Here Comes The Sun by the Beatles

I've been somewhat tardy with my Blogging recently because the weather is beautiful here!
Nice Spring weather = WORK
Life is pretty laid back during the winter months, what are you gonna do?
It's dark, wet and miserable.
I know! Write ! Write my Blog to be specific.
Then the bluddy sun comes out and pricks your conscience like...well like a prick I guess?
It's easy to self justify doing diddlysquat on a rainy day.



Ranch?
Nah, no point, the horses are wet and "smellier" than usual and the ground is only fit for mud wrestling...hmmm.

Housework?
Nah, everything looks pretty clean (what with my OCD and all)

Yard work?
It's feckin raining ya Eejit! Grass has conveniently stopped growing ( nature is a wonderful thing)
The weeds are hibernating and all my lovely planters are empty.

Then I wake up innocently ( I'm always innocent for the first 5 seconds before I open my eyes)
and there she is, Miss Bluddy Sunshine.

Ranch?
OF COURSE! Those poor horses need turned out. They need to be ridden. They need to be excercised. Oh and grain, they need grain EVERY day. Cleaning tack, get it done!

Housework?
OMFG When were those windows last washed? Look at the baseboards! Every minuscule particle of dust glaring in the blinding sunlight. OCD OCD...duster in one hand, polish in the other stick a broom up my arse I'm on a MISSION.

Yard Work?
So the grass managed to grow 4inches in one night ( Ah my, if only SB were a lawn...sighs)
Every feckin weed in town has decided to sleep over in MY yard and the sun has woken each and every one of the wee shytes up!

That was a long winded excuse for being busy = exhausted.

Voices by Randy Orton

What's it called when you hear voices in your head?
I know there's a real word for it...
Sybil!



That's it.
Well, I've caught it.
I hope it's not contagious because I'll go crazy if the other four people I live with get it!
Oh, wait, I AM crazy aren't I?
Why am I asking you? Your all as daft as brushes!
(Where did that phrase come from I wonder? "Daft as a brush" Is it a Scottish thing?)

My present "condition" is worse in the mornings and around dinner time, it can be quite irksome.
Let me set the scene.
I have a dishwasher! Wooohooo for me.
The Dishwasher fits nice and snug under the COUNTER.
Every morning, no exceptions, SB has breakfast, rinses his coffee mug, cereal bowl and spoon.
He then places them ON THE COUNTER!
WTF is with that? HUH?
Now, as if that's not enough to make you go "Sybil", the young people I am forced to share this house with, have decided that "Daddy knows best"
They all leave for School/Work...and Sybil kicks in...
I need you to imagine wee thought bubbles here because Stage4 Sybil has not yet set in,( talking out loud to myself ) it's close though, really close!
For the sake of interpretation I will refer to my thoughts/voices as Things I and II

Thing I - Well lookie lookie! (all smarmy like)
Thing II - Yes dear I know ( all sheepish like)
Thing I - He is incapable of putting his feckin dirty dishes in the dishwasher!
Thing II - He was in a rush this morning
Thing I - Rush my feckin arse! He's just a lazy bas$%&%d
Thing II - No,no,no, he just wasn't thinking
Thing I - How feckin much "thinking" does it take to RINSE and PUT IN THE DISHWASHER!
Thing II - Oh stop being a NUMPTY!
Thing I - I'M the numpty!?
Sooooo if YOU don't load all the dishes they're just going to sit there till he gets home?
Thing II - Don't be silly dear you know I've got OCD
Thing I - So does he sweetie, so does he...

Dinner is pretty much more of the same.
Any other Sybil sufferers out there?
Maybe we could start a Club? ( that was Thing II talking, right there)
Thing I, wants to start a GANG!

Even the Dishwasher has an opinion on this. I know because it tells me so.

Dishwasher - SB and small humans I have only this to say...

