Tuesday, October 30, 2007
The bruise seems to have reached a peak of purpleness, and the red is fading away. I'm just waiting for the healing signs of yellow and green to appear. It hurts much less, but itches like crazy. I can't scratch it though, because then it really hurts, so a bit of gentle buffing with my trouserleg across the itchy bit.
I had my last visit with the physio today. My shoulders are showing improvements and my therapy has been left in my own capable hands. In case you forgot (Or maybe I never mentioned, it is possible) I have impingements on both shoulders due to overly tight pectorals, and a weaker back - the muscles in between the shoulder blades in particular. I've done a whole lot of: shoulders back and down, tits out and hold.
I passed the hairstylist who last cut my hair, and she gave me smile, said hello and then gave me a funny look like "That's not my work." Very true it's not her work, I didn't quite like her work, she gave me a mini-mullet. So I pulled out my clippers and tidied it up at the back with a comb extension. I've had compliments ever since.
That's about it. Sassyface is off to a Halloween party tonight. I'm not looking forward the weeks of sugar rush coming our way.
Bruise update picture:
Monday, October 29, 2007
This was bought for me at Christmas time by my brother who is a big fan of Christopher Moore. He sent me two books actually, and I never got around to reading either until now. I'm kind of like that. He's asked me many times "Have you read those books yet?" uhm...no *blush* sorry. It's because I'm a sucker for the New Shiny Book! And if a newer shinier book crosses my path I must have it. This happens a lot at the library, and with book reviews I read online. I just buy and then read and toss aside looking for a new shiny.
I did start this book when I got it back in December. I got to the middle of chapter two, as told by my bookmark, and then forgot about it. I remember why I put it down now: The writer has a thing for smilies. They were obnoxiously placed in every paragraph it seemed in the early part of the story. Examples, page three on describing a Charity Santa's ringing bells "..they rang their bells like they were going for dog-spit gold at the Pavlov Olympics." next paragraph as someone walks by the Santa who previously promised to donate on exit " ...he blew by her kettle like she was using it to render tallow from the building inspectors' butts and he needed to escape the stench."oh and my personal favourite on page 55 "Lena jumped back and screamed like a bunny in a blender." ...how would you know...I don't want to know.
Now I don't mind the odd one here or there, but in the beginning it was becoming a distraction and I was begging the writer to just tell me how something really was and not how something was like something else totally ridiculous, because it's killing the flow! Thankfully, that stuff petered out by chapter four and I could get into the story.
It's about small town California at Christmas and this town, full of amazingly weird and very well created characters, goes insane and are put through hell. First off, a rat bastard gets killed in the woods accidentally by his ex-wife while he's dressed as Santa and a wee boy sees thinks: Santa's dead! Christmas is hosed! (Hosed being his words, not mine.) The ex-wife kind of freaks, but as luck would have it, a rather laid back, kind-of out there ultra-calm...remember the model, Hansel, Owen Wilson plays in Zoolander? Well he shows up at just the right time to calm Lena down, let her see the funny side of this situation and, while helping her bury the body, asks her out on a date. Tuck totally reminds me of Hansel, only he has a pet fruit bat, that wears little pink ray-ban sunglasses. I'm sure Hansel would find that totally surreal and awesome.
The town constable is married to a former actress who was a Xena type character and is a bit crazy, but she goes off her anti-psychotic meds to save money to buy hubby a nice X-mas present. The conversations she has with her "voices" are wonderful. Actually, I found her adventures the most interesting of the whole book.
There's also a big, very beautifully handsome man wandering the town, looking a bit Goth asking where the nearest child is. He soon becomes public enemy number one as everyone thinks he's some sicko pedophile. But he's not, odd things happen with this guy, like he can't be killed, even when run over by a car. Twice.
