Whee!
Got a Dreamwidth invite on their Random Draw. Which is shiny. And which has successfully reduced my amount of work done today down to very little.
Yesterday, the reason I got very little work done was baby human shaped. My cousin and his girlfriend and their wee boy are staying with us because his dad's 70th birthday party is tomorrow in yet another uncle's house. So we've had a week of unadulterated toddler. He is awesome. Apart from five minutes of going in circles on Friday when he discovered there were three girls who look alike and sound the same in the house (no literally, he looked from me, to Emma, to Ruth, and then went round in circles for a bit), he's taken everything in his stride. Including the cat. He just plonks down beside him and pets him. Sailor is somewhat bemused by such familiarity.
Today, distraction was baby website shaped.
Third go round I got everything imported over to here. Apparently the trick is to set it up and go hike round Slieve Gullion in a howling gale with assorted Cub Scouts and Guides, yelling 'Car!' and 'Get out of the shuck!' at random intervals and eating slightly rained-on burgers at the end. The original plan was to go up the mountain, but when your 6'7" Fearless Leader is being blown backwards in the top carpark, around suddenly seems much more sensible. Anyway, when you come back, there is importedness. Like magic.
And we came home by Killeavey Old Church, which is much better in the dry, when you're not half frozen (note to self, barbeque does not mean rain is not happening). Poor Ruth was traumatised by the mountain road. So we went home the long way. My father is a terrible person.
This expedition is why I was zombie all afternoon. Now I'm going to watch the Sarah Connor Chronicles finale and listen to parentals grating their own fingers. Yay cheesecake. With minimal blood. Probably.
Yesterday, the reason I got very little work done was baby human shaped. My cousin and his girlfriend and their wee boy are staying with us because his dad's 70th birthday party is tomorrow in yet another uncle's house. So we've had a week of unadulterated toddler. He is awesome. Apart from five minutes of going in circles on Friday when he discovered there were three girls who look alike and sound the same in the house (no literally, he looked from me, to Emma, to Ruth, and then went round in circles for a bit), he's taken everything in his stride. Including the cat. He just plonks down beside him and pets him. Sailor is somewhat bemused by such familiarity.
Today, distraction was baby website shaped.
Third go round I got everything imported over to here. Apparently the trick is to set it up and go hike round Slieve Gullion in a howling gale with assorted Cub Scouts and Guides, yelling 'Car!' and 'Get out of the shuck!' at random intervals and eating slightly rained-on burgers at the end. The original plan was to go up the mountain, but when your 6'7" Fearless Leader is being blown backwards in the top carpark, around suddenly seems much more sensible. Anyway, when you come back, there is importedness. Like magic.
And we came home by Killeavey Old Church, which is much better in the dry, when you're not half frozen (note to self, barbeque does not mean rain is not happening). Poor Ruth was traumatised by the mountain road. So we went home the long way. My father is a terrible person.
This expedition is why I was zombie all afternoon. Now I'm going to watch the Sarah Connor Chronicles finale and listen to parentals grating their own fingers. Yay cheesecake. With minimal blood. Probably.