Wednesday Ramblings

It's been a bit of a dry week for blogging, hasn't it? Some days I have fodder and no time. Other days I have time and no fodder. Then there are the days when I have both but no impetus.

What is today?

Hard to say. I have fodder but I am lacking inspiration today, for some reason. So are the kids: everywhere I go they follow me, fiddling with things and asking very random questions. "Settle down to something," I say. But they can't seem to settle. Neither can I, really. Maybe we all need a walk.

I watched Richard chase the kids around the house this morning, with the toilet plunger in front of him, croaking "Exterminate! Exterminate!" and thought "Ha! Funny. Very blogable."

The reason we needed the toilet plunger in the first place was not blogable, alas.

Another inspiring moment was when we found the entirety of series 4 of Dr Who in the library. We have watched almost all of it. There is something incredibly addictive about Dr Who and his quirky universe. We're all in love with him. Even FDPG the Highly Critical is in love with him. But he really is wonderful, so who can blame her? I watched Silence in the Library and wished I was Alex Kingston. She knows the Doctor's name! Does Russell T. Davies? Or Steven Moffat? Richard finds my new Doctor Obsession rather unnerving. "You're like those geeks we see on the internet," he says, worriedly. Seeing as he has his own Extreme Geekiness Thing going on (but obviously doesn't realize it), I suggested that he leave me to my worship of the Long Brown Coat. And get started on my Tardis Greenhouse.

I made a birthday gift for a friend of FDPG's on the weekend and thought "I must take a picture of this before I forget what it looked like." That too was blogable. Now I will have a record for when I can't remember what colours this little tea cup was. It had a saucer to go with it but since I didn't get a picture of that I have now forgotten what it looked like...

It is made of Sculpey. Painted with acrylics. Sprayed with a couple of layers of urethane. Breakability factor? On a scale of one to ten, with ten being indestructible and one being flimsy as all get-out, I'd say this was about a three. I have three wounded homemade Greek vase reproductions as my witnesses. Nice, but not for the under six crowd.

Another reason I feel so unsettled is that I had a disturbing interaction with someone in our DEL program and thought "This is one of the pitfalls to signing up for school money: small-minded officious women people who don't understand where their boundaries leave off and where mine begin." When I have these kind of encounters I am always torn between saying something or letting it go and forgetting about it. Letting it go is one thing, but it's hard to forget, isn't it. I often wonder where these kinds of people get their inspiration from. Clearly we are not drinking from the same spring.

If only I had a sonic screwdriver.