Spring has Sprung Round 'ere

Darlings, thank you so much for your support in my last post, I have news about the mentor, that's coming below. Again, thank you for your kind words and virtual hugs, they were so appreciated.

Z and LT have left me in charge of the Rampaging Rabble, which meant this afternoon I took the bins out for bin collection day tomorrow. As I walked to and fro I was struck by a sense of deep gratitude and appreciation to be trusted to be here. The Zedary is so beautiful and has healed so many of the broken parts of my soul, in so many tender moments, it held me in the moments of my deepest fear. Being here has meant more to me than I have words to express. And it's spring.

Darlings, there are so many snowdrops. I didn't realise a single place could have so many. Dotted around and in clumps. The narcissi have popped up, egging their later flowering cousins on, some of whom have risen to the challenge and refuse to be out done. 

My chooks are laying again. They started last weekend and the noise they've been making about it, honestly, I thought something had got in there and was attacking them. I suppose they're a bit rusty yet. Happily, bantams don't lay all year round...or at least mine didn't. It means they'll live longer than their more profuse relatives. Z's velociraptors kept going through the winter and age doesn't seem to slow them down much at all.

The DEFRA regulations have lifted the most stringent of restrictions, tomorrow, I'll take the covering off their run, but will keep them all in. I would rather be safe, plus I've discovered how convenient it is to have them in all one place, not racing around creating havoc. With the coop being mobile, I've been moving it around, giving them new ground and a new view every week. It's working quite well.

The pheasants still expect to be fed. They congregate at the hedge when they hear my coffee grinder go off and then get closer and closer to the house the longer I take to feed them. We had some snow about three weeks ago and they were all but banging on my kitchen window. Daft things. They noted I was feeding the rabble and milled around hopefully. Feeding them twice a day would be too much, they're portly enough I feel.

And for my three bits of totally awesome news:

1.  Dave met with his oncologist late in February. He remains cancer free. Not only that, his poor baggy kidney is returning to its normal size and shape. A welcome surprise especially as that explained some of the discomfort he was having. Of course I cried. As much as I would like to tell you I've been big and brave about this particular follow up appointment, I can't. I'd be lying. I was worried as hell. Dave will continue having quarterly follow ups and after two years, will go down to bi-annual checks. I take every day as it comes. 

2.  Social media to the rescue! (again) Thanks to Twitter, a lovely lady responded and offered her services. We met yesterday for the first time and she has been exactly who I was looking for: she's an artist herself, she works in education at the levels I'm looking for and she's just lovely! Thanks to her, my tentative plans are now better formed. 

I'm going to spend the next 18 months arting my little (hah) backside off. This time will be about building my practise as an artist, experimenting wildly, producing masses of work with the intention to put a portfolio together to apply for a Masters of Fine Arts at A.N. Art School (to be determined). Having a mentor means I can focus on doing work I'm drawn to, rather than working my way through a curriculum set by other people. I don't need the discipline put upon me. I just need some guidance and to be fed information occasionally. Having a mentor will do exactly this for me. I will also continue taking as many art classes as I can to continue to build upon my skills. 

I'm working towards a ten year plan and I'm quite happy to have the next three years accounted for; I know the seven years after that will be a slog. That's fine. If my foundations are strong enough I can deal. Besides, it's not like I'll be thinking about retirement. That is simply not going to happen. 

3.  Remember I told you my friend Chris the astrophotographer and I were planning to work together to do an exhibition? I submitted the application a couple of weeks ago. Yesterday, I got an email accepting us! Put the 13th to 24th November 2018 in your diaries darlings, you're all invited. It's a conditional offer, as we haven't got the body of work ready to hang, they want to see one of my oil paintings next year. That's fair enough. They are taking a risk with me, I've only just started to explore the subject. Nevertheless, I did a happy dance around my living room. Shortly followed by the stunned "oh bugger" dance. Now the work really begins. 

