Day 26 — Your week, in great detail

 times this by four evenings

Some of it anyway.

Day 25 — Your day, in great detail

Where to start, where to start.  Beginning is always best.

Woke up, on time, just, hate that feeling in the morning - I am a night owl.  Boys up already and watching Spongebob (gah!) so breakfast made, bath run and boys persuaded to wash, dress and then have their breakfast.  Just boring cereal this morning.

Off to Zumba class.  First of all, wash on, the whirly gig is bent in an alarming fashion so I don't know how long it will last and as I want out of here then I'll be damned if I replace the damn thing.  Zip about the hoover and then off I go.  Zumba class is the best part of the day.  Despite my hum-dinging quality after class I go shopping afterwards for necessities.

Back home, shopping put away, boys are in garden building skateboard ramps, warning given about broken limbs etc.  Clean up house, washing done so begin to put on whirly gig - there we go, whirly gig snaps half way through.  Fan-bloody-tastic.  Take washing off and bring down clothes horse, one way or another these clothes will dry!

That done, time for much needed bath, put yesterdays wash away, nice bath, relax for five whole minutes.  Up again, clean bathroom while I'm at it.  Downstairs and time for lunch.  Make lunch times four.  Play Swing-ball with eldest Hobbit.  Do a little bit of a cross-stitch design I'm working on.  Fill in tax credit forms.  Uh-oh look at the time.

Ready for work, ask mother to give boys pasta for dinner and off I go.  Work is...meh.  Busy but that is not the issue, see that once again all my effort seems to be for nothing as I'm not graded that well.  Ah fuck it all to hell.  Plow through the night, call after call, who cares about stats anyway (I do).

Time for home.  Empty bins.  Despite the time boys are still up and Mother is in bed.  Hayfever stuff given and warning about bedtimes added on top.  Bin outside.  Online, first call as always the property search sites. Nothing there as usual.  Consider my next step.  Wish I could talk to someone about this and get more than just an agreement and "whatever you think is best" attitude.  On here now.  End of day.

Day 24 — Whatever tickles your fancy

Despite his best efforts this summer holiday is most definitely not being ruined by the man child halfwit.

Having said that today, what tickles my fancy, is an IT Crowd marathon.

"If you type Google, into Google, then you can break the internet."

Peter File.

Classic.

Day 23 — A YouTube video

I know people like this. Why do I even bother - because I want my boys to have a decent education. Will remind them to kick me if I ever become so pretentious though.

Day 22 — A website

There are a few website I enjoy trawling through while I'm meant to be doing other things.  I am sad enough to have organised little folders for the different types of bookmarked favourites I have.  There are the functional sites, such as bank, house search sites (God help me but I am fed up of looking at them!) and reference points.  There are those for fun, some to browse and perhaps shop (either fantasy shop or real shop - go Amazon!)  And there are those sites to which I look for inspiration.

At the moment I am watching and enjoying reruns of Project Runway season 6.  For that - why didn't we get season 5 and where is season 7?  Annoyed.  So as many of the sites I use are the equivalent of flicking through a magazine (really good magazines where the subject matter is always involving and a delight for the eye) then I choose the website of one of the finalist.  (To be honest she should have won, she has a gift of which I am entirely envious, oh to be able to whip up a beautiful gown in a day - what am I saying, would I wear it around the house?  Get a grip.)

Carol Hannah

Day 21 — A recipe

I cannot vouch for this recipe as I only found out such things existed tonight. While I can take or leave donuts, I love nutella.


Italian Donuts


Makes 3 dozen donuts.


2 teaspoons dry active yeast
1/2 cup warm water (about 100 degrees F)
1/4 cup granulated sugar
5 cups pastry flour
4 tablespoons unsalted butter at room temperature
3/4 cup warm milk
Pinch of salt
2-3 cups Nutella
Sugar for dusting


Place the yeast and water in a small bowl and whisk together let stand until creamy.

Place the sugar and flour in a bowl of a mixer and add the butter and mix just to incorporate the butter. Add the dissolved yeast warm milk and salt and mix just until the dough comes together. The dough will be very soft.

Grease a bowl well with butter and place the dough in the bowl and let rise about 1 to 1 1/2 hours or until doubled in volume.

Spread the dough on a lightly floured board to 1/2 inch thickness. Cut the puffs into rounds and let rise on a lightly flour board loosely covered for about 1 hour.

Heat the oil until it reaches 350 degrees F. Fry the puffs and drain on paper towels, then quickly sprinkle with sugar. Cook the remaining puffs. When cool enough to handle, fill with Nutella using a pastry bag fitted with a small straight tip. Serve.


Something else that is delicious is this:

Iker Casillas
Espana por favor!


Note to self - you obviously didn't look close enough during all that time you spent in Spain.  Silly girl.

Day 20 — A hobby of yours

Ah, this is the longest 30 days in the history of these meme things, of that I am quite sure.  Still with the dogged determination that has hindered more than helped me over the years I continue regardless.

Hobbies, if only I had time for all the hobbies I'd like to do.  This is where my arty crafty side comes out.  Nothing calms the spirit more than ploughing through a design or turning a doodle into something that matters only to myself.  I care not that people think cross-stitch and the type is twee or that some might look at what I do and sneer.

Okay, I'm not in a happy place today.  That is clear from the focussing on the negative side of hobbies compared to just rabbiting on about why I enjoy things.  Some days are just crappier than others.

Day 19 — A talent of yours

I really, really, *really* wish I could say at this point that I can play the piano and it doesn't sound as though the cats were running across it.  There is a talent I wish I had but for the patience of practising.  When you are a child there is always much more interesting things to do than sit doing plinky plonky scales on the piano.  Having said that then I am sorry that the piano my grandfather gave to my mother was sold.

On to the subject at hand though.  What talent do I possess?

I'm quite good at arty things, I'm slowly getting back into the habit of sketching and painting.  There is always the crafty side of sewing things, my cross-stitch.  I also write, but not very well, although the Open University course I did showed that I wasn't all that bad at poetry - who'd a thunk it!

What I'm really trying to get here is that I have a distinct lack of talent.  I can do things, I can do things well but nothing stands out.  Like everything else I am running on mediocre here.  It's just the way I was brought up: don't shine, don't show-off, don't think you are better than anything.  I love that the Hobbits aren't like that though and they have talent by the bucket-load!

