January again and no escape

and in the meanwhile


While nothing has exactly improved with my mother or indeed on the progress of the adoption legislation, (WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS GOOD ARE THEY DOING? QUICK! DIVERT LINE OF THOUGHT BEFORE HEAD EXPLODES) the worry-level has become more manageable. Or maybe I have adjusted to it somehow. I am Getting Out quite a bit, what with teaching night courses and being in a performance in the Tr@dFest, and Seeing People. Hotdesk situation commences next week. This is helpful. This is normalising.

 It seems there is something to keeping busy. Life is varied and interesting. Odd and funny things happen.

  • I went to a fancy supermarket/deli on the way home last weekend. The check-out girl (for whom there may well be a more respectful title), as she gave me my change:
    The colour of your glasses is warm and sophisticated with your skin-tone.
    I whinnied in surprise. 
    Warm and sophisticated! She declared, in the manner of a 1960's Avon lady.
    Thank you, cashier human, for whom there may well be a more respectful title. You don't get that at Tesco.


  • The cat continues to amuse me daily. She broke into her bag of dry food the other day and ate herself silly. Kitty, I admire your ingenuity, your tenacity and your positive body image.


  • In the car again, giving a lift (not a ride, American friends, while in Ireland. Unless you want to cause a tremendous guffawing. It means.. something else here.) to a fellow choir member after practice. 
    I can get out here, she says.
    Oh no, it's cold out, I say.
    I'm from Siberia, she says by way of explanation.
    (Just like Sybil in Fawlty Towers says about Manuel: He's from Barcelona.)
    (Plus, SIBERIA! Cool!)
    Me: Out you get, then.* 
  • The entire choir is sitting around the round table in the Place of Ecumenical Worship in the nearby redbrick uni where we sing. Twenty of us, and we are all talking one after another in that alarming way which makes you feel you are taking the floor to perform when you pipe up. Inbetween gamely made comments, awkward silence prevails. One of these is broken by a German tenor (I only mention this because there may a cultural element to his faux-pas) tells us he has a story for us. He was on a swimming holiday with a young Irish woman and two Americans. The Irish woman: I was woken this morning by a cock. 
    The Americans' jaws hit the floor until it is understood that that is a rooster. HA.

    Mortified tittering from the choir, who if taken individually, in another context, probably would have been much less bashful. As it was though, another more awkward silence ensued, ironically the very thing our tenor friend was trying to avoid.

And that brings us to the end of this comedy of manners. (Goes without saying, I hope, that I would love to hear yours.)

Have lovely weekends, my dears. Talk soon.

*Not really. I brought her home.


Dr Spouse

And that last phrase is one that to you, and to Americans, means you took her to HER house. To us, confusingly, it means you took her to YOUR house.

Anyway I check often to see if you have an update, so nice to hear from you, sorry the news is no further along. I thought they'd sorted the legalities but you were just waiting for an agency? Or a match?


Oh really? We are divided by a common language.

Thanks, Dr S. I visit you, too.

No, (sigh) we are STILL waiting (sigh) for Authority here to give the (sigh) agency here the go-ahead to start the process with the agencies (sigh) there.


My father had an English colleague who, at the time of this story, had lived in the US for teens of years, at least. Yet he seemed genuinely not to be pulling our legs when he casually mentioned his sweetheart over lunch one day, saying, "I knocked Lynn up last week, and...."

Much sputtering from our side of the table.

A small, private forum I belong to, once upon a time was mostly TTC lesbians. Thanks to a few Aussies in our midst, we had much fun wiggling our emoticon eyebrows at each other when greeting word of a new month's attempts with promises to "root" for one another.


I am sorry to hear there is no news from the Authority. But it does sound like you have much to keep busy with in the meantime. We also call driving other people giving them "a lift".

I am starting the Choir next week myself. I am looking forward to it, although it will be fraught with social awkwardness, I am sure.

Valery Valentina

mhm, once after a difficult project I received an email (in dutch) thanking me for my "flexibilitit". Clearly a typo, but as the only woman on the project I had a good laugh out of it. (but did not notify the sender of his typo ;-)

Valery Valentina

(Glad to see Bionic around)
(in shock that a bad thing happened to May. Wishing unicorns her way to kiss it better)
(Authorities, gah, sounds head exploding-dingy)


Thanks, everyone. You are most cheering.

Andie, you'll enjoy the choir, I believe. You only have to talk in the break (which may present funny episodes itself as above), and have that shared sense of purpose. Absolutely worth it.


Just enjoying the idea of "awakened by a cock" in a german accent. In Latin class there's a good bit from Livy where Marcus Manlius is guarding the temple all night and is aroused by geese. Titter titter! I drew the Latin teacher an amusing comic of the scene, which she proudly displayed.

I'm sorry the place of acceptance is so far. The Ailing Parent, that seems unsolvable. But the Authority, Oh, how enraging. I hope that every inch closer is a Spot of Momentary Acceptance. A Boulder to Rest on of Brief Acceptance. And maybe a super fast car will zip up behind you and suddenly you'll arrive!

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