... please be patient. Surgery can be quite sore! Not to mention tricky. In the meantime, shield your eyes folks. It has to get worse before it can get better. Or so they say.
Yeah, blame me. I went and fandangled my fonglewongle to try and fix an error message on my blog and now look! My whole nifty-looking blog has disappeared and I'm left with...
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Well, this bugly blog.
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And I'm STILL getting error messages. Grrrrreat! Stay tuned folks. Sorry for the break in transmission. Service will resume shortly.
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Hopefully!
Today held the loss of two friends. Two young men, both recently out of school who have spent the past three and two years respectively working for God as missionaries in Abundant Life Missionary Touring Team. A tragedy to be sure.
Words always fail me at times like these. But we live on in their absence, knowing that when that awesome trumpet sounds, at the resurrection day, God will call for them, and we will all be reunited together again. For now, they rest. Oblivious of the fact that many mourn their loss. Oblivious of those who already miss them. Anton and Andre, we are going to miss you guys. But we look so forward to that glad day when Jesus comes and raises you from the dead! Not long anymore. Not long.
...the cows break down the fence around your yard to get into your garden, because the grass is longer greener on your side of the fence than in the fields around it.
And that's all I have to say about that.
That, and now would be a good time to be grateful that you've never had to clean up bull-you-know-what. Now THAT's all I have to say about that.
It would seem that Jo (of www.benades.blogspot.com - sorry, my Mr Linky's not working) was a prophet of doom with her comment on my post "Game On!" Her words were barely cold when her warning came true. My popularity with pudding pie totally backfired on me.
See, yesterday morning my gal refused to go down for her early morning nap, which is when I usually do my unHillbillylike things, like have worship, shower, wash hair, brush teeth and make up my bed. And if time allows, I also quickly grab a few bites to eat.
Well, not so yesterday morning. Little sugar booger decided napping was for the birds and refused to sleep. Okie dokie. The girl has a will of her own. Lord have mercy! Those teen years are rapidly approaching.
Anyhoo... I prop the gal up in her pram, with a few good toys strewn on her lap for good measure, park the pram in our bathroom en-suite facing the shower, then hop into the shower myself and proceed to belt out my rendition of Kelly Clarkson's "Since You've Been Gone" clean the earwax from my ears. With a little jig or two on the side. You know, to get the blood moving, and all of that.
Jess happily sat in her pram with her toys, watching Mommy act like a dork. Until it was time for me to hop out the shower.
Then all h*ll broke loose. The gal took one look at this monstrosity of a hot pink monster with a towel wrapped around it's head, and let out a screech that threatened to shatter the very walls of our house.
I learnt one big lesson from the experience too: never underestimate the staying power of a child in distress. They can scream way longer than you can block your ears. I'm just saying.
Sugar Booger only stopped screeching once I'd unwrapped the towel from my head AND put my Hillbilly glasses on.
What can I say? The girl has style.
Did you ever read the email that did the rounds a year or more ago, about the woman who attempted to help her son's lizard (maybe a gecko?) give birth, but unbeknown to her, gecko's don't give birth to live young and she was actually just yanking it's, uh, ahem, chain?
(Yeah, it's all downhill from here. Don't say I didn't warn you.)
Wellll, monkey see, monkey do. And yeah, you guessed it, I'm the monkey. Minus the gecko. But add one big fat city slicker cat that we adopted from my sister when they moved to New Zealand last month. But that's a whole other story, and one that I'll only be telling when it no longer reduces me to crocodile tears.
Anyhoo... Where was I? Oh yes.It won't be news to y'all that I'm still pretty much a city slicker myself, so I don't do bugs too easily. Warra warra fish paste, long story short, it's the end of a long day and I'm doing the Hillbilly Couch Potato Thing this evening after the rest of the Hillbilly Household have hit the hay, when Big Fat City Slicker Cat hops up onto the couch next to me for a snuggle and a nibble of my KFC sprinkle pops, when SHOCK! HORROR! What do I spy dangling from her torso but a big fat spongy tick! And where was Hubby when I needed him, but already throwing some ZZzzz's around the room! Well, there aint no way I'm going to bed tonight wondering if Angel (the big fat city slicker cat) is hoping to follow me to bed with that grotesque parasite dangling from her... So off I run to the trusty bathroom cabinet to grab my tweezer and return to detick fatcat. Only, by the time I've summoned up my courage and swallowed the bile collecting in my mouth, placed the tweezer tips firmly on the tick and yanked... It's only then that I see it is more firmly attached than a tick... It is in fact a fat cat nipple! And I will never be grabbing anything ever again with a tweezer. I am so grossed out that I can't sleep. Ew. Poor cat. The next time she sees a tweezer coming it will be enough to give her a nervous tic.