At the end of November last year, I was struggling somewhat. I put together an action plan to help me get my shit together. December didn't happen because of that bloody virus, pretty much wiped out five weeks of my life (which I deeply resent), but there you go. In January, I discovered the joys of Bullet Journalling which enabled me to chase down my ducks, round them up and get them lined up in some semblance of order. It's meant I'm building a daily meditation practice to keep The Crazy at bay and got me moving again. I'm now beginning to work out again in the mornings, I've had to go back to the beginning with Rosemary Conley, but I'm moving and the best bit is that while I've been frustrated at my general lack of fitness, it turns out I'm a lot better than I thought. My resting heart rate has come down considerably. Three years ago, the best I could manage was 82 bpm, Now it's 68 bpm. Hopefully, that will continue to improve the more I move.

The ridiculous part is I'm getting up the same time and I do all of this stuff first thing...it's still second and third thing in the morning before I'm able to get on with the other things in my life. Having said that, I am not on the sofa very much at all, nor am I on Facebook or Twitter and it's been much better for my general wellbeing. There's some crazy shit going on out there. 

Darlings, this month I aim to do better. See you next week. xx

Opportunity for Big Girl Pants

Today did not start well. A pile of cat poo in my carpeted hall and then another in my bath. Rummy's way of telling me he wasn't happy with the state of the kitty litter. Bad enough, but his tummy is also acting up. 

There are somethings I can deal with before coffee (admittedly it's a very short list) there are somethings which are a bit much. This came under the heading "I need vodka".

I made the decision holding a clean pair of socks.

I put on my Big Girl Pants. 

Zoe reminded me that yes, while I am doing well, I am still fragile. I had some bad news over the weekend. My brother and his family won't be coming this week. All our plans disappeared in a four line message. I haven't seen him in five years. The five years since my dad died. Oh yes, and then there was Father's Day. 

When the going gets tough, the trick is not to join in the World as it pummels you with a big stick. I asked myself "what would make me feel better?" Surprisingly, the answer was a tidier home. I hoovered, emptied the bins and thought about what I would write now.

In a moment, I'm going to scrounge a cup of tea. After that, there's a chilli to be made and chicken fajitas. No, I have no idea why Mexican food is so often on our menu these days. It's tasty, easy to prepare and has a lovely little kick.

I'm writing poetry. I always come back to poetry as the foundation for my writing. I'm looking for a workshop or a writing course to support me as I do so. I'm blessed with the ever-patient support of Julia, but I am also aware she has her own stuff to do. A hand was offered when I went to Cafe Writers earlier this month, I shall accept. It's been eight years since I sat in a room filled with other writers and poets and critiqued work. I've forgotten too much. I haven't forgotten my yearning for words though. 

Progress Report

You'll remember I was whinging at my lack of organisation a couple of posts (weeks) ago? Well, I sat down and worked out a bit of a timetable for the blank days and then Easter happened. Last week, I was just about chewing the carpet in frustration of not being able to get on, but I had other things/people to prioritise. This week I began.

Monday got off to a very slow start, but there was a start. Yesterday, I hit the ground running and despite being led slightly astray by social media, I kept on target. The organisation certainly worked yesterday and it seems to be working today. If I can keep it up I'll be able to sit down and start writing next week.

I've been using my time to do all the ground work I should have done before I sat down in front of my laptop in February. But that's okay. I don't look at it as wasted time. The time I've spent nurturing my creativity, working on the foundations of this project has got me to this point. The next few days are going to be crucial, I've got a story arc to plot up and the challenge there will be to ensure that I've got all the conflicts covered. There probably will be swearing. I apologise in advance.

My time at the gym is beginning to pay off. Yesterday, for the first time in about 10 months, I was able to deadlift! How happy does that make me feel? I hear you ask. Ecstatic.

Dave gives me the look when I talk about deadlifting, I'm going to assume you are too. Let me explain. As a weedy and fairly wimpy woman, the act of walking up to a weightlifting bar is incredibly intimidating. Deadlifting is a move for buff, muscle-bound weightlifters who need a stick to wipe their bum...wrong!

Deadlifts are a compound exercise that works the quads, glutes, spinal erectors, abs, traps and upper lats. It's a deceptively move, you pick up the heavy thing and you put it down again for  5 sets of 8 - 12 reps. Simples. Hah! Form is everything. Get your form wrong, you will hurt yourself. Every lift you have to concentrate: keep your chin and chest up, push from your heels, focus on your breathing, keep the move smooth and seamless. It's all about control.

