Bank Holidays make me hungry

This is going to be another random post because I’m working on some pathetic number of hours of sleep (is “pathetic number of hours of sleep” a proper phrase? I have no idea. My god, I’m so tired) and the child is sleeping next to me on the couch all bunged up with a cold and making weird grunting noises that have carried on since 1 AM last night and I’ve got “Merlin and the Dragon Wars” tuned in on the flat screen (another SyFy television movie travesty) and a glass of chilled red wine next to me as I’ve got a cold too and the ice helps my throat (whereas the wine helps me be a good mommy) and Andy has gone AND LEFT ME to go to the Liverpool match because his cousin had an extra (free) ticket for him and I’ve got some crazy amount of stupid chores to do that I’ve forced upon myself so I can ward off the guilt of not contributing financially to the family at the moment and FUCK IT, I’m so not taking a shower today.

Its day two of the 4 day Easter holiday which means absolutely nothing to me being unemployed and all; though it does mean that Andy is off of work and the stores are inconveniently closed right at the moment where I really don’t feel like cooking.

Today is the first day in a week where the weather hasn’t been absolutely gorgeous. Even though I was dead tired on Thursday and only working on two hours of sleep, I decided to take the boy out to the park to enjoy the sun. Calderstone Park is this massive park about a half mile or so from the house. Sefton Park is actually massiver (it’s a word dammit) but it’s farther than a half mile and I’m pathetically out of shape. There’s really not much to say about our park trip except that knowing where the bathrooms are before entering a gigantic park is probably a good idea and having a tiny baby in tow is pretty much the equivalent to catnip to women aged 30 to 65. I met a lot of people (read: women) that afternoon though I was unfortunately too tired to hold much of a conversation. Let’s be honest really – after determining that my tiny baby is a boy and is his name is Henry – the only thing further I want to know is whether you like going for a cocktail now and then and that just sounds like a pick up line – so I don’t say anything and just smile. Sadly, I have no idea how to make friends with girls who aren’t girlfriends of guys that I’m already friends with. Making friends with guys is simple. You both flirt but then mention that you are both already involved with someone else so the pressure is off (as is the flirting) and bam! New guy friend.

Obligatory pictures:

I love self motorized strollers.

If I wasn't so tired, I might think that this was really pretty.

I really had to pee at this point.

On Friday it was yet another gorgeous day and Andy was off of work, so I convinced him to take a walk along the Otterspool Promenade. The walk turned out to be really short since we were both really hungry and stopping into the Otterspool Pub for lunch seemed like a great idea after a 10 minute stroll. We lazed around in the park for awhile after lunch and at the point where Andy was getting entirely too overheated I suggested that we go to that “one picturesque town place” that we passed by last week. Andy insisted that I be more specific. It was finally determined that I was talking about Thornton Hough (pronounced Thornton Huff) and we took a short drive across the Mersey and had ourselves a pint in that “one picturesque town place”. Seriously that pint and overall experience was exactly how I always pictured life in England to be – sunny day in spring, cold pint outside, baby peacefully sleeping in his car seat, Tudor houses and an old chapel AND red phone box in the background. Of course, peaceful sleeping baby turned into fussy baby and our experience was cut short – but it was well worth it.

Obligatory photo:

"Stop putting flowery crap on me!"

Having my classic English springtime moment.

The only other news I have for you is that since Andy actually took the entire week off, I have a chance to get my hair cut sometime this week. I know! A haircut! As Bethhead will tell you, my hair is one of those things of mine that I care entirely too much about. This is mostly because I’ve long ago given up hope that my ass will be of a controllable size but my hair (as thick and prone to grey as it is) is something that I can manage. Finding a new stylist here is going to be a bit of a challenge as they don’t have Supercuts or Fantastic Sam’s in the UK. I know to avoid those places – I don’t know what to avoid here. If anyone has any tips, let me know by Wednesday.

Hope every one has a happy bunny day tomorrow.