Common Scents

Men are weird.

While Colin, the Man Child and I were eating the delicious Salade Caprese I had lovingly prepared, Colin announced that he doesn’t actually like salad and would I mind not serving it quite so often.

I was already feeling a tad irritated with Colin, as he keeps encouraging the Man Child to continue with his ‘pull my finger’ gag that might be amusing if the Man Child was five and even then only once. Incredibly, the Man Child can do this 20 times in one evening and Colin can have tears of laughter rolling down his face each and every time. I didn’t think it was possible for a man to laugh that hard until Colin invited the Man Child to pull his finger, which resulted in both Colin and the Man Child gasping for air. Not because of any pernicious gas, but because they were laughing so much.

As Randy Marsh said on South Park: “It’s all about moderation. If you never fart, you combust, but if you always fart, you deplete the ozone. So we must fart only at appropriate times or when it’s really, really funny.”

But I digress. “When I first made you a salad, three years ago, you said it was the best salad you’d ever had,” I said calmly and reasonably.
Colin said: “It was, but I still didn’t actually like it, because I don’t like salad.” It’s a miracle to me that more women don’t stab their husbands with a salad fork.

Apparently, he’s never liked my black trench coat with white piping from Banana Republic either.

Sensing an atmosphere brewing, the Man Child told us that his dad (my first husband) told the Man Child’s stepmother, after they’d been together 20 years and she had served spaghetti bolognaise at least once a week, that he hates pasta. They’re still together. And men wonder why we don’t understand them.

Despite all this, I still organized a party for Colin and the Man Child to celebrate their birthdays, and a good time was had by all. It was a great pity that Mia couldn’t be there ¬-- it’s her birthday on April 16th. Astrologer Linda Goodman wrote that you won’t find more than one Aries in a family, as God wouldn’t be that cruel. My husband and both my children! Talking of astrology, if you believe in it, check out www.susanmiller.com and click on the monthly forecast for your birth sign. We Pisces are in for a cracking month.

Here are photos of some of the food I served at the party.





I know pictures of the Man Child and Marley Rose would be much more interesting but the Man Child has asked me not to use pictures of him or mention his name, hence his new moniker, Man Child. And Julia doesn’t want photos of Marley Rose to be used. Fair enough.

Marley Rose (Gemini) continues to spread her joy. I spent a lot of time with her while Julia (Leo) was in Japan. Marley has quite an American accent, which is charming apart from the fact she has started that most annoying habit American children have of saying “What?” instead of “Pardon?” I’ve been trying to train Marley out of it and every time she says “What?” I say: “We don’t say ‘what’, we say ‘pardon’.” And she says: “Or you can say ‘excuse me’.” I told her that either works.

My mum (Pisces) asked Marley over the phone what she would like her to bring as a present when she (Mum) and my dad visit later this month. Marley said: “Don’t say ‘what’, Nanny, say ‘excuse me’.”

My family has been celebrating the fact that Portsmouth are in the final of the FA Cup. My Dad has supported Pompey since he was a boy. The day my dad was born (April 27th, 1929, Taurus) Pompey played Bolton Wanderers in the FA Cup final and lost 1-0. Dad took me to Fratton Park to watch Pompey play when I was a kid, and he and my brother, Mark, are trying to get tickets to the final. Mark was at the semi-final with his best friend, Wally. If anyone has three Cup Final tickets to spare (as if), let me know.

The Man Child is miserable as Liverpool just knocked Arsenal out of the Champions League. You win some, you lose some.