Sherlock and I and some rather crumbly shortbread went to fetch L from the airport yesterday. Sherlock, as you've all heard, launched himself at him like a flying squirrel or some sort of flaily-limbed projectile, and L caught him just in time.
We met Hannah briefly before her grandmother took her off home. She seemed...well, tired, mainly. If Sherlock looked like that, I'd be sending him to bed right after dinner, but I don't imagine it'll be that easy for her. I'm glad she's got her grandmother with her now.
Today was pancakes and getting to see Mycroft again for the first time in 'literally forever' according to Sherlock and kites and frisbees and dogs. It was everything back to normal for a day, and it was wonderful fun. Anthea unbent far enough to have ice cream with us (strawberry for her, you can probably guess everyone else's choices by now) and tell us that Mycroft's a lot less trouble than we are. Ha. I think we all knew that.
Sherlock and Mycroft discussed the correct meaning of the word 'literally' and Sherlock learned the definition of 'hyperbole' and Mycroft told us a bit about school and his classes and his roommate. He's doing chess club and Lupuli, which is the junior classics club, and is thinking about joining the Marmots, which is a rock climbing club. And, to my great surprise, considering the Harrow Rifle Corps when he's old enough.
He says his classes are pretty good, although not as demanding as what he was getting from Ms P and the rest of his tutors. I get the feeling that he finds it all academically a bit slow (unsurprising) but socially more than complicated enough to make up for it.
We're all back home now, and he and Anthea and the dogs are back at school. Sherlock's in bed. L's brooding a bit, I think, and I'm not sure what I can say to get him out of his head again. Perhaps the opportunity to mock me further for sucking my thumb in my sleep, which I still maintain I absolutely don't do, would help.
We met Hannah briefly before her grandmother took her off home. She seemed...well, tired, mainly. If Sherlock looked like that, I'd be sending him to bed right after dinner, but I don't imagine it'll be that easy for her. I'm glad she's got her grandmother with her now.
Today was pancakes and getting to see Mycroft again for the first time in 'literally forever' according to Sherlock and kites and frisbees and dogs. It was everything back to normal for a day, and it was wonderful fun. Anthea unbent far enough to have ice cream with us (strawberry for her, you can probably guess everyone else's choices by now) and tell us that Mycroft's a lot less trouble than we are. Ha. I think we all knew that.
Sherlock and Mycroft discussed the correct meaning of the word 'literally' and Sherlock learned the definition of 'hyperbole' and Mycroft told us a bit about school and his classes and his roommate. He's doing chess club and Lupuli, which is the junior classics club, and is thinking about joining the Marmots, which is a rock climbing club. And, to my great surprise, considering the Harrow Rifle Corps when he's old enough.
He says his classes are pretty good, although not as demanding as what he was getting from Ms P and the rest of his tutors. I get the feeling that he finds it all academically a bit slow (unsurprising) but socially more than complicated enough to make up for it.
We're all back home now, and he and Anthea and the dogs are back at school. Sherlock's in bed. L's brooding a bit, I think, and I'm not sure what I can say to get him out of his head again. Perhaps the opportunity to mock me further for sucking my thumb in my sleep, which I still maintain I absolutely don't do, would help.
50 comments:
Do do.
That sounds silly.
You do.
Sorry. I don't know how to snap myself out of it either. You must know exactly what it's like, being a doctor doing the things you did. Second guessing yourself is...natural but completely pointless?
Yeah, pretty much. Inevitable and yet pointless.
Do not.
Apparently people (you) do it as it's a comforting, therapeutic, action.
You can't believe how hard I'm trying not to make comments on sucking other things being...comforting and therapeutic. You really can't.
Anyway, I heard you and Anthea positively giggling over my lack of control over what language I currently speak, so.
Oh, and much as I like the tag... tomorrow you can tag 'the two of us (and the bike)'. My second favourite tag.
You really can't.
Seeing as I know you, I really can.
And it's not fair I'm the only one who can't understand you! You have to teach me more Italian.
Mi dispiace, รจ solo un piccolo genio un po' curioso. Non ha cattive intenzioni.
There. Like I promised.
My recommendation for breaking out of the blue doldrums is one of two routes depending on circumstance and temperament.
