... and all through the house I was running around like an idiot. I am utterly incapable of relaxing so took it upon myself to bake up a storm. As you are aware, dear reader, I enjoy cooking in particular baking. I am sure that there are shops where from one can procure baked goods but I'll be buggered to seek them out. To make life even more interesting I decided to attempt two new skills with varying degrees of success. Why oh why did I feel the need to play with sugar paste?
A tray of brownies now cools and the workings of a Yule Log are in the oven and food processor respectively. Yule Log is wheat free so I will wrestle a small child to the ground to retrieve the last morsel from a clenched hand!
I have yet to shower but have cleaned up a friend's cats, delivered keys to next person on list and trashed a pie I bought for a friend. I bought the pie as requested then put it in my bag the wrong and it looks most unappealing but she has assured me it is edible. Her dog trod on some Christmas cookies so I do not feel quite so bad. 'Tis the season for madness.
There is a very loud musical accompaniment as I write- Victor Hely-Hutchinson's Carol Symphony- the third movement if you must know. This incredible piece was used as the title music for an adaptation of John Masefield's "Box of Delights" back in the 80s. It is incredibly emotive. It is also the way my parents, my brother and I celebrate Christmas when we cannot be together. We love it that much. I do not cry as a rule but should you want to see me howl like a baby- play this piece as it just screams missing family. I do have a heart under the tough slightly squishy exterior!
The pizzicato harp announces a new theme and under it there is the Coventry Carol in eerie tones by the strings. The First Noel follows in a brighter major key while the harp continues. When all the strings come in the swell is immense and if you do not feel the love that we should at Yuletide there is no hope. I just listened to the link below to make sure it was the right piece and every inch of my skin went all goose bumpy. Enjoy and Merry Christmas. Have a Gud Jul.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-BxxdE9GvZc
Friday, December 24, 2010
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
2nd day of holiday
.....a mammoth 8 hour play date. I hosted.
What the hell was I thinking?
OK it was a good friend and her daughters and another little girl but it felt like a daycare. May have to ban play dates here as the mess is too awful.
Need to retire to bed early and watch crap TV. (Man v Food- stylized gluttony. It is all very voyeuristic not that dissimilar from the web "feeding" fetish).
Stomach ache once again and have not deviated from what I can eat.
What the hell was I thinking?
OK it was a good friend and her daughters and another little girl but it felt like a daycare. May have to ban play dates here as the mess is too awful.
Need to retire to bed early and watch crap TV. (Man v Food- stylized gluttony. It is all very voyeuristic not that dissimilar from the web "feeding" fetish).
Stomach ache once again and have not deviated from what I can eat.
Monday, December 20, 2010
1st day of school holiday
... kids drove me nuts. Only 2 more weeks to go!
Made me realize that lion taming or dog training would have stood me in better stead to be a parent than teaching. At this stage it is whip and chair work. One day I will have the fine headdress and sequined outfit until then it is more sweating it out.
Can't see the lunar eclipse as it is too cloudy here. Bugger. Someone will have taken fabulous photos I can enjoy. Thank you whoever you are.
Made me realize that lion taming or dog training would have stood me in better stead to be a parent than teaching. At this stage it is whip and chair work. One day I will have the fine headdress and sequined outfit until then it is more sweating it out.
Can't see the lunar eclipse as it is too cloudy here. Bugger. Someone will have taken fabulous photos I can enjoy. Thank you whoever you are.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Let's try that again
"The King's Speech"
Had a fabulous day with the hubby day and was fortunate enough to see one of the best films I have ever seen. I do not say that lightly.
"The King's Speech" tells the tale of George VI's stammering, his speech therapist and his changing role from prince to king. The story is so beautifully crafted. The acting is sublime. All wondrous things have been said by other reviewers so what I have to say will be unable to compete.
What struck me about the film was an era of courage that we no longer have. Yes courage and bravery exist in all walks of life but the monarchy are no longer expected to be so royal for want of a better phrase.
George VI and the Royal family were portrayed as being unlike commoners. They are. We cannot expect them to be otherwise. We also cannot expect to understand how they live or the pressure placed on them purely being born of royal lineage.
The notion of public speaking was taken to frightening heights and the courage with which this fear was dealt was breath-taking. We saw a vulnerable, scared and tongue-tied monarch.
This was a time when a nation listened to what the monarch had to say and cared about the content. This was an era when the use of radio as communication between royalty and subjects was novel.
Royalists or anti-Royalists can marvel at this performance.
We take so much for granted in a time of constant access that we can tune in and out as we see fit. We do not always listen to the message or bother to find the time to concentrate on what is being said.
Please see this fantastic film. I hope it is showered with awards.
Here is a far more eloquent review:
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/film/filmreviews/8078247/The-Kings-Speech-London-Film-Festival-review.html
Had a fabulous day with the hubby day and was fortunate enough to see one of the best films I have ever seen. I do not say that lightly.
"The King's Speech" tells the tale of George VI's stammering, his speech therapist and his changing role from prince to king. The story is so beautifully crafted. The acting is sublime. All wondrous things have been said by other reviewers so what I have to say will be unable to compete.
What struck me about the film was an era of courage that we no longer have. Yes courage and bravery exist in all walks of life but the monarchy are no longer expected to be so royal for want of a better phrase.
George VI and the Royal family were portrayed as being unlike commoners. They are. We cannot expect them to be otherwise. We also cannot expect to understand how they live or the pressure placed on them purely being born of royal lineage.
The notion of public speaking was taken to frightening heights and the courage with which this fear was dealt was breath-taking. We saw a vulnerable, scared and tongue-tied monarch.
This was a time when a nation listened to what the monarch had to say and cared about the content. This was an era when the use of radio as communication between royalty and subjects was novel.
Royalists or anti-Royalists can marvel at this performance.
We take so much for granted in a time of constant access that we can tune in and out as we see fit. We do not always listen to the message or bother to find the time to concentrate on what is being said.
Please see this fantastic film. I hope it is showered with awards.
Here is a far more eloquent review:
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/film/filmreviews/8078247/The-Kings-Speech-London-Film-Festival-review.html
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Wrapped up in myself
Come on woman, where have you been?
I think I have had a little too much time for mental masturbation of late and have forgotten that there are others out there who do not have time to indulge in such fripperies.
Having returned from a trip- Belgium and England- I found myself relaxed, refreshed and blissfully unaware that the festive season was here. I was caught up in me. I suppose a blog is not the best place to lament being self-indulgent when a blog is basically a diary for the digital age but where there is an audience.
I have been very selfish recently which is not a trait I like in anyone least of all myself. I have always prided myself on being capable of thinking of others and being accommodating. I think this was perhaps delusional.
Friends are going through tough times and I am thinking about baking or learning a diminished scale. What am I like? Must get back to being who and what I am. The airheadedness must be attributed to something but can't think what. Can I call it culture shock returning here after being in Europe? Trust me some mental adjustment was needed upon my return.
Must remove my head from my arse and get back to basics.
I think I have had a little too much time for mental masturbation of late and have forgotten that there are others out there who do not have time to indulge in such fripperies.
Having returned from a trip- Belgium and England- I found myself relaxed, refreshed and blissfully unaware that the festive season was here. I was caught up in me. I suppose a blog is not the best place to lament being self-indulgent when a blog is basically a diary for the digital age but where there is an audience.
