An E-mail for my Husband

Darling dear,
seeing as how there is now only ONE sleep until your birthday (and the fact that I just found the site) I felt I should tell you which rock artists you share your birthday with :
Patrick Dalheimer (Live) (1971)
Tom Morello (Rage Against The Machine) (1964)
Topper Headon (The Clash) (1955)


On the other hand, I share my birthday with :
Steve Perry (Cherry Poppin' Daddies) (1963)
Cliff Adams (Kool & The Gang) (1952)
Robert "Kool" Bell (Kool & The Gang) (1950)
Tony Wilson (Hot Chocolate) (1947)
Ray Royer (Procol Harum) (1945)


not as cool. or uh ... Kool as the case may be

kisses
Sarah-Rose

It amuses me inordinately ...

So apparently Craig's friends had money on when I would get pregnant.

The last person in the pool had FOUR MONTHS after the wedding, a date which passed 12 days ago.

They really don't know me at all.


And on a completely unrelated note, Craig and I have just reached 50% in our London Fund! only another grand to go before we start talking to travel agents.

How My Jealousy Manifests Itself (in email form)

Craig
HAY BABY
i printed those things
you know the part in danny bhoys show when he crossed his arms and was like "this better be good" mocking someone in the audience

Sarah
yessss I know the part you're talking about ...
I just don't know what you're mentioning it for ... are you looking at my and my paintings like "this better be good sarah"?

Craig
no the person he was mocking was k
she was sitting in the second row
xxxx

Sarah
wow i'm sure that must have been thrilling for her, but he was talking about a guy "look at this guy sitting there with his ams crossed ..."


ha. There is a land called Passive Aggressiva and I am their Queen.

(Please note : while the first comment is hugely dripping with sarcasm, he really was talking about a guy)
(Please also note : I do know that I am also the Queen of Over-Reactingva (recently annexed))

Just 2 things for now ...

1. Craig and I (and my mother and sister and a boy named sam) went to see Danny Bhoy last night and he was amazing.
So so much more worth the money than Dylan Moran.
Charlotte and I want to marry him and have his little brown scottish babies (what? won't they come out with that accent?) but I'm pretty sure Charlotte gets dibs because I chose Craig and everything.

2. Our computer is Dead. Ever So Dead. Just another very expensive paperweight. Luckily it might just be a paperweight temporarily and I'm soon (ish) to be purchasing a laptop so our home will not be computer free for long.
The first day I was home alone all day without a computer felt very very strange ... at times I felt at a loose end ... but I'm now starting to like it.
The constant need to check my emails is waning. And thankfully I can use the internet at work. Which is where I am now, at 7:19 on a sunday morning.

My Earrings : Steve McQueen & Charles Bronson (The Cooler King and The Tunnel King)

(excuse the terrible photo of my right ear, but this story requires at least one illustration.)

This morning I woke up and the silver ball of my silver-ball-studs had managed to wedge itself into the hole of my silver tunnel. Said Ball and Said Tunnel are pictured above.
And by wedge I mean that it was STUCK.
Try as I might, I could not pull it out of there - and neither could Craig.

So at 6:35 this morning Craig and I were to be found standing in the doorway to our kitchen, Craig with both of his giant hands on my tiny ear, and me with one hand on his chest, and one hand around his right wrist, squinting and squeaking and squeezing his wrist.
I was squeaking not only because it's in my nature, or because it kind of hurt but because I was terrified that his giant hands would literally tear my tiny ear apart.
And the thought of that is pretty terrifying, you have to give me that at least.

I ended up using my much smaller fingers to take the backs off both earrings and manoeuver them both out of my ear at the same time (eek!) and at the exact moment they were freed they fell apart as though making a break for freedom.
I couldn't let two inanimate objects get the better of me (again) though so I caught them and put them right back.

Things Which Bug Me Inordinately :

Grammatical Errors in songs

Last night Craig downloaded the System of a Down song "Lonely Day". The first System of a Down song that I've ever actually liked ... until I paid attention to the lyrics :
The Most Loneliest Day of My Li-i-i-ife
There is NO SUCH THING as the MOST LONELIEST! The Loneliest IS the MOST LONELY.
Fuck.

Don't even get me started on The Darkness :
A One Way Ticket to He-e-ll and Back
Again! There can be NO SUCH THING.
I cannot listen to the song, and because the album has THAT line as the title - I've had to boycott that as well.

And then my head explodes.
Actually, no, I just claw at it and shriek and Craig finds it all just SO amusing

Mispronunciation bugs me less, as in the Natasha Bedingfield song "These Words Are My Own" when she sings :
No Hyperbole to Hide Behind
Pronouncing Hyperbole as Hyper-Bowl instead of Hyper-Bo-Lee.
But perhaps I'm biased because I love the song.


NB: I think I like "Lonely Day" in part because the title makes me think of the Lou Reed song "Perfect Day"

More exciting than Keith Richard's Brain Surgery ...

I would be lying if I said that this comment I received

I like reading about you and your husband; there should be a movie about you two.

hadn't completely made my day.

