Because I said I would.

I am not against adventures in eating. In fact, phrased just that way, it makes me remember my favourite thing from Something a Week. However, I am against snack food basically being terrible.

It’s just such a waste.

Every now and then, Hubby and I go to the grocery store for one or two small things, usually the kind of thing that has a randomly occurring need or occasionally gets forgotten in a more routine trip, and we come home with some weird food that just looked interesting. Usually, it’s drinks. I have tried everything from Purple Stuff (yes, it does taste like carbonated grape Dimetapp) to Zuberfizz Chocolate Soda. I have yet to try the latter with vanilla ice cream.

Then potato crisps started to have the flavours of dinner. Biscuits and gravy, gyros, and something like garlic risotto, I’ve forgotten the ones I didn’t try. Some made even me stand back and say, “NO.” We got the first two, and yeah, those should have both been a no as well.

The gyro flavour were kettle chips, which was a good choice for type, I guess. They did taste of lamb, but more of (boring) pita, tomato and that awful red sauce that you can (mistakenly) choose instead of tzaziki. When I ate more than two, they started to just taste like licking a spice bottle. It was gross.

And biscuits and gravy just tasted like Regular with a faint idea that sausages might have walked by.

This is a really stupid topic, but I need some stupid topics right now. I am buried in books (almost literally) so that I can’t tell if I’ve destroyed my hobby or if I’m enjoying it to the point of addiction. I’ll probably review something like Shadow Breakers tomorrow. Hot dman was that book lacking.



It’s been a while.

Today, I told my father something in passing. I only meant to take a minute of his time. I rarely want a conversation, I’m not terribly chatty. Dad is so terribly chatty that it kind of puts me in awe.

Not in a good way.

Somehow, he went from my, “I have to go pick up my husband from school soon,” to stuff about maintaining the house. One of the toilets had been leaking for ages–and mysteriously stopped. He complained about the one lock in the entire house that no one ever uses being sticky and ornery. Blamed it on my older brother’s botched installation. I quietly attribute this complaint to the fact that Dad resented the changed locks because he was the reason we changed them. Sure, Tom did the work, but everyone else requested and endorsed it. Dad had an aneurysm. We had to be sure he wouldn’t leave the house and try to effing drive.

So yeah. Anything negative he has ever said about the locks (which is a big number), has zero grounding in reality beyond the resentment that he can’t remember properly.

Then he said that thing.

That thing that he has said twice before. That I had felt safe “knowing” I would never hear again.

“Gonna rip out this crappy carpet and put down laminate.”

For people who know my dad, and his history of making really important life decisions for the family without actually discussing it with anyone–this is code for “I’m gonna sell my house.”

Dad is a guy who uses the word “MY” like some people use the word “GOD.” Never mind that my mother lives here. Never mind that they’re letting my family and me stay here. It’s HIS house. Screw the fact that when we all moved up here from Phoenix, he promised that it was the last move. That my mother said she would never move again for the rest of her life.

I heard the word, “laminate” and about swallowed my tongue.

Now, I know nothing is actually going to happen, because I am a reasoning adult. And also I will sic his wife on him. It just stirred up things. It’s not like we moved a lot. Only twice, really. But it’s the way we moved both times. Autocratic dads are a thing, but my dad always seemed only to have this kind of revolting power over really crazy important stuff.

I wanted to get my ears pierced, I talked to my mum. She was cool with it, I got my ears pierced. The end. I doubt Dad noticed until I started asking for new earrings to pad out my collection. But when mum finally had a car she liked, he sold it while she was out. Not to be malicious, but because to him, it was his and his input was the only input needed before selling something that large and important. He did that to her twice. My dad worked so much when we were all kids that he really didn’t have any power except in those extreme cases. The ones where he wielded that power absolutely.

Ugh. This is one of those things that I’ll probably never get over. You know, that stuff that  you just kind of start crying dryly and asking, “Why?” over and over. Not because it hurts so much as it baffles you so hard that you don’t trust yourself to have a handle on the behaviour of smegging anybody.

Thoughts on weird crisp flavours tomorrow.


And I Suddenly Remember I Have a Blog!

Somehow things have reverted to the way they were when I first started this blog. “Because I feel like it! But only when I feel like it!” Hurrah. Today, I feel like it. Also, some cool stuff has happened, and I feel the need to catalog it, since this day has been on the horrendous side.

I’ve been a fully realised Romance reader, as we all know perfectly well. And I did it in about three years. So I thought it was about time I joined the Harlequin rewards program. And soon after registering, I looked through my library and realised with a sheepish grin that all of the Harlequin books I own were given to me. Almost all of them are destined-for-the-bin Love Inspireds that Jared gave me, in fact. Which is great, but it means that I don’t have any purchases to redeem. How red is my face, right? Apparently everything I buy is Hachette or Macmillan. Oops.


Back when I was pregnant and bored and not sleeping at night, I bought Pregnesia. I even wrote a review about it. And guess what, you guys. It’s a Harlequin Intrigue. I remember thinking at the time that I hated to buy a book when I had so many free books and library TBRs. Also, I never bought ebooks at that time. (that time is incredibly over) It wasn’t an ebook vs print book thing, it was a miserly “I have access to a bazillion FREE books thanks” thing. But it was called PREGNESIA so of course I forked over my moneys.

Now I am 200 points away from a free book from the rewards program. Also scouring my memories to uncover and possible purchases that fall under Harlequin’s roof.


April Fool’s Day in Habitica


Joy and Doom to All!

THE SPRING FLING HAS FLUNG TOO FAR! Run while you can, Habiticans! The floral theme has come to life and is taking over Habitica with horrifying cheer, repeat, the flowers are taking over HMMMPH MMPH MMMHPPPH….




Anyway, I got this kind of early, which made it funnier. Also, I’m playing Sims 4 again. I figure I bought it, I might as well. Also doing my first by the rules for-realsies Legacy Challenge. Considering that Sims 4 is about the emptiest Sims base game ever, it should be an easy challenge.

I’m just being a jerk. The game is actually being fun, and I keep catching myself going to buy the expansion that came out today.


I hate insurance

Getting insurance after Hubby became a full-time student has been rather a nightmare. When we finally did, guess what. They don’t cover any of our doctors, despite an inaccurate list claiming that they do. And getting a new rheumatologist is about as likely as Nevada becoming submersible. Quite frankly, it’s all I can do not to have whiplash-inducing flashbacks starring things like my previously deformed knee and a single fleece blanket pinning me to the bed.

Looks like the Medicare thing doesn’t even matter now. I can’t have enbrel without a doctor to prescribe it and insurance to cover it. I just… I’m so sick of all this shit.


Percolating away

It’s odd that although there are much fewer bumps right now, I still haven’t got any time to write. Like most people who don’t have time to write, I am doing it anyway, but it’s stressful and incomplete. I have another hubby assignment that I’m rather afraid won’t be fulfilled in favour of a much much bigger project. I’ve been trying to read the goofy Mercedes Lackey fairy godmother book for two days, and have only gotten in about eight chapters because Bridge of Birds is so much more engaging (and yet a sloooow read for me).

No more juggling Wednesdays. We’ve moved the game to Mondays, and instead of just guessing which grandmother Owen will terrorise, now we know (thank you, by the way). Also it was just the weekend, and I had ample opportunity on at least one day. So why do I feel so cramped for time?

Part of it is that I don’t always use it wisely. And to be totally honest, some of that is in turn because I have crippling insomnia and Owen still thinks that this Sleep thing is a bollocks idea. …and since it’s past 23:00, I shall take some advice, possibly some sleep aid, and get some Zzz.