Archive for the ‘North of Seven’ Category
Self
As in time with…self. Hello old (still hot) friend!
Sunshine and open fields darlings, summer is almost here.
So glad and grateful.
More Currybomb-esque Goodness:
The Winter Storm That Happened in the Spring
Blogged too soon…the ice snuck in overnight. But also continues. Just because it can.
Ice day! In April! Okay…
Might as well use the day properly and clean and cook and organize all this new blogging stuffs. I am writing down all my super neat ideas and trying to find the right fit of a designer.
When I tired of such things I tried on every pair of pants I own. I purged, a healthy spring purge. I also put myself on a strict diet and vowed for health. I’m planning a quilt and a skirt too. Domestic yes? (My dreams of fame and fortune are gone, I think they’cve been happily replaced with dreams of banal domesticity. And I’m happy about it actually.)
Still in no rush. Aiming for best match, not just current and readily available match. I thought we were a match? Thought wrong suppose.
Also internetted some interesting articles on Psychology Today. Somewhere my life coach is throwing her hands up and wondering why I don’t ever listen. This is not a far out diagnosis conspiracy theory however. For once it was out of mere curiosity. It’s more of a confirmation that the fairer sex is merely fairer. Or something like that.
Just got schooled on self fulfilling prophecies. Word. Super interesting.
Hope you made you day wonderful doll! <3
More Currybomb-esque Goodness:
Necessity/Necessary
Icemageddon. Terrifying!
Chrystal prepares by fashioning a bunker out of a duvet. Smart Mittens! I slept with a heated blanket last night. Necessary.
It was supposed to arrive this morning. Then this afternoon. Then this evening and save for a few drizzle-y bits on my commute home there is nothing to report but over-dramatic and ominous weather updates. Can it be called a winter storm warning when it’s spring?
Spring storm warning?
Or something.
I have a post menstrual date with my Katy Perry and Lil Wayne dominated Ipod and my treadmill. Sweat it out girl!
More Currybomb-esque Goodness:
I Pickled the Figs Myself
Because I’m mostly always in charge of desserts and to celebrate day one of the Christinka gets her body back diet I thought I could reminensce about the brilliance that was my Easter cake.
Hummingbird/Sam’s cake, you can never lose. Best ever.
Omit raisins, replace with almonds.
Also, cream cheese icing with lemon. Also, toast some coconut and dye green. Also, place sugar bunnies and eggs just so.
I was made for this type of thing. I used to have dillusions of grandeur but now mostly I just want to clean the house and do laundry and make things pretty and nest. Swoon.
I had to practically elbow a little old lady for those sugar bunnies at Bulk Barn. That was the day I spend over a hundred dollars on two toddlers for Easter and then realized maybe I need to not spoil Violet so much. She could become a little despot! A tiny queen hellbent on desturuction. Another Veruca Salt.
Then again, there is possibly no way to avoid the little one taking after me. Muhahaha!
More Currybomb-esque Goodness:
Don’t Mind Me
It’s hard to enjoy your dinner with that face staring at you. As much as I was concentrating on Corrie Street and rooting heavily for the kabob affair of 2013 my eyes would eventually drift upon those eyes. The occasional yawn or whimper thrown in for good measure. The Orphan look is big at our house. When this proves not enough she then jumps beside you, inching her way to the plate until her nose just sits at the very edge.
Eventually she wins. Always.
Kinda like me.
Tomorrow is wholesale shopping goodness.
I’m a lucky girl.
More Currybomb-esque Goodness:
Seventy-Two
As in my dad would be today…
I wished him a happy birthday upon realizing this, upon a commute actually and when I switched the radio station soon after a song came on that made me smile. It was a charmed little moment and solidified that he is always with me. Even when he doesn’t ‘feel’ to be. And then I opened a box of hummingbird add-on’s and swooned a bit again.
Thanks universe. Christinka needed that.
Happy birthday Dad, not a day goes by that I don’t wish you were still here.