Day 18 — Whatever tickles your fancy

Day 17 — An art piece (painting, drawing, sculpture, etc.)

One of the Hobbits little friends asked me the other day if I was an artist.  I have no idea where he got such an idea from as I don't do anything big that neighbours might notice, I don't look arty - or at least I don't think I do. But he was quite certain, maybe the Hobbits said it, who knows.  Children tend to say the most inspirational things at times.

So I have pieces I like, pieces I admire, I go through stages of liking one style over another and then not.  I dislike intensely any snobbery over artists, all this guff about Jack Vettriano for example.  Heaven forbid an artist actually sells his paintings en masse.  Although not my favourites there is a sense of dark foreboding in his work and each painting, you could write a story about the characters within very easily. One of my art teachers in school was very dismissive of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood.  A particular favourite of mine at the time as it met my Gothic tendencies.  You see apparently I knew nothing as the background to the Mona Lisa is squinty for a reason plebs such as myself couldn't possibly comprehend.

Therefore I totally dismiss what art choices say about a person in a way.  They may give an idea of personality but in no way should that cloud judgement of the person as a whole.  Some people like the chocolate box paintings, some people adore abstracts, if there was no variety in tastes what a bland little world this would be.

Wait, what was this post about...oh yes, my choice for this...

I could be entirely predictable and choose something by Mary Cassett but I feel more like this today...

Childish, magical yes, but tomorrow I may lean towards something else.  That is how it goes.

(Midsummer Eve by Edward Robert Hughes)

Day 16 — A song that makes you cry (or nearly)

This song was written about Agnetha's regret at missing so much of her daughter's life and how quickly a child grows.

Now I am a mother I totally understand it.  So although it doesn't make me cry it comes very close!  It just passes by, I look at the Hobbits and they are no longer those squidgy little babies, their limbs are all gangly, their faces changing and for a moment I'll wish I could go back.  There is so much I would do differently and to start with I would do it alone, on my own terms.  I would take more baby photos.  So many things.

But now it is too late, and here we are.  I am glad of how I've raised my boys and even at their hissy fitting worse they are not that bad at all.  In fact I'm rather proud of how smart they are, that they enjoy things, have their own interests.  Who would have thought I'd have children who loved kayaking.  Kayaking I tell you!

(I always wanted to be Agnetha when I was little but because I had brown hair I got to play Frida.  Which isn't bad, but it isn't Agnetha!)

Day 15 — A fanfic

Something I don't normally read although I like the concept in parts.  Taking your favourite characters and using them in ways that perhaps the author didn't think of (sometimes for good reason as they can skim close to pornographic at times.)

I had read a Doctor Who one once and while a pleasant to read it wasn't enough to make me a fan of fanfic.

However I did read one recently that was almost better than the original source material from whence it came.  Called Wide Awake it takes the characters from Twilight (yes, I know but it made Meyers a multi-millionaire for some unfathomable, addictive reason and yes, I did read all of them - in one week no less) and twists them for grown ups.

Don't think Meyers would approve.  Lots of her followers do though.

Day 14 — A non-fictional book

At first I was going to mention a book I am wanting to read at the moment but then I thought to a book I read and reread time and time again.  Each time I never fail to find the humour in the description of the book's theme - Australia.

In Down Under, Bill Bryson touches on some reasons that have puzzled me about the antipodes - namely the amount of things, both animal and plants that, if not actually able to kill you, can certainly maim you for life.  It is a reason I turned down a job there many years ago and when sometimes I question just how smart (or not) a move that was then I can read this and know I'm not alone in being a bit of a silly fearty about little crawly, creepy poisonous killing beasties.

See, see I wasn't completely mad to say no.  I mean, it wasn't like the job was in a city (fearsome spiders live there too) but in the country where one wrong step can be very, very painful if not life ending.

Day 13 — A fictional book

My god but the thought just crossed my mind -what if I had to write about every book I own.  It would take all week.  I hoard my books, in an ideal world I'd have an unlimited account with Amazon but it was ever thus - my favourite books are ones I've owned for decades but there is always room for more.  Come on in, plenty of space on the shelves, here I'll even dust it for you.

I've mentioned a favourite book previously so do I go obscure or mainstream?  Do I mention the fact that I have read and *deep breath* actually own all of the Twilight books? And the other one she wrote?  Do I mention the fact that if it wasn't for the stupidness that holds me back I'd venture to try and get some of my own scribblings published and on my shelves.

I'm digressing like crazy here.

A made up book as the Hobbits call it.  Currently I'm reading Her Fearful Symmetry by Audrey Huffinpuff - sorry I meant this one:

Unlike The Time Traveller's Wife which was enjoyable in some parts and just sheer frustrating in others this story is unfolding nicely although as the mother of twins it does get tiresome reading about freaky ones.  If anyone is the parent of twins they will know that reality would have her writing about fights and arguments and the impossibility of sharing.

Day 12 — Whatever tickles your fancy

For this I have thought about the frivolity of the phrase and decided that maybe I should go a little more indepth than just a frivolous comment.

So, what has been "tickling" my fancy of late.

The Carry-On quality of that very phrase is just screaming out for me to say something smutty again but I digress.

I'll just say that I am very sad that "The Pacific" the HBO series shown on Sky Movies Premiere has finished.  It made me ashamed, as someone who enjoys studying history, that I knew nothing of the extreme circumstances of that particular theatre of war.  And on that subject, why a theatre of war?  Where did that phrase come from?  It suggests that those who went through such hardships were mere actors playing a role rather than servicemen suffering horrendous situations.

These actors, in the mini-series, served to remind us, the greedy selfish generation, that once there were warriors of such a fine calibre.  These men, young men, spent years in what must have seemed to be an utter hellish existence.  And that came through.  I would say the series was wonderful but that is a very glib statement.  It was thought-provoking, challenging, heart-stopping, incredibly sad and utterly involving joourney.

Now, ten-weeks later, it is all over.  I think, in some places, the story felt a little rushed.  Maybe they could have eked it out to 13 weeks?  You know, for sad sacks like me who have no life.

Interesting point.  My dad was in the RAF, served some time in Burma where he was shot in the back of the leg by a Japanese sniper.  I only found that out when I was 15 because, like most of his generation, he never spoke in great length of what he went through.  We have little snippets of that large slice of his life spent serving in World War II, some photos and mementos but now he is gone there will be nothing to colour in the missing spaces.

