Tuesday, January 23, 2007

 

And That, Your Honour, Is Why I Killed Her


Mid-week posting madness here as work angst plus a little-more-than-normal juggling of the childcare (hubby has to write a paper this week) has left me somewhat more frazzled than usual.

Yes, I know. Shut up.

So today, I tried to get over to Birkeland Brothers to return my swift, seeing my girlfriend-in-law had given me one (plus a ball-winder) when she sold me my new loom. (note: i tried to figure out the relationship. she's my brother's boyfriend's sister. girlfriend-in-law seemed appropriate. desperate times call for deviant definitions.). I got there at what I thought was 5:25, only to find them locking up for the day. Not an unreasonable act for a store that closes at 5:30, and really it was a wet and stinking day (with utterly vile traffic, which is why I didn't make it there earlier), and my clock could well be wrong however it chewed up a huge chunk of my afternoon. Time I could have spent winding wool, dyeing wool, spinning ... maybe even sleeping (or trying to figure out how to warp that loom which has me completely intimidated). I was going to exchange the swift for a bunch of wool they have there, too; the worsted weight that I like dyeing so much. I got all pissed about that until I realized that I have anywhere from 1500-1800 yards of it sitting here undyed. Plus the sockweight, the laceweight, the Aran and the "so bulky there isn't a word for it". And seeing there isn't a hope in hell of me getting to sleep more than a couple of hours tomorrow, we can go back there again after Herself is out of school. They said they'd hold it for me.

So I calmed down pretty quickly, but it was still a 50-km round trip, a bunch of time and some gas I didn't want to waste. Needless to say I was almost completely without gruntle by the time we arrived home.

We got here, oh, 6:20-ish (which tells you exactly what the traffic was like) and I figured it was time to eat dinner, seeing I hadn't had breakfast or lunch. This may have added to my crankiness but with my work schedule, choosing sleep is usually the wiser course. I eat most of my meals between 10pm and 3am.

La Principessa and I had discussed at length what she would like for dinner. It had, in fact, been the main topic of conversation for the greater portion of the ride home. When I got the pots and pans out, I confirmed with her before starting that she wanted noodles. Not being in the mood to drown my sorrows in nothing but noodles but also not being in the mood to cook much of anything, I elected for a grilled cheese sandwich for myself.

Her: What are you making?
Me: A grilled cheese sandwich.
Her: Oh, I like those.
Me: I thought you wanted noodles for dinner? You said to me a couple of weeks back that you didn't like having grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner because it was "lunch food".
Her: (indignantly) I didn't like it That. One. Night! I like grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner now!
Me: (patiently) OK, I can make you one.
(starts preparations)
Her: What are you making?
Me: A grilled cheese sandwich for you.
Her: I don't want one. I told you I wanted noodles.

No jury would convict.

I'm going to play with wool and do some laundry before work. It'll keep my hands from creeping around her cute little neck.

oh, and the birthday stash enhancement involves the Handmaiden and some cashmere. it may be worth checking to see tomorrow if i've managed to get my camera to cooperate. i'm just sayin'

Comments:
arrrrrrrrrrrgh!
kill infidel children!

particularly your own!

my 12 year old pulls that crap. and then he doesn't get dinner cuz i won't put up with it.
 
Yep, I've had that conversation. When Miss M started that up, she started making her own dinner. PB&J can be eaten 24/7 as far as I'm concerned.

My spousal unit and I were a unit long before we legalized, and for years I was his parent's daughter-out-law. I only married him after they agreed that I could keep the title. All's well that ends well in the land of the out-laws.
 
The best reference I know for weaving is Learning To Weave by Debbie Redding (or Chandler—she was married and divorced between editions). Here's the Amazon link: http://www.amazon.com/Learning-Weave-Debbie-Redding/dp/0934026157/ref=ed_oe_p/104-8470561-0071957

It's a self-taught course. You'll be up and warped in no time. ;-)
 
Around here, children (even the 28 yo adult child) get no say in what's to eat unless they are cooking or forraging.

Just saying.
 
Ah, yes, the 'what HRH would care to dine on' conversation, not so much with my own, there were 3 and that's beyond flirting with disaster, but GD Gracie is another story.
Handmaiden+cashmere=erotica in the making..........I'm just sayin', heh.
Sounds to me like your birthday rocked ever so greatly.

Do you pay for your word verifications? ejaxdyx
 
No jury of your peers would convict. There is a difference. Hee.

This, your Honor, is also why I HATE KIDS!!!!! 8-)
 
OMG! are you sure she doesn't have a couple of whY chromosomes in there some where?
 
Thank God that I realized at the ripe old age of 5 that I never wanted children. At the ripe old age of 46-almost-47, and with the help of blog entries like this, I continue to know that it was a very good decision.
 
I had a very similar discussion with mine this week. I refrained from any sort of personal violence and, instead, beat the pants off her repeatedly in slapjack. Slapjack does a world of good!
 
My daughters (15 and 11) very rarely complain about what I offer up for a meal, least they have to fend for themselves. Sonny boy...on the other hand was a right royal pain last night. Yes, if I were on your jury, acquittal would be the only option...
 
I think all us moms of fussy kids surely would convict! Send them all to a place where they wait on us. Hand. And. Foot. Massage. Bonbons. QUIET. AGREEMENT! Now what would I call the sister of my husband's sister's husband (like the girlfriend in law above) but... she is also best friend to my husband's ex girlfriend who would truly like to see me gone from the earth (the one prior to me, but he MARRIED me-so there!).
 
i grew up poor, but there were always two choices at every meal:

1. eat what's put before you

2. go hungry until the next meal.

if you saw me, you'd know i've missed few meals in the decades since "the day" (as in "back in the day . . . ")

a. nonnie mouse
 
Ah, but you missed a very important distinction. While she said she liked grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner now, she didn't say she in fact wanted a grilled cheese sandwich for *this* dinner.

(stabs self with scissors several times at the memory of many, many discussions *just* like this)
 
I'm with Ryan - although I took until 12 to decide irrevocably that I never wanted kids. [g] As to the what to have for dinner question - simply don't ask? My mom sure didn't. Of course, there was also this little problem that anything I didn't like inadvertently, er, came back. I sure didn't do that on purpose; gack. Not to mention it causes real problems as an adult when you're invited to dinner and faced w-- Never mind, you get the idea. But while they didn't force me to eat stuff because of that, I sure did start cooking my own meals at an early age. A decent solution, as since I was the youngest, I was the permanent dishwasher anyway, so didn't cause Mom any extra work. ;)
 
Kids, spouses, whatever...never mind them, I want to hear and see the Handmaiden!
 
Okay so now I know that I share the pain with other parents. I have two kids and it seems inexplicable that when I really, really try to make a meal that will please everyone, one kid will say "that's the worst thing I've ever eaten." I'm a pretty good cook and I work at it. I'm glad to know that there is a jury of my peers out there for the day when Ican take no more of it...
 
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