Compiling the To Do List

There are quite a few things I should be doing. In fact, I'll go as far as saying, there are I lot of tasks I ought to have got done by now.

I'm not a huge fan of 'should' and 'ought'. I take it as a personal failure if they come into my daily vocabulary. However, I have extenuating circumstances. I'm still not fighting fit. At this point, if I was attacked by a brown paper bag, I'd ring 999. Mmmm...there's a thought. I could request the fire brigade. Firemen. There's a nice thought.

*pulls mind away from hunky firemen wielding their mighty hoses*

Anyway, I'm procrastinating writing my To Do List. It's just too scary a thought to contemplate at this point. I don't want to see how much deadly boring stuff I have to do. I would rather continue to waste time on the Interweb, watch the idiot box and smoke outside every now and then.

I took my new clothes out for a test drive this week. I looked fabulous, if I don't say so myself. Good clothes, new boots and good make-up. It set me up nicely for work. It's good getting back into the manic rhythm that is earning an honest living. I'm equally pleased my employers have understood my stamina isn't up to full-on work yet and have given me a two-week period to gently slide back into the work ethic. Until I find a sugar-daddy to keep me in the manner to which I could (easily) become accustomed, I am resigned to my fate of working for a living. Though it is slightly irritating that it's interfering with my social life.

Having the time to lose on the Interweb has meant I've made new blogging friends and had the chance to annoy old ones. I've even been playing with Blogger's new fangled bits. If you look, you'll see my new friends, do follow the links, some of them are naughty...but nice. I warn you now, watch out for MJ and her love of cake. CyberPete and I have a mutual appreciation of the odd glass of naughtiness. Ms Scarlet, though she says she's permanently perplexed, is quite capable of wielding a bottle of Febreeze with finesse. A. Boxer, that's Ms Boxer to you, is actually a very gentle and artistic soul who does wonders with Bow Tie Pasta and a video cam. Mago, the Franconian, gives very good virtual foot rubs and he is a thinking man. Watch out for Donn, he may be reaching escape velocity quite soon, especially if he keeps calling me 'normal'. I have wrangled promises out of Dave for some fabulous purple oriental poppies and I hope to be annoying him soon.

Of the original crew of misfits, the Viking has hung up his keyboard and I still miss Murph's words of wisdom, although, to give him his due, Rog does try his best to fill Murph's paw prints. I've decided that Kaz actually lives in Spain and occasionally visits Manchester. Northern Monkey is expecting a baby monkey in December and Sanddancer has recently changed jobs. Hottie, is as gorgeous as ever and is embarking on her university career and would make Hermione blush with her over-achieving. Since my split with the Viking, I haven't been as frequent a visitor to the police blogs, but I still lurk to make sure they aren't working too hard.

It occured to me that I missed this blog's 3rd birthday in June. I missed an opportunity for a celebration. Very unlike me. Therefore I've decided instead of procrastinating today, I will be celebrating Journeying's birthday today.

As I've been writing this, I realised how much blogging has meant to me. This blog started out as a project for art school and I got hooked. I've made fabulous friends who've stuck with me through thick and writer's block; friends who've encouraged, mocked, cajoled and catcalled. Permit me a soppy moment.

*virtual hugs*

You guys rock!

And I think you're stuck with me. Sorry.

(If I haven't mentioned your fabulous blog, don't sulk, you know I love you really)

Meme O Meme

1) My mother once: took me for a picnic in the Queen’s Park Savannah.
2) Never in my life: have I had a fireman. My life is not complete.
3) When I was five: I had a kitten who I loved to bits. She used to share my morning cereal.
4) High school was/is: something I would like to forget.
5) I will never forget: how blessed I am.
6) I once met: Martin Shaw and I didn't know who he was.
7) There's this person I know who: lives life to the fullest, she does not know the meaning of NO, will try anything once. I want to be like her.
8) Once, at a bar: I staggered in after Christmas shopping, intending to have a quick medicinal half of cider, and stayed chatting to the bar staff until closing time.
9) By noon I'm usually: awake, possibly dressed.
10) Last night I: took to my bed by half seven. I’d overdone it. Again.
11) If only I had: a natural sense of style.
12) Next time I go to church/temple: will be for someone’s wedding or funeral.
13) Terri Schiavo: is who exactly?
14) I like: smoking, red wine, dark chocolate, blogging, men with a sense of humour and shopping.
15) When I turn my head left, I see: my garden below.
16) When I turn my head right, I see: my upstairs bathroom at the end of the landing (it sounds much longer than it really is).
17) You know I'm lying when: I say I’m normal.
18) In junior school: my nick-name was Spaghetti – cause I was white and skinny.
19) If I was a character written by Shakespeare: I would aspire to be Titania from MidSummer Night’s Dream, but would really be Portia from Merchant of Venice.
20) By this time next year I: will hopefully have painted the inside of my bedroom.
21) A better name for me would be: Awkward.
22) I have a hard time understanding: why human beings take such pleasure in being cruel to each other.
23) If I ever go back to school, I'll: be a teenager again, living through the horror that is reincarnation.
24) You know I like you if: I touch you. I’m tactile.
25) If I won an award, the first person I'd thank would be: Gee!
26) I hope that: I can always afford good coffee.
27) Take my advice: life is much too short for playing games.
28) My ideal breakfast is: coffee.
29) A song I love but do not have is: ‘I want to know what love is’
30) If you visit my hometown, I suggest: you bring your bodyguards. Trinidad is falling into anarchy.
31) Tulips, character flaws, microchips and track stars: one of my favourite spring flowers, make a person far more interesting than their virtues, necessary and whatever.
32) Why won't anyone: call?
33) If you spend the night at my house: I have a comfortable sofa bed, shower and good coffee.
34) I'd stop my wedding: if he turned up in a baby pink tux and crocs.
35) The world could do without: mosquitos. Truly.
36) I'd rather lick the belly of a roach than: go line-dancing
37) My favourite thing is: my first cup of coffee.
38) Paper clips are more useful than: politicians (all of them)
39) And by the way: I’m doing better than ever.
40) The last time I was (really) drunk: was about 6 months ago. Yet again, I hurtled myself at someone. Fortunately, he’s a friend who didn’t take it amiss.
41) My grandmother always: said ‘those who can’t hear, must feel’. I fit into the latter category. I have to find out for myself. The hard way.

Cause I like spreading the joy I nominate: Scarlet-Blue, Hottie, Dave, Kaz, and Just Curious. Let me know if you decide to tackle the meme anyway.

New Look

I spent last night on-line, looking at shoes and boots and clothes for work. I'm not a huge fan of on-line shopping, I much prefer to feel my wares before I buy. Satisfied that I had some good stuff to look at, I went to bed.

This morning got off to a spectacularly bad start.

The cat had been sick everywhere in the kitchen during the night. Though to give her due, she did try to get out the cat flap, but I'd locked it. While we were watching the idiot box last night, some stripey feline came in and tried to help itself to her dinner. What is it with cats? The look the strange cat gave me, was filled with such disdain as I chased its arse out of my territory - how dare I? How rude of me. Humpf.

After I cleared it all up, disaster struck. My coffee machine died. All my poking, prodding, stroking and coaxing could not revive it. I had to make do with instant. Bleugh.

My needs in the morning are few. I need one cup of decent coffee to get me going. It's really not too much to ask, is it? But no, this morning it was not to be. I seriously considered going back to bed and ignoring the rest of today.

