I prefer to watch this with the sound muted.

That I actually don’t really know what people mean when they say they like “British Humour”.

Courtesy of Gizmodo.

☃ On the 95th day sans Andy, my true love gave to me:

Haha, matching facial expressions! Andy’s probably sick of me posting photos he emails me for my own personal entertainment, so I’ll go easy on them from now on. I just miss him and Moses a lot.

When I was a kid, I’d sometimes get the urge to munch the glass I was drinking from. Just chomp down really hard. I never did. Rachel did. The glass unsurprisingly shattered, but that’s neither here nor there.

I think Moses gets these urges. He can be sitting calmly on your lap one second, then suddenly he’s got a death grip on whatever bit of skin is exposed before him. He’ll just sit there happily, glued to your arm with his little teeth. I can’t tell if this is disturbing or funny. It’s funny to me, but that’s because I haven’t been attacked in a while.

xkcd.

Absence doesn’t make the heart grow fonder. It makes it grow tired and sad. Sleepovers, pizza, and being together makes the heart grow fonder. Sure, I guess in Andy’s absence I realised how much I depend on him when I can’t operate properly, how much I needed his encouragement to get through the worst stages of pregnancy-sickness, but I’m very observant and confident I could have reached the same conclusion if Andy and I have been parted for 24 hours, as opposed to thirteen weeks.

Almost thirteen weeks down, eleven days to go. Hallelujah.

Andy said that it looked as if the parasite was singing ‘Toréador’, from the opera Carmen.
I don’t think he’s wrong:

I feel obliged to blog about what I’m grateful for, even though no one is giving me a Turkey Dinner as incentive.

I tend to play thing close to the chest when it comes down to things I’m really grateful for (mainly because the list gets personal, fast) but because I often post extensively about stuff that ticks me off, I should probably give Thanksgiving a shot and even up the negativity on this blog.

There are lots of things I’m grateful for, like hot water, books, Moses and his wool-fetish, Roombas, sweets, holidays, Black Bic Biro’s with fine-point nibs, but the most important things I’m grateful for in life are:

• The restored gospel. I dunno who reads this blog, so if that sounds bizarre to anyone here’s a link that might explain things a bit. People like to argue that my belief in that is simply a psychological mechanism for dealing with life’s quirks or that a belief in God is just mankind’s method of feeling less insignificant. I know otherwise, and this knowledge is one of few things I am sure of.
• Andy. I think my life could be split into two segments thus far: life before Andy, and life after meeting Andy. I’ve never been as happy or fulfilled as I am with Andy. He’s the only part of my life that my expectations haven’t had to compromise on.
• Foetus Martin. I don’t really know what to expect about having a baby, but I know that I’m more than willing to go through another five months of throwing-up for this sprocket.
• Health. Neither Andy or I have any chronic illnesses or health concerns. I never forget to be grateful for that.
• University. Hopefully this master’s will put me in a slightly better position for applying for a PhD after a few years as a stay at home mum, haha.
• Political freedoms. I can crack as many Gordon Brown jokes as I want, and no ones going to show up at my house with a black bag and handcuffs.

Happy Fangsgiving. Eat your turkey or tofurkey or whatever you are having, with extra gusto on my behalf. Not only did I not get turkey for dinner, OR Elizabeth Bevington’s gravy, but the lightbulb in the bathroom exploded so I couldn’t read in the bath. Insult to injury, I say.

I think pregnancy messes with the quality of your dreams.

I usually have odd dreams that I almost always remember, but since being pregnant, the content of the dreams has gotten lamer and I swear they’ve started happening in real time. I can spend an entire nights worth of dream doing something menial that would take me hours in real life. Like making a six course meal for a party of thirty-seven. That dream was two nights ago. I unsuccessfully made soups, quiche, and fries (?!) for a large Relief Society group. I woke up tired, and surprised to find myself not wearing an apron.

Nicky on Robert Pattinsons acting skills: He’s not really a good actor. I mean, if he keeps his mouth shut I guess he’s alright. As soon as he opens his mouth I get distracted by his snaggletooth. But if he closes his mouth and just acts with his eyes, he can do quite a few expressions. Like, “surprising”….. “creepy”…..”surprisingly creepy”.