I'm here because that Japanese sniper was a lousy shot.

Day 11 — A photo of you taken recently

No, I have to say I hate the captured image of myself.  I do have photos, less than ten, of myself taken over the past 10 years.  In most of them I am trying to hide behind Hobbits.  What can I say.  I wasn't blessed with beauty, or confidence, or an appreciation of who I am.  Honesty only goes up to a certain point.

Here is something else instead:

Day 10 — A photo of you taken over ten years ago

I think a new scanner is in order here... will edit this post when I get one.

Normal Service Will Resume...

...as soon as I have more than a minute to do so.

Just had one of those days.  You know, when everything kind of falls apart and you're left standing there in the middle wondering what the hell just happened.  Yeah, one of *those* days.

Actually was going quite well right up until the point where I came home from work.  I had forgotten, no, I was in denial over how much some people can be attention seekers.  If the world doesn't revolve around them....you get the idea.  So it is typical now that, at this time in the morning, when I really should be asleep so I can be ready and fresh for the next day, that I am here - trying to catch up.

I've let myself down most of all.  I had taken a break over the weekend, no computer at all, but I had done some regular old fashioned writing - pen and paper.  So the idea worked.  Pity life and all that crap keeps getting in the way.

Day 09 — A photo you took

At one point I thought of taking on photography as a hobby, but in reality it has remained just a way of capturing the moment.  And in truth, there is nothing wrong with that.  Enjoying something doesn't necessarily mean having to break it down into each little component and then building it all up again.  Instead, I prefer to just point and click and hope it turns out okay...or even more than okay would be better.

I like where my crafting is going.  Cross-stitching is so easy, taking it to the next step of embroidery is turning out some great results.  These are the kind of things I wish I had tried earlier.  I want to do more, my whole love of art is coming back after so long of doing nothing with it and it is so heart-warmingly wonderful.  Sketching is an old friend I am happy to welcome back.  The photography will act as inspiration and I will take it from there and on to other medium.

Wouldn't this photo of Linlithgow Loch look amazing with fabric and stitching?

Day 08 — A photo that makes you angry/sad

I don't have a copy to put on here, I don't have any of them left.

Because, of course and considering the nature of the other blog it should be no surprise that the photo that could make me both angry and sad would be one from my wedding day.  Gosh, I can barely even type it without feeling a shot in my stomach.

What can I say that I haven't already torn a strip off the internet from saying?

I know I shouldn't say it was the biggest mistake of my life because I have the boys from that train wreck of a marriage but I can't help it.

The deluded fool in the blue dress (light blue because if you "wear blue your love with be true", perhaps making him wear it as well might have been an idea.)   Smiles that were nothing more than a farce when all was said and done.  If I could go back, a la Doctor Who, then I'd head back, tell that idiot to do what she had originally planned and to take the consequences.  I would have still had the boys, some things are tattooed onto your future, mine and their lives have always been set.

Like the guy on the t'internet who is blogging about his 101 uses for his ex-wife's wedding dress I took great pleasure in destroying the evidence of that day.  Because it was all based on lies, and I hate that I was too damn stupid to see it.  So both angry and sad, and I've had enough of feeling either way.

Signs

I really thought I had understood the sign, but it turned out to be another false promise.  I could build a house out of the amount of those I've had of late.

Day 07 — A photo that makes you happy

Remembering times gone by, back when the Hobbits were learning to feed themselves with varying results.

Day 06 — Whatever tickles your fancy

Well I can honestly say that, considering my current circumstances, that there's nothing tickling my fancy these days.

Day 05 — A favourite quote

Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look,
He thinks too much; such men are dangerous.

Julius Caesar, Act I, Scene 2

Says it all really doesn't it.

Beware the person, male or female who bears ambition or envy like a weapon, skulking like a wolf at the edge of the forest.

Day 04 — A favourite book

Another choice from many. It is ever thus for the indecisive.

Before the film came out (and to be honest even after I had seen it) I adored Miss Smilla's Feeling for Snow by Peter Høeg. Here was a female protagonist unlike any I had read about before. She was tough, straightforward, socially inadequate and knowledgeable about every type of snow. Presumably as a reader I am one of many who could see something of themselves in a character. I wished I could be like that however the only aspect that rang completely true was the socially awkward part.

I lost myself in reading, the only truth I have ever had was in books. Delving in to the story as the reality of what my life was about vanished for those few chapters. To get such a heroine as Smilla Jasperson was a gift. I haven't read it in some time so perhaps it is time, while the weather is so hot, to once again experience my own feeling for snow.

Wait, was that last line too cheesy?

Day 03 — A favourite television program

That should really be spelled as programme however it is now evident where this thing originated then!

I presume people who live in cold climates are more prone to watching TV than those who have sunshine in which to enjoy life outdoors. Strangely, although I cannot remember much of what I learned at school I can recall, with amazing clarity, things that happened on shows that were on when I was very young.

Not to dwell on the past again, as I am wont to do, there are plenty of programmes around now and all I can say is thank god for Sky+ because I do get to watch things in my own time. At the moment two programmes that I make time for are The Pacific and Wallander. As it is *a* favourite programme and not *a few* favourite programmes (see I'm pointing out the obvious again) then I'll choose the Swedish series of Wallander - series two is on just now. It may be an idea to think on the suicide of the original Linda but not yet.

I've always been fascinated by my fellow Europeans, I adored any programme that showed life in another European country whether it was factual or fiction. The 1970s German version of Heidi was wonderful. Actually on thinking on it, I wish I had gone ahead and worked my way around Europe but I got married instead - wasn't that such a great swap as well.

Crime stories are fair enough, I don't watch any of the UK ones, haven't seen Taggart since the early 90s. Wallander though has caught my attention and part of it is this obsession with European based programmes. What can I say? I'm a fairly boring person. But I like Wallander's saggy Bagpuss face, the taciturn Swedes and yes, a good old nosey inside the houses. IKEA is the mother-ship calling me home.

Day 02 - A Favourite Movie

Now this one is harder, but strangely the first one that came to mind was An American In Paris. There are so many films I love, so many I can watch time and time and time again, but this film made me wish so very hard that I could dance.

As a story in itself it works fine, boy meets girl, girl has weird relationship with other boy, girl decides first boy is much better option.

