Tuesday, December 23, 2014

The Snuggle Cure


            Snuggles are good, especially so when I am unwell. I like snuggles. My girls have their own snuggle methods suited to their personalities. My oldest tends to limit herself to a brief but intense hug. When she was new to our family (She’s one of our adopted children.) she was a lap-sitter and an arm clutcher, but now that’s she’s grown, her huggie-snuggle style has changed. Kat is rough. Her snuggles are intense, involving a tight hug and a half sit. Her legs may go over mine. The tighter the squeeze and the more prolonged it is, the more satisfied she seems. Annie is my gentle child. Her snuggles tend to involve sharing a chair, sitting as close as she can, and unlike the others, she fills the time with chatter. Her conversation is part of her snuggle. I love her chatter.

            Not that I didn’t already really, really like our snuggles, but Knobby Knees, my pet Scotsman, snuggles best, especially now that I have trouble maintaining body temperature. He is a delicious snuggler. We have a complex of snuggles that may include lap sitting, caressing, to spooning. My preference is to be in the spoon. The most intimate snuggle is a face to face, go-to-sleep huggle He’s good at that. It’s comforting and warming.
 
Indulgent Dad: Knobby Knees as My Pet Dragon
 

            I think I’m going to put one of my oral stories on paper. I don’t intend to submit it anywhere or share it here. It’s for my own enjoyment. I may have lulu print a single copy just for me. That is if I like the finished product.

            I’m still struggling with Mr. Jones. My writing partner sent me some material today. It’s good, I think, and presents part of the story with clarity I did not achieve. This evening I’ll past it into our working document. There is a huge amount of material that takes Mr. Jones’ life to its finish in the 1930s. We’ll abbreviate most of that. It’s interesting, but only marginally relevant to the story.

            I think I’m growing a goat tail.

            I had a long conversation with someone I don’t like. (Not liking someone doesn’t mean I won’t talk to them.) He’s very interested in mythology, but most of what he thinks he knows is wrong. He has comprehension problems, and he’s mentally ill. He’s something like a vulgar, ugly spider. Distasteful but interesting. His view of life is coloured by his (mis)understanding of mythology.

            Not that you want to know, but I’ve missed four periods. I always panic when that happens. I’m not pregnant though. My periods have been irregular since Annie was born. Lately, their irregularity has increased. Next doctor visit, I’ll bring it up. I’m 37 and may be in peri-menopause. Medications can cause that too. But I’ll ask about it. In the mean time I pee on the stick, just to be certain. No little blue lines yet.

            My baby half-sister is staying with us until next weekend. She reminds me of Annie, except where Annie is fair and blond, she has her mother’s darker skin. The personalities are similar. Annie, Liz and my sister and I went shopping yesterday. I spent more money than I should, but we came away with nice shoes for the girls. (Do you have any idea how much shoes for five cost?) And I bought matching pink outfits with sweaters for Annie and baby half. Mostly because they begged and the outfits were sixty percent off.
 


Sister Exploring the Back Yard.
 

            I was worn out by the time we got home, but I had yesterday off and today too.

            I completed a set of rare-ish stamps for almost no money. These are Official Stamps (for government use) from Germany. They catalogue in the hundreds of dollars each in used condition. But most American collectors don’t care. A mint stamp of the same issue is very cheap. European collectors want them, but economic bad times mean that few expensive stamps sell for anything near catalogue value. So this is a good time to finish my set. Pictured below is one of them. This is the twenty-billion mark stamp for the high inflation period. It is listed at $250.00. I paid less than ten dollars for it. It was the last one I needed to complete a used set. I’m very pleased.

 
 

            I spend more time than I should imagining my current oral story. I think it’s one of the best I’ve told my family. Our heroine is pregnant. She’s off in a tiny village where she’s vanquished an evil baron and his men, taken young fraternal twins into her care, found a mysterious child in a temple turned church, sent back to the Southern Kingdom priests sent by a power-hungry archbishop, and befriended a Black Goat. There are several paths forward. I expect I’ll have to choose one today, because with the night off, they’ll expect the story from me. I enjoy telling my family stories. It’s fun, and best fun when they say, “Mom! What happened then!?”

10 comments:

  1. I like snuggles too. My granddaughter Maggie is more like Kat. She gives bone-crushing hugs.

    Please do put one of your oral stories to pen. I miss the snippets of pixie stories you used to post. In the words of a Dickens character, "Please sir, can I have more?"

    A goat tail, eh? Your meds have some strange side effects.

    Missing periods... oh my. Does that pet scot of yours know how to use protection? That reminds me of a joke. I'll condense it a bit.

    A colonel of Her Majesty's Black Guard went to the Apothecary and carefully removes a box from his sporran containing a sheepskin condom. He explains to the druggist that there is a hole in it. His question is can it be repaired. The druggist replies that he can repair it for a tuppence or replace it for a half shilling. The officer puts the condom back in the box and leaves. He returns the next day and tells the druggist, "My company has voted to have it repaired."

    Tell Knobby Knees that he should buy a pack or two. They are cheaper than those pee sticks!

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  2. Not that you all need to know, but I'm on the pill, and I hate condoms.

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  3. And there's a real ick factor in that story. Most Scots aren't THAT frugal.

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  4. An occasional reader12:12 AM

    Two statements about birth control come wafting down through the ages.

    First - don't ever give anyone advice. IT WILL BE YOUR FAULT!

    And second - you can't sue the manufacturers...

    There is an extremely cheap range of shops here that sell everything for 1 GBP. And yes, they have their own line in prophylactics. The shop is heaving with large women pushing large prams. Go figure.

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  5. I don't pretend to give our Pixie advice. My comments are more in the line of teasing her, something I enjoy doing whenever I can.

    Yes my dear Pixie. Most Scots are not that frugal, but or ages they have been known for frugality. And as for the ick factor, it is the punchline of the joke. Men laugh hard at it while women go EEWWWW!

    But since we are apparently sharing our personal details, my wife used your method on and off until after our son was born. Then I bit the bullet and had a simple, yet very painful, procedure in the doctor's office. I walked funny for about a week until the swelling went down. Since then I have been shooting blanks.

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  6. Bean Spiller11:15 PM

    Since we are broadcasting the most personal of personal details, is it de rigueur to promulgate the details of folk with whom one has lived for a time?

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  7. All the daughters of Rachael and K.K. are my adopted nieces.
    And yes, Annie seems the gentle child. I hope the two youngest daughters of our pixie write again their personal article.

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  8. An occasional reader5:06 AM

    Hmmmm. Why does the question raised by Bean Spiller fill me with misgivings...?

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  9. Bean Spiller6:18 AM

    "Why does the question raised by Bean Spiller fill me with misgivings...?"

    The 'misgivings' are far more likely to be caused by the sprouts you doubtless have consumed during lunch.
    This, but a small taster of the fascinating insights to follow......

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  10. An occasional reader6:58 AM

    Oh boy. I feel another warning by Rachael about old guys misbehaving coming on...

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