Winter Splinter in my Sphincter

Winter in the cape, and I am freezing my cajones off. Seriously. They are Gone. As in Not There. I swear. I just checked... twice. Yip. I am officially without cajones. Woe is me. Whatever will I do without cajones? I feel like I am half the man I used to be...

(I have been assured that they will be back later this evening...)

Sigh.

But seriously, I am cold. Today the sun was out and everything, and still my nose has had no sensation in it all day long. My fingers feel icicly (new word, means hard and cold like an icicle, but you figured that out, didn't you?) Typing is just weird, because I can't actually feel my keyboard. Never before has QWERTY meant less to me.

Double sigh.

And my frozen ASS(ets) might need mentioning too. It's like the cold is emanating from inside me. Sitting is awkward when you can't feel your bum, so you don't know if you are actually making contact with a chair, or if your pants are just pulling tight because of the squat. My butt is actually cold to the touch. (I think so anyway, but when you can't feel your fingers, it's kind of difficult to feel your bum.)

It feels like there should be snow on the mountains. I keep checking out the window just to make sure I haven't missed it, or perhaps it happened since the last time I checked.

Before the neighbours start protesting that today was a gloriously warm and sunny day, may I just add that even though the sun did come out, there was definitely a chill in the air. Enough to blow steam spooks around your face each time you spoke.

And the washing DIDN'T get dry. Again. Heck.

How I entertain my husband

The road was long. It was getting late. We couldn't let the kids fall asleep just yet, otherwise bedtime at home would be a nightmare. We'd played "Eye-spy" till our eyeballs were burning. The guessing game had covered every conceivable noun in the Webster dictionary. We were at a loss.

I decided that telling jokes would be a worthwhile endeavour. So I started.

I tried the Viper joke. AirBear was terrified - she had her hands over her ears for the greater part of the joke. And I had to still explain the punch line. The mother of the year swallowed his laughter.

I tried the Rabbit joke AFTER I explained what "revitalise" and "permanent" mean. Blank looks from the back seat. More stifled laughter from the driver.

The white horse named Eric joke - no effect. The frog and the chicken joke- absolutely no reaction. The little red man joke (which I went to great pangs to simplify) also needed further explanation.

In the driver's seat the tears were rolling down his cheeks. He took great pleasure in my failed comedy. At this point I had had enough. "Fine," I sulked, "You tell them a joke."

His offer was "Spooketti - a ghost's favourite food". The children erupted with giggles.

Hmph! I could out do that! "What's a sea monster's favourite food?" I interrupted the laughter. "Fish and ships!"

Silence.

A cricket chirruped.

Damn!

The mother of the year drove us home with a smug look on his face. Jerk!

Giving credit where it is due

So my oven packed up. 

And the stove.

And the dishwasher.

All at once.

After numerous phone calls and visits to the appliance shops in Durbanville, I contacted an electrician.

I was so impressed with the quick and efficient service provided. His manners and tidiness, friendliness and pricing were all first-rate.

If you stay in the Durbanville area and need someone to check out any of your faulty household appliances, I can really recommend:

COBAR: Appliance & Refrigeration Services

Contact: Kobus Barnard (38 years experience)

Registered Electrical & Contracting Industry

Tygerberg Chamber of Commerce and Industry Member

Cell: 083 283 2165

(w): 021 981 4118

Hope it helps.

Something else...

Not feeling very loquacious today.

So.

How are you?

...

...

Hmm.

Well, there is this one thing I can show you, that some of you might find interesting:

Didn't taste too bad, either.

Toodles.

Counting my Blessings

It's become a bit of a tradition in my home that when Daddy is away, the girls all get to sleep in mom's bed. It's kind of a multipurpose arrangement. The kids get a bit of spoiling. Mom gets a bit of extra warmth in bed. And the family is all in one place in case of night-time "activities" (internal or external).

The rule, though, is that the girls have to go to sleep in their own beds, and when Mom goes to bed, she will put them in bed with her. Of course, if I put them to bed in the same bed at the same time, they would never fall asleep, and their would be mild hysteria if only one of them could fall asleep in my bed. So the rule stands.

Last night T-Bird insisted she would stay awake until I went to bed so that I wouldn't have to carry her. Every five minutes after light's out she would call from her room: "Mom, I'm still awake. I'm still waiting for you!"

After about an hour of that, I got a little irritated - she was throwing me off my FaceBook Scramble game. "T," I said, sternly, "I have put you to bed, and I expect you to fall asleep. NOW!"

"But, Mom," she called back, "It's your bed-time!"

I stayed up an extra hour later than I had planned, just to spite that comment.

Eventually I carried two dozing princesses to my bed and tucked them in. I placed them carefully, keeping enough place for me in between them. By the time I had switched off the light and found my way to my pillow, via the foot of the bed (a tricky accomplishment, I'll have you know!), a head that was not my own was resting on the central pillow.

I nudged it over to her side of the bed and snuggled down under the duvet. Under the covers I placed a hand on each of my daughters and thought how lucky I was to be able to have these treasures so close to me.

One of them rolled towards me. A little hand reached up for my face. The fingers smelt like bottom. I gently pushed them aside and turned to face my other child.

In turning my head, I landed up nose-to-nose with my offspring. She yawned into my face. I choked on malodorous morning breath. I turned back onto my back and sighed, pulling the blankets up around my chin. Totally priveledged to be flanked by these incredible beings, I gazed into the darkness.

On either side of me, a little leg lifted itself out from under the duvet and pushed the bedclothes down. I hung on to my piece of duvet as it was tugged towards the foot of the bed. I thanked my lucky stars for these beautiful children. And yanked the blankets back up.

The mini-battle that commenced was not pretty. There were casualties. They were the sleep-tuggers on either side of me. I was strong. My need for full night coverage prevailed. Eventually they gave up the fight, surrendering to the warmth of the duvet.

I lay panting in the night. It had been a tough fight. But thankfully, my offspring lay near me where I could reach out and touch them. Lucky me.

As the tossing and turning subsided, one child started a deep, rattly snore. This prompted the other one to follow suit. I was trapped in the middle. Stereo snoring. Great. I nudged and poked each of them, getting them to roll over and breathe normally. It helped - a little. 

Yip, I thought to myself, these little misses are heaven-sent. 

And with that, somehow, I drifted off to sleep.

*It must be noted, for the record, that when the girls awoke in the morning, they shared a pillow and started talking to each other. One of the first comments that was offered was "Oooh, your whole face stinks!" Which was met with, "No, your face smells really bad!"

So it's not just me...