Mother’s Got A Dot Com

At 8 o’clock Saturday morning, our neighbour rang. Our 5 horses had been romping around in his garden most of the night (Actually, they’d been all over the place – the white stuff told the tale), and he was now about to take his dogs out, and could we remove them, please?

Hmpf. I don’t blame him. They’re lambs, really, but one of them literally weighs a ton, and is quite imposing. Not really the company you want for your rose bushes, either – except for what comes out of their back side.

Anyway. Hubby and a couple of Brats went and got them, and put them back with their regular diet of silo hay. When they investigated what had gone wrong, it turned out that the elecric fence installation had no power. So, when Hercules (yes, that is the name of the monster horse), who’s no fool, sussed that one out, he just pushed the fence down and led everybody out for walkies.

We got the power back on, and we’ve checked it daily ever since…

I’m a bit apprehensive about this week end – hubby is going away, and so are 2 of the Brats that are eligible for horse-hunting.  There’ll just be me and one Brat here to do the biz if Hercules decides he needs some time away. Luckily, the white stuff is still covering most of our neighbour’s rose bushes. Not to mention his lawn… And the monster horse is a lamb – he just looks like a monster horse.

1. More Brats. I’ve done my bit in spreading my superior genes.

2. More Things. I sometimes think I’d be a good candidate for “Life laundry”. I wouldn’t mind lighting a great big bonfire while benevolent souls did a makeover on my house.

3. More White Stuff. ‘Nuff said.

4. To Gain Weight. I should be a bear. Hibernate, and wake up 20 kilos lighter.

5. More Dust Bunnies. The most stubborn ones eat Smarties. I wonder where they get them from?

6. Phone numbers to immigration attorneys. White stuff, politics  and taxes aside, I do love this weird little country of ours.

7. Another Blog. Although…

8. Another Bill. Dream on.

9. Another Telephone Salesman. I know, they’re trying to make their own ends meet. But do they have to be so oily?

10. Daylight Saving Time. It’s OK this time of year. (We switched this weekend). But I absolutely HATE it in October, when we get an hour less daylight in the afternoons. Who cares about mornings? No one sees the light anyway. But to deprive people of daylight in their spare time is not a good idea!

I’m not going to whine about the weather or the snow for a while. I promise.

Today has been lovely, the white stuff is melting fast, and I’ve cleared a space on the terrace that’s large enough to put out a few deck chairs. That means we can enjoy a nice cup of cocoa with whipped cream in the sun, while letting the sun tan our faces by reflecting on the white stuff.

I think I’ll just enjoy the coming week. I’ll paint Easter eggs with the Brats, pick birch branches that I’ll put in water to enjoy a bit of spring indoors, buy a great big pot of mini daffodils, and stick my tongue out at the white stuff, as I watch it melt. I’ll not worry about life insurance quotes, unpaid bills or even mortgages, and just enjoy life for a few days.

Wouldn’t it be nice to just vacuum the old mind for any worries, and take a day or two doing time out?

Please consider all my recent doubts about the coming of a new Ice Age as nul and void.

It’s been snowing for 24 hours, we’ve got 15 centimeters of the stuff, on top of the 25 centimeters that were left of what we’d had before.

The daffodil sprouts are buried, in fact, everything is buried, and our roof, that was clear, is now white again. The birds are still chirping away – silly things, they don’t know what’s in store.

In this context, it’s easy to dream of something completely different. A hotel get-away, for example. Anyone free to look after our horses for a couple of weeks? (Brats too, please…)

The scammers are getting more elaborate.

I still get the “Your email address has won a zillion $!” e-mails, and the “Mr X died, and left a gazillion unclaimed £ in an account in Farawayistan that I have got my hands on, and would like to invest in your country” e-mails.

The other day, I got a new variety: “Mr X (name withheld for security reasons), who died and left a gazillion unclaimed £ in an account in Farawayistan, turns out to be a relative of yours. This is the final notification from attorneys Z, Y and W, that you need to provide us with your personal and bank details ASAP, to make you eligible to claim the funds”. I googled attorneys Z, Y and W., and the names were, indeed, associated with the legal profession, in various parts of the globe. Clever.

There’s no such thing as a free lunch. Or a free hotel night, as the case may be. If something seems too good to be true, it usually is.

# 1 Brat came home for a flash visit this weekend, bringing a friend from school. Now, the school in question is run on Christian principles, and I thought that maybe I had to be on deCorum watch.

In a household with 4 teenagers, sometimes words are spoken that would not be acceptable in polite society. This is certainly true in this one, and the little 2 1/2 year old tyke is quick to parrot anything he hears too. We tend to try to ignore it, since we’ve experienced that whatever is made a big deal of, just gets more interesting.

