The Adams Family

The other night I dreamt I had bought a big old beautiful obviously haunted mansion in a swamp land filled with hump back whales. The place had been sold to me for a dime because of ghostly intervention, the former owners, now deceased, wanted me to own it so they could convene with me from the dead. And before you know I was chatting to Morticia from the Adams family beyond the grave, through a mirror. And then, in that gel-like quality where your dreams start to run rampant on you, suddenly i was Morticia (quite unusual seeing as i'm usually blonde). It started to get a bit spooky after a while and i woke up. But not before i had thrown a damn good haunted party in that big old house.

I've decided my life has been a bit dull lately and my subconcious is trying to ham it up.

250 posts!!!

Yes! Pixietale has been up and running since about November 2004 i think. Back about when I broke the pinky finger in the ultimate test of toughness. Anyway, i just noticed, 250 posts. And, having consumed a fish bowl of red wine after a rather strenuous day, I decided to celebrate. With another fishbowl of wine.

Anyway, I did have a point somewhere there.......

I hate cats. I hate their fleas. I hate their furballs. I hate their gross jelly food. And my flatmate is away for a couple of nights so it's up to me to ensure the damn thing doesn't cark it.

I'm commuting to Hamilton for a couple of days doing a workshop on how to be a criminal lawyer. Whenever i've done something like this I always sit in the room crowded full of my colleagues and think, god, what a bunch of wankers and idiots. And the worst part is that they are a bunch of wankers and idiots that talk incessantly thereby demonstrating to the world their wankeriness and idioticism. Yes, there is a lot of word making up going on here. But remember, i'm celebrating!

Yes, I will post some photos soon - of both me and my little neighbourhood. I don't think I have updated my profile to reflect the fact I no longer reside in the buzzing capital of Aotearoa.

The current situation

The boy has been in Merrie ole England for a month today. Daylights savings has ended amidst gusty southwesterlies and a sharp snap that is making it less comfortable to drive bare foot in the mornings. Social outings are relatively rare, and in any case met as an intrusion on my increasing introversion.

But life is actually pretty good. My job is great. Low paid, but lots of glory, and my bosses love me. I flit from manic trial mode to days where I do self-directed research at my leisure. I am unleashed upon the unwitting public, and flying solo as I meet clients in areas ranging from defamation law to a threatening to kill charge to domestic abuse crises. And I'm finally starting to feel like I have some sense of what in the interminable raging-pits of hell is going on. Not to say I have ceased to feel like a shiny Christmas ornament when standing amongst the gray old boys brigade up in the criminal court. But I have am learning to accept that a large part of my job is swallowing one of the most sacred things of my persona - my pride.

I have a very cute flat that I am currently sharing with a beauty technician. As the boy says, she means well and i must go with the flow. And she can be very thoughtful and actually quite funny. But I think she wants a best friend rather than a flat mate. And she cannot fathom my present disdain for any sort of co-dependency. She looks at me like I've a loose screw when I declare I'm off to the beach for a swim on my own. Then she douses me in sunscreen. She appears genuinely hurt when I announce I'm off to bed to read my book rather than staying up for a movie marathon with her. She does a whole lot of baking in the weekend for lunches during the week (I'm actually quite jealous of her domestic prowess). She sleeps with her bedroom door open which I find strange, but it's apparently because the big albino feline duster who spends 95% of his time napping in the most inconvenient spots (in the middle of the hallway, right at the base of the sink when I'm about to start washing dishes) will scratch the bejeezus out of her door if he's shut out. That's another sore point in the relationship between flattie and I. She adores this big useless sedentary snowpuff that just about eats better than I do. And I like big dogs that don't crap inside or leave sausage-like furballs on the living room floor for me to step in bare-footed.

But it's more homely than where I was living with the 2 batchelors. I can snuggle down and hibernate for the winter. And cook lavishly for one in the huge tiled kitchen. And pamper myself in our big bath tub when she is working late nights.

It's very nice for now.

Hello pixietale!

After much suffering and anguish I think I may be back in the land of broadband. I have a cute little R2D2 reminiscent webcam sitting on my monitor winking at me, I have managed to uninstall the old virus protection, download a new one, which deleted 12 threats, and now I am going to download Skype! I am such a nerd.

Anyway, feeling better about Winter, and prolonged absences, now that I have my dinosaur of a computer set up in my new spacious homely room.......

ps people i owe emails beware.......