The mutterings of a rubber chicken

Thursday, December 21, 2006

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Well, it's nearly Christmas.

Presents are bought and wrapped, one already rejected without even being unwrapped (is that some kind of record?), food plans are in preparation. I will try my best not to repeat my earlier flambe high chair fare (when I accidentally set fire to food tray - NOT with baby in situ I hasten to add).

I have the mandatory dose of the germ of the week that The BabyCleaningWoman kindly brought home from petri dish we know as school.

The piano is getting tortured on a regular basis. Any recognition of anything carol like is most likely to be delusional on my part.

So, everything is on track. Just time to wish you all a happy holiday, whatever you choose to celebrate or not celebrate.

Oh, and the mistletoe is just a little insurance on my part.

Just in case Steve Martin, John Malkovich, Rob Morrow, Gedeon Burkhard or any of the usual suspects happens to drop by. The Janitor wouldn't begrudge me a small Christmas peck, surely?

Tuesday, December 12, 2006

Liberace Woman

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Now I have so much spare time on my hands, I've decided to take the plunge and do something I've always wanted to do. Piano.

Yes, I've fallen victim to the furs, the frou-frou and the candelabra. I am turning into Liberace woman.

I have a rather chequered musical history. Trombone, mercifully shortlived. Flute, equally painful, unfortunately the torture lasted longer.

The piano arrived yesterday. *cracking knuckles*

In the interests of protecting the public, please apply to the following for your free set of industrial strength earplugs:

Cleaning Closet Under the Stairs
Opera House

And please feel free to include parcels of diamante, fur, feather boas and candelabras.

PS And Spot? The g-string on the piano is an entirely different concept so I'll pass on the offer, thanks.