1) Option 1 (reliant upon good weather): Have a nice dinner. Then stop at a corner store and pick up snacks and drinks - something ridiculous and childish that you don't often permit yourself, like cookies and soda (biscuits and fizzy drinks? No idea). Take that, a good book, a big blanket and good company if you have it and hie yourself off to a public place like a park. Plonk your ass down, get comfy and read until the sun sets. Go home. Hot bath. Sleep.
2) Option 2: Have a nice dinner (yes, that's the same. Food is important.) Go someplace public and low-pressure. Libraries are good. Museums can be as long as you're comfortable in them. Malls are fun if you like people watching. Wander. Watch the people and realize how utterly absurd every, single one of us are. Because we are. From the kid who deeply, truly believes that the world will end if his faux-hawk isn't just so to the woman who somehow thinks that pink velour is a reasonable fashion choice. We're all ridiculous and most of us are fairly decent people anyway. Go home. Watch a happy movie. Hot bath. Sleep.
My other chosen method involves knitting and talking to strangers. I figured that might be less your speed.
Feel better, regardless of how bettering is achieved.
Tinkerty,
Bronwyn
A little genius... Is this the one about Sherlock meaning no harm?
See, almost fluent already, you are...
Yes. basically translates to 'I'm sorry, he's a very inquisitive child genius. He doesn't mean any harm.'
You know, if the pair of you really wanted some distraction, I'm sure that there's more interesting Italian words and phrases you could be experimenting with (unless of course Lestrade's teenage vocabulary doesn't extend that far). You could even combine it with some comforting and therapeutic activities...
Mi dispiace is I'm sorry, then? That seems a useful one to know in general.
(unless of course Lestrade's teenage vocabulary doesn't extend that far)
I feel certain it does.
Nameless - Danger's right. My vocab does indeed extend that far. I feel like Sherlock would somehow absorb the soundwaves in his sleep though and wake up with rude Italian words floating about in his head.
Danger - yes, it is. Just remember, unlike the British, the Italians don't apologise for things which aren't their fault. Like...if someone walks into you in the street, in England, we'd say 'I'm sorry'. If you said that in Italy, they would look at you as if you were mad. If you really crushed someone's foot and it was entirely your fault you might say 'scusi'. Although if you were in Milan, probably not... heh.
Sherlock isn't exactly my fault either...
He isn't?
Ha, I'm assuming in that situation we'd be apologising for something he's done...it'd be our fault by association.
I just meant, when you said 'useful in general', it's just not quite the same.
Not entirely...
All right. But I'm not sure I can prevent myself from apologising for running into people, etc. Maybe I'd better just do it in English.
How often in an average week do you find yourself apologizing for Sherlock in English?
Depends how much we go out and what sort of mood he's in. Normally not more than two, but this past week it was more like ten.
Yeah, English would be fine. Or mumble 'scusi' sounding vaguely sarcastic, implying you don't think it's your fault ;)
Just thinking about it...quite a lot of Italian insults revolve around homosexuality being a bad thing...which I probably shouldn't encourage in any way shape or form, despite using them myself, out of habit.
Of course...they might look at you like you're mad for a simple apology, but if you find yourself near a priest it's still completely fine to grab your...crotch with one hand and make devil horn signs on your head with the other. That's completely fine. Especially in the more remote regions.
......What?
It wards off evil.
Well, it doesn't, but...yeah, my Nonno would always do it. Apparently it's now outlawed to 'touch your genitals' (clothed, obviously!) in public in Italy. Although I really can't imagine they've stopped all the superstitious old men from doing it. There's a lot of crotch-grabbing/touching (your own, obviously) in Italian culture. Superstitious bunch.
...I'll demonstrate. Don't laugh.
I make no promises.
Also, I got the warding off evil part...sort of...but why do you do it when you see a priest? Are you warding him off? (Does it work on Army chaplains? If only I'd known this sooner...)
it seems ridiculous now...not so much when I'm in italy. Not that I do it, obviously.
But it wasn't odd when I was a kid to see a bunch of old blokes see a nun or priest in the street and cover their genitals whilst making the sign of horns...
Right, we should go to bed before you have me sectioned or something.
Right, bed. I'm not saying anything about genital grabbing.
and you do it to priests because wherever a man of God goes, the Devil is sure to follow.
And you'd cover your genitals when you saw a Nun because they're only really associated with bad luck/bad things.
And when you see the number 17 because...well, I'm not entirely sure about that. Just like I'm not sure why the number 53 is supposed to ward off flying insects...
now you really ARE looking at me like you think I've lost it.
