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.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Saturday, September 19, 2009
tired
I am not quite sure I remember the last time I bounded out of bed ready to face the challenges of a new day.
Now it is more of a (expletive of choice to be supplied) moment as I realise that I need to dash out of bed and do all the things that need to done before the girls surface and the battles of the new day begin.
As an aside my girls like to start the day fighting and bickering.
What happened to those mornings of feeling invincible and alive and not needing to be caffeinated? Am I remembering incorrectly? I just wonder if I was having someone else's memory and being nostalgic for something I have not experienced. I am reading some mind-expanding stuff and am married to a Sci-Fi addict so these thought appear at intervals.
Did age make me its slave? Are the lines and wrinkles the character and reward for living the way I do? Not that exciting but busy, should you be interested. Was I ever that energised?
I could take a more holistic approach to being tired and change my diet, exercise more (it is shamefully lacking at present due to (excuse of choice)), drink less caffeine and read less at night. Where is the fun in that, I ask?
Being tired is a state of mind. I mind being tired so I am off to make a cup of tea to wake up then read my book.
Now it is more of a (expletive of choice to be supplied) moment as I realise that I need to dash out of bed and do all the things that need to done before the girls surface and the battles of the new day begin.
As an aside my girls like to start the day fighting and bickering.
What happened to those mornings of feeling invincible and alive and not needing to be caffeinated? Am I remembering incorrectly? I just wonder if I was having someone else's memory and being nostalgic for something I have not experienced. I am reading some mind-expanding stuff and am married to a Sci-Fi addict so these thought appear at intervals.
Did age make me its slave? Are the lines and wrinkles the character and reward for living the way I do? Not that exciting but busy, should you be interested. Was I ever that energised?
I could take a more holistic approach to being tired and change my diet, exercise more (it is shamefully lacking at present due to (excuse of choice)), drink less caffeine and read less at night. Where is the fun in that, I ask?
Being tired is a state of mind. I mind being tired so I am off to make a cup of tea to wake up then read my book.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
cough cough splutter
.. always good when you are about to board a plane and head to a wedding. If I don't get quarantined or at least sat on by a burly member of security.
It is a chesty cough that makes my laugh sound like Mutley.
I have to play at said wedding so hope not to hurl. It is a short piece and is gorgeous so hope I do it justice. Lyrics were a bit dodgy in places but I shan't elaborate.
Have a fab dress, a daughter who is flower-girl and a new book for the plane- cool.
Speak when I get back. Don't miss me too much.....;)
It is a chesty cough that makes my laugh sound like Mutley.
I have to play at said wedding so hope not to hurl. It is a short piece and is gorgeous so hope I do it justice. Lyrics were a bit dodgy in places but I shan't elaborate.
Have a fab dress, a daughter who is flower-girl and a new book for the plane- cool.
Speak when I get back. Don't miss me too much.....;)
Friday, September 4, 2009
Musical ADD addendum
I have been thinking long and hard about my iPod reference and have come up with a product that would solve all my musical woes and improve my attention span.
I call it the iPod Touchy- it can feel the vibrations through my hands and knows what mood I am in and can make a musical judgment based on its reading.
If I am feeling pre-menstrual then it will mix Metallica, ambient noises and sappy lyrics with more Metallica or Pendulum and hand over the chocolate.
Happy and bouncy- dance music.
Maudlin- it will decide as I am not short of less than cheery music. Placebo always makes me feel better.
Just a thought.
I call it the iPod Touchy- it can feel the vibrations through my hands and knows what mood I am in and can make a musical judgment based on its reading.
If I am feeling pre-menstrual then it will mix Metallica, ambient noises and sappy lyrics with more Metallica or Pendulum and hand over the chocolate.
Happy and bouncy- dance music.
Maudlin- it will decide as I am not short of less than cheery music. Placebo always makes me feel better.
Just a thought.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Musical ADD
I think I am suffering from musical ADD and I am blaming the iPod.
Gone are the days when I listened to a whole album. Now I am lucky if I hear an entire track; the skip button gets used far too often.
My attention span is shot and tracks I used to like are lucky if they get past 2 minutes. I notice this most when I am in the car and the iPod setting is random but each track that comes up seems to be not what I am looking for (cue U2).
I am not sure if I am the only one who seems incapable of concentrating. We are so used to immediate gratification that we seek it at every opportunity.
I also made a few compilation CDs for a friend who wanted her music tastes to be brought into the 21st century. Was I able to listen to the fruit of my labours? No. I skipped through most of the tracks again.
What to do? Maybe I just need to sit down and make a concerted effort to listen to a whole CD. I could add a reward, such as chocolate.
Maybe I just need some new music that makes my pulse race and doesn't want me to skip tracks at the first opportunity.
