Kitty, Potty and the Cross Stitch issues..
January 15, 2011
A number of concerning issues regarding my mental health have come to light in the past couple of days... perhaps because I have spent a large proportion of my time sitting doing cross stitch whilst singing along to the Les Miserables sound track, or watching Miss Marple.. or perhaps because I've been spending a lot of time with my sister as it's been her birthday (happy birthday if you're reading this dear sister of mine).
The cross stitch is an issue that I'll get onto later.. firstly I think some revelations are in order as they have dawned on me in the past couple of days.
It seems that my word vomit originated at a very early age as during a conversation on past birthday parties I remembered an incident that was long buried under shame and humiliation and filed away to be forgotten... alas in the spring clean of my memories this gem has been unearthed. It seems that when I was 4 years old I told my sister and her then boyfriend that her boyfriend was Joseph and I was Mary and that my doll was the baby Jesus and we had to go to Bethlehem on my donkey (which was in fact a rocking horse with a blanket over it if I remember correctly)... this is all bad enough but when you take into consideration it was my sisters 13th birthday party and I probably mentally scarred this 13 year old boy it's slightly mortifying. I'd like to say I've grown out of these outbursts but having remembered it I'm quite tempted to use it as a chat up line to see what happens.. although I don't fancy lugging a rocking horse out with me to bars.. might look a bit odd.
Maybe just the 'I'm Mary and your Joseph.. take me to Bethlehem' would do.. I'm mortified and highly amused at the thought.. (NWIS Guy how about you try it out for me and see how it works.. swap it over though.. don't want to go and tell anyone that you're Mary.. they'll start to worry)
The second dawning realisation is that my sister and I are a bit nuts (not that this is a new revelation, just further confirmed by todays events) a while ago I gave my sister the nickname Kitty Le Noir after having a disagreement in the car and vaguely referencing the pot calling the kettle black adage.. anyway.. Kitty - as she will henceforth be known - has given me the delightful nickname of Potty Schwarz.. which makes me sound like a german shotputter. This is bad enough, but not only do we have names these names seem to have taken on their own personalities resulting in Kitty talking in what can only be described as a voice that sounds like a poor impersonation of the queen after having inhaled some helium.. As you can imagine this reduces me to tears of laughter and after a while we both get quite hysterical... if only we wouldn't do it in public - the stares are quite worrying. We 'went for afternoon tea today at a lovely hotel in Tavistock called Browns and it was fantastic - Kitty told me that she takes tea very well and would have made an excellent young lady in the day.. followed up with her saying 'which is exactly why I'm still single'...
Finally the Cross Stitch.. I got the Cath Kidston Stitch book for Christmas.. and I LOVE it. The only thing is that I have become slightly addicted to stitching and seem to have aged about 40 years in the process as I have been sitting doing nothing but watching period dramas or listening to show tunes and stitching whilst singing along like a crazy old spinster..
I'm going out tomorrow night, provided I can leave the cross stitch alone long enough to get ready, so there may still be hope for the survival of my social life!
NWIS xx
The cross stitch is an issue that I'll get onto later.. firstly I think some revelations are in order as they have dawned on me in the past couple of days.
It seems that my word vomit originated at a very early age as during a conversation on past birthday parties I remembered an incident that was long buried under shame and humiliation and filed away to be forgotten... alas in the spring clean of my memories this gem has been unearthed. It seems that when I was 4 years old I told my sister and her then boyfriend that her boyfriend was Joseph and I was Mary and that my doll was the baby Jesus and we had to go to Bethlehem on my donkey (which was in fact a rocking horse with a blanket over it if I remember correctly)... this is all bad enough but when you take into consideration it was my sisters 13th birthday party and I probably mentally scarred this 13 year old boy it's slightly mortifying. I'd like to say I've grown out of these outbursts but having remembered it I'm quite tempted to use it as a chat up line to see what happens.. although I don't fancy lugging a rocking horse out with me to bars.. might look a bit odd.
Maybe just the 'I'm Mary and your Joseph.. take me to Bethlehem' would do.. I'm mortified and highly amused at the thought.. (NWIS Guy how about you try it out for me and see how it works.. swap it over though.. don't want to go and tell anyone that you're Mary.. they'll start to worry)
The second dawning realisation is that my sister and I are a bit nuts (not that this is a new revelation, just further confirmed by todays events) a while ago I gave my sister the nickname Kitty Le Noir after having a disagreement in the car and vaguely referencing the pot calling the kettle black adage.. anyway.. Kitty - as she will henceforth be known - has given me the delightful nickname of Potty Schwarz.. which makes me sound like a german shotputter. This is bad enough, but not only do we have names these names seem to have taken on their own personalities resulting in Kitty talking in what can only be described as a voice that sounds like a poor impersonation of the queen after having inhaled some helium.. As you can imagine this reduces me to tears of laughter and after a while we both get quite hysterical... if only we wouldn't do it in public - the stares are quite worrying. We 'went for afternoon tea today at a lovely hotel in Tavistock called Browns and it was fantastic - Kitty told me that she takes tea very well and would have made an excellent young lady in the day.. followed up with her saying 'which is exactly why I'm still single'...
Finally the Cross Stitch.. I got the Cath Kidston Stitch book for Christmas.. and I LOVE it. The only thing is that I have become slightly addicted to stitching and seem to have aged about 40 years in the process as I have been sitting doing nothing but watching period dramas or listening to show tunes and stitching whilst singing along like a crazy old spinster..
I'm going out tomorrow night, provided I can leave the cross stitch alone long enough to get ready, so there may still be hope for the survival of my social life!
NWIS xx
Posted by NWIS Girl. Posted In : Revelations