But then, at the very end of the film, there is 17 minutes of sheer bliss. Their story, the whole ideal of their relationship, is told in one long, delicious ballet. And my god, for the most clumsy, lump of a girl watching it, it was sheer heaven. (The Red Shoes almost had the same effect, almost but not quite.)

Sure I did the childhood thing of dance. Attended ballet but in its most basic form. I left when it became apparent that I just was absolutely no good at all, although as a hobby I would have liked to continue it was the shows that were excruciating. I am someone who needed everyone in the room to shut their eyes before I could comfortably play a tune on the piano (the Laurel and Hardy theme as well, it isn't even ironic.)

I wanted to be Leslie Caron though. I wanted, ached to be able to do that dance, to have such a talent that it looked almost effortless (but it took a month to film, you know there were some serious blisters going on there.)

So, for today at least, this is my choice of a favourite movie.

Day 01 — A favourite song

Here we go...

I have lots of favourite everything so I'm personally relieved that the idea for this is to choose a favourite rather than the favourite.

That being said there is one song that has constantly been mine.  I first heard it when I was about 12, sold as a sort of Christmassy song from those people who had that dirty song banned.  (Naive as I am it took a while to sink in why Relax had been considered so polluting to our little ears.)  Anyway, the first time I heard it I completely fell in love with it, every time I hear it I get a sense of calm and of course it has great meaning for me.

I have songs to make me happy, make me dance, make me cry, make my heart warm. This one song can do all three, I get tears welling up by listening to the opening bars alone.

Without further ado and crap from me - here it is...

An Attempt To Do Things Better...

Let's start right here, with a little project I found on another blog.  You see although I rarely venture mediocre thoughts on to mine I do frequent other people's musings.  So here is a little bit of fun, and a more serious attempt by me to start doing something as a regular occurrence.


Here is the list up for discussion over the next 30 days.  I amuse myself, it is the only way forward.


Day 01 — A favourite song
Day 02 — A favourite movie
Day 03 — A favourite television program
Day 04 — A favourite book
Day 05 — A favourite quote
Day 06 — Whatever tickles your fancy
Day 07 — A photo that makes you happy
Day 08 — A photo that makes you angry/sad
Day 09 — A photo you took
Day 10 — A photo of you taken over ten years ago
Day 11 — A photo of you taken recently
Day 12 — Whatever tickles your fancy
Day 13 — A fictional book
Day 14 — A non-fictional book
Day 15 — A fanfic
Day 16 — A song that makes you cry (or nearly)
Day 17 — An art piece (painting, drawing, sculpture, etc.)
Day 18 — Whatever tickles your fancy
Day 19 — A talent of yours
Day 20 — A hobby of yours
Day 21 — A recipe
Day 22 — A website
Day 23 — A YouTube video
Day 24 — Whatever tickles your fancy
Day 25 — Your day, in great detail
Day 26 — Your week, in great detail
Day 27 — This month, in great detail
Day 28 — This year, in great detail
Day 29 — Hopes, dreams and plans for the next 365 days
Day 30 — Whatever tickles your fancy

Falling Apart At The Seams

What more can I do?  I've tried everything, tried to do everything I possibly can to make the situation right.  But now, I just don't know what to do.

I make plans, you can be assured that they won't come to fruition. Every single detailed that is mapped and organised and all by one person - me.  Yet it is all falling apart.  Should I take this as a sign of incompetence, that I just am not up to the job?

In a perfect world I could be in a home I loved with my boys, looking after my boys and writing nonsense until something worked out.  No mistake, I enjoy my work, I like being there and having adult conversations that do not solely involve the subject of children and matters of.  My heart though, constantly tugs me back.  But home is not a place of comfort now.  Memories of what my childhood was like, when my dad wasn't around to keep my mother in check.

I've let them down.  I had thought it was me.  I had hoped that she would understand that to live together we would need to work together to make it all cohesive.  Things have returned to the way it was when I was young. The constant grumpy mood swings, the shouting and smacking rather than reasoning and discipline.  It wasn't how I had hoped things would go but there we have it.

It feels lonely like this, with no one to share my burden or, as I would prefer, to take my mind off it completely.  Incredibly lonely.

Frustration

Have you ever wanted something or someone so badly that you could just burst?  What I mean is that all the feelings boil up inside until there is no where to go but to release them out?

It is how it is.

I don't try to be esoteric, that is how things are.  I can try and explain myself, or try and put into words exactly what I feel but the reality is so absurd that I dare not.

Heart Skipping

Is it wrong to want to embrace totally the traditional female role?  You know, the one we are supposed to despise and resent.  Home-maker, stay-at-home-mother, the little hausfrau.

Because if there is one time in my life when I was truly happy and content it was when I was in that situation.  Oh, fair enough it all ended badly with Evil X turning out like he did.  But back then, when I was blissfully ignorant of anything being too far wrong I loved my simple life.

It would be even better if I could do it again.

There was nothing more heart warming than baking on a Sunday, painting or making plasticine models with the boys, those family days out.  Yes, simple, yes it was ultimately all fake but had it been real, had it continued I'd have been more satisfied than a cat with all the cream it can handle.

Where is this going?  I don't know.  I do all those things and more now but it is all fraught - everything has changed.  Having the time to do things right, that slightly OCD happiness of a fresh pile of laundry neatly folded to put away.  It is all much more complicated now.  I run here and there...to and fro...nothing is quite finished...nothing is completed to satisfaction...I have no time to settle back and enjoy what I have done.

Maybe I'm going slightly mad - I'm £40k away from what I wish for, a home to finally bring everything together in.

Empty Skies

Was it ever a consideration that this would happen?


Would the culprits be terrorists, sick on their latest campaign of mass murder for no reason at all?


Maybe the lack of fuel, the oil fields finally running dry for the flying gas guzzlers?


But no.


Instead it was a burp from a volcano tucked under the folds of the rather splendidly named Eyjafjallajokull glacier in Iceland.  Well, if it wasn't the bank in Iceland ruining the UK economy then this stands good in terms of a second shot at it.  A blanket of ash, of grit and sand and volcano dregs lies above us.  If a plane flies through it then it is not a very good thing at all - think molten rocks clinging to engine innards, think stalling at 30,000' up, think nose-diving...well it is easy to colour in the picture from here.


So, Mother Nature wins again.  With all the earthquakes, tsunamis, volcano eruptions that have happened over the past few years perhaps this is a kick in the arse for humans.  If we think we are that powerful, that we can control the world then this is a reminder that with one little plume of dust we are nothing at all.

