame was all the evidence I needed to know where it was – er, had been. I doubt any fragments of the bag survived, and even if they did I never found them. About three seconds later, I think, I actually felt the shockwave push against my head and chest, and car alarms started going off throughout the neighborhood (those were a new thing in those days).

I was so giddy I actually started jumping up and down, laughing hysterically in a way that strangely reminds me of my two year-old son today. Every time he gets excited and starts laughing like that, I think of how grey my hair is going to be in about ten years.

DOOM ON ME!!!

What an interesting weekend we had... Friday and Saturday being our weekend.

On Friday we came into town to meet up with Alan's sons Chris and Joe (my first time meeting Joe). I also bought this celtic triquetra necklace at Lotz of Potz... see if I can find a picture online of sort of what it looks like. ETA: Something like this only pointing down. And we had coffee at cafe cuba after chatting with the boys. Thought about seeing Sweeney Todd, but missed the afternoon screening and didn't want to wait until night. Had things that needed doing at home, like the dishes. And when he was preparing dinner, I was sitting on the floor sorting out my CDs while listening to Josh Groban (the CD is slightly fucked though. Maybe there were too many scratches on the one we copied, but the sound is off on some of the tracks... but plenty of it is just fine and his is a beautiful voice.)

Anyway, we were doing the dishes when Alan got a text from his youngest, Jon, asking if he could come see him. Jon's had to go to hospital since he had been having these nosebleeds that wouldn't stop, and he was falling over from blood loss. They've cauterized about seven veins in his nose, but they think the one that is not stopping is up too high in the nose. Have to cut in from the side and such. But the poor boy is confined to the bed, alone in Wellington hospital, his gf unable to visit (she having just had a minor op on her ovaries), and yeah... he wanted to see his dad.

Oh, I should mention that Chris had his boyracer car stolen, with his gf's computer and his cellphone in it as well. We were going to borrow Tarns' comp to attach Alan's computer as a slave and back up some files before reformatting it since his XP's gone caput. And Joe is staying with them at the moment because he just broke up with his gf. As I said to Alan, about all we need now is a text from Kathy saying, "Dad, I'm pregnant and I've broken up with Scott."

So Saturday we didn't go to the gypsy fair, buy my computer from Harvey Norman (more about that), and see Sweeney Todd. We went to Wellington, visited Jon, didn't see my friend Glenn (had hoped to), bought my computer from Harvey Norman (hang on, I'll detail that in a bit), visited Alan's brother Steve in Greytown and got his dragons back... it was an eventful day, and we did rather enjoy our weekend. And now I have my computer.

For now, it's name is Orlando. It was the first name to come to mind, but I may change it if someone can suggest something better. My other option is Mr. Burns. My account name is Bitchcakes.

Anyway, this is the info from the catalogue, for the curious:

HP Pavilion M9070A Media Centre PC with 19” Wide LCD
• Intel® Pentium® Dual Core 1.8GHz • 1GB RAM • 320GB HDD
• Dual Layer LightScribe DVD±RW SuperMultiDrive
• nVidia GeForce 8400M GS 256MB Graphics with HDMI output
• 15-in-1 card reader • Built-in wireless • Built-in TV Tuner & Remote
• Windows® Vista™ Home Premium.

All that for NZD$1798 (down about $400), plus we got speakers worth about $70 or $80 for $30, and then there was the 2GB flash drive they were selling for $26 that had been about $60. So all up I spent $1854 to get my baby. Lord, but I had that moment of nervousness of having it say DECLINED on my purchase, even though I knew I had to have close to twice that in my account.

And the Vista thing isn't too much of a problem, except that my darling gave me the Dungeon Siege game, and it's incompatible with Vista. We have no internet at home at the moment, so I can't just hop on and dl a patch so I can play it. Mostly the problem with having Vista at the moment is that it's not very good without an internet connection. ~le sigh~ We need to speak to the landlord, see about the kind of internet they have-if it's just dial-up or it is possible to get broadband out where we live, but it'll suck to just have dial-up. It's a little annoying that not only can they not sell me an XP disc, but that Vista comes pre-loaded onto the computer, so I don't even have a disc for that. Should I have a problem and need to reformat, I'd have to go out and buy a disc. That's just not cool.

Anyway, mostly I'm happy with my shiny new computer. It is a thing of dark beauty. That being said, it shows my priorities are straight when five minutes after getting home, I'm not on the computer loading some other game, but stripping the clothes off my darling for a bit of lovin'. And that he's letting me, instead of heading back out the the car to grab his tobacco and rolling a ciggy first. We're so in love with being in love with each other.

Fin.