I still can't quite figure out what it is about this move that gives me The Freakin' Awesome. It doesn't matter what I lift. Yesterday, I started with just the bar which is 20 kg and then went on to lift 30 kg. I suspect it's the fact that I am facing my fear - I am a weedy, wimpy woman - and beating it into the fucking ground. How can I possibly think I am that, when I can pick up that bar loaded? Deadlifting challenges all the assumptions I have about my limitations. I have to stand taller, I have to support myself better when I deadlift because I know I'll hurt myself if I don't. Today, I have to be upright because I ache if I don't

Today, I can name the muscles that worked. I am practically bouncing off the ceiling with energy. I was up before the alarm, got a load of laundry on, got the dishwasher empty. I've got a lot of work to do today and I'm charging through it. I won't go to the gym today, I know if I am to keep on building my strength, recovery is just as important as the sessions at the gym.

With the programme I'm on, I have to be realistic about my weight. I have maintained my weight just under 9 stone for over six months, with the usual monthly hormonal fluctuations. I'm losing inches everywhere and that confirms I am losing the body fat and building more muscle. I am going to get to the point where the scale will not be my friend, but hopefully, I will be the same size I am now. I will then laugh at my BMI. I am trying to eat more meals and more regularly, just smaller portions with a greater emphasis on fruit and vegetables. I thought about going back to the 5:2, but my weight is happily in the "normal" part of the graph. Yes, I could try to lose weight but my concern is that I will lose the muscle with it and I want a strong body, not a thin body.

Last year, I was asked a very good question that I couldn't answer: how do I get the motivation to start and keep doing the exercises? At the time, I was going to the gym and running regularly; I hadn't hurt my back or wrists or had the three weeks off and then the horrible months of my existential crisis. Now, I know how to answer that question. 

You can't wait for motivation or inspiration to start anything. You just have to go for it. Motivation and inspiration are like the wall flowers in at a village dance, you have to hit the dancefloor first and start busting some moves. Once you start dancing, they'll join you and then you can all get down and groove.

And yes, I am grooving people. Next week: running! Oh yeah baby.

Have you seen June?

The last time I felt properly well was at Zoe's blog party. I know I promised you a post, but it has come and gone and it feels wrong doing a post about it so far afterwards. The last 3 weeks I have been hit by the Virus from Hell. I thought I had shifted it last weekend, I could feel the symptoms abating and then...WHAM...it hit me again and even harder. 

Today, I woke up feeling like a human being again. I peered at myself in the mirror and ran away screaming. It was not a pretty sight. Have I done the piles of laundry that have multiplied in my period of illness? Hell no. Have I dug out the kitchen and liberated it from the fuzz of unwashed plates. Oh please. Have I watered my plants and loved them after my neglect? Go on, can you guess?

What have you been doing with your new-found energy? I hear you ask. Well, I have been attending to my personal grooming. When I opened my front door today (the first time in 6 days), I realised Summer had arrived in my absence. My legs glowed like a florescent bulb. I  started with a shower and got the lawn mower out on my legs. I'm a hirsute woman. I'm not going to beat around the bush (ha ha ha), I have two fuzzy caterpillars: one above my lip, the other that lays across my eyes and nose without any interruption. Once the legs and caterpillars were dealt with - I was liberal with the application of orange.

I look like this if I'm not careful

For those of you who feel self-tan is difficult, it really isn't. Moisturised the dry bits (knee caps, shins, back of the ankles) first, apply liberally and remember, facial toner is your friend. For the streaks and heavy bits, toner gets rid of those lickidy splick. By the way, I would lie out in the sun and bake myself golden except for one slight issue...my skin no longer reacts well to sun. I get very unattractive blotches, which I am told is due to my ethnic mix and age. sigh. I used to go five times a year on a sun bed to dim the whiteness, but that all had to come to an end. If I want to get my legs out, I slap on the orange. 

According to the blurb, this colour is Mahogany Brown. No, not...



I'm really not sure. It's lighter than my natural hair colour and it's got a red tinge to it. To be honest, it's safe hair. Next time, I'm going to lighten it up a bit. Go more golden maybe...I'm not sure. My hair is so dark, I always am concerned about the roots. Next time.

S'alright I s'pose

Yes, with the shaving, the tweezing, the chemistry etc. etc. it's not real. But gorgeous. Deal with it. The fact that I actually give a shit means I'm on the mend. Watch me as I rise...