One Year Ago

So much has happened in the past year that I haven't really had time to stop and think.  Nor have I had time to grieve properly.  For one year ago I was coping with the idea that I no longer had a Dad around.

You would think at my age it wouldn't matter so much.  The Hobbits had gotten to know and love their Grandpa.  I didn't rely on him for advice although looking back I wish I had asked more.

In fact, looking back I wish I had done a lot more.  Starting with getting him out of that damn hospital ward once I realised what an utter pit it was.  Yes, looking back that is one of my main regrets.

My last day with my dad was spent at his bedside, thankfully not in that awful ward but in a ward where patients were cared for with respect.  I held his hand.  He couldn't speak at this point but his eyes said everything.  For the first time in ages he looked healthy, happy and chipper.  Almost back to my old Dad really.

I wanted to stay - Mother was complaining that she had to get back to the dog and so I, the dutiful daughter, had to take her home.  In my mind I planned my visit for the next day, our next steps into getting him back and getting him into a decent home as the dementia was at the stage where Mother couldn't have coped.  It was stupid, I wanted to stay.  I knew my cousin was coming in and so I let myself be talked into leaving.  Sometimes I should listen to my heart and not other people.

I turned, gave my Dad a cheerful wave, told him I would see him the next day and that was it.  I have the picture in my mind of his expression as I left.  Did he know how close he was?  Did he want to ask for us to stay but couldn't?  By the time I got home my Dad was gone.

My cousin later told me how moved he had been by how my Dad died.  That it was the kind of ending we all should aspire to.  My Dad smiled, a tear rolled down his cheek and then that was it.  Sometimes I wish I had been there.  Sometimes I am selfishly glad that I wasn't, I couldn't have then taken on the subsequent task of arranging a funeral by myself - nor could I have done everything that happened next.  I would have been too busy grieving.  Too busy to make sure everyone else was all-right and tickety-boo.  Too busy to be the dutiful daughter.

My Dad's funeral, like his death, was appropriate to the man.  People remembered fondly (and don't we all wish to be remembered in that way), old photographs were passed around, anecdotes were told and laughter outweighed sadness.

Because my Dad led a good life, was a decent, honest, warm, kind-hearted man.

A rare species.  And for that, always missed.

There Goes The Neighbourhood

Nothing changes the mind over a situation as quickly as discovering this has happened at some point between coming home from work and our attempt to leave for the school run this morning:

So as the Narnia winter keeps this crappy little town in its grip the intelligence of certain individuals shines through and we are £75 worse off plus a planned trip to the craft fair is on hold until tomorrow smashed windscreens notwithstanding.  Throwing snowballs at cars when the snow is more like ice - that about sums it up.

This new place I had looked at, it isn't perfect, it is far from perfect.  It is also far from here and that can only be a good thing.  *sigh*  Sometimes things roll on and it is hard to see a clear picture.

Grrrrrrrr

This is how it is these days.

When I was growing up my parents subscribed to The Reader's Digest.  I quite liked reading through the articles, trying out the word games inside although I would never have bought it in a shop.  Still, products shouldn't be entirely aimed at the young - a nice, gentle magazine for elderly people, I presumed I would fit into that category the day I started subscribing.  It would seem not.

I used to like having a browse around Borders, I used to like having a browse around Woolies.  Both shops stocked things I haven't been able to find anywhere else.  I noted that once Woolies went the price of stationery went up but perhaps it is just a personal niggle.  I miss finding that one thing in either of those shops that would be a treat to buy.

So this recession (misspelling of depression - with a deliberate small *d* there?) has its casualties and although they may seem minor it may not hit home until later when the little things that made life more pleasant (book shops, toy/stationery/everything else shops) are gone.  It is the small things that are pointing out how unfair the world is, how slanted towards those who have everything - looks pointedly towards the greedy bankers and their fat bonuses who are *still* making a fortune.

Maybe at some point things will even out.  There is enough money in the world for every single person to live a comfortable, happy life.  In fact, come to think of it, if the UK and US and every other country is in debt...who are we in debt to?  Who are we owing all this money to?  It can't be the banks, we had to bail them out with hard-earned and easy spent taxes.  So who do we owe the trillions to?

And all this rambling train of thought because I'm still pissed off that Woolies is gone!

Like a worm on a hook

When the Hobbits are old enough to read accounts of this time I wonder what the history books will make of our ex-glorious leader Blair? 

Having been married to one I feel I have the right to note that he acts very much like a manipulative liar.  And like the manipulative liar he convinces himself that what he says is truthful - it is an artform he has truly mastered.  If you say it often enough, no matter how much removed from the actual truth it is, then it becomes the truth.  I've witnessed it, I've believed in it and I have been suckered into it.

No matter what, while he wriggles like the proverbial worm, it is almost assured that Blair will not be fed to the fishes.  It is a showpiece, a theatrical act for a gullible audience - the sheeple who will think what a nice man he is, couldn't possibly lie and be deceitful.

Watching this, from the distance I have now from my own experiences, I can spot the signs.  How many other people can and how many others simply go with it because it is easier than making uncomfortable accusations against a "nice man."

::Welcome to the Year of the.......::

Celebrity Death Year Rolls On

Although 2009 seemed to have a shocking celebrity death nearly every other week it would seem that 2010 is starting with the intention of upping the numbers and trumping 2009.

So amongst the likes of Jean Simmons and that rugby commentator from Hawick comes the news that J.D. Salinger has also gone. 

A New Year

Not necessarily starting out the new decade the way I wished.  For the most part I have been not so much running to catch up but simply running and watching my life disappear in the far distance.

Car = money pit.

Job = not what I would wish for.

Home = chaos.

Self = who is that again?

There is my task list, right there.  I need to fix these things and fix them properly once and for all.  Last year was spent run ragged helping out everyone else.  I spread myself far too thinly and have managed to create a rather unfortunate situation where I have done so much for others that they no longer see the need in doing anything for themselves.  That needs to end.

I sometimes wish I could get some more positivity in my life.  I know how but it is just finding the time, finding those few minutes where I'm not being expected to do things for others or feeling guilty because I haven't managed to do 6 loads of washing, dried them and put them away all in the space of one evening - an example, one of many.

First things first though, I really need to get a night of decent sleep.  That should be easy enough - right.  Right?