However, I’m not one to willingly offend my guests, so I hoped for best behaviour all round. (Let it be said that swearing is not an everyday occurance around our dinner table, and I repeat: we just don’t make a big deal out of it). Anyway – #1 Brat and friend arrived, and in came this beautiful girl, polite, friendly… and then she smiled at me. Revealing a great big “bag” of snuff under her upper lip. I managed to contain myself. I did not laugh.

Prejudice is a strange thing. In hindsight, I failed on at least a couple of counts:

1. Christian people are offended by swearing. Some are. Many though, think as I do, that it’s just words, and what counts is what’s on the inside.
2. Christian girls don’t use snuff. Eh… where did that idea come from? She might well have had deep rooted beliefs, what do I know? We never discussed the matter, and no swearing occurred.

As life is a life-long learning process, I can sum up the weekend’s lesson as follows: Appearances and preconceptions almost always lie. Get to know people first, and then refrain from passing judgment.

I’ve had regular comments lately, on posts that are buried way, way down in my archives. They are obviously written by people, but the link goes to a commercial site.

The comments themselves don’t always make sense, or have any real content. Some are shameless praise – they’re the easy ones to catch.

I don’t mind linking out – I would, however, like to decide for myself which commercial sites I link to. Which, of course, I do – I mark everything as spam that I don’t like.

Akismet has done well for me here – it’s stopped thousands of spam. Usually, the ones that are stopped are very obvious spam. These new types – it looks like commercial sites have people employed to go around commenting on blogs to get them backlinks.

Not a job I’d want.

So, spammers: Isn’t it much better to have bloggers link to you willingly? It’s dead easy – the following, for example, is a link: It has to do with automotive lifts. Not something I’d normally talk about on this blog, and I’m not about to start, since I hardly know what they are. If this type of link isn’t what you’re after, get in touch! A blogger who writes about the stuff you’re selling might want to exchange links – who knows? Ask! The worst that can happen is that you’re turned down.

You might have to give links out to get links back to your site, but nothing ever comes into a closed hand.

- know that feeling? When you’re juuust about to drop over the edge? I’m talking finances, not mental sanity, though it seems the two are closely linked.

What idiot was it that said that money doesn’t make you happy? Me, I’d gladly settle for rich in an unhappy sort of way. I don’t think there is any major problem in my life that huge amounts of cash wouldn’t solve at the moment. I may be hugely misled, but problem-free seems pretty d*** close to happy to me.

I don’t care about Vegas vacations, luxury or new clothes. I just want the people that owe us money to cough up, so that we can honor our obligations. “Yes, but…” only cuts so many times when you’re talking to mortgage/bank people.
Can’t think why. Every scrap of history tells them that we will make good. Just this once, why not cut us some slack? With property prices as they are, it’s in their interest (pardon the pun) too.

I still sleep at night. I’m weird that way.

I’ve received a cheque. Not a big one – juuust over the payment limit. From the big G. It took me exactly 2 years, but I’ve done it. The ad business resumes though, as one just has to start all over again.

It’s looking as if it won’t take 2 years to accumulate the next cheque – I won’t be resting on my laurels, so to speak.
(What sort of expression is that? Anyone tried to rest on laurels? They’re hard, and the tips of the leaves are prickly… They smell nice, though. Saves on the lavender.)

I thought to take a photo of the thing, (the cheque, not the laurels) but all the moguls have done it – it’s just so… last week…

This is money I’ve earnt while I’ve slept, by the way. If you do the maths, it becomes evident that sleeping is bad business.

Here’s #6Brat, Miracle Boy, taking matters into his own hands. Mum’s taking only snow pictures these days, so he probably thought he’d better put some balance back into the photographing of daily events.

When he saw the picture just now, he said: “Is there a bogeyman in there?” I assured him that there was not, and he concluded he’d probably eaten it. Charming.

With him around, I’ve thought about getting separate insurance quotes for just about everything in this house that has buttons and knobs.

Cameras, TVs, freezers (yes, been there, done that), DVD players, decoders, not to mention computers. My keyboard keys are marked with red permanent ink – doodle fashion. The screen has got regular blue ink doodle marks on it, and all the light switches that are accessible go on and off regularly.

I have to check the under-floor heating several times a day – it’s usually either turned way up or off altogether. We have all sorts of weird VHS recordings, because little mister has been switching channels just as whatever we’ve recorded started to get interesting.

The batteries in our flashlights are permanently depleted, and if he gets hold of my cell phone, he’ll send messages to the first one on my contact list. Every time. Luckily, it’s my aunt, and she thinks he’s the 8th wonder.

The only thing that he leaves alone is the vacuum cleaner. A little man already…