The story is very fast paced and easy to read. I did have a few laugh out loud moments until I got to: The Zombies. I'm sure my brother knows I have nightmares from anything zombie, why would he send me a book with zombies in it?? Brain eating zombies at that?! Brain eating zombies - at Christmas! Does he not know about the years of self induced insomnia during my college years after watching Night of the Living Dead and it's subsequent nightmares?? I can't even watch the Thriller video these days! But really! A Christmas story with murder, fruit bats, pot smoking cops and brain eating zombies?! So, of course I read on...
I admit I liked this book. Really. Zombies aside, for at least they are funny zombies. The rest is just wild. (As if that's not wild enough) The Author's note at the start of the book, is quite promising: "If you're buying this book for your grandma or a kid, you should be aware that it contains cusswords as well as tasteful depictions of cannibalism and people in their forties having sex. Don't blame me. I told you." And he didn't lie either.
That's all I'm going to say on it. It's just so involved and has many interesting subplots "By the purple horn of Nigoth, I command you to boil!" screeched the Warrior Babe. What good was a higher power, after all, if he wouldn't help you cook your ramen noodles?" Seriously, Molly is my favourite. I do recommend, if you want a bit of fun and crazy from a very well paced, plotted story with brilliantly created characters, get this one. It's a super quick read, took me a day, couldn't put it down. That had some to do with the good story, and also to do with a child who thinks it's funny to pull out my bookmarks while I'm away.
So, as soon as I'm done with my Josie Dew: A Gaijin in Japan; a travel book from her bicycle tour of Japan which I'm enjoying Very Much, I'll read the other book my brother gave me, Fluke
Bruise update: colours are coming in, swelling is down, still hurts. I'll have a great time in work tonight not being able to kneel, and I may not be able to pull a heavy cage as the muscles in my calf are really sore, they feel like they're about to spring into cramp at any second. Sassy has an appointment this afternoon to get her tooth fixed, fingers crossed it'll go easy-peasy.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
The weather was beautiful; cool, breezy and gorgeous sunshine. We were quite relieved really as it had blown a scary gale last night with pouring rain. The first thing I saw were a pair of albino peacocks walking near the parking lot. The palace as several peacocks on the grounds, but the white ones were new to us. they were just as brave as the others though and in no time were nudging hands for treats.
We'd arrived just before the 11:00 and to quick get the girls into their costumes and join the group for the ghost tour. Sassy-face was beyond excited, all high animation and big smiles. When we were ready, she bolted for the gates. "Don't run!" I shouted, as she was in a parking lot, but undeterred she ran on, right for the blocked gate and WHAM! I watched her face hit the metal bar, her feet fly up from under her and she landed hard on her back. We ran over and I watched her spit teeth. All we could think was "OH Fuck! My Baby!" and we both ran to her just as she realized what had happened and burst into tears. She quickly became hysterical when she figured out her tooth was broken. I did what every mother would do, I picked her up; my eight year old, no longer light as a feather baby and was going to carry her to the picnic tables nearby to calm her down. Just as I was about to lift her, I put my foot in the wrong place and lost the lower half of my leg down the cattle grid.
To say it hurt was an understatement, but by this time the adrenaline was surging through all of us, so with a "For Fuck's sake!" I pulled my leg out, picked up my hysterical baby and fast-walked her to a seat. Lots of hugs, lots of kisses, close looks: Not too bad, just the bottom of the left front tooth was sheared off, but no blood, no root exposed, not even a fat lip. She must have been smiling as she was running, and she says she never saw the bar. Her neck was fine, her back was fine, no sign of concussion. WHEW! (Is it wrong that I picked up the bits of spat out tooth and pocketed them?)My leg was a bit sore, but just a couple of scratches on each side, I'd just walk it off.
And undeterred, with a bit of a whimper and a lot of "Don't worry, we'll call the dentist in the morning." supportive hugs "You're still beautiful." "Just looks like the tooth is growing in still, darling. Not noticeable at all." We joined the group on the ghost walk only missing a little bit. We had a lovely time with the ghost tour, and it was fun. Death (A teenager in goth boots and a black cape and balaclava) walked up to Sassy and tapped her on the shoulder, and she just looked back at him, even though she'd been told she would be turned to stone if she did...brave kid. Shorty proceeded to stare intently at my shoulder as I held her; she was taking no chances at looking at Death.
