Smokey the Magnificent

Well, so much for “soon”. Helpdesk Man quit his job yesterday, and his manager kindly gave him the rest of his month off with pay so he could build up his business. So today was his first day at home, commemorated by having bacon and eggs for breakfast at 11:00 after a lengthy sleeping in. In such a fashion are fortunes made.

The pig and I left him to it at four, and wandered down to the supermarket to stock up for the long weekend. While at the checkouts I remembered the piggie needed a new toothbrush, her old one having recently been used by the snortlepig to brush my elbows, the interior of the dishwasher and a raw piece of beef. So we swiftly oosed back to the toothbrush aisle, where I made the mistake of handing the snortlepig the green and the blue so she could take her pick. “Which one do you want?” “Okay!” “No, no, you only need one. Do you want the blue or the green one?” “Okay!” “Do you want the blue one?” “Okay!” “Can I take the green one?” “No!” “You want the green one?” “Okay!” “Not the blue one?” “Okay!”"Can I take the blue one?” “No!” “Do you want this one or this one?” “Okay!” Eventually I persuaded her to let go of both toothbrushes so I could waggle them out of reach, and when she reached for the green one we high-tailed it out of the store. Unfortunately she is so impressed with this fine device that she not only carried it all the way home, but has made it her particular friend ever since. She is currently brushing her toes with it, and had a moment of extreme panic five minutes ago when she lost it in the duvet. It’s a pity she’s over her obsession with the bottle of peppermint essence, which was at least hygienic.

In other news, I am suppressing my skepticism of food blogs once again and making David Lebovitz’s easy jam tart. Pretty cunning, no?

Didn’t fancy pasta on Monday, so we had lentils cooked in chicken stock instead. We are thus one up on nutrition. Ha. Take that, cellular degeneration brought on by poverty-of-affluence demineralisation. The snortlepig, interestingly, has decided chicken soup is the best thing ever thunk up by man, so I’ve made a big batch of it replete with minched garlic, onion and carrots, and will freeze it in muffin tins in order to sup on some before Proper Lunch every day.

Today is slightly momentous, in that Helpdesk Man is going to hand in his notice at the respected government institution that gave him his name, focussing his not inconsiderable energies on his new business, Information Highwayman, instead. I am waiting with the pleasant thrill of anticipation to see if we make our first million by 30 or end up moving into Mother’s spare room, feeding gin to the snortlepig to stunt her growth. A more pressing question, however - can I continue to refer to him as Helpdesk Man? Information Highwayman is certainly a good name for a business - in fact, I suspect that’s what prompted the career change - but it doesn’t exactly trip off the tongue, blog-wise. Do share your thoughts, which are valuable to me.

Also, I need documentary recommendations. The snortlepig is becoming too jolly sentient to watch dubious movies with, as was brought painfully home wen she started saying “Fall down!” the other night every time somebody got shot in The Boondock Saints. And as Soon-To-Be-Ex-Helpdesk Man* refuses to spend the next fifteen years watch Pollyanna and Meet Me in St Louis while he eats his sup - or worse, Dora the Explorer - we must resort to non-fiction. At least, once we’ve finished the A-Team, which is borderline acceptable in that no matter how many cars blow up or firefights begin, nobody ever gets shot or killed. (It took me, like, a whole season to notice this. I’d long thought it was suspicious that a car could flip three times and explode in a flaming fireball while the bad guys simply hauled themselves peevishly out of the windows unscathed - but I had naively assumed that a team of desperadoes so a) hard-core and b) competent as the A-Team might occasionally hit a target while emptying their two dozen guns, if only by the laws of statistical probability. But nope. Only Imperial Stormtroopers could be so precise.)

So, yeah. No looming undersea life, no searing exposes of the underbelly of Rwanda’s drug trafficking industry - just nice documentaries, TV or movie, that won’t bore STBXHM or scar the pig. If you happen to know anything on the subject of rhinos, babies, duckies, horsies, the moon, milks or mousies, she would be particularly agog.

Go now.

*Not, like, in a divorcey way. Who has the time?

On January 1, Helpdesk Man launched his new web design business, Information Highwayman. Since that day his site has been featured on a vasty number of design blogs, cooed at by people cooler than us and generally caused Helpdesk Man to oose about with an extra prance in his gambol. One lady even sent him a bar of soap after he gave her free consultancy for her soap-making site. And he’s in negotiations with a few other chappies to be paid large wodges of cash, which we like even better than soap.

So, anyway. Yay for Helpdesk Man. And because I am docile and lovely, instead of gloomily comparing our comparative net worths and drawing cartoons of myself as a ball and chain and imagining us at swanky design parties with leggy brunettes arching their eyebrows at me and saying “What’s THAT?” and Helpdesk Man saying apologetically “That’s my wife, she makes tote bags” and discreetly turning them to face the other way as I pick at my elbow…

…because I wouldn’t do that, because I’m normal and well-adjusted…

…I will join in on the adulation and shill for him. So. If any of you want a website and have consummate dollars, go to Information Highwayman. He knows a lot about typefaces, and is pretty good at doing the dishes.

Information Highwayman

I’m gonna go explode with joy now, k?