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
Monday, October 25, 2010
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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