Information for your Saturday

What emoji do you wish existed but doesn't?

A lot of people have expressed to me the need for a 'fingers crossed' emoji. I agree, and I can't believe it doesn't already exist.

Siiiiiiigh. It's one of those post-migraine, achy shoulder, listen to Miley, eat Goldfish crackers, think about going for a walk kind of nights. Despite a nap and some medicine, I'm not 100% myself. As my sisters tell their kiddos, "you know your body" and I indeed know that I'm not firing on all cylinders.

In lieu of a blog topic, I'm going to present a list of unrelated information.

• Andy's in Birmingham (pronounced Birming-um) stalking the English cricket team. His goal is to get a picture with Joe Root aka Rooty (pronounced Roo-teh). 

• I've been perusing retro glassware on Ebay. There's something about vintage drinking glasses that makes me so happy to be alive. 

• Episode 0 of Project Runway season 14 (I know, Tim Gunn must be 150 by now), 'The Road to the Runway', is now available to stream on Lifetime.com (for US viewers). It's the episode where they introduce you to all the designers. Looks like it's going to be a pretty great season. 

• I move into the new apartment next Wednesday. 

• My family has always used Comet to clean the bathtub. First, you shake the abrasive bleach powder out across the tub. You try to get it to stick to the sides, where the dirt ring is most prominent, but it always slides down. Next, you add a bit of water so that the powder turns to paste. Finally, you scour. Down on hands and knees with an industrial brush, you scrub until your knuckles scrape raw and the chemicals begin to eat away at your fingernails. Conclusion: this method sucks. Worst of all, years of Comet-use have taken the varnish off the tub, making it even more susceptible to dirt stains. It's 2015; there must be a better way!

Since I couldn't find a photo of Comet, here's the first England cricket team to tour Southern Australia. 1861

Image via Wikipedia Commons

Goodnight,
Margaret

Eating Goldfish crackers has become a chore

—We interrupt this broadcast of Real Housewives of Atlanta Season 7 Reunion Part 3 to bring you another nightly instalment of Madgespace.—

I heard we're not supposed to say, "Oh my god, I'm soooo OCD about [fill in the blank]" because it diminishes the seriousness of obsessive compulsive disorder. WELL, not to sound like an old person justifying their casual racism, but can we say anything anymore?!?!?!

Fine. Out of respect, I won't use OCD to refer to my undiagnosed obsessive idiosyncrasies from this point forward.

What I will say is that I can't eat Goldfish crackers like a normal person.

I have to lick off the salt slowly until the fish is soft and damp. Then, I must bite the edge carefully with my teeth so that it breaks exactly in half at its seam. It's arduous. And it only works on some of them. Others aren't filled with enough air. Their sides are fused together and it's impossible to separate them.

The reason I know it's not too serious a medical condition is:

1. I could always just cut Goldfish crackers out of my diet (but could I really?)

2. After about 12 crackers, I get fed up with my little game, grab a handful and gobble them all up like Cookie Monster.

Some weird, long-haired girl eating Goldfish crackers.

Gotta get some ZZZZs. Going to the migraine doctor tomorrow. I'm hopeful! Maybe I should mention the Goldfish thing while I'm in there. On second thought, maybe I shouldn't.

To all a goodnight,

Margaret

Mmmm....tasty lake water

My brother-in-laws are big on not letting their kids drink the bathwater. And I can see why. Bathwater, especially toddler bathwater, is nasty. It's full of Johnson's Baby Shampoo, food remnants, sand, pee and, let's be honest, probably small particles of poop.

Of all the battles for the bro-in-laws to pick, I'd say it's a pretty good one. My sisters aren't as strict when it comes to bathwater-drinking, but they see the logic behind the rule.

We were talking about all this today and my mom agreed that drinking bathwater is gross. She said, "It's not like drinking lake water, which, you know, some people are really against."

Oh yeah, Nina drinks lake water. When she's swimming in Lake Washington and gets thirsty, she helps herself to a big gulp.

Anna and I told her that, believe it or not, most people would find drinking lake water disgusting too. She responded with, "It hasn't hurt me yet!"

She also says that she grew up in a family where the idea of 'individual toothbrushes' was unheard of. Every night she'd grab from a collection of crusty, communal brushes and the concept of everyone having their own never occurred to her until years later.

Slurrrrrp!
If it's good enough for ducks, it's good enough for Nina.

So, there you go. Moral of the story: germs are a conspiracy made up by the toiletries industry. OK, that may be a stretch. But I think it's fair to say that a few sips of bathwater, gulping up Lake Washington and sharing toothbrushes won't kill us.

Your migraine-infested friend,
Margaret

Greetings, Suppressive Persons

Anna invited us over to watch the HBO Scientology documentary tonight. I've been reading about this exposé for months. HBO had to hire 160 lawyers in order to make the thing. Finally, it was time for the big unveiling! I was so excited I couldn't stop eating grapes (in a bowl on Anna's coffee table—mine for the gobbling!).

