ok. this has to be quick, people. like thirty minutes quick. this is what things have come to. short little spurts of dedication. no matter how hard i try and not to become a slave to the clock, it ain't working..... the thing is, in thirty minutes all children must be cosily ensconced in bed. i Am The Old Woman Who Lived In A Shoe ( pink) Who Had So Many Children She Didn't Know What To Do. Thing One and Thing Two have come to stay for 5 nights. their father left for cape town, to join their mother. his parting shot was, oh, and i think they have lice. toodely.
well. the old woman does actually know what to do with The Brady Bunch. spank them and send them to bed. after beans and rice, because she isn't as mean as the other one. with immediate effect. so she can watch more boston legal, to which she has become unromantically addicted. after a quick blogging fix.
even though the old woman from the hill finally made it to the Saloon ( hair salon in tanzania), she has nothing better to do than watch boston legal. without prompting, beloved T, our stalwart worker of great hair art a la educating rita style, said, "so? do i need to check you for lice?" straight out. just like that. how does she know?
Oh. My. God.
purple faced, i assented. i mean. wtf? and sat squirming for a good three minutes as she performed an entirely thorough and professional sherlockian search.... and thank baby jesus and his good family, i was given a clean slate. work began.
i am back on the hill, in the very pink house (it has recently had a fresh very pink lick of paint) feeling ever so jennifer arniston like, straight locks banging about the place, with RED nails (very short, very red nails. my excuse was i needed to stop biting them. who nervously nibbles on red enamel nails? if truth be told, as we like it to be, i was inspired by ali, whose short very red nails caught my bored wandering eye a few weeks ago. she told me she needed to stop biting them. i have never used scissors or files so a reasonable conclusion must be that i shape them with my teeth. today my nibbled working hands were Filed (would you like them curved or straight? curved please filed) and Painted.) my toes are deep purple too. just in case you were wonderin'. i daren't don my north stars. yet. in case it crinkles them. or shower. yet. in case the hair turns back to this:
as i floated out, lice free and terrifically straight haired, from the saloon, i passed someone who was sketchily familiar, who said, jeez, where are you off to?
um. home, actually. to watch boston legal, you?
Kitchen Board: a hot november windless ngorobob night. 2009.gram flour? haven't a clue. let's see what pitches up on monday morning Campaign shopping . could prove inspirational.
last interrupted and vaguely decodable message from safari craig, who is presently somewhere in the northern serengeti mara river region, TANZANIA, was this: client: aw gaad. south africa is BEEWDAFOOL!~
. . . .
stunning. just stunning.
so toodely, ya lovelies, bisous X. X, X. ridiculously red, straight ones. x j
and ps: i promise you that the chilren's pained and saddened expressions in featured pic, is NOT because i am wildly psychotic and a completely careless and rubbish child carer, but because 2 on left hand side of pic were wrenched from some random mind numbing computer game, 1 on very RHS of pic was cruelly snatched from a play station world cup game of soccer and as for the 2 in the middle, clueless. absolutely have no idea. (well. one is blurred so no one could ever tell anyway.)