Chrimbo

Christmas seems to be complete madness of such bonkers consumerism that has left me flat broke.  And fat.  Sorry to sound so bah humbug but I can hardly breathe for eating and spending.  I don't know why or how we do it really.  I would like to tone it down a bit for next year but I know I won't.  Well, I might on the food because we really do not need whole hams and whole cheeses, huge fish in their entirety, mince pies and Christmas puddings.  A fruit salad would be nice.  Actually, I feel a vegetarian week looming.

And now we have New Year and then post Christmas diets.

We are off to the Caribbean at the end of the month. Hooray.

Gingerbread House

I am in a bate.  This is because we found a very nice house for Mrs Smith, mother of Mr Smith, here in our village/town which we cleaned and mended and polished and licked and got all ready for Mrs Smith to move into.  Her loathsome eldest son, brother of Mr Smith, has filled it with junk.  Everything he didn't know what to do with, such as a table tennis table, he has had delivered to this little house.  I pointed out that it isn't his house and he is not to fill the garage with junk as his mother might like to keep her car in there.  When are the table tennis championships to be held?  With no bats balls or nets one assumes never.  I have threatened to set fire to all this rubbish if he doesn't get rid of it.  As far as he is concerned his mother's house is Big Yellow Storage with a maid.

In the meantime I am getting all excited about our trip to France tomorrow.  Hope the weather gets cheery.  It looks a bit grey today.

Mrs Smith actually moves in today as she spent the night at our house last night though I have absolutely no idea why since she has a perfectly good house of her own.  I will deliver her to it and make sure she stays there tonight.  

Ennui

I am bored.  This is odd because I am never bored.  The boredom is really caused by fatigue which just means I am really lazy and can't be arsed to do anything.  I am still tired after my wonderful trip to the other side of the Atlantic and I am just a teensy bit pissed off that I am not in that glorious sun shine being bored there.  Mr Smith has gone to the metropolis so I am rattling around in my great big house without motivation.  I have been swimming, done my laundry - well half my laundry ie I put it in the machine with a squidgey thing and offered up a little prayer to the god of washing hoping to see it again on the other side.  I did the shopping.   This was quite exciting as Mr Smith wrote me a list that I didn't read before leaving.  As I couldn't find my glasses I just got what I thought it said.  Oh Dog food, I bought doughnuts.  Oh well.

I did the crossword which was ridiculously tricky today and ate some ice cream.  It was a rather delicious yoghurt ice cream which was amazingly low in calories.  Admittedly it wasn't right down there with celery or cucumber or water but it wasn't Richter scale calories considering its deliciousness.  160 for two big scoops.  Well, maybe they were supposed to be really tiny scoops; I don't know because they just drew a picture of scoops and gave the cals.  I ate two medium sized - no I didn't.  I didn't scoop at all, I just dug.

I have to walk the dog and cut out some white squares.  Both these tasks fail to fill me with glee.  I also have to paint two white squares dark green but that is too dull to contemplate.  Oh there is the thrilling prospect of taking my washing off the rack and ironing some of it.

I am going out tonight.  That could be exciting but in all honesty it is the sewing group's annual knees up and I have an inkling there might not be a male stripper.

I think I will go and visit my recently bereaved friend.  Oh why do husbands have to die?  She will be so sad and lonely.  I love her dearly.  I mustn't cry.  No no no.  Happy thoughts.  Laundry, dog walk, crap on telly, worse on YouTube.

Oh, I see from the front page of the Torygraph that the Queen is now on Facebook.  Do you think she'd like to be friends?
 - hatch tag Liz @ BHouse.

Mrs da Vinci

Ghastly dream where I left my handbag on a train from Kings Lynn to Diss.  I don't know what this means.  I have never taken a train journey through Norfolk other than a teeny steam train around some nursery gardens with Mr Smith with his poo face on.

I am newly arrived back from the Caribbean and I could sleep for a week.  I have decided to emerge in late Spring but only if the weather's clement.

I was rather masterly painterly on holiday and Mr Smith is getting a bit whip cracky as he tots up how many meals or nights each painting is worth.  I have done so well he is now considering air fares.  OK.  By the way, I don't actually have a studio.  He is working on that.  I do have paintings to crack on with but I am so stupidly tired I cant start.

Our master plan is to spend a month in the Caribbean next year.  All my painting money will go to the holiday fund.  Time to paint some better pictures I feel.  Maybe some British ones too.