After an emotionally rollicking few weeks (and secure in the knowledge that I’m not currently pregnant (more’s the pity)) I went out tonight to a social Christmas ‘do’ hosted by the leader of the netball group I belong to. It was a ‘bring a drink and nibbles’ do. I went before tea. I took homebrew. I (and many others) enjoyed it in the small-but-beautiful wine glasses provided by the host. In fact it’s possible that I and another lady enjoyed a little too much, because we were both decidedly squiffy by the end of the evening.
It does get to a point, though, where you know you’re coherent (but if you slur a word or forget something it doesn’t really matter) and your brain is deliciously floating in a pool of soft, sparkling light and your worries just dissipate like snowflakes in the sun. I enjoyed the point.
I got a wonderful opportunity earlier to spend time alone with Niece. I’d popped round to the Family Home and Niece and Neff were both there to spend the night, but Neff’s ongoing battles with asthma and cold weather were wearing him down, so he elected to go home. I then got to manage Bathtime. We had super fun. I used far too much bubble bath, was told I’d made it too hot (spoken by Niece with accompanying grumpy look, whilst stood on one foot in the bath, having *just* told me it was fine), got to squeal with feigned (and a little real) horror as Niece dumped cold water from her bath toy all over my arms, and then, once the water was gone, taught her how to use her legs braced against the tap end of the bath to slide herself up to the end of the bath again and again and again.
In fairness, I feel I am passing on a family tradition, as the BEST part of bathtime by FAR for her mother and I as youngsters was the time once the water was gone and the bath was still slippery and you could whizz yourself up and down til the wet dried out and you began to get friction burns from the porcelain. I remember with such sorrow the time when I grew too tall to whizz myself up and down in the bath properly any more, and am still secretly hoping that someone, somewhere, brings out a giant-sized bath so adults can feel like kids again (bubbles up to your chest when sitting up – remember that? Being able to just about float – remember that?). Niece can have a decent head-start on bath whizzing (though I’m sure she’d figure it out for herself in the end; why waste time?) and I just hope I don’t get into too much trouble with my family who now have to deal with a bath-whizzing 3-yr old. I’m sure Niece will have no compunction in grassing up the responsible adult who taught her to behave in such a fashion…
And while we’re talking about little kids and the cute things they do, let’s just take a moment to remember those children who died today in Newtown, Conneticut.
Aside from the tragedy, there seems to be dissension on whether President Obama is going to do anything about gun control. The BBC News site seems to imply that he’s intending to, though Care2 have a petition running urgently seeking support for the idea that El Prez needs to do something as soon as possible, because for the last several ‘shootings’, nothing has changed. Have a look and see what you think…
Have discovered today that whilst love and appreciation can’t be bought by good looks or money (I feel I am in the ‘rather lacking’ category for both), being able to cook and then sharing that awesomeness stands you in rather good stead for attention, appreciation and at the very least eye-contact with simultaneous, sincere yummy noises. All of which are rather buoying.
Show someone you care – cook them something delicious. Even if it turns out badly, they’ll likely appreciate the effort (or they’re not worth the bother, in which case you can rule them out – a win/win situation).
Am vastly excited about the prospect of taking my Goddaughter to her first sleepover with her friend from far away. My bezzie’s daughter and my Goddaughter first met at my wedding (they were both flower girls) and got on like the proverbial house on fire. Since then, they’ve met up about twice, but periodically ask about each other and send each other messages via the adults. It’s gonna be MAD – they’re bound to both be over-excited. I can’t wait.
Husby hates this, and I’ve been told in no uncertain terms by a former music student that it’s awful, terrible and pure cheese, but I LOVE *love* this song. It’s so fun, so un-serious, so funky. Makes me want to learn to dance a Charleston just so I can respond in kind to the music.
Have some free advice – if you’re a couple of sheets to the wind and haven’t written your blog post for the day yet, think carefully before embarking on same. I say this from concern (not for your readers, who can either enjoy your squiffy ramblings or get lost) but for you, who will find that the new button you press most on your keyboard is backspace, after all the spelling mistakes which will inevitably be made. Not to mention the added time staring into space trying to remember relatively simple words. If you feel the need to carry on regardless, at least you’re forewarned.