I have been very selfish recently which is not a trait I like in anyone least of all myself. I have always prided myself on being capable of thinking of others and being accommodating. I think this was perhaps delusional.
Friends are going through tough times and I am thinking about baking or learning a diminished scale. What am I like? Must get back to being who and what I am. The airheadedness must be attributed to something but can't think what. Can I call it culture shock returning here after being in Europe? Trust me some mental adjustment was needed upon my return.
Must remove my head from my arse and get back to basics.
I am a Hypocrite
I have realised that I am showing my daughter that being a hypocrite is acceptable.
I am a parent and as such am allowed to indulge.
If my elder daughter were not to do her homework I would be annoyed. I would explain that homework is practice and a learning experience. She would have an outburst and I would have to calm her down.
Each time we do homework we understand a problem better and better have the ability to apply the new skills it gives us to other situations. Homework is a necessary evil and as a teacher I enjoy setting it and watching how students grow.
If my daughter knew that I was not doing my own homework (blog) she would be angry with me but I would doubtlessly brush it off with excuses of being tired, busy or lacking subject matter. I would not be allowed to have a tantrum and would have to suffer her wrath as she labored the point that she was doing as she was told but I was not. See, told you I was a hypocrite.
I am now having to follow my daughter's and buckle down. I can't find excuses just a brief moment to write. I have a list of topics to address and a brief description of my trip to Europe and reunion, for example. The dress was fabulous, btw.
Time to get busy and not find excuses.
I am a parent and as such am allowed to indulge.
If my elder daughter were not to do her homework I would be annoyed. I would explain that homework is practice and a learning experience. She would have an outburst and I would have to calm her down.
Each time we do homework we understand a problem better and better have the ability to apply the new skills it gives us to other situations. Homework is a necessary evil and as a teacher I enjoy setting it and watching how students grow.
If my daughter knew that I was not doing my own homework (blog) she would be angry with me but I would doubtlessly brush it off with excuses of being tired, busy or lacking subject matter. I would not be allowed to have a tantrum and would have to suffer her wrath as she labored the point that she was doing as she was told but I was not. See, told you I was a hypocrite.
I am now having to follow my daughter's and buckle down. I can't find excuses just a brief moment to write. I have a list of topics to address and a brief description of my trip to Europe and reunion, for example. The dress was fabulous, btw.
Time to get busy and not find excuses.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Tummy Ache
OK I have a wheat sensitivity that is getting worse and how did I manage it today? Badly.
I suppose the raspberry and almond tart and apple pie, though tasty, did not help. Don't get me wrong they were not large pieces just tastes but now I am so bloated you could tie a string to my feet and use me as a balloon.
I know I have no will power but must now learn that this is so uncomfortable and ultimately not worth feeling and looking like the Michelin blimp.
Think I will watch some crap TV as hubby is away on business and so unable to pass judgment on my viewing. I may also revel in a little light self-pity.
Rusty Robot chum I will have to be better and maybe be a little more mature about how I eat as right now I am in a lot of pain!
I suppose the raspberry and almond tart and apple pie, though tasty, did not help. Don't get me wrong they were not large pieces just tastes but now I am so bloated you could tie a string to my feet and use me as a balloon.
I know I have no will power but must now learn that this is so uncomfortable and ultimately not worth feeling and looking like the Michelin blimp.
Think I will watch some crap TV as hubby is away on business and so unable to pass judgment on my viewing. I may also revel in a little light self-pity.
Rusty Robot chum I will have to be better and maybe be a little more mature about how I eat as right now I am in a lot of pain!
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Some sad news
Just got one of those dreaded phone calls to tell me that someone has died. This person was my husband's cousin; she was 40 and left a 10-year old daughter. She was taken by the most unforgiving disease of them all - Cancer.
"It's just that Cancer is such a total bastard. It is not like other diseases. It doesn't obey the doctorly rules. It cheats." Robert McLiam Wilson's "Ripley Bogle" p.134.
McLiam Wilson's character talks of the inequities of this disease and how it likes to play and toy with people and the victims are just playthings.
It will be unbelievably hard for a mother to survive a child and for a child to be without a mother. Life goes on but not in the same way for these folks.
"It's just that Cancer is such a total bastard. It is not like other diseases. It doesn't obey the doctorly rules. It cheats." Robert McLiam Wilson's "Ripley Bogle" p.134.
McLiam Wilson's character talks of the inequities of this disease and how it likes to play and toy with people and the victims are just playthings.
It will be unbelievably hard for a mother to survive a child and for a child to be without a mother. Life goes on but not in the same way for these folks.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Packing
If you know me at all you know how much I hate packing. I simply loathe the very idea of packing items into a bag. I lack spatial awareness and an ability to really plan out the outfits I will need. I have got better but am still challenged by bags and stuff to put in them.
I know the tricks of rolling items up and sliding them into other things and making a padded area for wine and breakables. I had shoes stuffed with chocolate for the girls when I came back from New Zealand.
I usually get help by pretending to be utterly useless and overwhelmed by the whole process. There is a slight element of truth to this.
Once when I was staying on a British Army base in Germany I was so paralyzed by packing for a return to trip to my then home in Austria that a friend called the guard room and 2 delightful young uniformed chaps arrived and with military precision fit the proverbial elephant into a matchbox then drove me to the train station. How can I top that? I get guys to do my bidding!
The routine is something along the lines of I select my clothing and dump them on the bed then hubby comes along, laughs and culls my choice. Then we can pack. I need the company and support.
This has now become such a ridiculous psychological barrier that I am unable to get passed it. I panic at the thought of packing for a long trip and I am off tomorrow.
I sometimes think that knickers, passports and a toothbrush is all you need and I could pack that all by myself but what about the shoes?
I am delaying the inevitable by writing this instead of looking through the wardrobe and gathering outfits for 9 days. I will need warm, waterproof clothing and my killer dress for the reunion. Easy you cry. I think not.
I will have to build in a reward for this. Chocolate? Nah. I have 1 last piece of my delicious fudge from the Fudgehenge I made for a friend for his birthday. It is time to savor this last morsel and what better reason that this? At least it won't take up extra space in the case!
I know the tricks of rolling items up and sliding them into other things and making a padded area for wine and breakables. I had shoes stuffed with chocolate for the girls when I came back from New Zealand.
I usually get help by pretending to be utterly useless and overwhelmed by the whole process. There is a slight element of truth to this.
Once when I was staying on a British Army base in Germany I was so paralyzed by packing for a return to trip to my then home in Austria that a friend called the guard room and 2 delightful young uniformed chaps arrived and with military precision fit the proverbial elephant into a matchbox then drove me to the train station. How can I top that? I get guys to do my bidding!
The routine is something along the lines of I select my clothing and dump them on the bed then hubby comes along, laughs and culls my choice. Then we can pack. I need the company and support.
This has now become such a ridiculous psychological barrier that I am unable to get passed it. I panic at the thought of packing for a long trip and I am off tomorrow.
I sometimes think that knickers, passports and a toothbrush is all you need and I could pack that all by myself but what about the shoes?
I am delaying the inevitable by writing this instead of looking through the wardrobe and gathering outfits for 9 days. I will need warm, waterproof clothing and my killer dress for the reunion. Easy you cry. I think not.