After the tour, which ended with a mini-movie, dunking ("Dookin'") for apples and eating treacle scones off bits of string with arms held behind the back, we had a wander around the grounds on our own. A nice walk through the pinetum in search of warblers and pretty cones. The ground was a bit boggy, and they must have had the gales and rain like we did the night before. Just on our way to check out the new young trees I said to shorty "Stop!" in a firm voice as she was about to walk through a grass covered puddle. Now stop in a firm voice almost always works, as this a most obliging kid, but not today. Today stop meant run. And she ran into the puddle and almost like deja vu the feet flipped out from under her and she landed flat on her back. In a cold, muddy puddle. "I'm Soaking!" She cried and I read her the riot act as I walked her to the nearest bench to redress her in dry clothes. I still carry a spare outfit, just in case.
Three strikes. We decided not to risk Husband's luck and made our way to the car to get home. Once at the car I decided to look at my leg, as it was getting a wee bit sore now. On lifting my trouser leg up, I saw the biggest bruise I've ever had in my life. Almost the size of my hand and was raised on the inside of my calf and getting hot. I laughed. What else can I do? Bag of frozen peas when I get home.
So far, Husband remains unharmed. The stress of watching his girls get hurt and soaked have done enough for his stress levels to warrant we all get one more day of vacation tomorrow. But that can't be arranged. So I bought cake instead. Cake heals a lot of wounds.
No pictures of the broken tooth allowed (I asked, she says no) but here's the beginnings of a gorgeous bruise. I'll update the colours tomorrow. The big one looks a bit like a butterfly, and the small one on the other side shows my leg fell right up to the knee. I'm very lucky I didn't break my leg. (And yes, I have chicken skin, shut up.)
Friday, October 26, 2007
(Can you tell the kids are still on Fall break? I swear I just tidied all that crap away.)
It's the cookbook I won in Doug's contest last month. Thank you Doug! Pictures of baking will follow soon. *HUG*
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Have no clue what I'm talking about (It's not uncommon, really) then read the last paragraph of my previous post.
OH! And just so you now after several weeks of trying out WordPress, I've decided: It sucks. It would be fine if I was using my own webspace, but I'm not so it's just a pain. blogger is far easier to use. So I'm coming back. To all of you folks who changed your blogrolls to accomodate my Wordpress change: Sorry!!! I'm such a fickle bitch.
Kidnapped is about New York Socialite Tate Baxter who lives her life in a high security bubble. She suffers with agoraphobia and has intense fears of being kidnapped for ransom and murdered. She's gotten away from murderous kidnappers once before, but who knows about next time. So she has a lot of high tech, but invisible, security. Not so invisible is her chauffeur, Michael Caulfield. Mikey is a highly trained ex-CIA special expert guy. He's tough, focussed and hot with gorgeous blue eyes.
Tate's shrink offers up a suggestion to help her get over her fears of getting kidnapped by planning and enacting her own kidnap with help of specialist acting kidnappers. Yeah! That sounds good, we'll fake a kidnapping and you can work through your breathing techniques and coping mechanisms and shit, remember your happy place, find your happy place...got it, great. Except something goes wrong and she ends up kidnapped for real, thinking it's the staged kidnap. Michael, also thinking it's the staged kidnapping, lets her go. Uhm...shit!
So there she is, really kidnapped, terrified, sucking wind in mid-panic attack and the fucking actors aren't listening to her code word (which is: Stop. I found this lacking in originality. I'm sure S&M couples come up with better safe words than Stop, like "Armageddon" or "Spunk Monkey" but then if you are in the middle of a panic attack, stop may be the only word one can utter...so I let it go.) Lucky for her, Michael has her hooked up to GPS (in her handbag, I was expecting the under-wiring of her bra, but I digress) so he's able to follow and find her. He never calls anyone though, because he still doesn't know it's real and not fake, and Tate made him promise not to tell her Dad.