Just To See You Smile by Tim McGraw

Teeth are going to bankrupt us.
Five sets of pearly whites do not come cheap here in the US.
We Scots don't have the "good teeth" gene, we just don't...
Of course our diet leaves a lot to be desired when it comes to healthy teeth.
As kids, some of the most common snacks were :
A Sugar sandwich ( yep, a heap of sugar on two slices of bread, if you were "posh" you'd have butter on it too)
A grated apple - sprinkled with sugar
A sliced banana - sprinkled with sugar
A stalk of Rhubarb picked from the garden
( with a wee bag of sugar to dip it in )

I'm thinking I should bill my mum for all of my dental expenses!
That's a joke mum!
(She's got herself a PC and may have figured out how to get here...yeah, more on that soon...)

The kids are all at the "needs braces" age.
Kid with braces!



I'm sure I could do this myself if I only had the right tools!
(go check out BILBO 's post today all about tools, hilarious)
I personally have more "bridges" than the feckin "Bay"
Here's why.
30+ years ago in Scotland, Dentists were "extraction" gurus.
You only ever went to the Dentist if you had a toothache.
There was no such thing as a check up ( kinda sad when I look back and realise it was all FREE)
Your front six teeth, top and bottom had the advantage over anything beyond.
They would be filled, polished, get the "royal" treatment.
The rest?
EXTRACTION!
Like this as I recall

Demon Scottish Dentist - So the pains in that wee tooth? Second premolar nurse!
Me - Aye
DSD - let's have a wee smile then lassie
Me- grimace grin ( I'm in pain here folks! and I'm only 12)
DSD - Och aye, ye cannae see it when ye smile (smiling)
Me - ?
DSD - Extraction nurse!

And so on and so forth over a decade...hence the "bridges"

My kids don't know how lucky they are!
We will be poor as church mice but we'll be smiling all the while!
We BETTER be smiling and showing off the cause of our poverty.
I've told my girls that when I "pass" they have to make sure they get my Bridges and Crowns.
That's their inheritance.
That's where all the money went.
Gold, Diamonds, Jewels ? Forget it.
My teeth are the only thing I possess that's cost $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Like A Virgin by Madonna

I have no idea what's going on!
I had the TV on "mute" and when I glanced at it,
Pres Obama was yakkin away ( I know this cos his lips were moving)
He was on the news and the title thingy that comes up at the bottom of the screen, read "Dicktater"
I had to look twice, thrice even! Oh my, it just doesn't seem right... to me.
I'll listen to the late news to find out why "Da Pres" is being called a "Willypotato"
Aha!
Why was the TV on mute? I hear you asking yourself!
If you didn't ask yourself, then please pretend you did or this post ain't going anywhere fast.
I will NOT keep you in suspenders any longer my dear, darling, reader - sucking up big time -
The TV was on mute BECAUSE I was having a wee breakdown!
OH NO! cried the fan...see I like to think I'm talking to each and every one of you on a personal level - more sucking up-
Back to the wee breakdown.
As you may (or may not) know WT is in fourth Grade.
FOURTH FECKIN GRADE!
I'm pretty confident that my US readers "get it"
For those of you in the UK, read on dear hearts!
For some reason, known only to fourth grade teachers I suspect...
DEE DEE DEE DEE
( Just had a family meeting to decide how to write the first four notes of Beethoven's 5th, DEE marginally beat DA)

Just for effect *rep*

DEE DEE DEE DEE

Feckin MISSION PROJECT!
She, We, that would be I, am expected to create a model of Santa Cruz Mission.



*Laughing hysterically*
Using...get this...Items found in and around the Home.
The whole thing has to be less than 18"x18", Feckin Mission Lilliput!
WTF??
Oh, I know, lets get those tiny bells I keep handy in the bottom kitchen drawer, you know , just in case I feel the urge to build A FECKIN MISSION!


Oh and don't forget the minuscule friggin wooden door -" top shelf of the laundry"



See I always knew that wee door would come in handy!
I'm spinning people, spinning I tell ya!
*aside* TCI escaped the torment of the 4th Grade "mission proj" as we were moving house/schools and she managed to wiggle her wee bahooky out of it.
Which leaves me, a VIRGIN MISSION BUILDER!
All suggestions, ideas, sympathy will be MOST appreciated.
*note to self* feedback will determine <> sucking up.
I love you all...

