Retard pills and other observations

Woo, my new meds are Spanish. ¿Hola tablets, como estan? They are also modified release, "retard" in Spanish. I though they were just labeled with general insults the first time I looked, today "retard", tomorrow "loony" you know how it goes. I've been on them ten days. Mouseling thought it was absolutely hilarious, and has been calling me retard all week. Whatever else they are they are muy strong, and I am muy wired, and muy manic. I think I may have to go back to the un-retarded tablets before my bed forgets who I am.

So hello sunshine, hello birds, hello trees. Isn't the sunrise gorgeous? Aren't daffodils yellow? I'm so not as I ought to be. I'm clearly getting old, as manic episodes are not so much fun, and I'm aware that my neck and back are aching from lack of horizontal-in-bed time. And I wasn't really pissed at the dawn chorus, I do love my feathered friends, but when the little blighters tweet from five thirty till seven without ceasing, well, I usually get a little tetchy. Especially at this time of year when the world's most monotonous chaffinch is selling his wares outside my window.

I know I'm manic. I got a thrill out of seeing the garbage truck at 7am. It was blue, but it emptied the green bin. D'you think they send a green one to empty the blue bin? Cos they send a white one to empty the black dumpster.

And now I'm all thrilled that the sun is shining because it was raining earlier. But I daren't go out as I know I'm a bloody liability in traffic, and tend to run off at the mouth at every opportunity, tra la!

Someone please hit me over the head hard so I can go sleep, pretty please?

Stalky McStalker-Pants

Freaky letter this morning, for the mouseling from her father. It was a long budget, seven sides of A4, and was creepy beyond expectation, listing those times when he'd spied her from afar over the last 17 years. And kinda whiny and pathetic too, but mostly creepy in a stalkery kind of way. We knew he'd stalked her to her school a couple of years ago, but this was just a bit nasty and needy. And if he thought it would suddenly make her want to meet him in a less stalker/stalkee way, well, he fell far short of the mark there.

I think she has to write to him and tell him to go away. But she doesn't even want to do that, as she thinks it'll make him stalk a little harder. I know if I write, he'll not be satisfied. And frankly, I don't want to. 18 summers ago, I did something I'm not too proud of, though the result is the my pride and joy. He means nothing to me, and even less to her.

Creepiest by far was when he said he spotted her in town with her friends, and how he knew it was her because one of them called her by name. I don't doubt that he did see her, as she has the dubious fortune of looking exactly like me at that age, and very like what his memory of me would be. But to follow her through town, creepy much?

She is, not unsurprisingly, rather shaken by all this.

Recipe for Aubergine Flambe- Take One Idiot ...

Last evening I smelled the cheery smell of burning. Being nosey, and not wanting any of my neighbours to turn into toast, I opened the door, and then went and peered out the bathroom window to see if I could see flames. Nada. What a disappointment!

Went into my kitchen and discovered the source of the fire. In my microwave. Aubergines can burn. Who knew? You'd have thought them to be just a little soggy to catch light. Still, it tasted okay, if a little smokey. Surprisingly, the ill-used microwave is still working.

My usual kitchen special is dishcloth flambe, and every time I use the wok, the smoke alarm sets off, as a pre-emptive measure to trusting me with the whole stir-fry technique. So where were you last night, Mr Smoke Alarm? Just because it ain't in a wok doesn't mean I cannot burn it.

PS: I do know how to spell flambe, just the keyboard shortcut I know doesn't work here. anybody know what does work?

Too spooky!

I have just freaked myself out. On Monday night I had a dream that a certain person had died, and there he is, in the paper, dead already! Eeek! I wasn't expecting his death, indeed, I didn't know he was ill. He's a local celebrity, and the father of a friend of mine, and at only 60, not any great age. Not a nice man, and not a good father. I had no idea on Monday why I was dreaming about him, but it was a very vivid dream.

Just pray I don't dream about you ...

Frogged it!

It got too big, it threatened to take over the house, so I took it to Stitch and Bitch and frogged it. Poor ole curly whirly, but really, it was looking ridiculous, and weighing more than a fully grown sweater. Now I have a huge ball of cranberry and lime coloured funky fur. Hmmmm, what to knit? I'm thinking maybe stripe it with the lime green acrylic on the diagonal, but that might work better in crochet. Whatever I do, I'm not frogging it again, dratted stuff gets all involved with itself and has to be loosened off with a tapestry needle.

Curly Whirly Chain Reaction

I decided to try a curly whirly scarf, following the craze on UKHK. It started well, with some soft lime green Paton's Fairytale. I made a base chain of about 120 cm and set to it. But, at some point, the whole curly whirlyness of it went critical, and instead of being the delicate and feminine ruffled creation it should be, like those of the other UKHKers, it began to look like a crocheted frisée lettuce. Which is fine; I love lettuce. Then I decided to add a final row of Paton's Whisper in Damson ( a maroon/crimson/lime mix) and it all went a bit Lollo Rosso. I used up one ball, and did a swift, but incorrect calculation, that I would require three balls to finish it. I need one more, which I will buy next week. It's probably the most yarn-hungry scarf I have made. And it rather pushes the boundaries of scarf-dom. It's more of a boa/draught excluder, and when done will contain 400g of yarn. Which is about as much as the average cardigan. Pictures next week, when it's done, and if I can work out how to add pics. I can't quite envisage the occasions on which I might wear this creation. Except perhaps when meeting strangers in new places. With this scarf, I'll be un-missable.