They both end up captive and there's a lot of worry talk about how they'll die, and how well Tate's dealing with this. Handcuffed together in a small bed, kind of cozy really, and then, well....confession time. Mikey is pretty good with a comb and gets out of his handcuffs, and the two manage a few passionate end of the world "Armageddon!" no no...sorry...ahem, yes they get jiggy in the waves on the boat of captive lurve. But did they handcuff each other or make us of said handcuffs? No. Forbidden fantasies pishaw! Ok ok, there was that detail about Tate having cut wrists from the handcuffs, so it's not S&M erotica, but she could've clamped up Mikey at least once! Oh, yeah wait - it's not me, it's Tate and she's got panic issues. *sigh* ok she gets the warm comforting cuddles under the duvet to the peaceful sway of the ocean.
The bad guys are bad, a wee bit cliche gangster types but acceptable. I kept expecting the big chef guy to be a double agent, but no, just a gangster with a penchant for French cuisine. Anyways, we spend a lot of time in Tate's head where she's building herself up, refocusing her confidence, as she's not had a heart attack or anything and she's coping well, and maybe she'll get a few kicks in before they toss her overboard. Bolstering reminiscences of pilates classes, yoga and self-defense coaching as well as a lot of supportive noises from Michael hint to me that an ass kicking turn about is coming Tate's way and I want to read about it!
I don't know how much more I can get into without revealing the story, as it is a 243 page story so the action is boom, boom, boom. They ultimately end up in the Cayman Islands where Tate has a bank account full of millions that the kidnappers want, and the plans for getting her to sign over her money all seems a bit thin, but works in the end. I kept thinking, Tate can just get into the office and say "Fuck you, I'm in a safe place. neener neener, I'm going shopping," and then kung-fu his kidnapper's ass all over the bank's fancy entrance. But then the kidnappers kept Micheal on the boat and threatened to kill him if she didn't sign over the money, so that was a bust. No, she goes in, signs everything like a good compliant wee chicken.
But, I was right to expect an ass kicking scene! And it came, and it was: A kick to the balls and a temper tantrum. What?! That's it?? I wanted a bit more damage than that. A Yoga strengthened high kick to the face followed by a few rabbit punches and a high heeled shoe piercing the bad guy's big toe. Something more! All that training and the bad guy is brought down by a knee to the nads. That was only one of two things that irked me, but they were both minor irks. The second one was they didn't mention a reward for Tate's safe return until the very end. I think that should've had a small mention somewhere earlier in the story when the Best Friend and Daddy Baxter have a conversation.
So it's rather good, for a quick read. It's something that could've been spread out and made even more intense, but I understand the market it was written for has it's stringent rules on word counts. I think it's a good sign that I wanted more from the story, that I could see it going further. It was very good with the uncertain outcomes, and kept me reading. Anyone want it? I'll post it to whoever e-mails me first at lyvvie at gmail.com.
Now for something completely different...
What the hell is this?!? (I love the music, BTW) I mean, it doesn't look sexy, it doesn't look comfortable, it doesn't look...right. It's just not right! And it's expensive!! Then there's this creepy mannequin that invites you to rub her and turn her knobs, and she rewards you with moans of pleasure. How long have women been saying "Are you trying to tune the radio or turn me on? Because you're failing at both." So Moaning Lisa isn't helping those inept nipple tuners one bit. When are they (Hey! Sex toy manufacturers, listen up!) going to get around to making a Cherry 2000 because I want a Barry 2000. No, no a George (Clooney!) 2000 with perfected mischievous smirk. Tell me, who would you want as your robot love slave? I can't be the only one who had Data fantasies after hearing about his extensive programming in many ways of pleasuring.
Monday, October 15, 2007
My friend Sarah is an amazing talent and started this project a couple years ago. Asking women to photograph themselves when crying, to show the exposed beauty in moments of pain. (I sent her a picture of Shorty. She's in the group.)
Show Sarah some love over at her blog, Sarah's Art Blog.