Gone are the days when I listened to a whole album. Now I am lucky if I hear an entire track; the skip button gets used far too often.
My attention span is shot and tracks I used to like are lucky if they get past 2 minutes. I notice this most when I am in the car and the iPod setting is random but each track that comes up seems to be not what I am looking for (cue U2).
I am not sure if I am the only one who seems incapable of concentrating. We are so used to immediate gratification that we seek it at every opportunity.
I also made a few compilation CDs for a friend who wanted her music tastes to be brought into the 21st century. Was I able to listen to the fruit of my labours? No. I skipped through most of the tracks again.
What to do? Maybe I just need to sit down and make a concerted effort to listen to a whole CD. I could add a reward, such as chocolate.
Maybe I just need some new music that makes my pulse race and doesn't want me to skip tracks at the first opportunity.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Christmas cake
I baked my Christmas cake today and that in itself should be the entry but it's not. What did you expect?
Several phone calls were made to the folks,whilst baking, to check that I had the trusted family recipe and had mixed it as I should. It was kind of a blindfold cooking lesson.
For me Christmas cake evokes so many memories of the festive season being spent with my folks in England, hoping for the white Christmas we hardly ever had. The Queen's speech was over and a crappy film about to be begin but it was grand.
The washing up could wait as my brother and I would fight over who washed and who dried and more importantly what the music would be.
I didn't eat the stuff [Christmas cake] for a long time as it contained dried fruit. It still does but I believe my taste buds have changed and now have a nostalgia region.
Mum used to make the cake and pudding way in advance. The pudding elicited a more exciting reaction as it contained either Guinness or Mackeson stout. Mum hardly ever drank so the results were amusing to say the least. My grandmother helped and she also loved the velvety liquid that rewarded the hard work.
I remember my mother's biceps bulging as mixtures were stirred. A sweaty brow was mopped and a dark liquid was quaffed. The liquid always made Mum laugh and it was a while before I worked out why or experienced the sensations myself. Nan got to be quite giggly too.
I haven't had Christmas with the folks for 6 years and I miss it. I am not saying it is the most amazing time, just that it is home and takes me back to my childhood and I like that.
I suppose I make my Christmas cake because I am a transplant here and do not want my country's traditions to be forgotten. I am a traditionalist in many ways and a Brit through and through.
My younger daughter and I made it together and maybe that is what it is all about- sharing an experience that will hopefully be fondly remembered. The older one won't touch the stuff for the reasons I wouldn't but the younger one will be raring to go.
The cake will be liberally laced with brandy up until a few days before Christmas to add marzipan and icing. To most Americans this is the most disgusting dessert imaginable but we see this export as a test of courage- are you man/woman enough?
The icing 2 years ago was a staid affair. The older daughter and I plonked snowmen and a golden Santa atop the royal icing- homemade naturally. Mr Claus did look like he was hitting a Liberace period.
I can't say I came up with the best icing story but I have copied it and it is with this that I leave you.
Picture a iced cake surface that is smooth as glass yet evoking fluffy snow. A snowman looks out from his central position. His gaze is far away almost ethereal. This is the sole decoration apart from a splash of orange juice at the base of the snowman and little fingerprints that hint at a canine's hasty departure after his relief.
Several phone calls were made to the folks,whilst baking, to check that I had the trusted family recipe and had mixed it as I should. It was kind of a blindfold cooking lesson.
For me Christmas cake evokes so many memories of the festive season being spent with my folks in England, hoping for the white Christmas we hardly ever had. The Queen's speech was over and a crappy film about to be begin but it was grand.
The washing up could wait as my brother and I would fight over who washed and who dried and more importantly what the music would be.
I didn't eat the stuff [Christmas cake] for a long time as it contained dried fruit. It still does but I believe my taste buds have changed and now have a nostalgia region.
Mum used to make the cake and pudding way in advance. The pudding elicited a more exciting reaction as it contained either Guinness or Mackeson stout. Mum hardly ever drank so the results were amusing to say the least. My grandmother helped and she also loved the velvety liquid that rewarded the hard work.
I remember my mother's biceps bulging as mixtures were stirred. A sweaty brow was mopped and a dark liquid was quaffed. The liquid always made Mum laugh and it was a while before I worked out why or experienced the sensations myself. Nan got to be quite giggly too.
I haven't had Christmas with the folks for 6 years and I miss it. I am not saying it is the most amazing time, just that it is home and takes me back to my childhood and I like that.
I suppose I make my Christmas cake because I am a transplant here and do not want my country's traditions to be forgotten. I am a traditionalist in many ways and a Brit through and through.
My younger daughter and I made it together and maybe that is what it is all about- sharing an experience that will hopefully be fondly remembered. The older one won't touch the stuff for the reasons I wouldn't but the younger one will be raring to go.
