We have got a lovely moody sky with silver lining clouds and a lovely Sunset glowing in the background tonight. We collapsed and took down the garden awning, because I feel we are going to have rain and wind tonight.
Anyway the stiff fluffy kneeling carpet was having a paddy about being left out. Absentmindedly ignored on my part I suppose. Still it was having a little paddy about getting wet. It’s having a hard time drying out, and might have started to get damp smelly. If it has it might need another soak in the dog shampoo and ammonia. I am not using it if it stinks. It needs drying in the shade. Not my fault it has shag pile and doesn’t dry well in our climate.
I decided to put it in the garage. On the way I realised the possibly plastic acrylic bit of carpet was still floundering about on the driveway where I left it deciding if it wanted to be a real carpet, or a plastic acrylic manufactured carpet. So the fluffy shag pile carpet saved the day. Both of them could have got all wet again and rotted. Surprising what a moderate bit of weather can muster in the bad smelling nasty carpet caper.
I didn’t end up going to Church today. I felt like the great unwashed this morning and needed to self minister some grooming. I realy didn’t feel my own personal hygiene was fit for an outing. Then by this evening, after the beetle dilemma and dispatch, the contretemps over the very stuck up non stick bread tin and this Bizarre ownership of the merits of a failed non stick bread tin from my Husband, I decided I couldn’t face the third degree over why I hadn’t been to Church in the morning.
I just want to go to Church. I don’t want to be asked why I wasn’t there if I didn’t turn up for some reason. I have got a life. Jesus said that religion was made for man, not man for religion. I am a woman so I can do what I feel is right for me.
I don’t know why everyone seems to think it’s OK to re-interpret this man thing in the Bible. In book one Genesis, God says he made Man in his own image. He got fed up and lonely so God made Woman from his Rib. I take this to mean that God made us Women to be the Antithesis of what God made as His first version of Himself. If the Man thought He wasn incomplete, then God must have had an incompleteness about Himself He hadn’t managed to work out when He made the Man. He made the Man in His own image and likeness. The Man said he didn’t have a mate.
I don’t think of myself as an opposite to my Husband. He is the Sword, I am the Scabbard. He would get knocked about and blunt without me. My job is to protect him and make sure His blade stays sharp. I did buy a hand crank whetstone a few months ago... I am wondering how sharp I want him to be. If I could get His nose out of the TV, and engaging in real life He would probably be very entertaining. Nope I haven’t a clue what planet He is on. Most of the time it isn’t mine. I am not budging, I like the planet I live on.
We had the the black I saw white argument the other night. Over how we fold table napkins. I have always folded mine with pattern long and folded His with pattern short, so we know which napkins we use. He insisted it was the other way round. I said I haven’t a problem how I fold my napkin, it’s just This is how I have always folded my napkin.
If he was fed up with the way his napkin was folded I was quite happy to swap, just that if he swapped He would have to stick with the choice because I lay the table, and I want to know which is His napkin.
He threw a complete fit over the napkin fold. He said He had been using the long fold for the last six months and that I was using His napkin. Now this is an existential problem I thought to myself.
Anyway after thinking about it for a few moments, I said well on planet me, I have always folded my napkin the same way, even when we had napkin rings as a child. If He had another experience of napkin folding over the last six months it hasn’t affected my planet.
Guess what his solution to the pattern problem was... He has decided to fold the napkin without a pattern showing. What’s the difference I ask myself. I did point out earlier in the conversation that if he wanted to change the napkin fold to get a different pattern He could change His napkin fold. Or that if he wanted my napkin fold He could have it, I would change mine.
The Bizarre part of this is the ones we use outside don’t have a pattern, so they get mixed up. I can’t believe something so simple needs the fucking inquisition on it to sort it out. I am not married to the fucking napkin.
Must have done something right, He just offered me the use of the car tomorrow to go and see my Psychiatrist. (Wonder what planet She will be on tomorrow, they have had a bit of a political eruption in Spain. Looks like a fairly good start of proper democracy. Funny I had a mental blank there... I am pretty sure the electorate generally exercise their pathological ignorance most of the time. Or else we have become so distracted by phones, TV and general propaganda our brains have got information overload). Where was I... oh yes the prospect of a meeting with my psychiatrist who wants me to take drugs that put on inordinate amounts of weight, give me breathing problems, Sun sensitivity, so I have hives and a lack of vitamin D so I get an under active thyroid. That’s the short version. Oh and I don’t remember anything, so My Husband can mercilessly manipulate me. Then send me off to the psychiatric unit if I do start to get upset and angry. Not his fault. He doesn’t prescribe the drugs. He just takes advantage of the situation as most men would if they are mentally indoctrinated by the TV, and hanging on to a passed metanarrative.
Anyway I am usually up by daybreak. If I am driving the car tomorrow it needs a clean. This is when God has promised me to turn up. Last time I cleaned it we had a huge downpour at rinsing time and some wonderful rainbows. There was only one small cloud a couple of miles away south of the island, so I guess God got in on the car washing moment with me last time. I had the distinct impression I was cleaning the space station viewing window when I was cleaning the rear window. Just one of those weird moments that happen.