(Note: I could write the entire list of "To Do" but it would be truly frightening.  For me.)

First Foot

First post of the new decade, the last one was a bit of a roller coaster ride and not exactly enthralling for optimists.  In fact if anyone got out of the past 10 years without once feeling a touch of depression about the state of things then bravo.

Time marches on and to be honest we are the only animals to mark it (which is conjuring up images of peeing on things but nevermind I know what I mean.)

The snow and ice are lying thick on the ground, untouched by plough or tractory beast from the council.  The next 10 years will pass and so on and so on.

Eight years ago on this night...

I was lying in a hospital bed feeling very, very large and cumbersome and wishing that the two little aliens tumbling about in my vast stomach would come out. 

They needed to you see, even though it was a few weeks before they were due their grand entrance. 

There I lay,tucked into uncomfortable scratchy nylon sheets in a too warm ward surrounded by horrendous decor (really would it be too much to choose a *nice* colour?)  Alone, which was prophetic in a way, wanting to see my babies so much.  Waiting and waiting for them to decide to begin the twinge that would indicate things were happening and the gel (oh they don't tell you about where they put the *gel* do they!) had finally worked.  Because if it didn't work then it would need to be under the knife.

My mind chased with thoughts and dreams and wishes.  I could never have presumed what would eventually happen although the signs were already there.  My priorities had changed, from the first moment the stick turned blue on a cool day in early June.  My priorities had changed indeed and left him behind.  The desires of a nurturing soul are much different from a selfish soul and too often they cannot be brought together.

I slept that night, despite the monitors strapped to my stomach drumming out the beat of their hearts.  Or perhaps because of that.  Because for every night since I have given thanks that they were born healthy, hearty and whole.  Two tough little cookies; two wonderful little boys; two totally independent and interesting Hobbits.  And I am so glad I am their mother, I am so glad I've gotten to know such little men.

All He Wants For Christmas...

Just dance...gonna be okay...

The Hobbits had a dance recital at school this week.  Part of their gym class I suppose, I usually hear fragments of what is going on until the last minute but their gym teacher gives each class a theme and they do a little dance routine according to that theme.  Youngest Hobbit's class did a sort of Highland-crossed-with-Irish dance while Eldest Hobbit's class did a very impressive "kaleidescope" with his part being one of the green team.

All in all it was good fun.  I know the Hobbits love to dance although dance classes are completely out of the question as that is "girls stuff" and therefore not to be considered at all.  Which is a shame.  Still, while there is MTV there is always the opportunity to dance around the living room without a care in the world.

Randomness

Oh crap

What did I say again?  New starts and all that - blah, blah, blah.  It feels like an endless rush at the moment.

On the plus side I have a lovely photograph of another Guide Dog pup (who lives with another walker but for whom I have always had a soft spot - point; for the dog and not the walker this soft spot occurs.  I do not travel down that particular route for relationships.  FFS get on with it...)

Yeah, so, I have a cute photo and I'm sure current Andrex hopeful lying snoozing on the rug at the moment is jealous.  I was hugging youngest Hobbit earlier after an incident where I accidentally bashed him on the head with the corner of a book (he moved forward, I was reaching toward the bookcase with said very-heavy book in hand - bang.)  Anywhatthehellissheontonight, much tears ensued and as I gave comfort to him I was getting big sad, look-at-me-mummy eyes from pooch.  He then dunks his head on my lap next to sniffling Hobbit, like I needed another hint.  Honestly.  But at the same point I couldn't do without.

I really need a decent night sleep, I think *that* is evident.  Especially from this rambling nonsense.  But then sometimes I like to think that as I send this out to the ether then someone might raise a smile from it.  Or call the men in white coats.  Whatever comes first.

Interestingly I have noticed that I no longer swear as much as I used to.  Except when I'm driving then I'm a right Gordon Ramsey.  But being a singleton without the stress of a dead weight marriage strangling you will do that I suppose.  Ah.

Once again this time with feeling...

I'm keen on the concept of recycling so won't be ashamed of using a photo that is a couple of years old.  Particularly when that photo has Paris giving the evil side-eye from underneath the tree.  The decorations haven't changed much anyway.  Is this all sounding a bit ho-hum?

I don't mean to be, occasionally I will admit to having the same thoughts that were running through Paris's mind at time of capture here.  On the most though things are going fine at the moment and I won't say more than that as I wouldn't like to curse it all.

The presents are bought and hidden, the plans are being made and it will be a relief to stay at home all Christmas Day - I won't even pretend that it will be relaxing in any shape or form.  Oh hell where am I going with this.  I don't believe in New Years Resolutions but I do wish to nurture this little blog of mine a little more if only to write this tosh and not have it messing up around my weary head.

Where does all the time go?

It runs past so quickly I really want to trip it up and slow things down for a while but that isn't going to happen anytime soon.

So much is happening I can barely catch my breath and to be honest I am still being relied upon for everything by everybody which isn't always the ideal situation.  Correction, it isn't the ideal situation at all at all or I wouldn't be online at this time trying to catch up with everything that is falling by the wayside.

There will come a time where I can get back to the old organised me and I look forward to that.  It doesn't matter much in the grand scheme of things but it matters to me.

When I turn my face to the cold winter sun and close my eyes I can remember Portugal.

(Yes the simple little package holiday really did mean that much to old stressy head here.)

Can you tell me how to get...

...if you are about to add "how to get to Sesame Street" then pull up a chair and grab a slice of birthday cake.

I don't know if it makes me feel very old or not so bad that Sesame Street is 40 years old.  Very old in that I loved watching it when I was little; from the slightly trippy and Monty Pythonesque counting pinball (my personal favourite even though it left me feeling a little spaced out) to the annoyingly nasal Big Bird.  Not so bad in that I didn't realise it was older than me - yay me!

I saw places I'd never been when they went out and about in New York, learned sign language with Linda - it fairly widened the horizons of a little girl living in a Scottish village.  Oh and that is Mr. Snuffleupagus in the photo, like you had to ask.

Oh yeah, almost forgot...

Happy Samhain or dia de los muertos or Hallowe'en, whatever spooks you.

Congratulations I am only a couple of days late.

*sigh*

Warm Memories Of Warm Days

Wish I Wasn't Here

The only problem with having a wonderfully relaxing holiday is that sometimes - no, most times actually it makes having to come back down to reality a lot worse. An effect of seven days of relaxation is that a return to routine is like a bucket of cold water over the head.