The cake will be liberally laced with brandy up until a few days before Christmas to add marzipan and icing. To most Americans this is the most disgusting dessert imaginable but we see this export as a test of courage- are you man/woman enough?
The icing 2 years ago was a staid affair. The older daughter and I plonked snowmen and a golden Santa atop the royal icing- homemade naturally. Mr Claus did look like he was hitting a Liberace period.
I can't say I came up with the best icing story but I have copied it and it is with this that I leave you.
Picture a iced cake surface that is smooth as glass yet evoking fluffy snow. A snowman looks out from his central position. His gaze is far away almost ethereal. This is the sole decoration apart from a splash of orange juice at the base of the snowman and little fingerprints that hint at a canine's hasty departure after his relief.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Saturday night
Gone are the days when the hallowed words of "Saturday night" would send me into a frenzy.
We would work out where we were going to go, where to have drinkies unless drinkies was the plan for the evening, where to eat, which friends we could see and or whether we could slide in a movie as well.
There would be a brief rustle of fabric as everything goes with jeans and a helmet as I rode pillion for years and then we were off....
I actually remember some of those nights too including one where I got ridiculously drunk and ended up serving topless in a bar!
Oh how the mighty have fallen.
I am eying the clock and wondering when it is bedtime and I don't mean bedtime with the Barry White accompaniment either.
Time to sleep and dream, per chance.
My book is calling in muted tones. One murder has happened and we have met the ball-busting female Lieutenant and her equally ballsy female Detective. A fast-paced read with minimal brain engagement.
In case you ask, the Cullens have gone hunting and won't be back for a few days. They left a lovely note.
I don't drink now either. I lost a taste for it whilst incubating my elder daughter. I had hoped that the taste would return and I had a gin smuggled into the hospital after the birth but the smell was so bad (to me) that I thought I would hurl. Never got the taste back.
Movies- all hail netflix and friends who babysit.I have a rough idea what is happening in the movie world as a checker at my local store informs me. He thinks I should have seen Transfomers but as I remember my brother having the Optimus Prime toy back in the 80s and said toy bouncing off my head having been launched at me, I thought better of it.
Riding pillion? Not for a while either. The Vespa was so comfortable and other bikes on which I have been on the back were great too. My husband's Suzuki does feel like you are dislocating your hips though especially at speed. The best was this Kawasaki 750 that easily hit 110 with me on the back. My face hurt through laughing after that one.
Do I miss those nights? Yes. Would I change what I have? Sometimes but on the whole I have no regrets.
Life moves on and the oven has pre-heated so slam in the cookies and fire up the computer (media is consumed so differently now) as it is movie watching time.I have no idea yet what it will be but as I am so forgetful you could have told me and I would have forgotten. At least now we don't disturb anyone else when we get up for a pee.
Whatever you are doing- do it well, have fun and sleep well.
We would work out where we were going to go, where to have drinkies unless drinkies was the plan for the evening, where to eat, which friends we could see and or whether we could slide in a movie as well.
There would be a brief rustle of fabric as everything goes with jeans and a helmet as I rode pillion for years and then we were off....
I actually remember some of those nights too including one where I got ridiculously drunk and ended up serving topless in a bar!
Oh how the mighty have fallen.
I am eying the clock and wondering when it is bedtime and I don't mean bedtime with the Barry White accompaniment either.
Time to sleep and dream, per chance.
My book is calling in muted tones. One murder has happened and we have met the ball-busting female Lieutenant and her equally ballsy female Detective. A fast-paced read with minimal brain engagement.
In case you ask, the Cullens have gone hunting and won't be back for a few days. They left a lovely note.
I don't drink now either. I lost a taste for it whilst incubating my elder daughter. I had hoped that the taste would return and I had a gin smuggled into the hospital after the birth but the smell was so bad (to me) that I thought I would hurl. Never got the taste back.
Movies- all hail netflix and friends who babysit.I have a rough idea what is happening in the movie world as a checker at my local store informs me. He thinks I should have seen Transfomers but as I remember my brother having the Optimus Prime toy back in the 80s and said toy bouncing off my head having been launched at me, I thought better of it.
Riding pillion? Not for a while either. The Vespa was so comfortable and other bikes on which I have been on the back were great too. My husband's Suzuki does feel like you are dislocating your hips though especially at speed. The best was this Kawasaki 750 that easily hit 110 with me on the back. My face hurt through laughing after that one.
Do I miss those nights? Yes. Would I change what I have? Sometimes but on the whole I have no regrets.
Life moves on and the oven has pre-heated so slam in the cookies and fire up the computer (media is consumed so differently now) as it is movie watching time.I have no idea yet what it will be but as I am so forgetful you could have told me and I would have forgotten. At least now we don't disturb anyone else when we get up for a pee.
Whatever you are doing- do it well, have fun and sleep well.
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