I will have to build in a reward for this. Chocolate? Nah. I have 1 last piece of my delicious fudge from the Fudgehenge I made for a friend for his birthday. It is time to savor this last morsel and what better reason that this? At least it won't take up extra space in the case!
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Catch Up
Has a week really passed? Either I am getting older or time is really flying. Anyhoo a veiled excuse I suppose for not writing.
I have had a bit of a cold. It is roughly the same thing as man flu without the whining, staying in bed and demands for sympathy! The voice has dropped and the barking cough is progressing nicely. It is a cross between Mutley's aspirate cough and a large gruff dog actually getting angry.
I only mention this as I am about 2 days away from leaving for my trip. Yup time to be locked into a lozenge and propelled at 500 miles an hour across the Atlantic. These are germ fests and I only hope that my existing cold does not want to make new friends and invite them to stay.
Oh yeah they smoke in public places in Europe and are not treated like pariahs so I will be inhaling all manner of stuff and my dormant asthma will be re-awoken. My magical cure? Nothing. Get an inhaler, be grateful and happy that I can experience different lifestyles and stand outside for a bit.
I haven't started packing yet and I am appalling at this job.
I have had a bit of a cold. It is roughly the same thing as man flu without the whining, staying in bed and demands for sympathy! The voice has dropped and the barking cough is progressing nicely. It is a cross between Mutley's aspirate cough and a large gruff dog actually getting angry.
I only mention this as I am about 2 days away from leaving for my trip. Yup time to be locked into a lozenge and propelled at 500 miles an hour across the Atlantic. These are germ fests and I only hope that my existing cold does not want to make new friends and invite them to stay.
Oh yeah they smoke in public places in Europe and are not treated like pariahs so I will be inhaling all manner of stuff and my dormant asthma will be re-awoken. My magical cure? Nothing. Get an inhaler, be grateful and happy that I can experience different lifestyles and stand outside for a bit.
I haven't started packing yet and I am appalling at this job.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Bangin' Tunes
I am a music junkie. I love it in all its forms. As I write I am digging some ambient trance. I love the crafting of a good song, harmonies, funky bass lines and serious beats. I need to connect with the music on an emotional level and this connection is my focus of an article I am writing this month for an online parenting magazine.
I recently read that teenagers seek music as more of a way to conform and seek approval than rebel. I was horrified as I was not listening to the Smiths, Cure, Stone Roses, Sundays, Sex Pistols etc. to conform. What they had to say resonated with how I felt which was dislocated from society. I had no idea where I fit in but these bands had a sound I liked, an image and some of Morrissey’s finest lyrics. I loved his irony and observations and still do.
I thought harder and realized that I was listening to these bands because some of the boys I liked loved them and what way to better endear myself to these divine creature than professing a love for Black Sabbath, Sisters of Mercy and All About Eve? So I was conforming.
It has always been easier to be a geek who knew a few decent bands and be accepted than just a geek. I was not a geek more the arty type with hair wrestling itself free from the French plait down my back, bags of something tripping me up, clarinet case and rucksack slung over shoulders as I ran for the bus.
In fact my husband was the only one I knew who had Peter Murphy’s “Strange Kind of Love” and loved it as much as I did. This was a bonding moment almost 20 years ago. Boys again!
My brother is my music guru and he introduced me to so much incredible music- Placebo, Mumford & Sons, The Temper Trap, Pure Reason Revolution, Jose Gonzalez to name a few. I gave him Muse, Turin Brakes and The Doves. He has a knack for finding bands with a crafted sound that have yet to hit the big time but do. He wrote incredible and insightful reviews of all the gigs he attended and I felt I was there with him screaming, cooing and whistling. We are passionate about music.
I am still not writing the article I need to am I? I am trying to work out how I feel towards music. I am trying to get my thoughts in order as I only have 300-500 words to condense studies and emotions regarding teenagers and music for the piece. I suppose this is the brainstorming session. Any excuse to listen to music.
I recently read that teenagers seek music as more of a way to conform and seek approval than rebel. I was horrified as I was not listening to the Smiths, Cure, Stone Roses, Sundays, Sex Pistols etc. to conform. What they had to say resonated with how I felt which was dislocated from society. I had no idea where I fit in but these bands had a sound I liked, an image and some of Morrissey’s finest lyrics. I loved his irony and observations and still do.
I thought harder and realized that I was listening to these bands because some of the boys I liked loved them and what way to better endear myself to these divine creature than professing a love for Black Sabbath, Sisters of Mercy and All About Eve? So I was conforming.
It has always been easier to be a geek who knew a few decent bands and be accepted than just a geek. I was not a geek more the arty type with hair wrestling itself free from the French plait down my back, bags of something tripping me up, clarinet case and rucksack slung over shoulders as I ran for the bus.
In fact my husband was the only one I knew who had Peter Murphy’s “Strange Kind of Love” and loved it as much as I did. This was a bonding moment almost 20 years ago. Boys again!
My brother is my music guru and he introduced me to so much incredible music- Placebo, Mumford & Sons, The Temper Trap, Pure Reason Revolution, Jose Gonzalez to name a few. I gave him Muse, Turin Brakes and The Doves. He has a knack for finding bands with a crafted sound that have yet to hit the big time but do. He wrote incredible and insightful reviews of all the gigs he attended and I felt I was there with him screaming, cooing and whistling. We are passionate about music.
I am still not writing the article I need to am I? I am trying to work out how I feel towards music. I am trying to get my thoughts in order as I only have 300-500 words to condense studies and emotions regarding teenagers and music for the piece. I suppose this is the brainstorming session. Any excuse to listen to music.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
All Good Things
I have just thrown away a pair of jeans which is not momentous in the grand scheme but for me warrants a mention.
These jeans were great and made my arse look decent unlike most previous pairs which made me feel I was dragging some humongous covered trolley behind me. Mind you I was bigger then so just a sackcloth would still have looked large and I thought denim might have been flattering- nah!
These beauties had served me well. They had done dinners, gigs, shopping trips, slob-out sessions, date nights, they had travelled and were a beloved piece in the wardrobe. They just fell apart and were shredded. They had serious holes in them but felt they needed a last wear to show my gratitude.
The holes were there through wear unlike a friend of mine's.
'Twas during the 80s when the band Bros entered the fray with ripped jeans and girls decided this was a style to emulate. Said friend dutifully ripped her jeans and was so happy with the result that she slept soundly that night.
When she awoke she was greeted by her grandmother telling her that she had fixed the nasty holes and now the jeans were patched and ready for another day. She was mortified.
Thank Levis for their invention and thanks to an old friend.
These jeans were great and made my arse look decent unlike most previous pairs which made me feel I was dragging some humongous covered trolley behind me. Mind you I was bigger then so just a sackcloth would still have looked large and I thought denim might have been flattering- nah!
These beauties had served me well. They had done dinners, gigs, shopping trips, slob-out sessions, date nights, they had travelled and were a beloved piece in the wardrobe. They just fell apart and were shredded. They had serious holes in them but felt they needed a last wear to show my gratitude.
The holes were there through wear unlike a friend of mine's.
'Twas during the 80s when the band Bros entered the fray with ripped jeans and girls decided this was a style to emulate. Said friend dutifully ripped her jeans and was so happy with the result that she slept soundly that night.
When she awoke she was greeted by her grandmother telling her that she had fixed the nasty holes and now the jeans were patched and ready for another day. She was mortified.