Yes I am feeling like that but now I know where to imagine when I have to find that "happy place" to get me through.

On the other hand - it is only 55 days until Christmas.

And now we start on the boy bands...

A few days ago Celebrity Death Year realised it had slowed down a little and so decided to shock the crap out of us all with yet another departure.

This time a boy band member who died of "natural causes". He wasn't ill, as far as I know, and considering I knew nothing really of him apart from going "oh its them again" when the band appeared on the telly, I know nuffing. So naturally the death of Stephen Gately (spelling probably wrong but I can't be arsed to Google it at the moment) has sent the shivers up everyone.

And Death has a cackle to itself as it flicks through the celebrity magazine looking for the next one.

Nevermind, Hobbits and I are off on holiday tomorrow, actually it is Thursday morning at bloody-hell-it-is-early o'clock but tomorrow sounds closer. If I see a celeb getting on the plane I think we'll walk.

Poo Bum Sticks

So, looks like once again luck is not on my side, or anywhere near my side, or even within spitting distance.

As far as I can tell we will be staying put. The one thing that would have made my life and that of the Hobbits so much nicer is once again out of reach and it is so frustrating, so horribly frustrating that I could just burst.

Not ideal. In fact very far from ideal. But what should I expect? It seems to be my lot in life that the easiest path is the one denied. While others seem to glide through life enjoying this and that I get the shitty end of the stick.

It is hard to see the good side in things at the moment, it is very hard to see anything at the moment.

Patrick Swuzzle AND Keith Floyd! No!

In one day...

and the celebrity death year carries on with haste.

A Vision Of Inside My Mind At The Moment

Artsy Fartsy and a Day at the Beach

This week I joined a new and odd club at the Hobbit's school. An art club for parents. Well, I thought it would be a room full of earnest artists scrutinising their daubing on easels (the paintings would be on the easels naturally and not the artists.) Of course it was all mums, and as we got cramp sitting on seats made for six-year-olds our art was to make hand print self portraits.

And you know.

It was actually really good fun. The hour whizzed by, it was so amazingly relaxing and nice. I'm thinking this must be what the Stitch and Bitch groups are like. The art might have made our little ones jealous but there are other projects to hand. Some might sneer at a group of grown women hunched over paper gluing on bits of glitter and feathers but sod them, it was light-hearted because we were doing something we would do with our children. There were thankfully no show off snobs.

Next one is on Wednesday and I'm looking forward to it.

Don't have a picture of that but do have a picture of Andrex II on the beach at Kinghorn during a Guide Dog puppy takeover day. Okay, there were only three and one pet dog but still, much fun was had rolling about the surf and sand.

Words for Women to Live By

1. Aspire to be Barbie - the bitch has everything.

2. If the shoe fits - buy them in every color.

3. Take life with a pinch of salt... A wedge of lime, and a shot of tequila.

4. In need of a support group? - Cocktail hour with the girls!

5. Go on the 30 day diet. (I'm on it and so far I've lost 15 days).

6. When life gets you down - just put on your big girl panties and deal with it.

7. Let your greatest fear be that there is no PMS and this is just your personality.

8. I know I'm in my own little world, but it's ok. They know me here.

9. Lead me not into temptation, I can find it myself.

10. Don't get your knickers in a knot; it solves nothing and makes you walk funny.

11. When life gives you lemons turn it into lemonade then mix it with vodka.

12. Remember wherever there is a good looking,sweet, single or married man there is some woman tired of his bullshit!

13. Keep your chin up, only the first 40 years of parenthood are hard.

14. If it has Tires or Testicles it's gonna give you trouble.

15. By the time a woman realizes her mother was right, she has a daughter who thinks she's wrong.

RIP Ted Kennedy

...and the Celebrity Death Year continues...

Humdrum

Hobbits: back to school, happy, contented.

Moving house: on hold while lawyers prove that snails are not the slowest things around.

Life: see above.

The weather is meh. Am feeling pretty meh. At least the pup keeps me entertained.

I still have a lot to do but getting the enthusiasm to do anything is hard.

Evidence that in some respects I have no patience.

99 Things

Things you've already done: bold
Things you want to do: italicize
Things you haven't done and don't want to - leave in plain font

1. started your own blog
2. slept under the stars
3. played in a band
4. visited hawaii
5. watched a meteor shower
6. given more than you can afford to charity
7. been to disneyland/world
8. climbed a mountain
9. held a praying mantis
10. sang a solo
11. bungee jumped
12. visited paris
13. watched a lightning storm at sea
14. taught yourself an art from scratch
15. adopted a child
16. had food poisoning
17. walked to the top of the statue of liberty
18. grown your own vegetables
19. seen the mona lisa in france
20. slept on an overnight train
21. had a pillow fight
22. hitch hiked
23. taken a sick day when you’re not ill
24. built a snow fort
25. held a lamb
26. gone skinny dipping
27. run a marathon
28. ridden a gondola in venice
29. seen a total eclipse
30. watched a sunrise or sunset
31. hit a home run
32. been on a cruise
33. seen niagara falls in person
34. visited the birthplace of your ancestors
35. seen an amish community - well not the community but Amish people take the Greyhound bus a lot so I saw them there and they are lovely people.
36. taught yourself a new language
37. had enough money to be truly satisfied
38. seen the leaning tower of pisa in person
39. gone rock climbing
40. seen michelangelo's david in person
41. sung karaoke
42. seen old faithful geyser erupt
43. bought a stranger a meal in a restaurant - I bought a homeless man a McD's once?
44. visited africa
45. walked on a beach by moonlight
46. been transported in an ambulance
47. had your portrait painted - not painted but drawn as in a cartoonist!
48. gone deep sea fishing
49. seen the sistene chapel in person
50. been to the top of the eiffel tower in paris
51. gone scuba diving or snorkelling
52. kissed in the rain
53. played in the mud
54. gone to a drive-in theatre
55. been in a movie
56. visited the great wall of china
57. started a business
58. taken a martial arts class
59. visited russia
60. served at a soup kitchen
61. sold girl scout cookies - it is just as well I live in the US so I can answer these ones!
62. gone whale watching - see above!
63. gotten flowers for no reason - there is always a reason!
64. donated blood
65. gone sky diving
66. visited a nazi concentration camp
67. bounced a cheque
68. flown in a helicopter
69. saved a favorite childhood toy
70. visited the lincoln memorial
71. eaten caviar
72. pieced a quilt
73. stood in times square
74. toured the everglades
75. been fired from a job
76. seen the changing of the guard in london
77. broken a bone
78. been on a speeding motorcycle
79. seen the grand canyon in person
80. published a book
81. visited the vatican
82. bought a brand new car
83. walked in jerusalem
84. had your picture in the newspaper
85. read the entire bible
86. visited the white house
87. killed and prepared an animal for eating
88. had chickenpox
89. saved someone’s life
90. sat on a jury
91. met someone famous
92. joined a book club
93. lost a loved one
94. had a baby
95. seen the alamo in person.
96. swum in the great salt lake.
97. been involved in a law suit
98. owned a cell phone
99. been stung by a bee - and a wasp, and a spider! I get the hint.