You know there's seventeen steps up to our flat, right? We might be in trouble. And why are nuns bad luck??
No wait, never mind. Explain tomorrow. Bed.
Either it's because I'm American or that I didn't attend an ivy league, but I am stumped as to what Junior Classics Club is about. The Harrow website wasn't helpful either, so I'm guessing it's something everyone knows and doesn't need to be explained.
PS: You are all adorable. Sleep well.
First of all, I'm glad Mycroft's doing well and joining clubs. :D And like Becca, I'm curious about the junior classics club. Do they read Greek and Latin poets or something like that? Or... speak in Greek? Or Latin? Mycroft, please enlighten us! :)
and you do it to priests because wherever a man of God goes, the Devil is sure to follow.
I think that's the coolest thing I've heard today. :D Although that crotch-grabbing stuff is a bit odd for me. XD The only phrases in Italian I know are tutti diretto, a la sinistra (or a la destra), which... it's kind of like "Go straight ahead and then turn left." And prego! Or at least, that's how they sound to my Mexican ears. :) My mum's been to Italy a couple of time as a tourist and that's what she learnt and taught me. :3
I hope you're having a good rest right now. :)
Had a fairly decent night, thanks. Think exhaustion got the better of me, finally. Only woke up a few times.
And today I think, once Sherlock is safely deposited at school, I might take Danger up to Cambridge for a few hours of mooching before we have to get back and pick Sherlock up again.
This is if I can wrench Danger away from his urgent need to wash everything I own...
You definitely can.
Danger - the washing can wait. I know this from years of experience; it has never got tired of waiting and gone elsewhere.
I'm so glad to see the Mycroft is doing OK at school. How's Sherlock this morning?
You two have a fun day out. Who knows, you might even get home in time for a few of those Italian lessons before Sherlock gets out of school :-)
nameless - today I intend to have fun with my favourite two-legged and two-wheeled friends, enjoy the good weather, fresh air and just...being back.
Tomorrow I fully intend to enjoy other non-weather-related pursuits, indoors. Italian lessons, obviously...
(and also do a lot of boring things I need to sort out with solicitors, Bryan, working through everything I need to do to let my flat out etc. Mainly things I absolutely don't want to think about right now :) )
Sherlock was...okay, this morning. Really didn't want to go to school, but didn't put up as much of a fight as he could have.
Small Hobbit - Dishes do that too. I mean, not like I'd know. *cough*
Glad everyone is home and got some time together again.
We took Sherlock to the park with his bike (he's riding it pretty well now...completely fearless, gives us a few heart attacks every time, always seems to come away unscathed. Amazing.) And he announced 'you two should get bikes.' Fixes a glare onto me... 'PROPER ones, with PEDALS. Not with an ENGINE.'
What's says you, Danger? Should we? Now he can pretty much ride it might be nice not to have to run after him...
Sure. We could go and look at them tomorrow? In between Italian lessons.
Tomorrow is getting full...
What are we doing for you-know-who on his big day?. I really will need to be in work...but think I've secured the weekend off.
His mum mentioned elephants. I'm only about 60% sure she was joking. I'll talk to her tomorrow. That'll be at the weekend though.
For the day of... Can you make that cake with him after work, or is it going to be a huge project? We could save it for the weekend and go for pizza and ice cream instead? Assuming he wants pizza, but I feel pretty safe in assuming that.
Mentioned in what sort of context...
I think the cake might be a bit big for after work. Pizza and ice cream is a good plan though.
You know he wants dealers on the cake? We might have to try and find somewhere selling them tomorrow...
Tomorrow is getting very full.
By dealers I assume you mean sparklers? Or rather I hope you mean sparklers...
He doesn't want dealers. He wants sparklers.
Your job, Danger Sparkle(r)s.
I'll get sparklers but I'm still not wearing the jacket out in public.
I may have to hide all your other jackets...
Then I'll just be forced to steal yours.
Everyone should be so indulged on their birthday. Sparklers! Disable the smoke alarms.
Toodles,
Bronwyn
You can't steal my jacket! I love it more than...my own skin. Have that instead.
Then don't attempt to get me to wear that monstrosity in public!
I hope Sherlock's more grateful for his birthday presents than you are. You're setting an appalling example. Handmade present too. Unique. And this is the thanks I get...
;)
It certainly is unique.
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