Sorry I haven’t blogged, but Sorcha and Gaia came up for the weekend and there was much playing of scrabble and partaking of gluten-free chocolate-chip cookies (I found a brand which are surpassingly tasty). She is doing so well now, and is so much more relaxed and hopeful without Priss Pot whining and bitching in her ears all the time. She likes her new job, and they are already talking about expanding her duties (and pay) after her trial period is over.
Gaia seemed fine, too. She and the Fokkerlings played until the almost fell over. She brought some little pillow/light gizmo that looked like a stuffed rainbow colored unicorn which sent the girls into raptures last night at bedtime. Now my girls have added it to their Christmas List, woe is me. Stuff like that drives me a bit bonkers, if I’m honest … but Santa/Granny will probably get it for them because granddaughters.
Sweet Babou made pulled pork and in general petted us like the hero he is, and he stayed home to sit on the children while Sorcha and I scampered over to Department Stores to look for Halloween stuff. I feel there CANNOT be “too much” Halloween Stuff. Sweet Babou, on the other hand, believes a finite amount of kitschy ghost shit would be easy to achieve. Nevertheless, he lets me turn our home into a monument to silly/spooky every year, because he is awesome like that. Sorcha is thrilled because for the first time in 15 years she can decorate without dealing with any of Priss Pot’s hysteria that something “tacky” might be in “his” house. She bought a small, understated sign in Halloween colors that said “Come In and Sit for a Spell”. She a wild child, y’all. As for myself, I succumbed to the allure of children’s shirts with glow-in-the-dark mummies and/or bones on them for the daughters.
If God did not want me to dress my girls up in funky clothes then S/He should not have made them so damn cute.
Speaking of cute, this morning in church Lilo went rouge during the “Peace” and gave everyone a Big Hug instead of shaking hands. There are times when I think her heart will glow in her chest, like E.T’s, it is that powerful. However, us Episcopalians are God’s frozen chosen so I wasn’t sure how full body love-tackles from a second grader would go over. I shouldn’t have worried; she was the darling of the Blue Haired Ladies.
The weirdest piece of information imparted this weekend was the fact that Priss Pot actually had the bald face nerve to ask Sorcha for sex … you know, because he didn’t want to have to ‘take care of himself’. I cannot conceive of the gall it would take to ask someone who was divorcing you for some cootchie (as though prior sex had rendered all future sex pro-forma or unrelated to that person’s emotional needs) just because you were too lazy and selfish to reach for some KY and tissues, but then again I am not a narcissistic asshat. I told her that should he ask for sex ever again, to tell him that if he wants to get laid he should crawl up a chicken’s ass and wait.
Frankly, he’ll have to wait a long damn time, if that chicken ever gets a good look at him.