(I've got a headache, but it's better than a Subdural Haematoma)

Light Conversation over Dessert with my Family

Last night at dinner I was telling a story ...

On the day of the Tsunami-warning-that-most-of-New-Zealand-slept-through I was talking to a lady who commented on the terrible weather, so naturally I countered with "Well, it's better than a Tsunami!" and her only reply was "oh, ha, yes I suppose so, I didn't think of it like that" because of course she had slept through the Tsunami Warning.

Charlotte : I've got a cold but it's better than being eaten alive by crocodiles
Me : well, I've got the sniffles but it's better than the plague
Mummy-dear : When I was pregnant with you [Me] and smoking, a lady at my work asked if I was worried and I said "well it's better than heroin"
Me : Oh, I feel so much better now
Mummy-dear : and she never spoke to me again! I think she thought I was some kind of closet heroin addict.


p.s. I turned out just fine. Just Fine. As long as you don't ask Craig or my sisters to back that up.

It woke me up, that's for sure ...

Exciting exciting.

I woke up at 5:30 this morning to the BBC reporting about an 8.1 earthquake in Tonga and the subsequent tsunami warnings for Fiji and New Zealand.

Within the half-hour the earthquake had been downgraded to a 7.8 and the warnings for New Zealand and Fiji had been lifted.

I did enjoy greeting Craig with "Morning baby, New Zealand's on Tsunami Alert!!" to which he responded with simply an "Am I still asleep?" look.

So now we’re both night-time crazy people – at least we’re even.

On Friday night apparently I went Crazy.

I woke up just before 2am with the intense KNOWLEDGE that there was a horrifying, creepy bug crawling across the bed towards me, heading right for me, possibly with a view towards paralyzing me with poison and eating me very very slowly while Craig slept on mere inches away.
But I digress (when do I ever not?), in my mind (or at least I think it was, I’m still not sure if it was real or not) this bug was a cross between a weta and a daddy long legs spider – all menacing arched legs and swaying body – so I was sitting up in an instant, looking back at the space of warm sleep softened sheet I’d just been lying on. Now of course it was covered with ominous dips and whorls, hollows perfect for hiding bug assassins.
At about this point I was staring at the sheet, trying to track the bug IN THE DARK, when Craig turned over and looked at me. In the instant it took to see him, I LOST THE BUG, so of course I whispered (who was I afraid of waking? Maybe afraid of giving away my position, always stealthy am I) “there’s a bug in the bed” and he just looked at me.
So again I said, “there’s a BUG in the BED” and again he just looked at me – perhaps as though I was crazy – of course I was terrified because I’d lost the bug and Craig WAS NOT HELPING.
I thought about lying back down for about a second, but I didn’t want to become bug prey, and besides, any husband that won’t turn on the light to help his panicked wife find a huge horrifying bug deserves to be pouted at, so I grabbed my cellphone (I had an alarm set), and flounced out to the lounge.

I ended up sleeping on the couch. I was wrapped in 2 bright green blankets and, being rather short, I do fit on the couch so I wasn’t cold or uncomfortable, which was unfortunate because that sure would have showed Craig.

I waited until it was light enough to spot bugs and went back to our bed. I sat there with a book and Craig turned over “morning baby” … “… morning”
Nothing.
I spent the next few hours pouting at him with half my mouth because really, he should have mentioned something, until finally I did and found out that HE HAD NO IDEA WHAT I WAS TALKING ABOUT.
He had been asleep the whole time, when I was being terrified by the bug and when I flounced out to sleep on the couch – HE HADN’T EVEN MISSED ME.
So, I had a fight with Craig while he was asleep. That takes dedication.

It reminds me of the 22nd December 2005 when I wrote this :
Last night was a little Crazy.
by Last night I mean at 1:47 this morning.
I woke up to Craig throwing our ENTIRE duvet off the bed. I immediately thought of Kirk in Gilmore Girls (eep) and the documentary airing on tv tonight about Night Terrors that lead to violence (eep). He sat up and huffed as if he couldn't sleep because he's too hot, so no night terrors. I put my hand on him and got no response (seriously eep!).
He then leaned over, gathered up the blanket, covers himself, lies back down and makes going to sleep noises.
me : uh Craig?
c : yea?
me : you awake?
c : yea
me : you sure?
c : yea
me : 100%?
c : ... yea?
me : because you just pulled the blankets completely off me, threw them on the floor, then put them back all on you!
c : oh baby !! I'm sorry !
me : it's ok. But uh give me some blankets though.

And, on a not completely unrelated note :
This morning my alarm woke me up from a very very strange dream where the movie March of the Penguins (which I have not seen by the way) was about an aquarium (but shaped like a very large swimming pool, nothing in terms of fake natural habitat) that houses white whales and white seals, and as it was a little small the seals kept being whacked about by huge whale-tails.
I felt very badly for the seals.
Apparently my sub-conscious doesn't realise that whales and seals are not exactly Penguins at all.