... but she'll eventually get back to planting potatoes.
Pumpkin, schmumpkin .... The pratai are in the ground.
Won't it be lovely to have my own potatoes, grown by my own hand, to eat this winter.
I wonder could I get Himself to dig me out a root cellar! For all the potatoes and carrots and beets I'm going to have?!
I'm being super-confident this year, which is always a bad thing in gardening.
If he wakes up ever again of course.
Himself and Kitty are both asleep. Have been for a while. So I'm just sitting here with dinner all prepared waiting for hunger pangs to stir them. Also, Scheherazade is coming over for some food (for those of you who don't remember, Scheh is the first friend I made in Halifax and she is from Turkey originally).
I don't know why they are so tired. It's not like we were up to much last night.
We went all the way downstairs last night. That was about as out as we could manage.
We were hanging with Ms Maggie Beach and her friend and I realised that I don't talk about her friend much, even though he's my friend too (except when we play washer toss, when he turns into my sworn enemy forever) so we were discussing blog names for him.
Maggie Beach picked her own blogname. I'm all for letting people choose their own name. Her's is her porn name I think (you pick your middle name and the street you grew up on).
Queenie is Lizzie Oxmantown, which is a stupid porn name. My pole dancer name is worse, it's Midgie Neill. I would so be the pole dancer on the Canadien ad if that was my name.
Anyways, so our friend had to pick his blog name. First of all he decided on RaCy (because he's building a F1 car in his garage at the moment - I kid you not). Then Maggie decided it had to be his porn name. Which turned out to be Johnny Pleasant.
So after we all stopped falling around laughing at the aptness of it as his porn name, he decided he didn't want that, so we did the pole dancer's name thingummy and it turned out to be Teddy Grainger.
So Teddy Grainger it is.
Anyways, Queenie and Ms Beach go up to Teddy's house a few times a week now (and Kitty too), because he's got a home gym in his basement. Right next to the F1 car in his garage, although I think the car was being collected this morning, so no more throbbing house when I'm running myself to a standstill.
We do an hour - run on the treadmill and the cycling thing and the crosstrainer, and Queenie does some yoga stretches, and then we go home to eat dinner and have a glass of wine.
Very healthy.
Well, it is when you consider the alternative.
Queenie had to start working out. It is THAT TIME IN HER THIRTIES.
I do find it terribly boring though.
Anyways, Teddy had to pick his top bands for the greatest band on earth ever competition so he picked The Eagles (that's the Johnny Pleasant side of his personality coming through I think).
I am going to have to organise some kind of structured weekend of listening for us to arrive at some consensus on which band will get the title.
And the exciting news is, Mike and Cate our previous next door neighbours are coming to Halifax for a month this summer!
Much washer toss/ camping/ sitting around talking about librarianship/ drinking of beer/ BBQ-ing will ensue.
You better pick your blog names, then!!
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