Sunday, October 10, 2010

Brief. And Pathetic.

In short:

1. A mama-daughter date at the museum gave my friend Shirin and I a chance to do some early work on the arranged marriage we have planned for Ivy and Gabe. It was a really top day, despite a festival of universal snafus that included car breakdowns, train trackwork, and a lot of piggybacking a small tired person around endless underground tunnels.

2. Said piggybacking may have contributed to the fiercely aching hip that is will not yield to my attempts to bomb it into submission with codeine, hot water-bottles and bath soakage.

3. Expedition may have precipitated the virus that wrapped it's steamy fingers around Miss Ivy's throat on Friday night and has turned the Black Ghost into a spluttering, feverish vomitron.

4. Note to self: Make sign for gate tomorrow. 'Unclean. Unclean. Pox be here. All ye who enter be warned.'


  1. Hoping the Vomitron and her mum are on the mend...

  2. Are you freaking kidding me??? When will the sickness pass ye olde house? Far out brussell sprout. I am sick of you cats being sick. Dose up on some olive leaf extract or somethin' somethin'. xxx

  3. that sucks that your lot are sick. I too have chosen Busys husband , she does love him, she loves another boy too but he is far from suitable... hopefully T will win her heart. x

  4. hello there. i love your profile description, and the gods you worship :)


Thanks for talking to me. I don't got cooties. Oh, except for when I got cooties.