During the first smoke of the day, I thought 'fuck it'. I had a shower, put on some slap and headed into the city. Marks and Spencers was an exercise in frustration. Everything that I liked and wanted was not available in my size. This ranged from jeans, cardigans, boots and even bloody tights! Grrr... Despite their best efforts, I was able to find some fun things, even if they weren't on my list. I then trooped over the Clarks. There were some funky boots I wanted to try on. I'm glad I did. They look brilliant and were one of the most dodgy footwear I've ever tried on. They were 'top heavy' which made me rock as I walked. I'm so glad I did not part with good cash for them over the internet. I'd have been very cross.

I ended up in Shuh. So many yummy shoes. I eventually bought the black brogues. Now, to highlight what a fashion nightmare I am, I wanted them also in brown. I find something I like and then I buy it in all the colours that it comes in. This operates across the board, from footwear to clothes. You'll be so surprised to learn that they didn't have any in my size. Off I stomped to House of Fraser, there a lovely assistant got me the brown brogues I wanted and then I saw them: mid-brown, calf-length, sheep-skin lined, high-heeled Timberland style, (but not so chunky) Carvela boots, and they are so comfy. It was love at first sight.

It might not have been a good start to the day, but I sure am going to finish it in style.

In Celebration of The Cat

I've been thinking about writing this post for about 3 weeks now: an Ode to The Cat. Today, I popped by Vet Nurse, who has had to say goodbye to her companion Wibble. Please drop in and give her extra hugs. I've never cuddled up to Wibs, but I've followed her antics through Vet Nurse's blog and this morning my heart is heavy with her loss.

Solitaire is a domestic short-haired cat. A posh term for a moggie. She's supposed to be Boy's cat. She loves her Boy, when he's not around for a weekend and he comes home, she's thrilled to see him. If he sits at a table, she'll come up to him and head butt him until he worships her.

Having said that, she sleeps with me. I think she definitely approves of my new bed. It's king size, rather than a 3/4 bed. Which means she can stretch out all the way, and I still have to turn over carefully, so as not to disturb her. I have a de-lint brush, with which to remove the several tonnes of black cat hair from the duvet every other day. All bedding I buy has to be with her in mind. She doesn't like satin-esk bedding and will pluck it to buggery until I change it. I do have a proper grooming brush to try and de-fluff her, but I put it in a safe place and can't find the bugger now. Why I tidy up, I'll never know.

When I come home, I'll call for her and she comes bounding down the stairs saying hello. She doesn't meow a lot for a cat, she chirrups; we have long conversations sometimes. She doesn't like being picked up, but she'll come sit next to me if I'm in one place long enough, curl up and snooze.

The Cat is a fair weather feline. The new abode has been very much to her liking. She's turned into a territorial thing, chasing off other cats with a fierce yowl, puffing herself up to twice her size. Ridiculous really. If they stopped and looked her in the eye, they'd have seen she's all bark. Not a scrapper at all. In the summer, I'd call for her when I've finished rolling a smoke and she'd come out into the sunshine with me. Hiding under a lilac when she got too hot and she'd stay out in the garden all day. She likes the cat-flap which we now keep open all the time. She gets up a couple of times in the night, but when I wake up in the morning, there she is all warm and snug at the bottom of the bed.

The week before my op was a hard one. I was saying goodbye to my fertility and my dreams of a happy family. I was outside smoking, and she sat with me, patting my leg, so I'd stroke her some more. I wondered why she was suddenly clingy and then I realised it was me. She could see I was grieving and this was her way of comforting me. Bless her.

She's eleven years old this September and I'm pleased that we have a few more happy years ahead of us. Today after reading of Vet Nurse's sad news I picked her up, protesting and gave her a big cuddle.

Please Adjust My Set

I'm currently spending more time in front of the idiot box than normal (which is no tv at all). As my brain slowly atrophies and I watch yet another episode of Ghost Whisperer and Star Trek: various, I realise it's the adverts which drive me nuts. They are on constant loops and it's the same adverts for every episode of whatever I'm watching, whatever the time of day. Mostly, I can tune out the car insurance, post-your-gold-for-cash, cereals and don't do drugs and drive (drugs have an involuntary effect on the eyes, which you can't control; really), but there are three ads that make me want to commit violence.

Always Ultra
Features a winged pad with pin-balls bouncing off the various layers. I find it disturbing for several reasons including: my menstrual blood has never, ever resembled pin-balls. And quite frankly, I would seek immediate medical help if it ever started bouncing around like that. The violence comes from the strap line 'Have a Happy Period'. Really?! After spending the week before with gritted teeth, sore breasts and bloated stomach, I then spend the following week curled up in a ball, swallowing paracetemol and ibuprofen like they're tic tacks, clutching a hot water bottle. Have a happy period? Come closer love, my what a big tyre iron I have here, just for you.

Chocolate Rice Krispie Squares
After years of being inflicted with Malibu adverts featureing a Barbadian voice over, showing the supposed 'relaxed' Caribbean way of life, I'm then assaulted by an animated chocolate island with pale rice krispies lying in hammocks and a chocolate volcano eruption. This is wrong on soo many levels, least of which is the voice-over. Which Caribbean island is that supposed to hail from? I'm from there and while I know dialects change over time, that is one of the worst accents I have ever heard made up. Also, not so long ago St Lucia suffered a proper volcano eruption. That was no laughing matter. People lost their lives and homes through that natural disaster. Should you think I'm being overly sensitive about it, how would the ad have gone down had it been a chocolate tsunami?

Pampers Golden Sleep
Very cute baby gets introduced to an older woman, by doting mum. Goes to sleep for the night, sleeps 12 hours, wakes up the next morning and recognises the neighbour. The voice-over informs parents that babies need 'golden sleep' to develop properly. So if they chose Pampers their baby is going to have the IQ of Einstein. Really? I don't think so. I do think parents of young babies have a hard enough time as it is and some daft ad, guilt tripping them isn't helping.

Yes, I might have remembered the adverts which will no doubt have some agency rubbing their hands together. But you know what? It is with considerable glee that I boycott the first two products (I'm not likely to need the third any time soon). The brand may have won, but the product sales have lost.

Population Control

I was neutered Monday morning, hence this being a slow blog week.

Apparently, I should have experienced mild abdominal discomfort easily assuaged with paracetmol and ibuprofen. The first 24 hours I should have been uncomfortable, but back to normal by Day 5.

Yeah right.

Let's summarise my experience with 'OW!' and leave it at that.

I'm not sorry I had the op and I'm looking forward to test driving my newly sterilised bits....anon. Very anon.

In the meantime, I am taking it slow watching trashy television (of which there is a great deal) and reading trashy books (of which I have many).

May I just say the Great Ursus and his lovely, are fabulous people? I will be having words with the Powers that Be to ensure that there will be stars shining in the Heavens just for them.

Adventures with Prince Charming

Last night, or rather this morning, I woke up with a bit of a start. One of the things sleeping on my own regularly has meant, is I am a light sleeper. I generally sleep well. If I don't, I become Bitch Queen from Hell. I need my sleep. I think part of my sleeping light also was set when I became a mum and that's never properly re-set, even after Boy slept well through the night. Even when I was married, or had a lover who stayed regularly, I was the one who woke up and went to investigate.

