11 April 2006
In which I totally pimp my blog
The weekend was hectic, thank you for asking. Party at my dear friends, Mr and Mrs Poet's house, for a housewarming they were throwing. (She's not a poet, but he is, and Mr and Mrs Poet has such a great ring to it, don't you think? Mr Poet and Mrs Editor doesn't sound quite the same. Mr and Mrs Poet-Editor? Editor-Poet? Honey, we're having dinner at the Editor-Poets' tonight, look out your black tie. Okay, I can work with that.) Anyhoo, so we brought wine and drank all the available alcohol in the house, with every single available mixer--dark rum and Sprite DO NOT go well together, for future reference, and the evening wound up with me sitting in the living room (my heels by this time were killing me, so I just plonked myself on the floor, barefoot) and swigging straight from a bottle of Sula Rose, which was delectable at this stage, seeing as I had just gotten over the hiccups.
I also got from another guest, a fantastic cure for the hiccups, much better than the old drink a lot of water theory, because it cured me. Anyway, this involves drinking water too, but with your free arm up in the air, and counting to ten as you drink. Then you drop your arm and breathe normally and voila! No more ze heecups.
Cookie, my dog, has by the way, produced three puppies. They are ADORABLE. And very young--only a week old. And looking for good homes. My dog is part spaniel, but she's mated with some strange dog, so the puppies will be, um, one-fourth spaniel? No matter, they're still really really cute, with the teeniest petal-pink paws, and little pink noses and they fit into the palm of my hand. Can you say aw? All together now--- awwwwwwwww. So the upshot is, if you would like a Cookie-puppy (TM) or a mini-biscuit (heh), email me. They should be ready to be adopted in another six weeks.
Also now is a good time to share that I'm leaving y'all for about 10 days this May. I'm taking a holiday with my mom and Small and her parents to *hold your breath* Egypt! Think of me in Cairo with a sola topee and a whip going, "Damn'd natives, bloody climate they have here, what?" Think of me on the Nile, pretending to be Cleopatra, and waving a langurous arm around at my attendant. Think of me, as a belly dancer for a Pharoah, shaking my booty. Are you jealous yet? Are you? Are you? :)
By the way, I don't think I have any visitors from Egypt, but if any of you know some little out of the way type thingies I should be doing, I'd appreciate any tips. Please, and thank you.
And week before last (oops, sorry, JANUARY. I'm behind on my net surfing, clearly) was De-Lurking Week, which I totally missed, but I'm declaring it here on this blog, so if you've been lurking and un-commenting, then come out of hiding already and say hello. And I think if you have a blog, you should spread the word on it as well. Why should the Americans have all the fun?