Thank Levis for their invention and thanks to an old friend.
Venn Diagrams
I have come to the conclusion that our marriage is more of a Venn Diagram these days. There is only a tiny bit where life intersects and we see each other.
The more successful hubby becomes, the more demands are made of him, the more he travels - the less we see him. I just miss him.
He has a great job which challenges and excites him and he is well respected professionally. I have to be there to support and maybe one day rejoin the teaching profession.
We have been together for a long time and married a long time. In fact I knew the moment I saw him I was to marry this man. I was 19 but it took 6 years to wear the frock. I called my mother to inform her but she probably thought it was just a thing I would say.
My husband is a lovely person who can be infuriating at times but can't we all? He cares, he's funny, he's a very interactive father and he's mine.
As the children get more challenging there are times when I wish I had my partner- in -crime to discuss this all with or at least help me fill out the West Point application for the younger one.
We just have to relish the time we do have together whenever that may be. I did see him over Skpe this morning for a few minutes so at least I saw him.
See you soon.
The more successful hubby becomes, the more demands are made of him, the more he travels - the less we see him. I just miss him.
He has a great job which challenges and excites him and he is well respected professionally. I have to be there to support and maybe one day rejoin the teaching profession.
We have been together for a long time and married a long time. In fact I knew the moment I saw him I was to marry this man. I was 19 but it took 6 years to wear the frock. I called my mother to inform her but she probably thought it was just a thing I would say.
My husband is a lovely person who can be infuriating at times but can't we all? He cares, he's funny, he's a very interactive father and he's mine.
As the children get more challenging there are times when I wish I had my partner- in -crime to discuss this all with or at least help me fill out the West Point application for the younger one.
We just have to relish the time we do have together whenever that may be. I did see him over Skpe this morning for a few minutes so at least I saw him.
See you soon.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Please to Remember
... the fifth of November and not just because it is my husband's birthday.
Today is the day we commemorated Guy Fawkes's less than successful attempt at radical politics.
To celebrate this odd British tradition we go to Muir Beach for a bonfire. We take sausage rolls and a thermos of tea and find that there are many people who speak funny like we do. There are Guys a-plenty ready to be burned and for a strange reason a bagpiper makes his annual appearance. This jolly older gent is such a hero at this event that it would not be the same without him.
It is an incredible setting that is so far from Britain or anything British that it makes you homesick. The sunset tonight was incredible. We gazed over the Pacific realising once again we are fortunate where we live.
We have been going to this bonfire for about a decade. There are no fireworks just a group of drunk Brits reminiscing.
This year's journey home alas was made more torruous not by the curvy road that always make feel as if my last feel will decorate the inside of the car but by Dire Straits. Yup, hubby decided that we needed this band for the musical accompaniment.
I have never really liked them. They seemed such an odd mix of almost rock and occasional bouts of smooth jazz. OK some of the guitar solos are sublime but on the whole I could leave them. I felt as it was his birthday I would put on a brave smile and concentrate on not throwing up. I was driving so felt it best not to hurl.
What better way to end tonight than "V For Vendetta"?
"V for Vendetta
written by Andy Wachowski & Larry Wachowski, from characters created by Alan Moore & David Lloyd
V: Voilà! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of Fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished. However, this valorous visitation of a by-gone vexation, stands vivified and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin vanguarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition. (he carves a "V" into a sign) The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta, held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous. (giggles) Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose, so let me simply add that it is my very good honor to meet you and you may call me V.
Evey: Are you like a crazy person?
V: I'm quite sure they will say so."
http://www.whysanity.net/monos/vendetta.html
Today is the day we commemorated Guy Fawkes's less than successful attempt at radical politics.
To celebrate this odd British tradition we go to Muir Beach for a bonfire. We take sausage rolls and a thermos of tea and find that there are many people who speak funny like we do. There are Guys a-plenty ready to be burned and for a strange reason a bagpiper makes his annual appearance. This jolly older gent is such a hero at this event that it would not be the same without him.
It is an incredible setting that is so far from Britain or anything British that it makes you homesick. The sunset tonight was incredible. We gazed over the Pacific realising once again we are fortunate where we live.
We have been going to this bonfire for about a decade. There are no fireworks just a group of drunk Brits reminiscing.
This year's journey home alas was made more torruous not by the curvy road that always make feel as if my last feel will decorate the inside of the car but by Dire Straits. Yup, hubby decided that we needed this band for the musical accompaniment.
I have never really liked them. They seemed such an odd mix of almost rock and occasional bouts of smooth jazz. OK some of the guitar solos are sublime but on the whole I could leave them. I felt as it was his birthday I would put on a brave smile and concentrate on not throwing up. I was driving so felt it best not to hurl.
What better way to end tonight than "V For Vendetta"?
"V for Vendetta
written by Andy Wachowski & Larry Wachowski, from characters created by Alan Moore & David Lloyd
V: Voilà! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of Fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished. However, this valorous visitation of a by-gone vexation, stands vivified and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin vanguarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition. (he carves a "V" into a sign) The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta, held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous. (giggles) Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose, so let me simply add that it is my very good honor to meet you and you may call me V.
Evey: Are you like a crazy person?
V: I'm quite sure they will say so."
http://www.whysanity.net/monos/vendetta.html
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Voting
Today was election day and I duly voted. How I voted is immaterial but the fact that I can is more the point here.
I am not going to go into huge detail about the suffrage movement even though I find this absolutely fascinating I just want to thank tits members for having the courage to fight. A little fight goes a long way.
Below is an excerpt from a New Zealand website, http://nationalmps.co.nz authored by Nicky Wagner MP and dated September 19 2010 but retrieved today, 2 November 2010.
I am not going to go into huge detail about the suffrage movement even though I find this absolutely fascinating I just want to thank tits members for having the courage to fight. A little fight goes a long way.
Below is an excerpt from a New Zealand website, http://nationalmps.co.nz authored by Nicky Wagner MP and dated September 19 2010 but retrieved today, 2 November 2010.
"The suffrage movement was New Zealand’s first truly mass movement. The Suffragists mobilised tens of thousands of people all over the nation, building momentum year after year until they achieved their goal.
One of the tactics they used was petition writing. Suffrage campaigners organised a series of large petitions to Parliament calling for votes for women. In 1891 over 9000 signatures were gathered and in 1892 almost 20,000. These petitions raised awareness of the cause, and supported suffrage bills before Parliament, but were ultimately unsuccessful.
Finally though, in 1893, nearly 32,000 signatures were obtained – the largest petition the fledgling nation had seen, and representing almost a quarter of the adult European female population in New Zealand at the time.
This was the petition that Kate Sheppard pasted together in her kitchen from individual sheets from around the country. Not all the sheets arrived in time – the post took a little longer in those days – but the roll she made up contained 23,853 names.
This was the roll that John Hall MP rolled down the central aisle of the House of Representatives. I’ve read that the petition made quite a thud when it hit the end wall of the debating chamber. It certainly made an impression because, within months, the all-male parliament had granted women the vote, making New Zealand a world leader."
I have seen part of this aforementioned roll on a recent trip to New Zealand and nearly cried. It was the most powerful piece of paper I will ever be lucky enough to see.
A "fledgling nation" was the first in the world to grant women the vote! Who says we can't change a system?
