In other news…

Don’t you just love it when life decides you have had it way too quiet and decides to throw a few things at you? All at once?

Since Friday night, I have had my mum in hospital, a son requiring transport for his successful driving test, the other son turning up from down south on leave, a dog in heat, the cat going missing and finally turning back up, Tweetdeck having a psychotic episode or three and by this morning, me wondering if it is safe to stick my head out from under the covers.

In the midst of all this, we managed to keep the leave taking son a secret from all, and had a lot of fun surprising the heck out of everyone with his appearing out of the blue. The best bit seeing the brothers reunited. These two could not be left alone in a room for longer than twenty seconds when smaller. But to look at them yesterday you could only see the love and friendship. Then they went and blew the happy re-union feelings by ganging up and paying out on their mother, who is now plotting two slow painful deaths. Not that this bothers them in the slightest. I have informed my offspring that if I do not get happy family snaps of everyone together, I am going to make Yoda in a fighting mood look like the tooth fairy.

We are yet to surprise Nana, what with her recent trip to the local hospital, but that is on the agenda with the son being very accommodating and agreeing to turn up in uniform, which will have Nana bouncing off the walls with happiness. Naturally the camera will be getting a workout there too.

While waiting for Chef-to-be to be legally allowed to terrorise the rest of the driving community, Sergeant Lurch and I cut a fine couple around a local shopping centre where I indulged in my usual quest for something I am hoping to find but that day had no intention of buying. Going into jewelry stores is a bit of hit and miss for me, only occasionally will I come across someone who can answer a question, most of the time I leave shaking my head wondering if they know this much about the items they are selling, god help all of us if they get behind the wheel of a car. Leading me to feel at least a little assured that Chef-to-be’s ‘P’ plate does in fact mean provisional and not PANIC!