Sunday, 12 December 2010

transitions

So. daysgoby looks different.

It's not that I hated the old set-up (I liked it! Basic! Easy to fool around with!) but I couldn't set my pictures to 'biggun' size and when I tried to fix it, I.....broke the old template.

So! Here we are. And I (to my surprise; I can be a trifle curmudgeonly when it comes to new-fangled things) .....really like it!

I've got a ten-minute window between cooking and serving dinner, let's see if I can bang out a readable post.

I worked at the hospital today. It was a long, slow (ish) day, which was good because I couldn't find my notes. I've had a little notebook that I've carried around since I started there, with reminders and names of tests and extension numbers and such, and I can't find it.

Well, crap.
I managed not to hash anything up, since I remembered passwords from Friday (the last day I worked) but if I go another three month stretch without working there, it's going to be painful.

I need to have another scour around the house, then I'll panic.

And if the external stuff wasn't enough to drive me nuts, the child factor is killing me.

Rosey: (earnestly) You know Friday? The day after my leg hurt and I came home from school and the day I went to the museum and saw all the trees and the toys and made reindeer food? The day before Saturday which was yesterday?

me: (pouring water down my throat in long smooth gulps and wishing it was vodka) ummm...I think?

Rosey: I remember that day.

ARGH! She lay on the floor the other night and told the dog all about her day and read him several books and asked his opinion and babbled on happily for an HOUR. (Much to the dog's consternation. He tried hard to understand but was too fixated on the word 'treat' which didn't fall from her lips once.) Her brother went through this stage when he was three. I thought we were safely away from it, since she's six now.

Hmph. My grandfather nicknamed me 'Bobblegush' when I was about her age.

 A girl and her captive audience.
 Jasper: There had better be a Milkbone at the end of this story.



Gasp. You don't think I'm raising a blogger, do you???

10 comments:

Trish said...

Love the new look! And that's a cute story... my ten year old shows no signs of letting up. She talks All. The. Time. Not sure if I'm raising a blogger or a talkshow host.

kyooty said...

What a great story. I love your new lay out. Easy Peasy :)

May-B said...

Layout looks great. Rosey is a hoot. Thank goodness Jasper is patient.

Gabriella said...

i like the new look alot! And yeah I have a talker in my house too; so different than me!

Emma said...

Looks pretty! And we are all probably raising bloggers :)

sweetcoalminer said...

I love it, and I love Rosey! You must have a smile tugging at your lips a little. Too cute.

lgsquirrel said...

It would be good that she grows up to be a blogger. Nothing wrong with that. Just keep her from becoming a Twitter

Loth said...

Like mother like daughter!

Erin said...

My parents used to call me "The Mouth That Ate Minnesota".

A couple days ago, I was working from home (which, given that BlogHer is in California and I am most decidedly NOT is pretty much the only way I can work) and Lucy was wandering around the house, playing. Or, more specifically, asking me random questions every 3.5 seconds and then getting frustrated when I didn't answer her. I told/asked her to stop talking because I was trying to concentrate and I couldn't answer right then. But that didn't work. She kept right on asking. And then I lost it and said something along the lines of "I don't know, because I wasn't listening because I'm trying to concentrate. Please oh please oh please STOP TALKING! AAAAH!" And she left me alone with a very wounded look. And I felt like utter poo.

Magpie said...

It looks nice. And yeah, mine won't shut up either. Except when she clams up like she did the other day in the car when she started off on something about Jesus was a zombie. When I expressed interest, she wouldn't go any further.