"Shoot me now or shoot me later -
Every schoolboy to his sport.
But to each and every traitor
I renounce your people’s court!"
For the past three days that was in my head on a loop. Mostly the first line. Emphasis on the first phrase.
I wrote a tirade about my winterfest. Then I thought that was both mean and unbelievably blongey - even for me. I shall instead say the following… Corvids don’t have care labels. Sometimes I wonder if they should.
No personal space, no quiet, no privacy, no net, little sleep, vexing conversation, micromanagement, large meals and a vast amount of fuss of the very wrong kind makes for a rather small, fat, frazzeled, spikey and generally unhappy Corvid.* Also for the love of all the gods do not gift a Corvid a large framed photograph of herself (even if she is dressed as a 1930s flapper). She will loath it and not want to look at the damn thing.
However; on the meekle side of things everyone else seemed to have a very good time; I kitchen wenched lots and was helpful and didn't go crazy. Oh, and my shiny brother bought half my coat buttons for me which was an undeserved and greatly happifying thing =)
Was driven briefly to Shamblyland to pick up clothes and such and then on to the Oast. Today shiny brother, his lady, and neuron niece visit, the day after that other brother and tribe visit. More chaos and kitchen wenching ahead. From now until they arrive in a couple of hours is my quiet time. *sigh*
Anyways. I hope everyone had a shiny Christmas-type-whatever, and saw good people, ate chocolate, had fun and a meekle day. I go now and do corvidic housekeeping duties. Or possibly fall over as my head feels really weird. Whichever.
PS: I've been watching Pillars of the Earth. It isn't bad at all, although drama-wise it's been beefed up with added sex, violence, murder and pointless plot difficulties. (The silliest being: 'Yeah, you can be Earl of Shiring. If you take back your own castle. By force. With soldiers. Heehee.' WTF? What kind of bollocks cod-historical English law is that? Although it was in the book too, so fekk it, maybe it was a law. It just came across as a ridiculous excuse for another sword fight in the TV drama.)
*= Memo to me - neurons, write it down, on each other if you must. Don’t bring art/project stuff to family events. There won’t be the space or the quiet. Far better to pack a paperback, chocolate, smokes and an apple or a hip flask of something =P
But to each and every traitor
I renounce your people’s court!"
For the past three days that was in my head on a loop. Mostly the first line. Emphasis on the first phrase.
I wrote a tirade about my winterfest. Then I thought that was both mean and unbelievably blongey - even for me. I shall instead say the following… Corvids don’t have care labels. Sometimes I wonder if they should.
No personal space, no quiet, no privacy, no net, little sleep, vexing conversation, micromanagement, large meals and a vast amount of fuss of the very wrong kind makes for a rather small, fat, frazzeled, spikey and generally unhappy Corvid.* Also for the love of all the gods do not gift a Corvid a large framed photograph of herself (even if she is dressed as a 1930s flapper). She will loath it and not want to look at the damn thing.
However; on the meekle side of things everyone else seemed to have a very good time; I kitchen wenched lots and was helpful and didn't go crazy. Oh, and my shiny brother bought half my coat buttons for me which was an undeserved and greatly happifying thing =)
Was driven briefly to Shamblyland to pick up clothes and such and then on to the Oast. Today shiny brother, his lady, and neuron niece visit, the day after that other brother and tribe visit. More chaos and kitchen wenching ahead. From now until they arrive in a couple of hours is my quiet time. *sigh*
Anyways. I hope everyone had a shiny Christmas-type-whatever, and saw good people, ate chocolate, had fun and a meekle day. I go now and do corvidic housekeeping duties. Or possibly fall over as my head feels really weird. Whichever.
PS: I've been watching Pillars of the Earth. It isn't bad at all, although drama-wise it's been beefed up with added sex, violence, murder and pointless plot difficulties. (The silliest being: 'Yeah, you can be Earl of Shiring. If you take back your own castle. By force. With soldiers. Heehee.' WTF? What kind of bollocks cod-historical English law is that? Although it was in the book too, so fekk it, maybe it was a law. It just came across as a ridiculous excuse for another sword fight in the TV drama.)
*= Memo to me - neurons, write it down, on each other if you must. Don’t bring art/project stuff to family events. There won’t be the space or the quiet. Far better to pack a paperback, chocolate, smokes and an apple or a hip flask of something =P