As Good As I Once Was - Toby Keith

I don't usually post twice in one day but I feel the need to share.
SB is broken.
A physically broken specimen of maleness.
It's not pretty.
He's walking around- barely- in a OMG I've pooooooped my pants kinda way.
Reeking of Icy Hot.
Poor Baby?
NO feckin Eejit!
Two things happened to him this morning.

Clarification- I was NOT either of them!

1. He tried to get on his horse (bareback) from the rail of the Round Corral.
He's done it a million times.
Today, Talisker decide to walk off just as SB swung his leg over!
Result?
SB on his arse, in the dirt, Talisker looking at him like was a jackass - smart horse!

Did this cause the "broken" body?

Oh HELL NO!

SB decides to "right" himself, from flat on his back to Homo-sapien UPRIGHT...get this
By doing a feckin BACKFLIP!

*aside * he assures me that in his "soccer" days it was the "only" way to get back on yer feet!




Yeah, well thats as maybe but those days are long gone darlin!

So picture this, or not ( for those of you out there with more "delicate constitutions")

SB lunges backwards, forgetting two important details!
1. He is now OLD and OUT OF SHAPE



2. Relevant in it's own way...he's wearing a cowboy hat ( now feckin SQUISHED)

He gets to the point, of both legs, up in the air, 90deg, when...OMFG his back LOCKS!



Sad but true!
The mind was willing but the body was way smarter!
POOR BABY!

Bewitched,Bothered and Bewildered by Ella Fitzgerald

I'm being completely overwhelmed by technology at the moment.
What with "the blog" ( I've created a playlist and am trying to get it to "shuffle"), Facebook and now something called Bebo ( my wee sister has got me involved in this one) I'm exhausted...
I have been playing Club Penguin with WT and it seems much more my style!



Hell, you get a wee penguin to waddle around AND you can collect Puffles!
Behold, PUFFLES at play!



I did not know that Penguins had pets!
That's all...
Got to go teach people how NOT to terrorize horses.
Then come home and play with my wee Penguin...awwwwwwww

I'm Free by The Rolling Stones

I was pondering over my St Patricks day post and it occurred to me just how much of a pain in the bahooky I am...sometimes
Hell, if I was a 20something American, with a drizzle of Irish blood flowing in my veins I'd be first out of the gate and into the nearest pub!
365 days of the feckin YEAR!
That said, I still think the old guy was a jerk.

Which leads me quite nicely into, what makes us who we are?
My earliest childhood recollection is of a huge picture on my Grannies living room wall.
(Dads mum)
I was terrified of it.
That bluddy eye, following me around the room! The weird shapes surrounding it.
I was too young to even ask about it, all I knew was, that it was scary.



A few years later I became aware of the fact that my dad went out every Wednesday night, wearing an APRON!
WTF?
He also wore a ring with the same markings as the PICTURE.
In my innocence I never questioned the fact that I had an Uncle Mason and two cousin Masons'.
It probably should have given me a clue huh?
I mean lets face it, it was hardly a Family secret!
- Oh, let me introduce you to Mason...the Mason
By the time I understood the relevance of the "picture", apron, ring and names it was all quite a normal part of my life.
My Grandpa and two of my Uncles were Masters. It was a good thing. It was something to be proud of.
BUT it was a secret! I can't ever remember being told not to talk about it, but am very aware that I never did.
I was intrigued with my dads "wee book" Which he would let me read in the knowledge that the contents meant nothing to me.
So I was indoctrinated.
When I was 18, I dated a guy who worked as a Slater for a large construction company.
He met me one night, in a foul mood, ranting and raving about "Masonic Bastards" at his work!
I was totally stunned.
People "out there" didn't think it was a good thing?
These days it's something I think about occasionally.
When you have been brought up with certain family beliefs it is difficult to break away.
Do I agree with the Freemasonry?
All I know is, that had I been born a male...just gimme a funny handshake and call me Mason!

P.S. I found out not that long ago that my mum was a member of the Order of the Eastern Star.
When I asked her about it she said - "Oh, we danced a lot"
I'm wondering if Lilu and her Stanky Leg would qualify for membership!