Week 11 has come to a close. The squatter (as my flatmate, Tigerflea, calls AO) should have lost its tail by now - phew! Its already been to Uncle Frank's big Astoria gig and witnessed several atrocities. I won't blame it if it never comes out after witnessing its father's rather drunken and disruptive behaviour and the unfortunate assault visited upon an equally drunk and mouthy Uncle Ev by Astoria's security staff. Anyway, enough airtime has been devoted to that subject, so moving on to AO and his Mothership.
The Mothership is brimming, with twice the amount of blood pumping around, its slow and flushed and pees a lot - not glam, but then any thoughts of glamour were forlornly abandoned quite a few weeks ago. This is a new adventure with its own rewards, so I'm told.
Huston, we have a problem:
How is it that I can go "aaawww" over a kitten but I can't absorb the fact I'm pregnant? I think its partly that I'm a bit afraid to feel anything after the Kamikaze Craven died, but partly because I have a block when it comes to babies. Its because I prefer to think of them as people, I suppose, rather than helpless blobs. I like to think they have integrity and intelligence.
Errr... Huston, we have the Daddy of problems....Mothership needs to dock....
Daddy O, AO and I need a place to live - together. My drunken Greek father is not a rich space-shipping tycoon. The hunt is on.
Huston? Come in?.......
Thursday 7/7/5. My heart was in my mouth because the Piccadilly Line is my route to work. Goodness to Murgatroid (as Snagglepuss would say) everyone I know is fine.
It was a chilling event which I hope will never be repeated. The bombers were obviously on another astral plane to us, well, if they weren't before, they certainly are now! But we must remember they were people, like us. The monster, the alien, the 'other', exists in all of us. Mine currently wants cake - well, at least it doesn't have a penchant for incendiaries! (Yet!)
Friday, July 15, 2005
Monday, June 27, 2005
Captain's log
"Pregnancy...The Final Frontier. These are the voyages of the Word, mother of Almost One. Her 9 month mission: to explore strange new cakes, to seek out new thresholds of pain and new dimensions of discomfort, to boldly go where no male of the species has ever had the misfortune or privilige to go to before..."
I'm depressed. I'm betw 8-9 weeks pregnant. Sick as a drunken old sea dog who has lost its sea legs and as dizzy as a mile high trolley dolly on PCP.
If I know that Almost One's (AO) legs and arms are growing and that it is beginning to respond to light and sound, then it finally begins to feel worth all the narcolepsy, the sleeplessness, indigestion and general abject misery!!! And so, I regularly feed my due date into the MotherNet to get the low-down on the cellular development of AO to sharpen my focus and curb my anger at being thus shackled.
Weirded out: it said on the IHS (Intergalactic Health-direct-to-panic-misinformation-government head control-Site) that its tail, yes, TAIL, is now shrinking - I don't want to know that they have tails! yuck! - and that its vital organs are forming - phew! Glad they had no pictures. They'd probably be like those identi-fit un-looky-likey portraits that you get on Crimewatch, so better off without them!!!
My dreams continue to be imbued with a sense of foreboding or rather, anticipation, but of a deeply primeval kind and not at all threatening or menacing in anyway. Strange. My brain is rejecting any nightmare that bumps its shark-like hammer head against the armed glass of my sturdy maternal psyche. There is power in the galaxy of Motherhood. No one tells you. Its a secret. And if all those craven explorers of the uterine kind knew this, would they delve so deep?
I'm depressed. I'm betw 8-9 weeks pregnant. Sick as a drunken old sea dog who has lost its sea legs and as dizzy as a mile high trolley dolly on PCP.
If I know that Almost One's (AO) legs and arms are growing and that it is beginning to respond to light and sound, then it finally begins to feel worth all the narcolepsy, the sleeplessness, indigestion and general abject misery!!! And so, I regularly feed my due date into the MotherNet to get the low-down on the cellular development of AO to sharpen my focus and curb my anger at being thus shackled.
Weirded out: it said on the IHS (Intergalactic Health-direct-to-panic-misinformation-government head control-Site) that its tail, yes, TAIL, is now shrinking - I don't want to know that they have tails! yuck! - and that its vital organs are forming - phew! Glad they had no pictures. They'd probably be like those identi-fit un-looky-likey portraits that you get on Crimewatch, so better off without them!!!
My dreams continue to be imbued with a sense of foreboding or rather, anticipation, but of a deeply primeval kind and not at all threatening or menacing in anyway. Strange. My brain is rejecting any nightmare that bumps its shark-like hammer head against the armed glass of my sturdy maternal psyche. There is power in the galaxy of Motherhood. No one tells you. Its a secret. And if all those craven explorers of the uterine kind knew this, would they delve so deep?
Thursday, May 12, 2005
Tartarus Explored
I had this fab blog entry all about hell and its origins but the damn thing didn't save. Bugger! Thanks Guilty138 for suggesting I do everything on Word first from now on - false starts - sounds pretty typical of me...Tartarus can wait till tomorrow now.
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