I liked the time I was on the Moon starkers apart from a pair of fluffy furry Moon boots. Pretty sensational realy. It ended up like being stuck up a tree and not being able to get down. The psychiatrists hit me with everything they could legally prescribe. I came down like a lead balloon. It took months to get over the drugs. I did say I needed to be titrated down gently, they don’t like anyone who knows they are mad intervening in the treatment plan. There is that catch 22 turning up again...
Oh well, I can feel myself girding my loins for the meeting tomorrow. Perhaps I shall just leave gearing up for it until I actually park the car in toen tomorrow, otherwise I will be going in with too much baggage and pre conceived defences. I need some, but right now, I still feel in the fluffy feather department so it realy doesn’t matter. Perhaps I should just ask her first ‘How are things going? You never know we might have a lucid conversation!
Anyway our sky cleared up a lot earlier. I am a bit unbalanced and veering to the left. The plough just doesn’t look in the right place. I still think this planet is teetering and trying not to topple over. If blokes stopped building huge civil projects before doing a planetary impact analysis, God will have to blow up the odd volcano to balance the weight ratio. I am not up for an ice age. I want to try growing pomegranates. I have two that have sprouted from five seeds, you never know, they might just make it if they are watered regulatily.
Anyway the dog shampoo is good stuff. It’s full of cream ideas and no detergent. I washed my hair with is this morning. Now I look like the dog after a bath, I can’t do a thing with my hair it’s gone all floppy. I wonder what’s in it besides the cocamide. I have been pretty chilled out. It’s supposed to calm the dog down while they get a bath. She likes having a bath with it. She goes pretty much like I have all day, sort of chilled out. Anyway time for bed.
These phytobiotics definately got the better of me. It’s a posh French shampoo from the vet. Worth it though if the dog likes getting a bath with it. Mad ... I might try barking at the blue tits tomorrow.
I think they might have fledged and gone. All has disappeared in the blue tit box. Normally we have to keep the dog in for a couple of days. Anyway, the dog can skip a bath, she is not dirty and doesn’t have any scurf in her skin. I will just wash her bedding tomorrow. Give her a flannel wash.
She let us clip her paw pads this evening. I started giving her salmon oil, now she has fluffy fur growing all over, and clogging up her paw pads. She walks more dirt in with fluffy pads. I like the fringes round the edges though so I left them. She was barking at me to get it done. I clippered them all out while my Husband held her. Talk about going into baby mode. She loved having Him hold her. She is so His dog. She slips about on the floor if the fur grows into her pads. She can’t sit without her paws sliding away if they are too furry. At 14 years old I don’t want vet bills for slipped disks, or broken hips.
Anyway the stiff fluffy kneeling carpet was having a paddy about being left out. Absentmindedly ignored on my part I suppose. Still it was having a little paddy about getting wet. It’s having a hard time drying out, and might have started to get damp smelly. If it has it might need another soak in the dog shampoo and ammonia. I am not using it if it stinks. It needs drying in the shade. Not my fault it has shag pile and doesn’t dry well in our climate.
I decided to put it in the garage. On the way I realised the possibly plastic acrylic bit of carpet was still floundering about on the driveway where I left it deciding if it wanted to be a real carpet, or a plastic acrylic manufactured carpet. So the fluffy shag pile carpet saved the day. Both of them could have got all wet again and rotted. Surprising what a moderate bit of weather can muster in the bad smelling nasty carpet caper.
I didn’t end up going to Church today. I felt like the great unwashed this morning and needed to self minister some grooming. I realy didn’t feel my own personal hygiene was fit for an outing. Then by this evening, after the beetle dilemma and dispatch, the contretemps over the very stuck up non stick bread tin and this Bizarre ownership of the merits of a failed non stick bread tin from my Husband, I decided I couldn’t face the third degree over why I hadn’t been to Church in the morning.
I just want to go to Church. I don’t want to be asked why I wasn’t there if I didn’t turn up for some reason. I have got a life. Jesus said that religion was made for man, not man for religion. I am a woman so I can do what I feel is right for me.
I don’t know why everyone seems to think it’s OK to re-interpret this man thing in the Bible. In book one Genesis, God says he made Man in his own image. He got fed up and lonely so God made Woman from his Rib. I take this to mean that God made us Women to be the Antithesis of what God made as His first version of Himself. If the Man thought He wasn incomplete, then God must have had an incompleteness about Himself He hadn’t managed to work out when He made the Man. He made the Man in His own image and likeness. The Man said he didn’t have a mate.
I don’t think of myself as an opposite to my Husband. He is the Sword, I am the Scabbard. He would get knocked about and blunt without me. My job is to protect him and make sure His blade stays sharp. I did buy a hand crank whetstone a few months ago... I am wondering how sharp I want him to be. If I could get His nose out of the TV, and engaging in real life He would probably be very entertaining. Nope I haven’t a clue what planet He is on. Most of the time it isn’t mine. I am not budging, I like the planet I live on.
We had the the black I saw white argument the other night. Over how we fold table napkins. I have always folded mine with pattern long and folded His with pattern short, so we know which napkins we use. He insisted it was the other way round. I said I haven’t a problem how I fold my napkin, it’s just This is how I have always folded my napkin.