Whatever you believe have the courage to stand by it and stay true. Vote!
I have unsaddled the high horse.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Halloween
We survived another legal begging session. Even though I have lived here for just about 12 and a half years I still find the whole spectacle of Halloween rather odd. Get children dressed up and get them to beg for sweets at a stranger's house when normally this kind of behviour would be frowned upon.
My daughters whole heartedly embraced this tradition and turned the visits into a sprint and occasional obstacle race when some unsuspecting smaller child got in their way. They remembered pleases and thank yous which was amazing. They were a princess and a cat in case you were wondering.
The haul from last night was impressive and they cataloged what they had. There was a stack of chocolate on the floor so I stole some before they counted. I am particular as to what I take so had to be careful. Anyway the younger daughter went to her room with a goodie bag in an almost pantomime skulk, oh no she didn't! Oh yes she did! She proceeded to eat a few choice pieces and left wrappers on the floor to completely give herself away.
I am not sure if all children think their parents are mentally deficient and incapable of realising that disappearing to a room with a ton of chocolate and closed door equals pigging out. To me this is part of the holiday. If she throws up Daddy can handle it. Incidentally her own word for vomit is "razzle" which has a Vegas showgirl-glitter, Liberace-princess kind of feel.
This whole preamble eventually gets to my point that Halloween is time for the living to mock death/ Death.
America is a deeply religious country that does not see Halloween as a pagan festival but as a time for children to dress up and have fun. The holiday here celebrates the macabre and makes light of all things grotesque. Women dress scantily and enjoy the naughtiness of it all. Children emulate their heroes.
For one night and one night only we do not tremble at the thought of death. Death is feared and the dead revered normally. There is a huge sense of grief and loss as a general rule but almost a feeling that were you to go Halloween would be seen as almost a comic exit.
At Halloween we taunt death with all manner of images and severed body parts. There is an overwhelming sense of mortal superiority. We are living yet simultaneously embracing death.
It is all a bit of a giggle because come 1st November everyone is terrified of dying once more.
My daughters whole heartedly embraced this tradition and turned the visits into a sprint and occasional obstacle race when some unsuspecting smaller child got in their way. They remembered pleases and thank yous which was amazing. They were a princess and a cat in case you were wondering.
The haul from last night was impressive and they cataloged what they had. There was a stack of chocolate on the floor so I stole some before they counted. I am particular as to what I take so had to be careful. Anyway the younger daughter went to her room with a goodie bag in an almost pantomime skulk, oh no she didn't! Oh yes she did! She proceeded to eat a few choice pieces and left wrappers on the floor to completely give herself away.
I am not sure if all children think their parents are mentally deficient and incapable of realising that disappearing to a room with a ton of chocolate and closed door equals pigging out. To me this is part of the holiday. If she throws up Daddy can handle it. Incidentally her own word for vomit is "razzle" which has a Vegas showgirl-glitter, Liberace-princess kind of feel.
This whole preamble eventually gets to my point that Halloween is time for the living to mock death/ Death.
America is a deeply religious country that does not see Halloween as a pagan festival but as a time for children to dress up and have fun. The holiday here celebrates the macabre and makes light of all things grotesque. Women dress scantily and enjoy the naughtiness of it all. Children emulate their heroes.
For one night and one night only we do not tremble at the thought of death. Death is feared and the dead revered normally. There is a huge sense of grief and loss as a general rule but almost a feeling that were you to go Halloween would be seen as almost a comic exit.
At Halloween we taunt death with all manner of images and severed body parts. There is an overwhelming sense of mortal superiority. We are living yet simultaneously embracing death.
It is all a bit of a giggle because come 1st November everyone is terrified of dying once more.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Rambling
While there is relative peace and the 2 warring factions (the girls) of the household have reached a temporary truce I can ramble.
I came to the conclusion that most successful blogs have a point and purpose and the rest of them are left as there are no defined parameters. Therefore the reason this is not successful as it meanders.
I ramble because I am at an odd stage in my life. I am directionless and crave work but am so entrenched in school stuff that only a part time job could work. I have been out of the work game for so long that I would have to start at a much lower level or be deemed too qualified for a relatively unskilled job.
Being at home with the kids is like perpetually being in a waiting room without knowing when the next mode of transport will arrive and where it will be headed. You just don't know what is around the corner but it could be a great adventure. Then again you could be stuck and never go anywhere but wish you had.
I have not lost my self of sense rather lost a whole perspective on the world outside. I have a feeling my views have become more conservative as I have aged but can be just as immature as any given situation demands. Is that just getting older though?
I do not know what to do professionally and have probably missed that boat. Oh well. I have kept busy writing resumes amongst other things. I know I need to be in a classroom teaching but who and what?? I love teaching adults but like other sides of the field positions are not really there. I have a knack of creating a job for myself by being loud and opinionated so people assume I am an advocate for whomever.
Teaching is how I define myself. I started a study group for 7 year olds as I needed the buzz. Thank heavens there is a a semester of high school teaching on the horizon. I know I will love it. I will feel I have come home and will thrive on its energy and moody teenagers. Hey I can be moody so better practice. I will feel alive once again.
I will teach again and change the world but have got to get the younger one to Kindergarten first. Only 10 months and counting. I will conquer the universe but will fit it in between ballet, gymnastics, play dates and the PTA.
I came to the conclusion that most successful blogs have a point and purpose and the rest of them are left as there are no defined parameters. Therefore the reason this is not successful as it meanders.
I ramble because I am at an odd stage in my life. I am directionless and crave work but am so entrenched in school stuff that only a part time job could work. I have been out of the work game for so long that I would have to start at a much lower level or be deemed too qualified for a relatively unskilled job.
Being at home with the kids is like perpetually being in a waiting room without knowing when the next mode of transport will arrive and where it will be headed. You just don't know what is around the corner but it could be a great adventure. Then again you could be stuck and never go anywhere but wish you had.
I have not lost my self of sense rather lost a whole perspective on the world outside. I have a feeling my views have become more conservative as I have aged but can be just as immature as any given situation demands. Is that just getting older though?
I do not know what to do professionally and have probably missed that boat. Oh well. I have kept busy writing resumes amongst other things. I know I need to be in a classroom teaching but who and what?? I love teaching adults but like other sides of the field positions are not really there. I have a knack of creating a job for myself by being loud and opinionated so people assume I am an advocate for whomever.
Teaching is how I define myself. I started a study group for 7 year olds as I needed the buzz. Thank heavens there is a a semester of high school teaching on the horizon. I know I will love it. I will feel I have come home and will thrive on its energy and moody teenagers. Hey I can be moody so better practice. I will feel alive once again.
I will teach again and change the world but have got to get the younger one to Kindergarten first. Only 10 months and counting. I will conquer the universe but will fit it in between ballet, gymnastics, play dates and the PTA.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Tight Dress
I have posted that I will be returning home for my 20th High School Reunion. I am not sure if I mentioned the dress I propose wearing. It is a very tight Club Monaco number and is naturally black, in case you wished to know.
Tight clothing to impress people I have not seen for 20 years who were probably never even bothered by my existence back then seems strange. Why do I feel the need to impress? This is not my usual MO.