So I've sort of been keeping a mental list of actor's voices I would adore to hear narrating anything--even the driest text book, if only to hear their voices. It includes:

Pierce Brosnan
Liam Neeson
Tim Curry
Jeremy Irons
Alan Rickman
Vin Diesel
James Earl Jones
Morgan Freeman
Lawrence Fishbourne

And I'm nto sure who else I could adore... ideas, f-list? (thanks to peaseblossom03 for discussing with me, as well. :D)

I felt really bad for my flatmate this morning. See, he's a bit of a night owl, as well has having some family drama in the middle of the night, was cursed with insomnia. I myself suffered the same, although not as bad as him... but enough to sympathise. Anyway, I contented myself with reading some fanfic before I went back to bed and managed to fall asleep. Unfortunately, I was woken around four in the morning (again) by the sound of his angry voice on the phone (again), and once I managed to gather there was swearing and an ex involved, I tuned him out and amazingly fell back asleep. Made plans to offer my sympathetic ear in the morning if he needed to rant.

Anyway, this guys kids get up at the crack of dawn all the time. I honestly don't know what's wrong with them that they never, ever sleep in. On a good weekend, they're quiet and I don't have them waking me. On a bad weekend, there's thumping (is there something about children and running everywhere in the house? Savannah was as bad when we were on Amarah baby-sitting duty...) and bickering. This is a bad weekend. Michaela, especially, is loud, but Callum is eleven and can be an ass to his sister while she's a bossy little britches. So there was much fighting this morning. I got up in hopes of, y'know, getting them to shut up and having Michaela stop knocking on her dad's door for advice on their cookie baking to let the poor man sleep.

I asked him later if he got any sleep at all, and apparently there was a couple of hours and he's okay, but, yeah, he got a bit grumpy with them when the fighting got too loud. Bloody kids. Would happily stuff them under pillows, at the moment.

Fin.

Part of being a student means having an experimental mindset when it comes to food. As I like to refer myself to poor and starving, I sometimes have to balance covering nutritional necessities, food cravings, shelf-life, and cost. Sometimes I'm using less than $30 to last me two weeks worth of meals. It also means having a steady supply of rice, pasta, and sometimes potatoes as a base for meals. *shrugs*

It helps, in a way, that I am a geek, because I picked up the habit long ago of skipping a meal or two in favour of reading, or games. And, sometimes, I just ain't hungry, y'know? (Frustratingly enough, I also have those opposite times when every five minutes my tummy's rumbling and I haven't always done anything to warrant such an appetite) But, also, after some weirdness when I was 17 involving an almost inability to eat leading to depression, I try to be aware of how much I can get away with not eating before I'm gonna seriously crash. And try not to pull anything stupid like that ever again.

So, given that I sometimes have a fairly limited budget, and in the case of right now--no fridge, so many perishables are out--I have learned to be a bit, hmmm, crazy, shall we say? How to make limited ingredients meet dietary needs and also be palatable. To not make something so often I get sick of it. To find what tastes good while also being something you won't find in any recipe book.

I have to admit, some of my meals have been downright weird. There was this one that involved cucumber, apple, chicken soup, and I can't remember what else--maybe carrot, tomato, and either potato or rice--that was actually quite nice. And many meals contain noodles of some kind. So I've learned to make things to make the noodles not so plain. Like last night, I wanted to try something completely different, and it turned out to be delicious. Would have gone down well cold as well, methinks. That was some salad/cooking oil, oregano, a few drops of XXX hot sauce, and some lemon pepper dressing/marinade poured over the noodles and eggs. Sometimes I put some curry powder in with the rice when I microwave it, or coconut oil for flavouring.

I'm very good at sort of throwing things together. Like, if there's several things of leftovers in the fridge, but none of them is enough to be a meal in its own right? And, y'know, it's a horrible thing to let leftovers go to waste... gods, mum and Gary were terrible about this. I used to get so frustrated about the clutter in the fridge. Once, we'd lost power for one reason or another, but the fridge and freezer needed cleaning out, and I complained to mum about finding two or more bottles of the same thing, both partially used (and then, if I could, I put them in one bottle alone), and her excuse? Not being able to find the first one because of so much stuff in the fridge. And whose fault was that, I wonder? Um. Anyway. Mixing up leftovers.

That week or so I spent babysitting Amarah with Laura and Savannah? There were a couple nights there where I had to cobble something together, because Dad and Suzy were off doing other things, and Laura's no kitchen goddess. Gods, trying to think up quick, easy meals that taste nice and the girls would actually eat. And using leftovers. Apparently, frying up some mince and then adding leftover baked beans and tinned spaghetti was a stroke of genius. Huh.

Of course, over the summer, Thursday nights were my time to shine and give Dad and Suzy a break from the kitchen. Many times, Suzy would end up complaining, not because my cooking sucks, but because Dad invariably had a compliment for me (excluding the really simple stuff, like meat pies and peas). Apparently her forays into cooking don't garner such thanks and praise. But still, most meals I cobbled together went down well with both of them, even though I often forgot Suzy doesn't have the same appetite as me and my father, and her serving was almost always too much.