So I was awake wondering why I was awake and then I heard a noise. It was a bit like the noise you hear when you move a bit of furniture about and it has a squeaky castor. I heard it again. I checked the bottom of the bed. No Cat. I poked my head through Boy's door and he was pretty much dead to the world. There it was again. An unhappy sound.

I trooped downstairs, stark bollock naked and there was the Cat.

She'd brought me a present. Bless her. Prince Charming.

He sat looking very displeased at being in my hall.

I squatted down next to him, while he pretended to be a leaf. He was about the size of my palm and I didn't particularly fancy picking him up. I unlocked and opened the front door. He then changed tack and pretended to be a stone when I gave him a nudge. I tried picking him up and he made that squeaky castor noise. I nudged his cute behind, and out he hopped squeaking, into the night.

The Cat was most put out. Here she was trying to sort out my love-life; all I had to do was give him a kiss and hey presto, Prince Charming. And what did I do, shove him out the door. Talk about ungrateful. What she failed to realise is I value my sleep more than I do my love-life.

Pride!

It was a late Sunday evening in February, when Boy came back from his dad's. I was sprawled on the couch and Boy came and sat next to me.

Our conversation started out as the one every mother dreads.

"You will still love me, won't you?" He started.

"Of course I love you." Says I with a sinking heart.

"I mean, you'll love me, whatever..." his voice trailed off.

Oh dear Goddess, thought I. Take a deep breath and face the disaster.

"I mean, you will..."

"Boy, it's late. You have school in the morning, I have to go to work. Spit it out!"

"I'm gay." He says in a small voice.

"Oh, is that all," I say, relief pouring through me. "I thought you were going to say something awful."

My Boy. My wonderful, bright Boy.

It's a feeling words do not adequately express. I am so proud of him. It has taken awhile to post about this, because it's such a personal thing. We have talked about the fluidity of sexuality at this age and that he may change in the future. At the end of the day, it's who he is, and all that matters is how much I love him and how proud I am of him.

Could I have been more proud when he marched with the Norwich Pride this summer? No, I really don't think so.

Pretending to be heterosexual would have been the easiest course for him. But no. My Boy has the courage to be himself. There are adults of my age who deny themselves and I am saddened for them.

This is a new world for us both. I don't have the gay best friend to guide us, and actually that's fine. The Norwich Pride has welcomed us both. It's meant I've had a lot to adjust to, after all, but it's all good. This is probably the best time in this society to be gay. What has been amazing is the support of our friends and family. His dad loves him to bits.

It is such a shame that coming out is such a heartbreaking experience for so many people. This is a wonderful world in which we live and there should be enough space for everyone. There has been so much I've taken for granted. For me to walk down the street, holding hands with the one I love. I can't imagine what it must be like, not to be able to express my love.

In a way it's quite ironic. I am now the black sheep of my family. The marginalised. My birth mother is gay, my son is gay. I'm the only heterosexual. Ach, the shame!

Adventures in Gardening

If my energy levels are up to it, the next few days are going to be all about the garden.

I spend about an hour yesterday fighting with the bindweed and just about filled my brown bin. I can't tell you how satisfying it was creating havoc all by myself. I'm sure the neighbours think I'm bonkers, talking to the weeds as I pulled them off and out of the garden beds. Over the weekend I made a list of the plants I want to have in there, and designing the shape of the garden. It's not going to be a neat, manicured affair. It's going to be wild and bushy, with lots of colours. I want it to smell absolutely amazing and it hopefully will attract lots of butterflies and bees.

Today, I spent a stupid amount of money in Homebase getting some decent tools. I also took the opportunity to look at the lovely bedding plants and bulbs. Come next spring, there will be such colour; I love spring bulbs so much. Tulips, daffodils, crocus, snow drops and iris. They will be growing through winter pansies, violas and wall flowers.

It will look amazing. All wild and bushy.

I'm going to make the beds bigger, so I can get more plants in. I'm not keen on grass. When I first moved in I thought I'd get rid of the lawn, just plant it all up, with a garden path meandering round. Now, having spent most of my time lying out on it, I know I need enough grass to enjoy the sunshine.

I don't want any pots. I'm crap at watering them, even with a hose. There is absolutely no point in spending good money on plants, just to watch them die. I want plants that will self-seed everywhere, be hardy, smell fabulous, attract the birds and bees, have herbs growing next to roses. I just shiver with the pleasure of it. I wonder if it will look as wonderful as I imagine it. I suspect I don't have the space for all the plants I want to put in there, but I still have more lawn to dig into if necessary.

Return to Form

I have a task to do.

Therefore, I have:

*tidied my house
*watered my plants
*been on facebook
*blogged
*been on facebook
*checked out other blogs
*left comments on other blogs
*been on facebook
*checked whether anyone has replied to my comments.

Ah yes, the bitch is back!

PS. Now added more links to fabulous new blogs I've found. Life is truly good.

PPS. Of course I had to stop for lunch.

PPPS. The sun is shining so *of course* I have to lie in it, while I can.

Suspension of Belief

I have a question regarding the Twilight series by Stephanie Meyer.

Bearing in mind that I'm happy to buy into the whole Vampire thing. Bram Stoker's Dracula is my idea of soft porn. Darkly sexual, predatory and scary.

I'm also a fan of the early works of Anne Rice. Interview with a Vampire etc. Queen of the Damned is one of my favourite books, though I can happily leave the movies.

I'm a big fan of Buffy. Joss Whedon writes bloody good dialogue. Last night I spent happy hours on Wikiquote reading through the best quotes from the series.

The Vampire mythology, darkly sexual and predatory. Emotionally unavailable, sexy, strong what woman wouldn't want to try and tame and be tamed by tall, dark and handsome? Count me in. I'm there with my corset and black eye-liner.

So, if you were immortal, craved human blood, tell me...why would you want to spend your time in high school? I mean, not being funny or anything, but the worst part of reincarnation has got to be going through puberty yet again (ad infinitum)? Being spotty, horny, inarticulate, socially dodgy and smelly. Bleugh.

Why would you, a tall, dark and handsome immortal, want to do that? Voluntarily? Is Edward just thick? He's 90 years old and he still can't get the hang of algebra? American history? He can't manage to figure out prepositions, clauses and split-infinitives? Is this his punishment for drinking human blood? Having to repeat Grade 10 over and over again? Since when is thick as two-short-planks, sexy?

I'm as open as the next woman, to eye candy. But the thought of being seduced by a 90 year old, thick, vampire, it just doesn't work for me. Darkly brooding or no. I just can't suspend my belief enough to forego the 3 hours or so to read the book(s) or see the film. As I'm not immortal, my time is too precious for that.

Humanity is Doomed

If you have half an hour and fancy a bloody good laugh. Have a look at this:

You Suck at Craigs List.

Craig's List, for those not in the know is an internet listing for goods, services and personals and there's pretty much one for every major city.

The Parrot Sketch

And finally...

Stephen K Amos Live At The Apollo - Part 2

Stick with it, it's great.

Reference in the middle.

Eddie Izzard talks about chiropractors

The first reference.

Enjoy!

Make the Noise!

The stresses and strains of the last few months have taken their toll. My shoulders felt like they'd been glued round my ears, my mid back was solid and my lower back ached everytime I got out of bed. Last week I thought a massage would be a great way to relax. Yeah right. The masseur on feeling my concrete knots did her absolute best to pummel them out. I hurt all the way through the massage and for 3 days after. That told me the issue wasn't muscular, it was skeletal.