It came as no surprise that the beliefs and practices of the Church of Scientology are nutso. Like most religions, it's all based on a science fiction book. And who am I to tell anyone what to believe?

But the troublesome bit is the tax exemption stuff. The organization doesn't have to pay any tax because it's classified as a religion. What kind of bullroar is that!?! You're telling me that I have to cough up 25% of my income, but Tom Cruise gets to write-off the millions he puts into the church (which, in turn, provides him with swanky cars and pimped-out airplane hangers and made-to-order wives)?

I was also struck by the fact that the documentary, while seriously damning, didn't actually go into some of the stranger rumors. Even with their 160 lawyers as backup, the filmmakers didn't touch the Leah Remini / Shelly Miscavige missing-person report scandal. I think there's a lot that the film didn't reveal out of fear of litigation.

In other news, I think my migraines may happen because I clinch my jaw in my sleep. I suspect that I do this, since my jaw aches a bit sometimes. But how can I ever be sure unless I buy a night-vision camera and film myself in my sleep? Watching the footage back would be pretty creepy, but also a minefield of potential blog material.

In other other news, I've decided to convert to Scientology. You're all SPs and I'm going to have to disconnect from you.

Goodbye.

Margaret

I'M BAAAAAAACCCCCKKK!!!!!!

Guess who's back back back, back again gain gain? Grassy's back back back. Tell a friend friend friend.

It's been a while! I don't even remember how to type. I have to keep reminding myself to rest my fingers on 'home row'.

But it feels great to be back in action.

Heck, I even made an iMovie about it.

Guest Blog Week: Review

Thanks to everyone who helped make the first annual Madgespace Guest Blog Week a resounding success. Thanks to the talented guest posters, to my legions of loyal fans and to Char Kay for organising the whole thing.

Every evening I'd get the text from Char saying the next post was ready to go. I'd quickly flip open my laptop, head to the blog and drink in every word. Not only was it amazing to be relieved of my blogging responsibilities for a while, but, dare I say it, it was refreshing to read voices other than my own.

I realised that THIS is what life's all about. Family blogging. OK, no, not family blogging—what I mean is that life is all about creating. Or at least it should be. I'm at my happiest when I'm creating something, be it a homemade Thai curry or a blog post about toilet paper alternatives. I like the challenge, the process and the end result. I also enjoy the creations of others. It's a great way to get to know people and see a different side to them.

Basically, what I'm saying is we should all get together and Mod Podge photos and magazine cut-outs onto an Ikea bookcase. You in?

Life update

OK, so you're dying to know what I've been up to during my week off.

Here's what I've been doing:

• Getting loads of migraines. Seriously! Char hypothesised that blogging may be the cause, but now I'm thinking it might be the only thing keeping my kopf from exploding.

• Watching every episode (so far) of HBO's 'Silicon Valley'. I wasn't convinced at first, but the more I watched, the more I liked. 

• Getting my bowl cut frisked at airport security. I had to go through the body scanner, then afterward the lady said, "And I'll just go ahead and check your hair." She patted me on the head like I was a labrador. 

• Hanging out with Andy before our FIVE MONTH stint apart. We've been eating lots of Sainsbury's fishcakes and watching The Americans, Better Call Saul and House of Cards. If you still aren't watching The Americans, it's time you take a long look in the mirror and reevaluate your life. The show's great. 

See you tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that, 

Margaret

P.S. If you're not going to produce an iMovie in honour of yourself, then who is? 

Don't hate. Don't wait. Make yourself an iMovie today. 

New lease on life

Today I had a migraine. Yep, turns out I'm not cured.

This one was BAD.

It lasted from 7:30am until 4:40pm.

But now it's gone and I feel like:

• Riding a horse bareback through the Grand Canyon. 

• Going to the nearest prison, unlocking the cells and letting the jailbirds run free.

• Recording an album of classic ballad covers (my dream vanity project, sorry Madgespace).

• Amtrack-ing from Edmonds to NYC.

• Napping in a canoe on a lake in the sunshine. 

On top of all those things, I had an epiphany that only a post-migraine brain could conjure: 

I must go to Beverly Hills and eat at one of Lisa Vanderpump's restaurants. 

Pump, Sur or Villa Blanca—doesn't matter! I can make this happen. Maybe I'll even wind up as an extra in an episode of RHOBH. 

Anyway, now I have what they call a "migraine hangover". It's as if someone shoved me in a tumble dryer, pressed start and didn't let me out for nine hours. Even though it's over, I can't help but feel achy, exhausted and a bit traumatised. 

Still, my overarching emotions are relief and elation. It's amazing how being unwell can make you realise how glorious it is to feel your 100% self. Health! What a gift!

Also, my sistah Char is a saint. During the dark times today, she brought me food and a San Pellegrino sparkling lemon beverage. She's also organised a few guest bloggers for next week so that I can spend less time on the computer (we think that could be what's triggering the kopfschmerzen).

Now, it's time to rest this weary head. 

Goodnight, 

Margaret