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.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
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.
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