non-post

Thank you for your patience while the Twangy continues to turn [insert further alarming grinding and whirring noises]. I don't pretend to understand why, but this catching-up is causing some cognitive dissonance, uncertainty and, of course, tentative happiness, not to mention a storm of paperwork.

The crew of the Twangy anticipates being on track soon.


[Never let it be said that I let the chance of using a really obvious symbol go by. :)]

Hope you are well, all.
Catch you soon.
T

Turnaround

Finally, finally, finally, FINALLY, we are at the point where we are talking to actual agencies about adopting. A child! (As opposed to a retired greyhound, I mean.) Last night we had a long Skype conversation with an agency who spoke about it all as if it is all quite normal. (It was funny. The webcam was pointing, unintentionally, I presume, at a colleague in the background who was sitting there putting on hand cream and just sort of hanging around. Modern life is bizarre.) More importantly, they seemed capable, experienced and friendly. And so! A moment of patience, please, fellow travellers, as we very slowly and gently right the course of the good ship Hope to point towards fairer climes. Careful, now..

(Writing slowly and painstakingly on Shiny Thing here. Total exercise in profanity. Shiny Thing has had to learn some curses. Shite for one. Also is no punctuator. Blame it, The Shiny Thing, for gaps, lack of logic, and poor grammar. Must stop before head explodes.)

Have good weekends, visitors all. Let's hope good times for us all are not too far off now.
T

[Shiny Thing had made such a hames of this I Just Had to Fix It.]

thanks

A shorty to say thank you for the advice. I never would have thought of that, simpleton that I am, but it makes perfect sense. I intend to tell Real as soon as I can, but not just now, because the poor beleaguered woman has had another loss; this time an old family friend.

In sundry other news: I seem to have made an impulse buy in the shape of a Very Shiny Phone. I don't think of myself as someone who owns Shiny Things, and in fact have pretentious Buy Local From Local Craftspeople also Upcycling/Secondhand and Choosing Public Transport Ideas about  myself, but there we have it. Or I do. 

I fear the Shiny Thing. It's so seductive. I have already outsourced all possible tasks normally entrusted to my brain and memory. Between this and the fact I was out until 12! o! clock! last night and then couldn't sleep because I was an overstimulated introvert, and so had to do a lot of obsessive running over the conversations and events of the night, I am in a befuddled condition. While revelling last night, (daringly downing a half glass! of red! wine!) I fell into conversation with a cobbler who disclosed to me all kinds of stories about the specific famous people she cobbles (for?). Quite a bit of information about lifts, cuban heels, hammer toes and "troll feet", and how these appear on the red carpet was revealed. I mean, is there no Cobblers' Code of Ethics anymore? What kind of a world do we live in?

WHERE WILL THIS MADNESS END.

Talk soon, all. Take care of yourselves. 
T