Friday, April 10, 2009

COPIC's, COPIC's, COPIC's everywhere!

In addition to my last post, which was in response to a challenge blog that I stumbled across while surfing my beloved web, I added a post-script this morning. Yes, it was for another challenge, only this time it was for a spectacularly wonderful prize of 72 COPIC marker's, swoon.

For anyone who doesn't know what COPIC's are, they are as stated in my post-script, simply the best thing ever. They are a range of blendable permanent markers, which until recently hadn't been available on this side of the world, however, thanks to my friend and fellow card maker Sandie I now know differently. Sadly, they are still hellishly expensive but maybe I'll be lucky and win the blog candy up for grabs on Karen's blog - assuming that I got my entry in on time...

Birthday Card For Footie Mad Husband

I had actually spotted the challenge and its remarkable booty a few days ago and had every intention of entering it. So I went away and promptly forgot all about it. This brings me nicely to the subject of my appalling memory, which according to my very nice psychologist friend is in perfectly good health. How little does he know?

I ask: "Is it normal for a person to walk up and down their hallway repeatedly, in the hope that on one of the many occasions they might just remember why they are doing so?"

He replies: "But is zis not quite usual behaviour? Doez not everybody do zis from time to time?"

I reply, through clenched teeth and stiff lips: "Of course it is, but why then do I do this many times each day and still not know why I embarked on that journey!" All the while I am thinking how stupid his question is. It is apparent that his form of therapy involves asking questions and stimulating the emotions by annoying his clients!

Argumenatative to say the least is how I would describe this young man. He's lovely, very amiable and lively, it's a pleasure to speak with him. From time to time we have debated the state of the nations finances, the health service, proportional representation, et cetera. Obviously we are both idealists, believing that it should be possible to formally register ones abstention from ballotting in the absence of anything worth voting for. It is so refreshing to encounter someone who is almost as daft as myself!

Work, however, is something which has rapidly become a taboo subject for I become irascible and frustrated at his total lack of understanding of how the Irish health care system works. My blood boils when he counters my remarks with inane questions, which in any other environment would be salient and to the point. Rules are made for bending and one doesn't have to follow protocols to the letter, so long as the philosophy is adhered to and the guidelines observed - yeah, right! Rules, what exactly are they? My blood boils and I bite my lip...

Answers on a postcard please! Oh! And if anyone is lucky enough to find my marbles, please forward them to me by e-mail...

Polly Pierce
Vinca Cards

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