So I went to see my very dishy osteopath yesterday. What can I say? He's gorgeous, gentle...and expecting the arrival of a little osteopath in February with his long-term partner. Sigh. Anyway, we have a 10 minute catch up and then he asks me to take my top off, which I do. Voila, pretty M&S bra. He asks me to take off my belt. I say to him I wore my big pants just in case. Relieved he invites me to take my jeans off. Voila, pretty M&S Big Pants.

All professions have their 'story'. A classic tale only other people in that profession will understand. When I worked with NHS Direct it was the sex-calls ('you're the only person I've ever told about my erectile disfunction', while their file shouts 'frequent flyer'), when I worked in fragrance it was find the fragrance with the most obscure description of bottle or scent. With osteopaths, it seems to be the teeny-tiny pants story. It turns out he used to treat dancers. They would turn up in teeny-tiny pants to be crunched. He said he had to ask a few of them to put their trousers back on the pants were so teeny-tiny. In fact, they were more like shoe-strings he said. Made my eyes water just thinking about it.

There is a difference in having an osteopathic treatment when everything is locked up tighter than a debutant's virginity, and having a treatment when your muscles have gone into spasm; death seems to be the only comfort to be had, as sitting, lying and standing is excruciating.

In order to loosen up the neck, the osteopath gently takes your head in his hands, lifts your neck, stretches very gently while probing the locked vertebra. Then he'll suddenly wrench it to the left. It's just like hearing a gun go off in your head. When the echos have died away, you have to smile because you can still feel your toes.

My step-father was a huge fan of war movies. Black and White, WWII, featuring death to the Nazis (who can only say 'schnell' and a bunch of gibberish which always had my mother, a German who survived the Blitz of Berlin, rolling her eyes). The heroic British soldier would creep into the enemy camp, sneak up to the nasty Kraut perimeter guard, grab him by the head and twist. Crack. An ex-perimeter guard. The perimeter guard is no more. He is pushing up daisies. You get the picture.

The first time I ever had that neck-wrench done, I was in agony. Real unabatable agony. That osteopath wrenched my neck without warning. I was rather fond of him. He was obnoxious, opinionated about everything, and I fancied him something rotten. Last I heard, he married a patient and was living in marital bliss in a barn conversion in South Norfolk. After he wrenched my neck, I was too scared to even squeak. It took me years to talk about that manoever without automatically wiggling my toes to check everything still worked.

Yesterday, when my dishy osteopath wrenched my neck. It was bliss. He dug his thumbs into the two inch knots hiding under the scallops of my shoulders, and I practically purred. Going to him before things got any worse was such a good idea.

By the way, can you spot the comic references I liberally sprinkled about?

Meme Glorious Meme

Having a low time. Rather than go on and on and on about it. Have another meme:

Three Things:

Three names I go by (besides given name):
Mouse
Rose
Oi! Bitch!

Three Jobs I have had in my life:
Bar Maid
Receptionist
Economic Development

Three Places I have lived:
Port of Spain, Trinidad
Hunstanton, Norfolk
Fakenham, Norfolk

Three Favorite drinks (NOT IN ANY PARTICULAR ORDER):
Coffee
Ribena
Red Wine

Three TV Shows that I watch right now:
Star Trek (anyone that's on)
Firefly
Ghost Whisperer

Three places I have been:
Dublin, Ireland
Vancouver, Canada
Singapore

People that call me regularly:
The Tax Office
The Bank
The Director

Three of my favorite foods:
Olives
Dark Chocolate
Cheese on anything

Three Things I am looking forward to:
Lammas Supper
Hypnotherapists Appointment
Christmas

Three Things that are always by your side:
Mobile
MP3 Player
Car Keys

So there. Feel free to emulate. Let me know in the comments section if you do.

Meme Me Baby

Thanks to my new friend Mago, I shamelessly infringed his copyright and lifted the meme. The answers in blue are mine and mine alone.

1. First thing you wash in the shower? My face. I lurve my shower and could spend half an hour in there. Oh yeah, I regularly do.
2. What color is your favorite hoodie? Plum. It's a very comfy hoodie from Tresspass, from which most of my clothes seem to have come from recently.
3. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again? I would like to, but its not a terribly good idea.
4. Do you plan outfits? Yes. Because I went to uni with Just Curious, who taught me to co-ordinate everything.
5. How are you feeling RIGHT now? Rubbish/fragile/lonely.
6. Whats the closest thing to you that's red? A card on my noticeboard, a quote from Margaret Attwood 'I believe that everyone else my age is an adult whereas I am merely in disguise.'.
7. Tell me about the last dream you remember having? Nope. It's gone.
8. Did you meet anybody new today? Yes.
9. What are you craving right now? Peace of mind.
10. Do you floss? No, though I should. Another to add to the list of Things to Beat Myself up About.
11. What comes to mind when I say cabbage? Ewwww.
12. Are you emotional? Yes, I am. Soft as muck, me.
13. Have you ever counted to 1,000? No. Life's too short.
14. Do you bite into your ice cream or just lick it? I nibble.
15. Do you like your hair? Yes, now that it's grown a bit and the grey is well hidden.
16. Do you like yourself? Despite feeling like crap at the moment, yes.
17. Would you go out to eat with George W. Bush? No. Life is too short and I like to enjoy my food.
18.What are you listening to right now? Nickleback, acoustic 'How you Remind me'.
19. Are your parents strict? My mother was, though my brother will say she had a softer touch with me and it spoilt me forever.
20. Would you go sky diving? No, I quite like being on the ground and especially can do without the 'splat'.
21. Do you like cottage cheese? If it's Marks & Spencers full-fat, bring on the calories - yes. Anything else vaguely healthy - no. I'll hang my tongue out the window instead. Bleugh.
23. Do you rent movies often? No
24. Is there anything sparkly in the room you're in? Hell yes. And dangly. With bells. Do I get a prize?
25. How many countries have you visited? Eight...I think.
26. Have you made a prank phone call? Nope.
27. Ever been on a train? Hell yes. Like trains. Big ones, little ones, especially ones that are steam driven.
28. Brown or white eggs? Do you know, I can't remember the last time I saw a white egg. I have free-range, orgasmic ones.
29. Do you have a cellphone? Yep. A Nokia. It's slim and it sends texts and makes calls. For I am old fashioned.
30. Do you use chap stick? Nope, I prefer Nivea Lip Balm to keep my lips soft and kissable.
32. Can you use chop sticks? Hell yes.
33. Who are you going to be with tonight? The Cat.
34. Are you too forgiving? I think I forgive just enough. There are some things which you're better off just walking away from.
35. Ever been in love? Many times and I hope I will have the opportunity for more in the future.
36. What is your best friend(s) doing tomorrow? Hanging out in Boston.
37. Ever have cream puffs? Profiteroles? Oh yeah baby. Yummy.
38. Last time you cried? Today.
39. What was the last question you were asked? 'When was the last time you cried?' Idiot!
40. Favorite time of the year? Spring. Bring on the bulbs, warmer weather, Beltane!
41. Do you have any tattoos? Not yet. I'm working on it.
42. Are you sarcastic? Who me? Nah.
43. Have you ever seen The Butterfly Effect? Nope. Not planning to anytime soon.
44. Ever walked into a wall? No, but have walked into a lamp-post because I was too engrossed in my conversation with a friend.
45. Favorite color? Royal blue.
46. Have you ever slapped someone? Yes, and I'm not proud of it.
47. Is your hair curly? I would prefer to describe it as wavy.
48. What was the last CD you bought? Ummm....Ministry of Sound, Anthems I & II.
49. Do looks matter? Yes. Time spent on your appearance isn't wasted. Shows good self-esteem. Doesn't mean I only hang out with pretty people. I hang out with people I like, whatever they look like (as long as they wash).
50. Could you ever forgive a cheater? Yes.
51. Is your phone bill sky high? Nope. For I have a good tariff.
52. Do you like your life right now? Not particularly.
53. Do you sleep with the TV on? No. I'd have to go downstairs and turn it off before I could get to sleep.
54. Can you handle the truth? Oh yeah.
55. Do you have good vision? Nope. -8 in one eye, -9 in 'tother. Any worse and I'm buggered.
56. Do you hate or dislike more than 3 people? No. I don't like that kind of negativity in my life.
57. How often do you talk on the phone? Once or twice a day.
58. The last person you held hands with? Someone who is very dear to me.
59. What are you wearing? Jeans, t-shirt, flouncy cardi, hiking socks. Dead sexy. Not.
60.What is your favorite animal? Cat.
61. Where was your default picture taken at? At the UEA Broad.
62. Can you hula hoop? Nope. Life is too short.
63. Do you have a job? Yep.
64. What was the most recent thing you bought? A hairbrush. Round and vented. To give me good waves.
65. Have you ever crawled through a window? Yep. For I am forgetful and know not where I put my keys.
66. When was the last time you've been to church? I think it was to visit Beverly Minster with the Viking many moons ago. As I'm not a Christian, the question is slightly irrelevant.
67. What's your least favorite meal? Sausagemeat.
68. Did you ever steal anything by mistake? Yes.
69. Have you ever won anything? Umm....I was given a course award...does that count?