We have all aged but want to give the illusion of being youthful. We want to ensure that time has treated us kindly and that wisdom has prevailed. Let's hope wisdom is shown in our clothing choices as it was slim pickings growing up. This was the 70s and 80s. The 80s was the decade taste forgot in many ways. Most of the people I still know will giggle like their younger selves after a glass or 2.
Spurred on by this purchase and need to squeeze into said creation I have had to return to the gym. I do a form of circuit training that leaves me sweaty and with a smug sense of satisfaction that I exercised.
Muscles have begun to form but there is still the thought that I will have to buy some undergarments that will cut off the remainder of the circulation that the dress left available.I do wonder where my excess will be squeezed. Will I get chubby knees or a 42DD? I know which is preferable.
It is the kind of legal modern-day torture that leaves me wondering why the corset and other restrictive items of clothing were ever abandoned. We are constantly seeking the perfect look and to achieve this illusion we will stop at nothing. I am buying into it which makes me as ridiculous and vain as others.
It is all false advertising, like a padded bra. Remember the scene in "Animal House" where such deception is revealed before the young lady passes out? I laughed.
I will be vain and not care but will be relieved when I can unloosen the clasps and let it all hang out!
Tight clothing to impress people I have not seen for 20 years who were probably never even bothered by my existence back then seems strange. Why do I feel the need to impress? This is not my usual MO.
We have all aged but want to give the illusion of being youthful. We want to ensure that time has treated us kindly and that wisdom has prevailed. Let's hope wisdom is shown in our clothing choices as it was slim pickings growing up. This was the 70s and 80s. The 80s was the decade taste forgot in many ways. Most of the people I still know will giggle like their younger selves after a glass or 2.
Spurred on by this purchase and need to squeeze into said creation I have had to return to the gym. I do a form of circuit training that leaves me sweaty and with a smug sense of satisfaction that I exercised.
Muscles have begun to form but there is still the thought that I will have to buy some undergarments that will cut off the remainder of the circulation that the dress left available.I do wonder where my excess will be squeezed. Will I get chubby knees or a 42DD? I know which is preferable.
It is the kind of legal modern-day torture that leaves me wondering why the corset and other restrictive items of clothing were ever abandoned. We are constantly seeking the perfect look and to achieve this illusion we will stop at nothing. I am buying into it which makes me as ridiculous and vain as others.
It is all false advertising, like a padded bra. Remember the scene in "Animal House" where such deception is revealed before the young lady passes out? I laughed.
I will be vain and not care but will be relieved when I can unloosen the clasps and let it all hang out!
Monday, October 25, 2010
Sometimes
Here is a poem from a birthday card. It is from a freckleface card.
"Sometimes
Sometimes I do handstands and show the world my pants*
Sometimes I like dressing up and doing a little dance
Sometimes it's nice to play with friends
Sometimes it's not, it all depends
Sometimes I go into the garden to pick lovely flowers
Sometimes I just daydream for hours and hours and hours
And sometimes at the end of the day, I lie down, snuggle up and say
Goodnight, sleep tight, I'll see you in the morning light"
(c) 2004
*pants in the English sense- the ones under the trousers
"Sometimes
Sometimes I do handstands and show the world my pants*
Sometimes I like dressing up and doing a little dance
Sometimes it's nice to play with friends
Sometimes it's not, it all depends
Sometimes I go into the garden to pick lovely flowers
Sometimes I just daydream for hours and hours and hours
And sometimes at the end of the day, I lie down, snuggle up and say
Goodnight, sleep tight, I'll see you in the morning light"
(c) 2004
*pants in the English sense- the ones under the trousers
Friday, October 22, 2010
The Stick of Power
I finally got my car back! After more than I would care to mention was handed over, my car came home. I was lent a lovely car but it was not mine.
I have a certain dislike for the way women are treated by mechanics. We are patted on the head and made to feel like we have nothing important to say. I suggested that my starter motor had once again failed but was told this was not possible. I was given a list of other credible reasons why the car took to making strange noises.
I gently told the manager that as this was the second time within a year this had happened that I would not be paying for it to be replaced. I reminded him that echanical parts of this nature should not fail so quickly. Needless to say I was right and the car manufacturer paid for a new starter motor. Point for me.
I have digressed. The stick of power is a gear stick and unlike the majority of drivers here I need one to change gear as this is not an automatic function in my car. I suppose it is the whole phallic nature of the shape and prowess that makes it so charming.
Women like to be in control and having things do as they are told makes driving a manual car so appealing. There is also a thrill of driving a manual that you simply don't get from an automatic. Climbing up and down the gears can be exhilarating. The change in power is immediate unlike so many automatics. OK I have a V6 which may help.
I cannot understand men driving automatics unless they drive stacks of miles. I almost feel that if you are unable to control your stick in the automotive domain there is little hope in other areas!
OK I have a date with Mr. Darcy. I know that he would have driven a manual and would have been in complete control of his stick.
I have a certain dislike for the way women are treated by mechanics. We are patted on the head and made to feel like we have nothing important to say. I suggested that my starter motor had once again failed but was told this was not possible. I was given a list of other credible reasons why the car took to making strange noises.
I gently told the manager that as this was the second time within a year this had happened that I would not be paying for it to be replaced. I reminded him that echanical parts of this nature should not fail so quickly. Needless to say I was right and the car manufacturer paid for a new starter motor. Point for me.
I have digressed. The stick of power is a gear stick and unlike the majority of drivers here I need one to change gear as this is not an automatic function in my car. I suppose it is the whole phallic nature of the shape and prowess that makes it so charming.
Women like to be in control and having things do as they are told makes driving a manual car so appealing. There is also a thrill of driving a manual that you simply don't get from an automatic. Climbing up and down the gears can be exhilarating. The change in power is immediate unlike so many automatics. OK I have a V6 which may help.
I cannot understand men driving automatics unless they drive stacks of miles. I almost feel that if you are unable to control your stick in the automotive domain there is little hope in other areas!
OK I have a date with Mr. Darcy. I know that he would have driven a manual and would have been in complete control of his stick.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
The Fount of Youth
I was carded at Trader Joe's today. It is such a gratifying feeling to know that someone is fooled by the wrinkles and laughter lines into believing I am under 21. Then again maybe the staff can just tell when you need a pick-me-up.
I had heard a frightening rumour that if you looked under 30 you were carded but even that is comforting. With less than a year until the change in decade, I am still flattered that people ask for ID.
Growing up in the UK it was different. You wanted to be seen to be 18, our drinking age. If you weren't everyone knew where to buy drinks underage and exploited this. Indeed I got my then 14 year- old brother to buy me beer as he looked older than me, I was 17 at the time. I drank beer and loved it but we did not have id and when asked I usually had to provide a passport.
I am still amused by the antiquated notion that the legal drinking age here is 21. Please, what else has to wait so long? My adopted country was founded by the most repressed people on earth with an austere monochrome wardrobe and a belief that being miserable made you stronger. Fun was out of the question. There are still parts of the country that hold these values dear but not here in sunny California. We want you to get merry on our wine.
Why is drinking here such a big issue? Is it really the fear of letting down the puritans and bowing to the evils of drink? I pity the rogue puritan who was desperate for a giggle, some fart humour, the need to urinate in public and then profess his love for everyone. I hope he found happiness some other way but I suppose he was told that that would make him blind so he was stuffed on all counts.