Its A Little Bit Like That Today

After a lovely time at the Edinburgh Book Festival thanks to the generousity of a lovely person I was all set for some time to myself today. My mother was staying over for that purpose although she had the duty of puppy sitting in the morning.

Well, that was before Eldest Hobbit began decorating the living room with copious amounts of icky sick.

Lord knows what or why but first the sofa got it, then the rug. By this time he was in the bathroom terrifying the cats with strange and horrible sounds. There is not much to do other than offer comfort and checking constantly that he wasn't developing anything worse.

After being sick for the umpteenth time at sometime beyond 1am he turned to me and said "Its been a terrible night!"

Funny how the silly things can raise a smile during the worst of times.

He is all better now thankfully, school starts on Tuesday. Yippee!

xkcd

RIP John Hughes

"Life moves pretty fast. You don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."

*So far this is turning into Celebrity Death Year - who is next?

If I Wish Reeeaaalllyyy Hard...

...then tomorrow I *won't* get a phone call from the garage during the day telling me that my car needs x, y and expensive z done to it.

It would be a miracle, same as if the Hobbits ever tidied their room from the current bombsite it is to something reasonable.

Also, it is interesting that today, while out and about, the little cough I have because I am so run down and low on batteries seems to cause alarm in those around me. Schadenfreude would find it very funny, and keep coughing. Or maybe add a sneeze or two in.

Its One Small Step For Hobbits

A well know fact in this house anyway, is the Hobbits love for Space.

Anything to do with Space, planets, the universe, black holes etc. etc.

Considering that in the 40 years since humans first littered up the moon with their footprints there hasn't been as much progress as one would think there would have been who knows what it will be like when they are older. Youngest Hobbit would very much like to be an astronaut and go bobbing about in the great out there.

As Eldest Hobbit still fancies being a pilot (though guess who was better at the flight simulator at the Museum of Flight on our last visit? *cough* ahem, ahem) then he could always fly his brother to the stars.

But I have signed them up to this brilliant idea!

No matter what, at least they will get to Mars, if only by name!

Life In Pause

So, while the summer holidays roll (and roll and roll and roll) on things have come to a stand still.

Although my mother's house sold pretty damn fast considering, and we got more than we thought we would, thanks to old-fashioned considerations we have to wait for the house to be transferred from my dad's name to hers. As this is in the hands of the solicitors and courts, the only way to do it unfortunately, it will take time.

Everyone and their dog has applied for an Open Market Equity thingy, so there is a 12 week wait to hear whether or not we are successful, and if we are not - well, I suppose we could afford somewhere in Poland if not.

Therefore everything has ground to a stand still.

I had hoped to be moved next month, I hope to all the gods and fates and destiny that the house we want doesn't sell in the meantime. Maybe things will all fall into place, I can only hope and hope and hope. It is difficult when everyone relies on me and maybe I'm just not up to it.

To Know Or Not To Know

I have been wondering, and decided that sometimes, when things aren't going according to a badly laid out plan then to find a way to look to the future offers some comfort.

Does that make sense?

Nothing I do seems to.

I have an uphill struggle at the moment and many people relying on me and me alone to see them through this.

I hide myself away in my stitching, in my writing and other past-times. At this moment I could probably finish my current OU course in one week but not do very good at it for that rush. Plus as I will be on holiday when the final exam is on, and the resit isn't until April, then there is no need to hurry just to fill my mind with other things.

This year so far I have: arranged a funeral for the first time ever, started the process of selling a house, started the process of buying a house - again neither of which I've done before and this all on my own as my mother has decided that I can replace my dad in the grand scheme of things as organiser of everything, and I only now realise how much he actually did. All this and I still haven't really had time to grieve for my dad. I have a feeling I'll get on holiday and just slump into a heap.

So I've decided on asking for a little *divine* help. No, I've not decided to believe in the God of the riches, never will I sign on to what is no more than a continuation of the ancient Roman society (no I've not gone mad - close, but not quite) in the form of religion. Instead I've returned to my old hobby and hopefully will get some answers - not a crystal ball but not far off.

A Moment Of Zen

Bravery.

Courage.

Second Verse, Same As The First

Or should that title be - Oops I Did It Again!

After the departure of the previous Andrex lookey-likey, who is doing extremely well at the Guide Dog school (so named by the Hobbits and quite appropriately too), the *new* Andrex lookey-likey arrived this week.

So far so placid. Although he screams bloody murder at night when he realises everyone is in bed and not around to sleep on.

For this one I bought a pet-a-roo as seen thus =======>

Yes really. But as I can take him in to shops even at the tender age he is now, it makes it easier and is more comfortable for him. As he isn't allowed normal walks until he has his full vaccines (Guide Dogs give him some at 6 weeks for socialisation purposes) I don't mind playing Kanga to give him some outings.

First one was today. He didn't pee on me. So far so good.

The Heart of the Ocean Returned

In what can only be described as the weirdest of coincidences, yesterday, on the 98th anniversary of the launch of the Titanic, the last survivor died.

Of course, she won't have remembered it, being a little mite of only a few weeks old at the time but I suppose Millvina Dean would have spent her life in the shadow of the tragedy she survived. Her father died, as so many men did. Not the MD of the White Star Line though, in a selfishness that would fit in nicely now, he made sure he was fine.

Everyone has a fascination with this one disaster. Try thinking about it without that god-awful Celene Dion song though is difficult. Still...the fascination is of interest itself. And now there is no one left who spent that cold night drifting in the lifeboats.