Will You Have Me Back?

I know, I know, bloody fickle. You close one blog down four years ago, only to beg, weep, sob gently into your Pinot in sweeping gestures of contrition in hope, nay, prayer, that you'd have me back.

I'll be good I swear. I'll post regularly, I'll give credit where credit's due - all hail Husband's underpants and general lack of hygiene for most of my fodder - and I'll fill you in down below with all the smutty innuendo you can swallow. 

If, if, you'll take me back I will endeavour to give you a four to one smut ratio. 

So, rather hoping the answer will be a yes, I'll make good on my first promise - see, I can be trusted*

Here we go:

Husband

Still smells

Has learned to lift the toilet seat while spraying. We threw a party.

Is working on the spraying using a kind of plastic bottle contraption he, Pokey, Stu and Bucket head worked on together.

Is trying to patent his Spray-Away

Decided to become vegetarian for a year until he discovered bacon is meat.

Has switched from beer to cider for health reasons.

Measures his bald spot in area rather than circumference and enjoys remarking on how long until he can feasibly buy a merkin.

Has agreed to change his underpants at least every other day 

Says hello to you all and would like me to remind you that he's four years older and therefore wiser. Quite.

Twizzle

It turns out Twizzle is allergic to his own fur. It seems we picked the only self allergic, incontinent dog on the planet. Lucky, lucky me.

Also, his ears drag in the water when he drinks out of his bowl and we have to peg his ears up with a clothes peg. Picture it.

Also while I think of it, he humped the baby sitter last night. Just thought I'd share that, it's not really an update, rather a tally.

Isla

IS TEN. TEN!! And away at pony camp learning about Really Expensive Hobbies and things you can buy to accessorise Really Expensive Hobbies. You can get bling stirrups and everything.

Is bringing out a line in pony hair dye and non pierced hooped earrings.
Continues to out smart, out cool and out socialise her mother.

Jack
Is seven. I was going to put that in block capitals with an exclamation mark and everything but meh. Your second's way less exciting when hitting new ages. Sooo last season, as Isla would say.
Has decided that he wants to be seven when he grows up and mistakes the black and white pony Isla rides for a cow.

My Mother
Still has a key to my house.
Has decided to outwit Shirley-the-Competition this week by forgetting to water her plants for her while she's away. "that'll teach her to reach above her station and go to Istanbul" Sniff. My Mother pronounces Istanbul as Standing Bull.
Asked Husband if he could get dad a merkin when he finally bought his.
Still wears boots from the Transexual shop.

Dad
Has found a new place for the porn mags. My Mother once took an interest in his potting shed and moved the seed trays. There were Words.
Has started trying to work the internet.
Has replaced his paint stirring stick with much mourning. He wore a black band for a week, with a playboy bunny appliquéd at the side.
Is talking to Barry Next Door again when they both lost to Clive From Down The Road in the Most Knobbly Cauliflower competition. They're working on a carrot-shaped beetroot prototype with an eye to a Most Hilarious Vegetable rosette.

Millennium Housewife
Continues the quest for stable sanity. It's all down to you.

*Cannot be trusted