I am not advocating giving shots to young children unless they are tranquilizer darts but an easing in attitudes. If parents are enjoying a drink and not abusing it then studies show their children will follow the example set by ma and pa.
Eat drink and be merry for tomorrow there will be no more carding.
I had heard a frightening rumour that if you looked under 30 you were carded but even that is comforting. With less than a year until the change in decade, I am still flattered that people ask for ID.
Growing up in the UK it was different. You wanted to be seen to be 18, our drinking age. If you weren't everyone knew where to buy drinks underage and exploited this. Indeed I got my then 14 year- old brother to buy me beer as he looked older than me, I was 17 at the time. I drank beer and loved it but we did not have id and when asked I usually had to provide a passport.
I am still amused by the antiquated notion that the legal drinking age here is 21. Please, what else has to wait so long? My adopted country was founded by the most repressed people on earth with an austere monochrome wardrobe and a belief that being miserable made you stronger. Fun was out of the question. There are still parts of the country that hold these values dear but not here in sunny California. We want you to get merry on our wine.
Why is drinking here such a big issue? Is it really the fear of letting down the puritans and bowing to the evils of drink? I pity the rogue puritan who was desperate for a giggle, some fart humour, the need to urinate in public and then profess his love for everyone. I hope he found happiness some other way but I suppose he was told that that would make him blind so he was stuffed on all counts.
I am not advocating giving shots to young children unless they are tranquilizer darts but an easing in attitudes. If parents are enjoying a drink and not abusing it then studies show their children will follow the example set by ma and pa.
Eat drink and be merry for tomorrow there will be no more carding.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Now what?
So it's late and my before -I -received- the- challenge self would have said bugger it and just read before going to sleep but NO I shall write something.
My blogging compadre has threatened to get his balls waxed but methinks he doth jest. How can I compete with that? I suppose I should not take the nature of this challenge too personally but I have to. I had led the children to believe that it was all about taking part but sod it victory is sweet!
What of today? The gym trip was sweaty and uneventful. I replaced the calories I had lost with a cupcake one of my lovely friends had given me for my birthday. This delectable creation was my reward to myself for going to a coffee morning with people with whom I have nothing in common apart from children at the same school. Note to self: coffee mornings of this ilk are "dreadful" and should be avoided unless armed with gin.
I am sure these are lovely ladies but I am not in their financial bracket to ever been seen as more than a novelty item whipped out at parties to provide light entertainment as I have a funny accent. A cheesecake cupcake somehow restored my equilibrium. I also felt that said ladies would never eat these divine temptations as they would gain an ounce. It was like a baked frosted finger raised in defiance. Man, it felt and tasted great.
After school was a great afternoon of watching my children and others at a playdate where there were 8 children! Surprisingly there was no bloodshed and I managed to talk myself into something else.This time I will be getting four 7-year olds to learn stuff.
Content is vague as I am not entirely sure what I will be teaching. I am trying to get the kids to learn by not realising they are doing so. Puzzles and problems spring to mind. Yes, I need to check out Destination Imagination.
My elder daughter loves numbers and she has found a young chap who shares her passion. I have seen how she has become coquettish around him and it is indeed frightening how soon this happens. I want to make sure she continues to enjoy numbers for a bit longer as girls are not always encouraged to pursue these avenues in the later grades.
Basically I am planning my elder daughter's education and hope she will see fit to comply. College in England, naturally. I want to give my girls as many opportunities as I can as the world is not that nice a place and will not say, "I can see that makes you sad" it will chew you up and spit you out and move onto the next tasty morsel.
I have just watched, "Harry Brown" which sees Michael Caine as a senior vigilante out for revenge. My husband is battering the daylights out of pigs' hideout with flying birds so there is a touch of violence around. I digress.
Another day has passed only 364 til my next birthday! I need to cut down on my cake intake. I have no coffee mornings coming up so can't use that as an excuse.
My blogging compadre has threatened to get his balls waxed but methinks he doth jest. How can I compete with that? I suppose I should not take the nature of this challenge too personally but I have to. I had led the children to believe that it was all about taking part but sod it victory is sweet!
What of today? The gym trip was sweaty and uneventful. I replaced the calories I had lost with a cupcake one of my lovely friends had given me for my birthday. This delectable creation was my reward to myself for going to a coffee morning with people with whom I have nothing in common apart from children at the same school. Note to self: coffee mornings of this ilk are "dreadful" and should be avoided unless armed with gin.
I am sure these are lovely ladies but I am not in their financial bracket to ever been seen as more than a novelty item whipped out at parties to provide light entertainment as I have a funny accent. A cheesecake cupcake somehow restored my equilibrium. I also felt that said ladies would never eat these divine temptations as they would gain an ounce. It was like a baked frosted finger raised in defiance. Man, it felt and tasted great.
After school was a great afternoon of watching my children and others at a playdate where there were 8 children! Surprisingly there was no bloodshed and I managed to talk myself into something else.This time I will be getting four 7-year olds to learn stuff.
Content is vague as I am not entirely sure what I will be teaching. I am trying to get the kids to learn by not realising they are doing so. Puzzles and problems spring to mind. Yes, I need to check out Destination Imagination.
My elder daughter loves numbers and she has found a young chap who shares her passion. I have seen how she has become coquettish around him and it is indeed frightening how soon this happens. I want to make sure she continues to enjoy numbers for a bit longer as girls are not always encouraged to pursue these avenues in the later grades.
Basically I am planning my elder daughter's education and hope she will see fit to comply. College in England, naturally. I want to give my girls as many opportunities as I can as the world is not that nice a place and will not say, "I can see that makes you sad" it will chew you up and spit you out and move onto the next tasty morsel.
I have just watched, "Harry Brown" which sees Michael Caine as a senior vigilante out for revenge. My husband is battering the daylights out of pigs' hideout with flying birds so there is a touch of violence around. I digress.
Another day has passed only 364 til my next birthday! I need to cut down on my cake intake. I have no coffee mornings coming up so can't use that as an excuse.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Happy Birthday to Me
So another anniversary has come and gone. I am a year older and hopefully wiser.
Birthdays to me are a time of reflection. To me the blowing out of candles is not just time to make a wish for the upcoming year but time to extinguish last year. I am an autumnal person by nature and nurture. As the weather cools slightly and the nights shorten I am in my element. It is also an excuse to eat cake and what better time could there be?
I like to contemplate the year just past and reflect on what could have been done differently. Each decision I made led to an action that I can't change. I decided a long time ago never to have regrets for things I have done but rather to be a little peeved that I did not take opportunities that came my way. Regretting is pointless as it eats away at your very core.
This year saw topless modeling for a breast cancer fundraiser- an utterly liberating experience. Get the boys out, I say.
As each year passes I realise how lucky I am to have such a fabulous group of friends and a family who love me for who I am. These are people in my life who will calm me down, chivvy me along, make me laugh, bake me cakes, musically inspire and be there. They listen to tales of my younger daughter as she goes feral and how nothing short of tranquilizers will calm her and provide the appropriate emotional response after they have laughed.
I am happy these people are in my life.
I have eaten too much cake and had a lovely evening with a close friend who supports me in so many amazing ways.
It is time to sleep and begin the next year with optimism and travel plans.
Birthdays to me are a time of reflection. To me the blowing out of candles is not just time to make a wish for the upcoming year but time to extinguish last year. I am an autumnal person by nature and nurture. As the weather cools slightly and the nights shorten I am in my element. It is also an excuse to eat cake and what better time could there be?
