Hypotheticals

Hypothetically speaking, of course, would it be the wrong thing to do if one was lying in bed just before the alarm went off, and did a ginormous fart loud enough to wake the 2 surrounding blocks, then pretended to be asleep? Even if one’s Boyfriend was hypothetically lying next to you in said bed, and is well known for his insomnia so has probably been awake for hours? Hypothetically, he didn’t mention it afterward so maybe he was hypothetically asleep anyway. And I may never eat that much cauliflower in one sitting ever again. Hypothetically, of course.

Also hypothetically, if I walked around all day yesterday with my fly open, surely someone could have thought to mention it to me.

Of course you know none of the above happened because girls don’t fart, and I would never wander around the office half clothed (except for the time the spider was down my shirt and I ripped my shirt off in the middle of the office, all while squealing like a banshee in case anyone hadn’t already been looking. That’s another story).

Meat

I love a bit of raw meat. However winning 3 huge meat trays at The Local’s raffle on Friday night has produced somewhat of a meat glut in the house.

On Sunday I roasted the world’s largest roast beef. I’m great at roast lamb and roast pork but had only ever tried roast beef once before. That time? I threw it in the bin and got a pizza. This time I harnessed the power of the interweb, and googled “how to cook roast beef” before commencing. Apparently you cook it in a slow oven, not medium like a leg of lamb or pork. Actually, not even just apparently – it is true, I sealed it on high for 20 minutes then reduced it to a low oven temperature and slow roasted it for 4 hours. It was so delicious and tender. Roast beef sandwiches this week for leftovers have been an added benefit. Although only on day 2 of roast beef sandwiches and with about 6 bajillion slices of roast beef yet to get through I am concerned I’m over it already.

What on earth am I going to do with the rest of the meat? The freezer is so full of meat I ended up writing a list of what was in the freezer. It’s something like this:

• 1 pack of 8 sausages
• 1 pack of 4 sausages
• 1 pack of 4 huge pork chops
• 2 packs of 4 big lamb forequarter chops (which I don’t like much – might have to casserole these)
• 1 pack of 3 T Bone steaks
• 4 rashers of bacon
• 2 packs of 5 lamb stewing chops
• steak and mushroom pie filling (home made and frozen ready to pop in a big pie crust)
• chicken and leek pie filling (also home made but only enough for a snack size not a huge pie)
• 1 packet of mystery meat. No idea what it is. Looks like it might be steak. After finding this, I labelled the rest as I froze it.

That’s just the bits I remember. Shame I really feel like chicken tonight.

Sad

My cat had her operation late yesterday. It was a pretty nasty sounding deal but the vet was confident.

She woke up from the operation and it all looked good. An hour after that, she died. No good reason, she just died.

If there’s a kitty heaven, she’s up there right now scratching the eyes out of other cats.

Pussy Prayers

I’ve often wondered what it must be like to have a child that is just simply horrible. Mean, spiteful – we’ve all met someone like that. Do you think their mum loves them? I suspect they do, based on my own reactions this week.

I have 2 cats. One is a lovely lively little thing even though he’s very naughty, and in fact was named after a bushranger because he is such a naughtly little character and always was. The other cat is a horrible little bitch. Several times I have had girlfriends go home with blood running down their face from where they got too close to this one. She once crapped on me, in my bed, while I slept. For fun. Then I rolled in it. She can’t help it – the vet told me many years ago she was just not a very nice natured animal, probably didn’t like me, and prescribed kitty-prozac.

A few weeks ago my little special needs kitty was diagnosed with a skin cancer on her nose. Half a nose later, I hoped that would be the end of it. However the past few days it has gotten dramatically worse. And now I am awaiting the phone call that will tell me if there’s anything more that can be done. I actually suspect not – the news has not sounded good to date.

I’d appreciate any good thoughts being aimed towards my little kitty today, horrid though she may be. I wish I didn’t care so much – it’s not cool to bawl at work.

Outlaws

They Boyfriend and I spend a fair amount of time with his parents. We have dinner with them several nights a week. (Boyfriend’s mum does all my washing and ironing, bless her cotton socks. How could I not repay that by cooking a few meals here and there!)

This week Boyfriend’s sister has been visiting. I am getting this awkward feeling. Let me try to describe why – here’s a few conversations from the past few days:

Boyfriend’s sister: Mum, do you have a large frypan I can do toasted sandwiches in?

Boyfriend’s Mum: No, but 12 has a really good one, you’ll have to ask her if she can use it.

Hmm. Could be worse. But it keeps going.

Boyfriend’s sister: I need a knife, where are the sharp ones?

Boyfriend’s Mum: Oh, 12 bought me a lovely knife block, you can use those.

OK , I started feeling VERY intrusive by now.

Boyfriend’s sister: Where are the placemats?

Boyfriend’s Mum: Just ask 12, she’ll show you where everything is.

AAAHHHH!

Where in the World is 12?

I’ve just had a week off and am struggling to get back into the swing of things.

Don’t feel too jealous – I’ve been in bed with what could have been the hog-wog /swine flu or just the regular flu, who knows. We don’t test for it if you’re healthy otherwise, apparently!

I cured myself by eating plenty of bacon sandwiches and am almost back to my old self again, so no doubt will be causing havoc again soon.