Nesting and Blank Brained

Oops.

Last week, I can't really explain.  I just don't know where the days went.  This week?  It's as if I'm trying to get a masters degree in home ec.  And honestly?

 

I don't really have anything to say.  (hear that high-pitched "wheeeze?"  that's the air coming out of my balloon.)  And I've never really been one for filler.  You know.  Where someone is blank brained so instead posts a YouTube video, or does a photo shoot in the kitchen and shares the recipe...the recipe that they borrowed from Ina or Martha or Mario (some exceptions out there, obviously).

But me?  If I have nothing to say...I'll spare you.



did you notice my partial sell-out? i made this yesterday, when i should have been writing.  and it's so ridiculous, and i needed a picture for today, so i thought i'd share.  but i refuse to tell you where i got the recipe or how i made it or even what it is.  and i didn't even bother taking step-by-step photos.  so there. 

The Bitch is Back

Ok, it's my dad's birthday today.

We got him this perfect card.  There's a fat fairy on the front.  She's wearing a sash that reads:  birthday fairy.  On the inside?  One line:  the bitch is back.

Let me explain.  My dad?  He absolutely hates birthdays.  Loathes them.  Hates anyone asking how old he is.  And holds serious, serious grudges if you cross that line.

Take my wedding for example.  We had put out pictures of our family and previous weddings.  Grandpa and grandma in England, grandpa and grandma in America, you get the idea.  Well, apparently some moron made a very naughty mistake.

Moron went up to my dad and told him that he looked a lot like his own father, as in my grandpa.

Dad couldn't let it go for months.  "Kathleen, you know, the only negative thing about your wedding was that jerk who came up to me.  Said I looked like my dad.  I mean, honestly.  What a j#$ to say I look that old."

I asked who said it to him.  Was worried it was a new relative who my dad would forever hate (that grudge thing again.  it's part of his new yorker charm).  He couldn't remember.  Perhaps he'd been over-served with whiskey.  But God help the moron.

So I was chatting with my brother just a short while ago and this story came up.  "Brendan, can you believe someone said that to dad?  And that dad is still so upset?"

Silence.

Then this low, long chuckle.

"Oh noooo.  It was me."

Thank goodness that whiskey erases memories.  

all photos by the talented russell lewis.  and dad, happy birthday.  xx  mulligan

Just Breathe

I am so effing twisted up right now.  As in my shoulders are turning on top of each other and a large object wants to burst out of my chest.

All that I want to do is volley back a cutting remark.  One that makes your jaw drop and your tea splurt out of your mouth and onto your computer, followed by a gulping, "No!  She did NOT just say that.  In writing.  In public!  (and then followed by a gaspy whisper?  "about the ex-wife!") 

I want it to look kinda exactly like mackin ink's nasty spanking of a stranger.  In her comments section.  (read numbers 7 and 8.  no really.  read them.)

But it would be pointless.

Crazy doesn't change.

i hemmed and hawed about this.  i'm not normally that cliche.  but today?  we're completely fitting the first wife/second wife stereotypes.  interpret as you wish.  and i'll go back to dreaming i am back in the maldives.

Uhmurica the Great

The world just feels right. 

You may recall my preposterous experiences in the British library.  You know, with the drunk guy who kept slamming his face into his cupcakes and coming back up with icing on his nose?  The librarian who chewed me out for plugging my laptop in?  And the serious mistake I made in drinking all of my water and coffee about 15 minutes in to my planned stay?

Well, today I'm in absolute heaven.  Nevermind the ban on concealed handguns.   I have three words.

Outlets.

WiFi.

And yes, you guessed it.

Bathrooms. 

it's nasty outside today.  reminds me of england, actually.  and i know, i know, i should be working.  but the latest vanity fair keeps calling my name.

Gobsmacked

I have been looking for a way to introduce my favorite British word.  Thanks to the innkeeper from Asheville, I've now got one.

This guy was rather serious about his Trip Advisor reviews.  He knew exactly how many were on there, when the last one was posted...you get the idea.  He asked us to do our bit.

So we got back home, got on the computer, and gave it four stars.  Job done.

We thought.  We got a phone call.  The innkeeper.  Said he had seen our review.  It was very good.  Though we had made a mistake.  We only gave it four stars.

And he rarely does this.  Actually he never does.  But.

Could we go back in and change it to five?

Cheeky little bugger.  I tried to change it.  Really did.

Lucky for him, Trip Advisor won't let me.

just some pix from a place that left me speechless.  and the handstand man?  walked across that bridge upside down the whole way.  extra points if you can know where this is.