Right. Your turn.

Challenge

Think of this as a meme. Someone had to do a list of the 10 Things he was Good at/Proud of, and was struggling; and because everything really is ALL about me, I said I would do mine too. I have to say I struggled too and eventually came up with this list.

1. I'm good at friendship and relationships. I can keep friends for years and years. I can also remain friends with my exes. Both aren't true of the people who have been unkind to me.
2. Creativity. I love expressing my creativity in a variety of media, whether poetry, prose, my home or photography. I am up for it!
3. Driving. I love it. I love my car. Say no more.
4. Blogging. After 3 years and 1 attempt to give it up, I'd say that was self-evident.
5. Procrastination. I am the champion of putting off til....whenever.
6. Tarot Cards. I am a good reader and I love my cards.
7. Selling Fragrance. I am brilliant at selling expensive fragrance.
8. I have a really good telephone manner...except when some bastard is trying to sell me something I don't want and didn't ask for.
9. Survival. I am the Queen of Endurance.
10. Despite the occasional descent into despair, I remain hopeful and open-hearted. I am bitter about very few things.

So, that's my 10 Things. Are you brave enough to share your 10 Things? Please do so in the comments, or e-mail me if you're feeling shy.

Norwich Pride 2009

It was thanks to the joys of Facebook that I discovered that yesterday was the inaugural Norwich Pride weekend. Of course, Boy already knew what was happening as he's now joined the other disaffected Youff hanging out at The Forum, which was the hub for all their activities. I had to pick up some necessities from the city anyway, so said I would pass by and see what was what.

I'm so glad I did.

It was amazing to see so many people supporting the event, and considering it was the first one, it was really well attended and the atmosphere was brilliant. There were people of all different sizes, shapes and persuasions, all come together to celebrate.

It's so frustrating to be feeling this fragile. There were loads of really groovy things happening throughout the weekend ranging from cabaret, to dog walking and pub lunches. I would have loved to have been part of the festivities. Even as a rampant heterosexual, I felt welcomed and included. There were so many interesting people around, some in drag, some dressed up, some just come-as-you-are. All celebrating the diversity of love.

Things kicked off with a parade. The organisers had been terrified that no one would come, so admitted afterwards how chuffed they were that the police had to hold back the traffic on Theatre Street, to make room for the parade as the pavements couldn't hold all the people marching. The pictures on Facebook are awesome and there's some excellent ones on the BBC website.

I left before things really got busy. I'm not good in crowds at the moment, even good natured ones, I tire very easily and I was happy to have spent my half an hour tasting the atmosphere.

I am hoping next year Boy and I will help out.

Gadgets

This post is dedicated to Kaz.

When we moved home in April, one of the things I wanted to get was a paninni toaster. We are partial to the odd toasted cheese sarnie and I thought a panninni toaster would do all kinds of breads. That was until I saw the price of the damn thing. It was nigh on £100!

Bearing in mind that I have a poor history with kitchen gadgets i.e. I've spent a hideous amount of money on them, used them for a month (if that much) and then they've sat in the cupboard unused and gathering dust.

I had a bit of a brainwave and had a look at the George Forman grills. By complete chance, the one that I wanted was a third off at Argos. So, I invested.

I have to say that was the best £22.00 I've ever invested in a gadget. I've used it to grill bacon, salmon and chicken, and it makes brilliant toasted cheese sarnies. It's a little one, and for two people quite frankly, it's perfect.

What gadgets have you found fabulous and regularly use?

PS. Coffee machines don't count as they are a necessity, not an indulgence.

PPS. I was talking about kitchen gadgets; if you're going to be filthy, make sure it's entertaining and ingenious.

Shout Out for Good Reads

I am looking for some feel-good reads. I've fallen out of the habit of reading and although I have stacks of thrillers and horrors etc, I just can't face them at the moment. All that pain and death. I'm not particularly after romance for once, just not in the mood for it.

I'm after books that have been well constructed, well written and fun to read. A story that will touch me.

I don't need any dramas. I won't voluntarily read anything by Sebastian Faulkes or Dan Brown, so don't even make me try.

Go on, what do you recommend, and why?

Dressing the Mormon Way

Every year the Mormons descend on Carrow Road for their big get-together East Anglian style. Riverside becomes swamped in freshly scrubbed, suited men and their women of all ages, shapes and sizes.

I was dragged out of my home, kicking and screaming by the Great Ursus who has decided to 'look after me' in my time of need (I am more and more coming to understand the comfort of agraphobia and am considering lining it up as my next neuroses, but he's not having any of it. *mutter, mutter*).

So, we're driving past Carrow Road and there are the throngs of freshly scrubbed Mormons and I was struck by the thought, when exactly does the Dowdy Fairy come visiting? As you know, I'm looking at my 40th in a matter of months and I'm just wondering whether being Pagan is protection enough against her wily ways.

When do polyester, A-line, pleated, paisely skirts start to look good on a hanger? Especially coupled with flat shoes and frilly blouses?

The younger women, in their long flower printed skirts, are lovely, but next to them are their mothers, because families that pray together, stay together. Don't get me wrong, I'm a big fan of long skirts, they hide a multitude of sins and are cooler in hot weather. But, any woman who grew up in the 60s and 70s, there's really no excuse for it. Or is it the religion? Along with the many wives, at middle age, out go vibrant colours and in comes lilac and baby blue (both of which should never, ever be put together, especially if one has reddy tones).

I know this isn't particularly Politically Correct of me, but quite frankly, the Editor-in-my-Head is off on holiday. Any hate mail, make it interesting 'burn in hell' isn't going to cut it. And besides, I already know I'm not going to Heaven, I won't know anyone there.