*giggles* The one time I had fish and chips for lunch and was still too full for my own cooking five or so hours later, I was henceforth verboten from having big lunches--ever--so I didn't spoil my dinner. There were a few meals that I'm pretty sure Dad didn't care for a repeat, because he'd say it was, "Nice," "Okay," or "Different," which was about the best Suzy usually got from him about her cooking, if he even commented on it at all. His excuse was that he was encouraging me in my cooking, and Suzy would wonder why she wasn't being encouraged, also? I suppose because as his wife it was expected she cook. *grins*

Now, generally speaking, I don't consider any particular food as something I'm addicted to. Like, particularly known addictive things, such as coffee, or alcohol. One might argue chocolate is addictive also. Certainly, these are all things I enjoy, sometimes in large quantities (and of decent quality). However, I can, have, and will go without one or more of these for days, weeks, or months at a time. No withdrawal, and many times, no cravings.

I think it's entirely likely, however, I am actually addicted to sugar. I simply have to have something/anything sweet to satisfy my sugar cravings. I'm positive at one stage I was truly addicted to soda pop, until my mother went and removed the temptation from the house as she worked on improving her diet to lower cholesterol and all that fun stuff. I did insist, however, that she replace the soda with Capri Sun so I had some sort of drink to take with me for lunches because plain water was something I hated.

Well, I kicked the soda addiction, but I don't think I've ever truly lost the sugar addiction. I suppose it's something of the western world, and the prevalence of sugar in so many foods. But sometimes sweet is just what I need. Though, that doesn't necessarily mean unhealthy. 'Cause fruit is sweet (and sometimes sharp and tangy, mmm) or honey. Oh, honey. Many blessings upon bees and their fine creations. I love honey.

And there's peanutbutter. Oh my god, as a child, I adored the stuff (my dad and brother claimed it made me fart a lot, but I just farted all the time to gross them out. Oh, wait, wasn't I supposed to be a girl? *snerk*) But peanutbutter goes with so many things. Honey, jam, cheese, celery, banana, in a sauce over lamb/beef kebabs and rice... but not chocolate. No, no, no, never with chocolate. Peanuts and chocolate is also a bad combo. (I may be this prejudiced after an incident involving a jumbo bag of peanut M&Ms, and a movie theatre, but, I can truthfully say I've always hated peanutbutter cups liek whoa.) Also, vegemite. I love vegemite, but I'd have to be on crack to mix it with peanutbutter, methinks.

Back to coffee, I was just chatting with my mum about it involving a similar rant to the one in my last entry... I mentioned I should look into acquiring proper coffee grounds, as I own a single-person/serving plunger for my real coffee needs. Part of that again, is budget--coffee is a low priority given my lack of addiction, and real coffee, well, I can't remember how much it is, actually. I joked that it's a pity they don't sell the big cans of Folger's coffee grounds (or if they do, I don't know where to find them) 'cause one of those would last me for ages. And now? She's looking into sending me one, though it would be by surface 'cause I imagine a package just over 1KG would cost a fair bit to send. I love my mum.

Okay, that's enough of my rambling for now. Almost time for me to make some dinner. :D

Fin.

Today I'm wearing my black mesh top, and I didn't think anything of it, because I'd also thrown on a zip-up hoodie and it wasn't like you could see much of anything. But then, after my walk, I'd taken it off and stood by Amarah (she was sitting on the bench while the Suzy and Laura put things together for tonight's stew) and she could stop staring at my stomach. Because, oh, yeah, through the mesh top the gold navel ring was visible. So I had to let her look and touch my belly ring, and got her to call it pretty.

Now I've currently got the house to myself as Dad's at church and the others have gone to K-mart. I didn't really feel like shopping. I mostly felt like catching up my f-list, particularly the latest chapter of Laocoon's Children over at sam_storyteller. Hee.

Fin.

I wish I could sleep better, but Savannah the Bratsome people just don't know how to be fucking quiet. And dadother people slam the bloody door because they can't figure out the lock. *shakes head* I will rest better in my own bed back at Dad's.

In other news, there's a bag of Carla's old clothing in the back of her car, that us girls went through... I scored about six or so decent pairs of pants, and some more hoodies and a couple tops. I... don't think I needa go shopping for clothes any time soon.

And, now, time for the sheepage...

Meme 1
Reply to this post, and I will tell you my favorite icon of yours. Then post this to your own journal using your own favorite icon.

(My icon? Well, mebbe you know what that's all about)

Meme 2
Comment here and I'll tell you one thing that I like about you. Then go post it in your LJ and return the sentiment.

Fin.

Edit: Don't forget the meme I posted yesterday as well, f-list! Only macjinx has done it, and I'd like more answers and such, if, y'know, it's not TOO MUCH TROUBLE. :P