If he was fed up with the way his napkin was folded I was quite happy to swap, just that if he swapped He would have to stick with the choice because I lay the table, and I want to know which is His napkin.
He threw a complete fit over the napkin fold. He said He had been using the long fold for the last six months and that I was using His napkin. Now this is an existential problem I thought to myself.
Anyway after thinking about it for a few moments, I said well on planet me, I have always folded my napkin the same way, even when we had napkin rings as a child. If He had another experience of napkin folding over the last six months it hasn’t affected my planet.
Guess what his solution to the pattern problem was... He has decided to fold the napkin without a pattern showing. What’s the difference I ask myself. I did point out earlier in the conversation that if he wanted to change the napkin fold to get a different pattern He could change His napkin fold. Or that if he wanted my napkin fold He could have it, I would change mine.
The Bizarre part of this is the ones we use outside don’t have a pattern, so they get mixed up. I can’t believe something so simple needs the fucking inquisition on it to sort it out. I am not married to the fucking napkin.
Must have done something right, He just offered me the use of the car tomorrow to go and see my Psychiatrist. (Wonder what planet She will be on tomorrow, they have had a bit of a political eruption in Spain. Looks like a fairly good start of proper democracy. Funny I had a mental blank there... I am pretty sure the electorate generally exercise their pathological ignorance most of the time. Or else we have become so distracted by phones, TV and general propaganda our brains have got information overload). Where was I... oh yes the prospect of a meeting with my psychiatrist who wants me to take drugs that put on inordinate amounts of weight, give me breathing problems, Sun sensitivity, so I have hives and a lack of vitamin D so I get an under active thyroid. That’s the short version. Oh and I don’t remember anything, so My Husband can mercilessly manipulate me. Then send me off to the psychiatric unit if I do start to get upset and angry. Not his fault. He doesn’t prescribe the drugs. He just takes advantage of the situation as most men would if they are mentally indoctrinated by the TV, and hanging on to a passed metanarrative.
Anyway I am usually up by daybreak. If I am driving the car tomorrow it needs a clean. This is when God has promised me to turn up. Last time I cleaned it we had a huge downpour at rinsing time and some wonderful rainbows. There was only one small cloud a couple of miles away south of the island, so I guess God got in on the car washing moment with me last time. I had the distinct impression I was cleaning the space station viewing window when I was cleaning the rear window. Just one of those weird moments that happen.
I liked the time I was on the Moon starkers apart from a pair of fluffy furry Moon boots. Pretty sensational realy. It ended up like being stuck up a tree and not being able to get down. The psychiatrists hit me with everything they could legally prescribe. I came down like a lead balloon. It took months to get over the drugs. I did say I needed to be titrated down gently, they don’t like anyone who knows they are mad intervening in the treatment plan. There is that catch 22 turning up again...
Oh well, I can feel myself girding my loins for the meeting tomorrow. Perhaps I shall just leave gearing up for it until I actually park the car in toen tomorrow, otherwise I will be going in with too much baggage and pre conceived defences. I need some, but right now, I still feel in the fluffy feather department so it realy doesn’t matter. Perhaps I should just ask her first ‘How are things going? You never know we might have a lucid conversation!
Anyway our sky cleared up a lot earlier. I am a bit unbalanced and veering to the left. The plough just doesn’t look in the right place. I still think this planet is teetering and trying not to topple over. If blokes stopped building huge civil projects before doing a planetary impact analysis, God will have to blow up the odd volcano to balance the weight ratio. I am not up for an ice age. I want to try growing pomegranates. I have two that have sprouted from five seeds, you never know, they might just make it if they are watered regulatily.
Anyway the dog shampoo is good stuff. It’s full of cream ideas and no detergent. I washed my hair with is this morning. Now I look like the dog after a bath, I can’t do a thing with my hair it’s gone all floppy. I wonder what’s in it besides the cocamide. I have been pretty chilled out. It’s supposed to calm the dog down while they get a bath. She likes having a bath with it. She goes pretty much like I have all day, sort of chilled out. Anyway time for bed.
These phytobiotics definately got the better of me. It’s a posh French shampoo from the vet. Worth it though if the dog likes getting a bath with it. Mad ... I might try barking at the blue tits tomorrow.
I think they might have fledged and gone. All has disappeared in the blue tit box. Normally we have to keep the dog in for a couple of days. Anyway, the dog can skip a bath, she is not dirty and doesn’t have any scurf in her skin. I will just wash her bedding tomorrow. Give her a flannel wash.
She let us clip her paw pads this evening. I started giving her salmon oil, now she has fluffy fur growing all over, and clogging up her paw pads. She walks more dirt in with fluffy pads. I like the fringes round the edges though so I left them. She was barking at me to get it done. I clippered them all out while my Husband held her. Talk about going into baby mode. She loved having Him hold her. She is so His dog. She slips about on the floor if the fur grows into her pads. She can’t sit without her paws sliding away if they are too furry. At 14 years old I don’t want vet bills for slipped disks, or broken hips.
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