Words for Women to Live By

Thanks to Moggie for this, I adjusted it for my own circumstances.

1. Aspire to be Barbie - the bitch has everything.
2. If the shoe fits - buy them in every color.
3. Take life with a pinch of salt... a wedge of lime, and a shot of tequila.
4. In need of a support group? - cocktail hour with the girls!
5. Go on the 30 day diet. (I'm on it and so far I've lost 15 days).
6. When life gets you down - just put on your big girl panties and deal with it.
7. Let your greatest fear be that there is no PMS and this is just your personality.
8. I know I'm in my own little world, but it's ok. They know me here.
9. Lead me not into temptation, I can find it myself.
10. Don't get your knickers in a knot; it solves nothing and makes you walk funny.
11. When life gives you lemons in 2009 - turn it into lemonade then mix it with vodka.
12. Remember where ever there is a good looking; sweet, single or married man there is some woman tired of his bullshit!
13. Keep your chin up, only the first 40 years of parenthood are the hardest.
14. If it has Tires or Testicles it's gonna give you trouble.

Private Spaces

Commuting out of the city every day has given me a new insight on human nature. You'd think I'd have grown bored of human nature - you'd be wrong. People never fail to fascinate me.

A car is a private space, an extention of one's home if you will. And people treat their cars like they do any other private space, even though it's got 5 windows and half the city's population trying to get to work.

While waiting for lights I have seen:

• a guy have a really good dig around his nose, and give the results a thorough inspection before consuming.
• a woman apply full make-up
• another woman squeeze her spots
• a couple argue, with lots of hand flinging..
• a mad woman sing on the top of her lungs to Bohemian Rhapsody...

Oh yeah, that was me.

Cover Up!

Its officially a heat wave, and I think it's melted peoples' brains.

I have never seen so many scantily clad people in my life, all shapes and sizes.

I just want to go around with a huge vat of sun cream and a bunch of t-shirts. Cover it up! Please?

English men should not wear trousers that have been cut off at the knee. They aren't shorts. They are masacred trousers. And they should definitely not wear flip-flops with them. Especially to walk around the city. Flip-flops are beach-wear. This is the city, damn it, not the flippin beach.

Oh yeah, and while you're at it, please can you also ensure that your boxers and trousers don't part company around your waist? I don't want to see your Calvins, really I don't.

And put a t-shirt on! I don't care if you've got a 6 pack. Put it away!

Adventures in my Garden

While I was indulging in a naughty smoke in my garden the other day, I saw:

3 bats chasing a moth

and

2 baby frogs (grown from my very own pond)

How blessed am I?

Queen - Love of My Life

My CM at work and I have been swapping music (horrendously illegally). And he has reminded me how much I love Queen.

Freddy Mercury died as he lived, talented, without any apologies, proud.

Blessings for the Solstice

A while ago, Sanddancer asked me about my beliefs. Today, the Grauniad did a particularly good article.

I suppose, because I'm not a particularly flakey woman, I find some of the more 'way out' pagans quite irritating. I think it's because I don't think it's an entirely comfortable belief and people who think it is, are missing the point.

Life is a raw experience. There is Light and Dark. Each with their own place and purpose. I think magic is like that. I think trying to ignore the darkness, in the favour of light, is daft. Understandable, but daft.

My practise tends to be more devotional, rather than based in spell-craft, though I can cast a mean spell when required. I try and be a live-let-live kind of person until pushed too far. Most of the time, I leave it to the three-fold law of Karma - that which you do comes back to you times three. But I will help things along if necessary. Recently, I've been feeling like I need to give Karma a little push in the right direction.

Quote for the Day/Week/Month/Year

If there were in the world today any large number of people who desired their own happiness more than they desired the unhappiness of others, we could have paradise in a few years.

Bertrand Russel.

Quite.

A Little Something for the Weekend

The Open Road

Walt Whitman

Afoot and light-hearted, I take to the open road,

Healthy, free, the world before me

The long brown path before me, leading where I choose

Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune

Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,

Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulouse criticisms

Strong and content, I travel the open road.

Me Again

Thanks to the influence of my writing alumni, I have actually done a writing exercise.

This evening I sat down, applied the seat of my pants to the seat of my office chair and filled a blank Microsoft Word document with 1,203 words. They aren't the most gripping, exciting or even coherent words I've ever written. But they are mine. And they are the first words I've written just for me in the last 2 years.

*sigh*

Part of my job description involves fielding calls from tele-sales operators. Given that I most of what I do at work involves sales, and I'm overly sensitive about rejection, I tend to be fairly gentle when dealing with these people.

However, yesterday did not get off to a good start when a muppet rang up and asked to speak to my COO, who wasn't there and then asked for:

Rosie Blackbourne.

I said my full name and asked how I could help.

He asked again for Rosie Blackbourne.

I said my full name again and asked how I could help.

He corrected me.

When I explained through clenched teeth that he had the right person but the wrong name, he then rang off in a huff.

I am doing a lot of deep breathing exercises these days.

It's not working.

Mercury Rev ~ The Dark is Rising

Been listening to this quite a bit today.

Seems to hit the spot.

Gardening...

I've taken a couple of days off work to try and catch my breath a bit. Strangely, it's coincided with some fabulous weather, which has means I can sit out in the sunshine. I've completely ignored all my Lancome training which categorically states 'Thou shalt not sunbathe'. I turn up my music, open my patio doors, call for the Cat and sit out there, occasionally breathing smoke over the aphids munching my roses.

It has been a very good way to recharge my batteries.

As I lie there, slowly cooking, I daydream about my garden. The grass has got to go, seems bloody ridiculous having a small garden being taken up by a patch of dubious grass. I've got a list of things I'd like in the garden, but haven't got a clue how it'll all fit together.

A bit like life really.

Small Moments of Beauty

I'm getting through each day with small moments of beauty.

Most of which, seem to happen in my patch of garden.

Today's: sitting in the garden, bathed in sunshine eating my lunch of vegetable stir fry in black bean sauce, with baked salmon perched on top.

SXSW 2009 Music Video: Playing For Change - Stand By Me

I saw this on Random Acts of Reality, made me cry.

(No, I'm not here. I'm just a figment of your imagaination. You should be ashamed!)

Retiring

The last 14 days have been a series of unfortunate events.

And as some of these events touch some of the people who know me and I haven't the heart to lay it all out to you.

I'm going to bow out of blogging.

It has given me so much, new friends and a new perspective on the world.

I list this as the things that I am grateful for. But for now, I'm pulling in the drawbridge.

Be well, be safe and be happy.

Pity Party

I've invited the Self-Pity Gnome over and we're having a Pity Party this weekend.

I've decided to take some time out. I'm going to self-indulge and really am giving up all sensible thoughts and actions for the next couple of days. Monday is soon enough for reality.

Don't get me wrong, I have much to be thankful for, but I want to take some time to accept that Life is Tough and Quite Frankly, Shit.

All welcome!

Bring red wine and munchies.

Writing the To Do List

Now I'm the owner of a house, I have far more space. Unfortunately, I am coming to realise that I also have far more things that need attention. I knew it would be like this, but I didn't know it would be like this, if you know what I mean.

Before in the flat, there was the dishes, the laundry and that's about pretty much all the things that I really HAD to do. Now I've moved, of course there are still people I need to inform, I've also had to sort some niggly things, like the upstairs loo and the leaking shower. I have a garden and a pond. With the hot weather, half the damn pond has disappeared and I'm buggered if I can be arsed to fill the damn thing up with a bucket, which means I have to bite the bullet and get a hose. I also need to find a handyman to deal with the bits and pieces left behind by the previous owners, random stairgate cups on doorways, a hole in the ceiling in the downstairs bathroom, weird shelving and so the list continues.