More Currybomb-esque Goodness:
Top of the O’Possum to You
Lola dragged me out barking and sniffing yesterday morning at 3 a.m. to seemingly walk in circles. She then took great interest in the right hand side patio…
Hello new friend! Hello sudden worry about vicious attacks on the Beagle and/or meowies maulings! Communicable diseases? Let’s hope not. In fact I think we are quite safe. Lola was almost snout to snout with the little fella and there wasn’t an utter of impending violence. Not a growl or a hiss or whatever audible warning signal these guys typically omit. A casual look over followed by a solid nosh on a stale PB cookie left there for the squirrels and chippers.
Come for the cookies, stay for the carb induced nap. Nature is adorable.
More Currybomb-esque Goodness:
You’re Pretty
Lola and I enjoyed our little crisp morning jaunt together.
As pretty as this is…it’s got to stop. I’m hardcore bonding with the bobcat and it’s a little tiring. Also my face is so dry and owie. But otherwise, what a beaut!
Beagle cam.
More Currybomb-esque Goodness:
Thanks for the Jeep Bill Murray
Oh look at Tink she’s got a case of the Januarys. It’s bitter cold and that doesn’t help any. Even if that glorious sun shines it’s way in to my also frigid morning heart. Armed with my snake mittens and a Midge made smoothie.
Good Midge. I won the Midge lottery.
The dream was that I was at my fathers funeral, but he was still alive, and I was clutching his arm madly as I hysterically cried. But then, Chili the cat attacked one of the funeral goers who shall remain nameless and then there was all this drama and then everyone left and I was angry regarding their disrespect. Logically I was then on the 401 near the airport with Midge and asked her to return to my Aunt’s so I could fetch the cats. Midge refused. I got out of the car and found a gas station. Got a coffee and then Bill Murray gave me his Jeep because he said; it looked like I needed it.
Clearly all this means…Bill Murray is my spirit animal.
Source: Crossfit
Or I may need more therapy. (I cannot stress that this is not a sign of weakness, I think everyone needs therapy. Those who think they do not require therapy are typically the ones who should find and schedule an appointment like yesterday. End, rant.)
Groundhog day is approaching I might add.
I think I may be going through a really dirty hippie phase kinda like when The Beatles went to India and manned up with all the Maharishis and yogis and Mia Farrow and found a type of zen. It’s all falling in to place now…growing out my hair and juicing a lot and trying to sprout an avocado seed and last week I bought myself a lime tree and a lemon tree. It all works out because truly, where would we be as a society without Sgt Pepper?
Co-coo-ca-chu.
In other news…hugged a giant stuffed lobster.
In addition to having an amazing salad in one of those nifty tortilla bowls (salivate still thinking about it, could eat it daily), I nabbed a lot of taffy and was in retail heaven. Slept like a baby last night.
Only three more Janudays to go…let’s make them good ones!
More Currybomb-esque Goodness:
Evil Marble
I am harder on myself than anyone would ever be and this is why not feeling 100% is so vexing and anxiety causing. I love to accomplish, I adore the energy and the creation and the whole thing. But when you are drained and every time you swallow it’s some sort of torture the positivity can sometimes slide a little.
I can’t shake this thing. Back to feeling like a marble is wedged in my throat everytime I swallow. Dry cough, sinus is blocked to the point of messing with my balance and almost attempting to make me cross eyed. You can try as hard as you’d like mystery Marble but I like my pupils exactly where they are.
A for effort though. Gold Star.
And if I hear one more time about well ‘if you got a flu shot…’. No. No you do not make medical decisions for me. I try to stay away from as much pharmas as possible and hey guess what non-medical schooled person…everyone I know that had the damn shot is sick anyway so shut it captain bossyneedles. No, we are not united in virus immunity, cause you’ll probably get sick too. You are creating super-bugs. Super. Bugs. They are becoming resistant to the cures that are currently available.
No. Shhhhhhhhhhhh. I am always right just ask all of my former manfriends. Zing.
Happy 10th of Jan Jan. Gotta go…Har is here and we all know how much the big dope and I live for snuggling on the couch time. What a guy he is. Lola is less than impressed with him but perhaps also is staking her claim as top dog. Daisy just wants everyone to get along.
Love.