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May 2007

April 2007

a haunting from the ghost of Easter past

Yahaha! Agoneeeeeeeey.

Spike found a book That American Man (ah sure, it's not searchable, let's call him Ed, it's his name) gave me once. It was a children's book called How to be a friend. I suppose he gave it to me in an emotional charged moment, perhaps after his mother died. It's hard to remember these things, I find, they quickly recede into the mist, but it was meant to be a nice gesture, I am sure.
Thing is, it had a rather embarrassing message inside, saying something like: To ecogeeko, my friend, who gives me fantastic s*x.
Bit morto by the implications of this and the chance of it being found and given in all innocence to a child (arg!) I hid it away, concealing within its pages a photo of Ed, with no actual clothes on. I presume the logic was to keep the potential morto-fication in one (more easily controlled?) place but in reality putting the two together just turned them into a potential minefield of morto-explosives.

Years go by.

Cut to:
April 2007. Easter Sunday. E's old room in her parents' house.
Spike, pointing to the laden shelves: Dat book!
E: this one?
Spike: Dat book!
E: What, you mean this one?
Spike, (not happy with aunt's interpretation skills), shakes head and points to the Friend book. I take it out. I see the message written inside and in one hot-shame moment, it all comes back to me. Yes. Fantastic s*x. The book must be neutralised. Rendered safe for children. I rip the page from it and give it to Spike, who finds its illustrations not that interesting after all and dismisses it after a cursory flip-through.
I put it back on the shelf, sighing inwardly with relief. Spike has something in his hand:
Whaddat? he asks.
Well, Spike, since you ask, that would be a photo of a naked man.

Arg! Oh the terrible terrible shame, laced with the awful sick-making wake-up-at-night-in-a-sweat relief of knowing that, at least, fervent thanks be to all that is holy, he didn't run out to show it to Daddy. "Daddy! Whaddat?"

Spike has sped up at least 30% since, was that only last week? What is he on, steroids? He now runs everywhere, calling people to join him in his trail of discovery. He copies words all the time now and remembers much more. He loves getting in the old Merc E's brother has kept in the stables, covered in sheets, for oh, 10 years or something, and "driving" it, sitting on its plush light blue seat, holding the steering wheel and saying Beep! bee! in a loud voice, making engine noises. And watering the plants, and playing with the hoes. And beheading the occasional flower. And writing on the table. I mean, directly on the table.

He was a hoot at lunch time. Bed! he says when he sees me eating pesto bread his granny made. I get him the bread, and he says bur! so I butter it.
My fatal faux-pas.
His face is like thunder. No! he exclaims. Chastened, I give him a bit of plain bread. And when he butters it himself, however inexactly, it becomes quite acceptable. He eats it. He is happy.


The haunting episode as above reminds me of last week when Old Friend's son, a 8 yo, was leafing through a horse book. He comes to a page where a stallion is mounting a mare. I freeze. Oh no. What is my role here? How much does he know?
He pauses, flips the page  and then comes back to the intriguing page. I close my eyes, waiting for The Question.
OF's kid: This farmer is teaching this horse to jump over that one.
Yes. Absolutely, agrees e, faintly.


It wasn't easy but I cracked and hacked like a squirrel with a particularly hard nut until it was done. I like to beat computers. Ha. Take that, computer!

Maybe one day someone will stumble on ecogeeko. That might be nice. Although I quite like blogging away on my own-ee-oo. On the other hand, I have been doing this for nearly a year now, so maybe I should bravely go and meet the Other Blogging People who do this type of thing. Tentatively put out, yes, tentacles and see what I make contact with. ZAP.

If the quality of this entry is anything to go by, I would have to conclude my chances of being A Noted Blogger in the Blogosphere are rather slim. I do like to ramble incoherently, you see. And while to me, my life is full of intensely lived drama and up and downs, just by virtue of the fact I am in fact alive, it may seem quite routine and dull to the Other Blogging People, as afore-mentioned. To be interesting and consistent might take some WORK, and that is a four-letter word in the ecogeeko dictionary.

Our house has a sold sign on it. Hurray! And apparently it has bluebells in the garden.

The building, which will be a controversial glass one 14 stories high, had only been there for a few weeks, when this daredevil Carlow-supporting lunatic climbed up it in and scrawled his missive - the thing he (or she) most wants to share with the world, to be there for all to see - his contribution to civilisation:

A strangely Irish thing to do. I doubt if they get much of this kind of thing, in say, Singapore.

April fool's day

and no-one tricked me, ha ha! unless I am currently appearing on Naked Camera of course. It is possible.
It is very possible, in fact it might be even probable.

I am my mother's. And the man's who lives with her, who calls himself my Father, but couldn't be, as I am sure I am the result of a love match with a Swedish god and my mother. "Father" is too quick-tempered and arrogant/insecure, changeable/odd to be a blood relation of mine.

Oh, alright, he's alriiiiiiiight. Specially since the stroke, and no, that is not a joke.

Fr*nk Sk*nner is learning to play the banjo in a reality show, which is perhaps the only positive iteration of the reality show that I have ever heard about. Tis not about humiliation and feeling like you need a shower after it, tis noble and about enjoying someone learning something good.

I really don't have a lot to say. Oh! Toddler-sat yesterday. Spike was in great form, running in the garden and watering the plants, going on the swings in the park, and saying Whaddat? about everything, including his own hair. He must be tired of being asked what everything is, and is cleverly preempting this by getting in there first himself. I, Bobbie, am favour of the month still. Chicken and noodle next month no doubt. Good for the soul, I believe.

Today was sunny but with a thin wind.

Happy that I have fixed c*ptivate site. Hurrah.. hope to load and launch it next week.