speechless too

Saturday, June 17, 2006

Warning: do not watch this if you are of a delicate disposition and are not a morning person. Or at least have some coffee first.

Another visual spectacle (is there any other kind?) to be avoided if you're of a delicate disposition: Kill Bill vol 2 (ah, c'mon, you know where IMDb is, you don't need me to look it up for you). We finally saw it last night, having seen the first vol when I was great with child (as I recall, child in question objected vigorously, if not violently, to the soundtrack, particularly the pan pipes). Both child and vol 2 were released around the same time, but postnatal viewing of vol 2 proved pretty salutary nevertheless: I learned that being a Mommy is a worthier calling that being a virtuoso killing machine. Well, that vindicates my career choices, then. Phew.

Becca still has the pox but we think she might be on the turn. And she's no longer afraid of the hoover. Hurrah!

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poxwatch

Friday, June 16, 2006

Day 5 in the Poxwatch House and the spots are showing no sign of being on the turn. She's even got a few vesicles on her tongue, which means that every time she tries to eat something she howls and clutches her mouth. She ate practically nothing yesterday, but doggedly managed an entire bowl of cornflakes this morning out of sheer desperation I suppose. The Wiggles* are Mummy's best friends at the moment, being as they are the only thing that consoles her her poor spotty grotty tot.

*especially Anthony who, it was agreed at Music and Movement the other week, is the Wiggle the Mummies would most like to to *ahem* get to know better.

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be careful what you wish for

Thursday, June 15, 2006

Becca's finally got the pox: not much sleep in the Williams Elder household last night while she thrashed and shrieked for hours because her poor inflamed skin was driving her mad. First spots appeared on Monday, so we need to isolate her at least until the weekend. We're postponing our trip to Auckland, booked for this Saturday. Its original purpose was to attend her wee cousin Evelyn's second birthday party on Sunday; we figure that turning up to a roomful of small people with a contagious toddler would be bad form.

Bit of a Metroland moment (can girlies have Metroland moments?) the other day in the work-local posh coffee shop: suddenly realised that I've now reached the age at which being addressed as 'Miss' should now be taken as a compliment (if not outright flattery).

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jersey girl

Sunday, June 11, 2006

Rebecca models her new jersey, lovingly knitted for her by her mum in rare (and short-lived) fit of Domestic Goddessry. (Goddessness. Whatever.)

The spitting image of her dad. (Only at one eighth the size and far less hairy.)

Beulah, peel me a grape...

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but we got high hopes

Wednesday, June 07, 2006

Becca was coughing and wailing half the night and this morning was sounding like a little mini-Marianne Faithfull so we're having an unaccustomed day inside: unaccustomed because when she's not at nursery we have Groups of the Improving sort. Instead of which we've watched the Muppets taking Manhattan, disinterred all the
long-neglected stuffed toys, played marbles (amazingly, she didn't even appear to consider putting one in her mouth), and made banana bread. Not quite sure how I'm going to fill the afternoon, though. Anyone?

And despite near-continuous exposure and a false alarm last week, she still hasn't had bloody chicken pox yet either.

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when work avoidance goes wrong

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

Updating literary biogs for my lovely lovely UK (freelance) employers I find I need to write a hasty potted summary of a novel I've never read. Ach, I'll do it in a minute. I'll just have quick squizz at the Grauniad first...

Well, fancy that.

Jeez, even when I'm trying to avoid work I can't avoid it. More on this later, as I'm a bit busy just now. (Did I mention the French dept at my old(er) uni have offered me some teaching? And some researching?) Just in case anyone is worried about neglect, Rebecca is now down for stand-by days at nursery as well as her regular two-day gig.

Right. Monica Ali. Brick Lane, in case anyone is interested, is irritating but compelling. Or possibly irritatingly compelling. Don't think I'll bother with Alentejo Blue though.

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