Not to mention the fact that I still haven't unpacked my study yet and I've got hell and all shit that really needs to go up in the loft. Or the baskets for paperwork which are still sat by my front door. Or the piles stashed under the stairs. It didn't seem like a lot left to do when I moved. Sitting here looking at the crap, I'm begining to wonder.

I have a new bed on the way and new bedroom furniture. How exciting is this? I've opted for a kingsize iron bed, it's very girlie. I'm so excited. The mattress is fantastic, it's soft and supportive, when I lay on it in the showroom, it was like being hugged. The wardrobe is a bit of overkill, in that it's a triple with lots of hanging rails and shelves and I'm getting a matching chest of drawers, a blanket box and the bedside tables. I suspect I'll lose a lot of space in my bedroom to the imposing furniture, but the theory is with the adequate storage space, I can keep it tidy. Hah!

I'm currently sitting here with 3 lists in front of me: Need To Do, Ought To Do, Nice To Do. All blank at the minute. I really ought to get round to filling them in. Unfortunately, I've just remembered I've an appointment for a waxing in 45 mins time. Damn. I'll just have to go into town instead.

I think I'm really getting the hang of this procrastination lark.

What Plan?

It's funny really. I know exactly what to do in a crisis, I can problem solve for other people in a heartbeat, I can get on the phone and give Richard Branson shit for not sorting out my wretched box, or blast a solicitor for giving me 24 hours notice to transfer money across into their holding account. I'm just not very sure what to do when things are turning out well.

Life is so much easier, if you've got a Plan that goes tits up, or even occaisionally a Plan that goes right (though I've not had much experience of that one). I'm now sitting here with a vague sense of unease that something is about to go completely pear-shaped and I should be addressing it immediately. But I just can't figure out why. Yes, I'm procrastinating shouting at the tax people and I still haven't looked for my metres or sorted out my TV License...but these are balls which I know are sitting at my feet.

I suspect I'm just not used to things working out well for me. My job is going well. I met a friend who I haven't seen in years and we were talking about work and study and my house move and she laughed and said 'ah you're a grown-up now'. And I realised she's right. These are grown-up decisions I've been making. I want a stable and comfortable home for Boy, the Cat and me. I want regular employment, I want a car that gets me from A to B in a reliable, but fun way. In the last 6 months I have come to value paying bills on time, buying food without thinking 'how much?'. There is much to be said for going shopping without the guilt for the Indulgencies. I am getting used to this.

Does this mean I'm becoming 'normal'? This is slightly worrying for me. I mean I'm paying a mortgage, living in a semi, driving a BMW, earning an honest living. Am I turning into someone I never wanted to be? Am I turning into a suburban, net-curtain twitching, repressed woman?

Dunno. Only time will tell. Perhaps this blog will soon be filled with the mis-adventures of shopping in John Lewis? I hope not.

Home

I'm sat here trying to come up with the right words to describe how I feel at the moment.

The last three days have been whizzed past, and by some miracle, there are only 6 boxes left to unpack. Bearing in mind that my books alone were 30 boxes, not to mention many tens of boxes of my crap. But as I look about our new house, filled with our stuff, it feels like home. So much so, I am waiting for someone to leap out and say 'fooled you, it's not yours - you didn't really think you could live here?'

Don't get me wrong, there is still loads to sort out. We might have unpacked, but we're still figuring out the best place to put things. Last night, when Boy cleared off with his mates, I wondered around with a feeling of such bliss, such ease. This feels so right, it's almost scary. This was love at first sight, and I was afraid to trust it, afraid to hope that this could be mine, now I'm here, I just feel incredibly lucky; and thankful.

I have much to be thankful for. Life may not have been easy and things don't go smoothly, but I am thankful for my friends who love me for myself and are open and generous with their time and affection; I am thankful to my Boy, who might be a teenager, but is still truly wonderful and I still think there is sunshine in his bony, little backside; I am thankful for our new home, may we have many happy years here.

I would also like to thank Richard Branson. All of you know how he has brought me despair in the past, from the moment I pick up the phone and wade my way through his telephone labyrinth, I want to consume my body weight in valium. But today, I have to take it all back. Even he came through for me. Tuesday morning, I was on the futon, trying to stay out of the movers way, making as many of the 'we're moving' calls. I gritted my teeth, rang Virgin, got a very nice guy who happily organised a package upgrade, as well as the house move. He told me the engineer would be out between 13:00 and 18:00 hours today. I wrote off my afternoon.

Early afternoon, I was playing with my new washing machine and dryer; the phone rang, it was the engineer, letting me know he'd be with me at 13.30. At 13.15, he knocked on my door. By 14.30, he set me up with a ridiculously fast internet, new tv box and switched on my phone. I did another load of laundry, slapped some gloss on and went to chat up up my favourite BMW salesman (of course he needs to change my address, so all of the fabulous brochures know where to find me).

I am beginning to feel more like myself again, I didn't realise how tightly I was holding it all together. It feels like I'm letting the tension go, one vertebra at a time. For the first time in weeks, I painted my toe nails - hot, sparkly pink. Tomorrow, I go for a massage and a facial.

Life isn't too bad at all, really.

Moving Day

Times, they are a changin'.

After I wrote the last blog post and worked over yet another weekend, pulled some more late nights and started at the crack of sparrowfart...the thought of moving filled me with even more dread, horror and exhaustion than I could cope with. I was Rabbit in the Headlights.

The Director, during one of the many phone calls exchanged, heard this and made a suggestion 'why don't you hire a removal company, if you're not going to decorate?'

It was as if I could suddenly breathe again. The tightness disappeared round my chest, my shoulders dropped from round my ears. Not having to worry about packing...wonderful.

The house sale went through no problem on Wednesday and I'm now the proud owner of a fabulous semi-detached, 3 bedroomed house, complete with garden, driveway and a pond. On Thursday, I huffed Boy out of bed so we could wait for the Bastard Plumber to boot up my gas and water. While I waited I rang a removals company, I intended to do the best of three. A cheerful bloke on the other end said 'I'm just drinking a cup of tea, I'm not in a suit or anything, but I can be with you in 10 mins to give you a quote.' And he was, 10 mins later wandering around, saying hi to the Cat, gave me a quote and arranged to have a guy round later to pack up my bookshelves (3 full-length, double stacked, plus a small one).

Tomorrow, they move us.

Today, Boy and I will be pottering about getting ready. Although, they will pack clothes etc. I'm thinking I don't want them handling my pants or porn. Also, they'll move us over 2 days, so we'll have to get the stuff we'll need for the next few days. Thursday, the new fridge/freezer, washing machine and tumble drier get delivered. I'm not getting a dishwasher, as much as I want one, there simply is no room.

Sometime tomorrow, in between moving boxes, making tea and being stressed, I will also have to work up the courage to talk to Virgin Media and get them to set me up in the new house. If I can achieve this without losing my temper, or several strands of hair, I will be very pleased with myself. Unfortunately, it'll probably mean at least a couple of weeks without internet at home.

