Mothers day

It is just around the corner, you've got less then 3 weeks to get some mushy card and a pressie. Unless of courseyour mother is a wagon, and then perhaps you can just skip this whole section. Move along, nothing to see here.

I could spend all this entry muttering about how much I miss Mam, but its not much fun for me to write and even less funfor you to read. You already know how much I miss my Mam. So, we'll leave it at that shall we. We willbe visiting the grave and leaving flowers on it for her. I'm sure she's up there getting pretty peeved at someof the flower selections we pick. She was big into flowers and gardening and was constantly amazed at my inability to tella weed from a flower. Hey, what can I say, I'm more into computers. She's also probably a bit pissed about theflowers on her grave and her not being able to smell them. We could try catapulating them into the air, chancesare they'll get stuck to the front window of a jet and this will crash killing all on board and I'll have guilt. I don'tthink I'd be able for that guilt to be honest. We are of course jumping the gun a tad, because there would be somework involved in getting a catapult that would twang something that high.We'll stick with leaving them on her grave and listening to her rant and rave.The kid is at home sick, this time the flu, there is a bad dose going around. I have managed to avoid it so far, by hiding outin doors when it goes blustering past. My immune system has delusions of grandeur god bless it. I only hope it has the strengthto steer clear of all the little germs floating around the apartment at the moment. There is a constant murmur of "there she is", imagesof small germs talking into their sleeves, "take her down, DOWN, I tells ya".

I need I might need sleep. I was up at 6.30 this morning as I took last night off from working because I was feeling a bit shitty. I workbetter in the morning anyways. The kid is off school today, she's working on her infamous painting. For some reason, whenever she mentionsit , the Sistine chapel comes to mind. Not in relation to the picture, more like the timeframe. She was in miserable form yesterday. The boyf isplaying in a Battle of the Bands gig in a few weeks and he's very good. But the kid is disgusted because he's playing in a place where she mightget stopped and asked for ID. There are many threats winging their way to the boyfriend as I type this. I hope he's able to stand up for himself.

And as I type this, there has to be someone standing on the roof of the office block actually throwing buckets of water down from the skies. It israining cats, dogs and hamsters. Great growing rain. Would you believe when I was younger I was convinced that if I stood out in the rain longenough I would grow. No-one told me I wasn't a bloody plant. These people were too busy laughing at me. Feckers the lot of them. Yes, I was fromthe country and had a lot to learn. By right I should be over 6ft instead of being this 5ft 3 titch that I am.The sister and a friend listenend to the documentary thingy and were impressed. The poor sister, the one in Holland,got very homesick. She felt like shewas in the apartment with us. At least she didn't laugh at us.

A good start I feel.

Who knew that teenage girls could hate each other so much. This girl A, I'm amazed she hasn't caught the plague yet, the way the kid talks about her and thestuff she wishes upon her. Apparently A's boyf, who is the lead guitarest in J's band, is so much better at playing the guitar. J, the kids boy plays rhythm guitar.Do not ask me what the difference is, I have no clue. The kid has been wishing all sorts of ailments on this A person. When you ask her to calm down, theair crackles and her eyes turn black, ala Willow gone bad-ass in Buffy."YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT SHE'S LIKE" the demon said to be as a wind whipped her hair around her face. I grabbed the neartest cross shaped object, 2 penssellotaped together and held them up in front of her. Its like I had been here before. There was no way I was going down with a fight. I tried the conversational tone:"What exactly has she done?"There was a long rant about her boyf playing his guitar louder then J's guitar. I mean honestly, is this all the youth of today have to worry about. I didn't replywith this though. Skilled as I am in self preservation when it comes to teenagers, my reply was more something along the lines of "Well, she'll have no luck forit" Its a generic enough phrase and seems to quell the demon for a while. Until it asks for tea, that is.