I like to contemplate the year just past and reflect on what could have been done differently. Each decision I made led to an action that I can't change. I decided a long time ago never to have regrets for things I have done but rather to be a little peeved that I did not take opportunities that came my way. Regretting is pointless as it eats away at your very core.
This year saw topless modeling for a breast cancer fundraiser- an utterly liberating experience. Get the boys out, I say.
As each year passes I realise how lucky I am to have such a fabulous group of friends and a family who love me for who I am. These are people in my life who will calm me down, chivvy me along, make me laugh, bake me cakes, musically inspire and be there. They listen to tales of my younger daughter as she goes feral and how nothing short of tranquilizers will calm her and provide the appropriate emotional response after they have laughed.
I am happy these people are in my life.
I have eaten too much cake and had a lovely evening with a close friend who supports me in so many amazing ways.
It is time to sleep and begin the next year with optimism and travel plans.
Monday, October 18, 2010
About Bloody Time
OK so I had all these great resolutions, as devoted readers will remember, to write more and get the word out and utter other cliches. Did I do it? No. I did bugger all and decided against writing anything.
Here is the list of excuses to see if any of them are viable or if I was trying to convince myself that doing nothing was the best cause of action.
1. I was not in a good emotional space.
That means I have been less than cheerful of late and figured that whining, moaning and general grumbling would not be appreciated so didn't bother. My whole experience and subsequent enjoyment of motherhood was being hampered by my children and who would want to read that? I was not feeling fluffy so ate chocolate.
2. There was no time
This has elements of 1. At the end of the day I did not want to have to do 1 more thing having been a referee, chauffeur, cook, screaming fishwife and brain-dead female. Blonde jokes abound. The logic was should I actually write then it would be dull and self-absorbed (no change there) so why bother? I ate more chocolate.
3. Sod it- I can't be arsed!
Harsh but fair. A succinct summation of the situation.
4. Do I have any decent subject matter?
I know that the blog culture encourages a lot of self to be exposed and ideas explored but I was a brain-dead female of the dirty blonde persuasion remember. What on earth could I write about that would grab the reader and make them feel that I had touched on an issue with which they could identify? Could I make them smile? I did not want to write purely for myself as that smacks of linguistic masturbation!
5. I'll get around to it.
I never did.
Wow thanks for letting my self- pity pour onto the page, I feel cleansed.
So why now? Purely and simply because I have an arrangement with a friend. We will read each other's offerings as a way to encourage the other to write and express. He has an evil diet to follow and I lack the willpower to join him but I am prepared to be a cheering section.
He is a fantastic guy who has a successful career in sales, cares deeply about so many issues, constantly sets himself challenges and goals that he achieves and believes that everything is possible. He threw the gauntlet, I shall hurl it back.
Here is the list of excuses to see if any of them are viable or if I was trying to convince myself that doing nothing was the best cause of action.
1. I was not in a good emotional space.
That means I have been less than cheerful of late and figured that whining, moaning and general grumbling would not be appreciated so didn't bother. My whole experience and subsequent enjoyment of motherhood was being hampered by my children and who would want to read that? I was not feeling fluffy so ate chocolate.
2. There was no time
This has elements of 1. At the end of the day I did not want to have to do 1 more thing having been a referee, chauffeur, cook, screaming fishwife and brain-dead female. Blonde jokes abound. The logic was should I actually write then it would be dull and self-absorbed (no change there) so why bother? I ate more chocolate.
3. Sod it- I can't be arsed!
Harsh but fair. A succinct summation of the situation.
4. Do I have any decent subject matter?
I know that the blog culture encourages a lot of self to be exposed and ideas explored but I was a brain-dead female of the dirty blonde persuasion remember. What on earth could I write about that would grab the reader and make them feel that I had touched on an issue with which they could identify? Could I make them smile? I did not want to write purely for myself as that smacks of linguistic masturbation!
5. I'll get around to it.
I never did.
Wow thanks for letting my self- pity pour onto the page, I feel cleansed.
So why now? Purely and simply because I have an arrangement with a friend. We will read each other's offerings as a way to encourage the other to write and express. He has an evil diet to follow and I lack the willpower to join him but I am prepared to be a cheering section.
He is a fantastic guy who has a successful career in sales, cares deeply about so many issues, constantly sets himself challenges and goals that he achieves and believes that everything is possible. He threw the gauntlet, I shall hurl it back.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Late one night
OK, so it's been a while but that's how it is. The husband is away on business in Vegarse, as I like to think of it, and so why not jot a thing or 2 down?
My parents are in town- that does not explain the months of silence though- and I had a simply lovely evening watching a feel-good film- 'Julie and Julia'. (Synopsis- modern girl sets herself the challenge of cooking all 524 of Julia Child's recipes from Mastering the Art of French Cooking in a year).
My mother and I rustled chocolate wrappers, ooed and aahed at the appropriate times and just sighed when the film ended, completely wrapped up in the sentiment. We loved the comparisons of our lead characters' lives,the scenery, the food and the cat. Life was rather simplistic in so many ways but 'tis the movie business after all.
It made me think that following dreams is a wonderful thing and a few hair-brained schemes make the world a better place. I have several hair-brained schemes (HBS) each day and today's was something to do with organdy ribbon. Who doesn't really want to follow their dreams? I think it takes courage to do so, especially when it is neither practical nor lucrative.
Life is each day at a time with plenty of time to smell the roses. I realized this when I was making summer plans and wondered whether I should pencil in 'have fun' as it seemed to be lacking that element. That was not a serious suggestion, btw. This has nothing to do with fulfilling dreams but everything to do with filling the summer vacation to avoid going mad.
It is time for sleep. During the hours of slumber I shall conjure up yet more ridiculous ideas, have nocturnal liaisons of the most intense and passionate kind with all manner of men (once again I am asleep) and be glad that I can live such a strange life.
Dream well.
My parents are in town- that does not explain the months of silence though- and I had a simply lovely evening watching a feel-good film- 'Julie and Julia'. (Synopsis- modern girl sets herself the challenge of cooking all 524 of Julia Child's recipes from Mastering the Art of French Cooking in a year).
My mother and I rustled chocolate wrappers, ooed and aahed at the appropriate times and just sighed when the film ended, completely wrapped up in the sentiment. We loved the comparisons of our lead characters' lives,the scenery, the food and the cat. Life was rather simplistic in so many ways but 'tis the movie business after all.
It made me think that following dreams is a wonderful thing and a few hair-brained schemes make the world a better place. I have several hair-brained schemes (HBS) each day and today's was something to do with organdy ribbon. Who doesn't really want to follow their dreams? I think it takes courage to do so, especially when it is neither practical nor lucrative.
Life is each day at a time with plenty of time to smell the roses. I realized this when I was making summer plans and wondered whether I should pencil in 'have fun' as it seemed to be lacking that element. That was not a serious suggestion, btw. This has nothing to do with fulfilling dreams but everything to do with filling the summer vacation to avoid going mad.
It is time for sleep. During the hours of slumber I shall conjure up yet more ridiculous ideas, have nocturnal liaisons of the most intense and passionate kind with all manner of men (once again I am asleep) and be glad that I can live such a strange life.
Dream well.
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