It's not all doom and gloom though. I finished work at 7pm Thursday, came home nodded to Boy, cracked open a bottle of cider and headed to bed at 8.30, I didn't remove myself from there until 10am the next day. I made a start in catching up with people I haven't seen or been sociable with for ages, which unfortunately, is a very long list and I'm not going to be able to get round to everyone. So if I haven't rung, texted, e-mailed, it's not that I don't love you...promise. I've also been catching up on my sleep, the dark circles are nearly gone, but my energy levels haven't caught up yet. I still feel very knackered.

I can only do, what I can do. It really is as simple as that. I wish I had boundless energy that my friends have; their ability to do loads of things at any one time and still have a Life. I don't. And it's a constant source of frustration and angst for me. But that's the way it is and beating myself up about it, isn't making it any better.

I'm just going to keep taking small steps with the hope and faith that I really am going in the right direction.

Moving on Up

It's been a fraught couple of weeks. A task that I'd been given months ago, and have been successfully avoiding, became due, added to which was writing website content for the shiny new website which needs to go live in the next few days. In order not to let my bosses down, this is the second weekend in a row which I've worked. Which is fine, except I haven't written anything serious since my dissertation, I know sweet FA about the technical side of heat pumps and their associated technology and it has taken me ages to get back into the swing of things again.

Don't get me wrong, it's been good writing again. And I know when this is all done I will get a bollocking for not doing the damned case studies - rightly so. Working for a living is a lot different than being a grubby writing student, that's for sure. But I continue to make the adjustment; and as long as they understand I'm willing, I'll hopefully still have the opportunity.

Everything's changing and at times I really do struggle with it. Even the good stuff.

We exchanged contracts last Friday and will complete on Wednesday. In my head, I thought I'd take it leisurely. Get in a decorator, get it nice before moving in, move in about 4 weeks time. Now the time is here and I've peered in through the windows like an orphan in a Dickens story, I'm thinking 'fuck it'. I want in now. Thanks to Gee, I found a local furniture place that will build exactly the type of bedroom furniture I want and at a very reasonable cost.

Of course the problem is, I haven't packed anything yet. Nada. Zip. Nowt. I have no boxes. I haven't even started to even prepare my To Do List. I freeze every time I think about it. The good thing is there's the long weekend, which hopefully will mean I won't have to take time off for the move. Unfortunately, as it's a long weekend, organising things like the delivery of fridges etc is going to be awkward. I haven't got a clue where to start. I'm doing the Rabbit in the Headlights impression.

Therefore, I am going to do what all procrastinators do when confronted with a task - I'm going to go have coffee and breakfast in a cafe.

Hmmm....

Just a quick question for you -

- why is it, if someone I want to get an e-mail from, spells my name incorrectly, as in rosemary@ (I'm an 'ie' at the end), the e-mail bounces through the aether, never to land in my Inbox or to be heard of since. Yet, spammers send e-mail to rosma@ and it comes through just fine.

Tell me, why is that?

Blog Respite

Greetings and salutations.

My apologies for not posting for awhile, but there has been a lot going on in my life and I've been trying to juggle my need to blog quite personal issues, against the fact that a lot of my IRL friends and work colleagues now occasionally pop by.

I'm still not sure how I resolve this issue, because some big stuff has been going down, but it's not just my stuff, and putting it out there affects more than just me. Ultimately, it's over-shadowed the day-to-day stuff, that I could have blogged about.

Before anyone starts worrying, Boy and I are well and happy, though we were both laid low by a cold with ambitions of flu. And you all will remember how well I cope with being ill - I did my dying swan act, shoving large quantities of ibprofen and paracetemol down my neck, while trying to keep going at work.

This week I am going to start badgering my doctor. I want to be sterilised. This is not a decision made lightly or in haste. I do not want to give birth to any more children. Boy is well into his 15th year and has discovered a social life that takes him out and about, leaving me for the first time, pretty much to my own devices. In 3 years, he's going to bugger off to university (hopefully), either that or he'll move into a crack house and work on being a master criminal. The thought of now going through a pregnancy and small children activities...the thought of in 15 years when I'm going through the menopause and dealing with a stroppy, hormonal teenager at the same time...the thought of bringing a child into this world that isn't 100% wanted - it fills me with horror.

If I didn't have Boy, I think these issues could be overcome. And yes, I am aware that there are loads of women who are having children this late in life and are brilliant mothers. I just have no intention of being one of them.

If I meet a man who wants children, then I will just have to walk away - again.

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I am hoping to extract a completion date for the house from the solicitor this week. Things were made a touch more complicated due to the survey and the fact that the property is leasehold, not freehold. The surveyor has finally been able to gain access into the loft and it seems the roof is fairly sound. As for the lease, I intend to buy it. I am hopeful we will be moving before long, before my first birthday.

In my head I've got everything planned and laid out. I'm going to magnolia the house from top to bottom and replace the beige with short piled, terracotta carpets. I know it's a bit bland. But, I want a blank canvas to start with. Magnolia and terracotta flooring, gives a blank canvas which I can lay out strong colours for curtains and soft furnishings. I believe the space and how we use it will dictate the styles I choose. I've been raiding G's Homes & Gardens and although I love the styles and designs, I want to have a home which reflects my taste, not an interior desginer's. And I've been in houses which have been really stylish; in fact styled to within an inch of their lives. While they've been pretty, they haven't been spaces to relax in and kick back.

I want a home in which people drop by for coffee, where Boy and his mates will do fry-ups when when they've come home from the pub. Where friends from Boston will move in for Christmas and create devastation. A garden perfect for having dinner in, drinking wine in the evening. And most importantly...a dishwasher. You see where my priorities lie?

For Those of You Who Worked for Your Degree...

This arrived in my Spambox yesterday. I could not resist putting this up for your enjoyment and edification.

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To buy a degree is quite easy these days. Nevertheless most students just sit around in their usually boring local University classes, wasting money.
Why would you do that? These days buying a degree is a matter of personal motivation. But why should you buy a degree? The main reason is the fact that buying a degree on1ine is going to save you time, a lot of time.
Usually you have to verify your life experience and you instantly qualify.
Even though that is not the main cause why people are buying life experience degree.

The actual reason why people buy a life experience degree is because they can not go to a institution in their surrounding area that offers the diploma program they are heading for: For example, if you live near a College which only offers renowned marketing degree, then this doesn't help you a bit if you're looking for a marketing degree. To attend classes you might have to travel long distances. Then it might be that the degree that you want is only offered by a institution which costs a fortune. So you have to leave your place, look for accommodation in the University's place and do all the other stuff involved costing you tons of cheeze.

If you buy a degree by verifying your life experience or work experience, you can find the right degree for you without ever having to leave your workplace and instead get all the documents like the diploma certificate with the University's legal verification and official seal certifying the degree chosen, the transcript, a cover letter, copies of the College's or University's official certificate of accreditation, the institutions postal prospectus approval and a few important things more.

Having a University degree is very important these days, and as always in
life you should only stick with something you want.

Beware choosing to be something just because it was the only good degree your local institution offered. After all, you are only going to be good at your job if you like to do it. Thus, you have to get a degree that means something to
you. This used to be a task that could take you years.

Buying a degree is nothing harmful. It's a win-win situation for the Colleges involved as well as for you, getting the degree you dreamed of.Give
us a call if you are interested to buy a degree from an University!

If you are interested to obtain your own degree, please give us a call at
1.718.9895.740 (INSIDE USA)
+1.718.9895.740 (OUTSIDE USA)

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So, will you make the call?