not particularly sugary or sweet

[Warded Private to Purists and Albus]

That Maven Reid is a sensitive little thing isn't she?

Makes me wonder just how far she'd take her particular brand of hatred.

Good show Falcons!

Dad can't stop singing. Someone rescue me.

Another productive weekend of brutal enforced labor. We're putting up the last of the pumpkins and squashes today along with some more preserves and then I think we are finally done. This is what I get for having a green thumb. I have never been so glad to get out of a kitchen in my life. Nana is a slave driver. Don't be deceived by the bright blue eyes and the sweet smile.

But on the upside I managed to finish another pair of Christmas mittens in the midst of other commitments. These ones are for Luc. And they are very very special because he needs to keep his healing hands warm. I think they just might be the ugliest ones yet and therefore they are very near and dear to my heart.

Today once I'm done working on some things at the paper and Nana has released me from my indentured servitude I'm going to go out to the pub. Who wants to keep my illustrious company?

You know what's good? Drinks. You know what's even better? Birthday drinks!

I love my Birthday. And my sister. And my friends.

And today I even love Thad. But only for today.

My Dad was so upset last night about the Falcons' loss, but he's doing a bit better this morning. Too bad about that shrimp. Walking with the dogs helped loosen him up though, and I went out this morning as well and took Snidget and Mum's dog for a walk along with them. It is just so sad to me when people don't understand what loving companions dogs can be provided that they have the right companionship and care and discipline!

And I'm going out tonight, so Mum has talked me into going shopping for shoes and a dress. If you never see me again just know I fought valiantly till the bitter end.

So I've been informed that apparently having a birthday allows you to take advantage of the entire month as some sort of special all about me time. Since I'm not quite that egocentric enthusiastic about that thought, I thought instead that I would simply remind the general public that my birthday is coming up in a mere six days.

I am going to be twenty eight, which seems rather old in comparison to some but not nearly decrepit enough that I cannot still beat my little sister in a fair fight, athlete or not.

Since people always seem stumped for gift ideas for me, I thought I would provide a very handy list of things I would like or appreciate.

- A holiday in Madeira
- Biscuits, hopefully without ginger in them
- New boots
- Ink and Quills
- Wool for Knitting
- Headmistress Hargreaves' resignation
- A rooster
- The latest Vicky Frobisher novel
- A cape
- To get laid Hugs. Hugs are good. I also wouldn't say no to drinks.

I had a brilliant first date last night and it wasn't even due to my mother. James Potter perhaps I shall reevaluate this first date curse thing.

Been up early this morning took care of the chickens, had breakfast and went for a walk, then have been making mittens.

Here is ugly pair number one.

Baby, don't look, these are yours.

And less ugly pair number two. Recipient to be determined.

[Private to Baby (D. Flint)]

So I need to talk to you about something before you hear about it from Mum.

[Warded to Purists]

So apparently it is fashionable to make light of other people's struggles and difficulties and to mock their families and homes. All the celebrities are doing it now, or at least one in particular. I was wondering perhaps if one of the ways the Purist community could begin to express their satisfaction would be by boycotting certain television programs and those products that advertise during them, due to the political activities of their actors.

I think I would begin with The Mad Howler Presents.

Thoughts?

So I have a tentative date for Saturday night with this fellow my mother keeps trying to set me up with.

I have already used the following excuses and have run out of reasons to skive off.

1) My dog is sick.
2) I'm sick.
3) I have to work. Sorry!
4) My best friend needs me for something important.
5) I was attacked by a poison tree frog.

My mother is getting quite savvy I'm afraid.

Also if you are this fellow it is nothing personal, really. I promise.

The fruits of my labour in the garden and orchard are in, all total we have a nice stockpile of vegetables and Grandmother and I are canning and preserving this weekend which is nice from a standpoint of me liking to be in the kitchen and sampling but not so nice from the standpoint that I am hot and tired of making apple butter and squash and the like.

The house smells amazingly good though and I've tried out a new recipe that I'm serving for dinner once I've gotten back from a long ramble with the dogs. It's the sort of fall day that I wish would last forever, all rich spicy smells and cooling air, and I've gotten to put on my heavier boots and a thicker jumper. Then tonight there will be tea and fresh pie and a nice settle in with the telly and the fireplace. I'm getting a start on my holiday knitting, so this is your time to request if you do or don't want an ugly jumper or scarf and how ugly you would prefer.

And people wonder why I still live at home.

[Added Later After This]

Nevermind Tea, I'm going to have a drink and celebrate the Falcon's CRUSHING victory over the Harpies!

For any one of my readers or other less informed members of the public who might be a trifle confused on the matter, I am not, in fact, a man. In fact, last I checked I was distinctly female.

I would think that Mr. Fenwick, as a member of society who I believe generally fancies himself progressive, would at least have some sort of modern conception of gender and gender identities or be a bit more hesitant to jump to conclusions. Surely all of my acquaintance and my friends have never had any reason to find my name or my sex confusing or difficult to discern.

Ugh. All that is on television tonight are reruns of TOAD. I cannot wait for the new fall season to arrive to at least break up the monotony. It doesn't help that Dad keeps the television on at all times in the evening even when the rest of us are trying to do something else.

It isn't even the Darwin I like.

[Private to Purists]

Days like this I remember why I took up drinking.

It's so much more genteel than hitting my head against a brick wall. Although in the morning it's probably just as painful.

I am sending WAMM the bill for my headache potion.

I am never eating Candy Floss again.

Nate, this is all your fault.

And I detest spinny rides.

( Application )