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 |   A place where everybody can feel easily offended - my head! |
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I'm gathering quite a collection of blogs. "Invalid Item"  is a bit-of-a-rant. I've got a big gob, and it would be a shame not to use it. "Invalid Item" is just that. It's the product of the bits of me mentioned above  filtered through my subconscious."Invalid Item" dealing with all things to do with battling sexes, especially exes.Want to know something trivial or obscure? Not really bothered about whether it's right or wrong, as long as it's believable? ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** WELCOME TO THE HUMAN GOOGLE!  I may never have mastered the art of tying shoelaces, but I win every time I play Trivial Persuit. Friends place bets on how many people I can, unintentionally, upset on a night out. I am the place where boundless enthusiasm meets embarrassing arrogance. Important Information - Please Read I realise some folk do not get Satire. I love a little baffoonery and believe, rather like the jesters of old, you can say quite a lot more than kings when people think you are an idiot. If you are literal minded, best not read on. If you can tell your arse from your elbow, and recognise when an attack isn't an attack then please read:
Heck, even if you can't tell your appendages from one another, read it anyway: who am I to tell you what you can do and what to take from my writing?  The XGC rating is due to the unknown content of many minds - it may be fluffy bunnies or....not! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED Welcome to my world! Acme  ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** http://twitter.com/acmetweet Skype me at acmetoo template thing-a-ma-bob: {c:green}Write{/c}: {c:green}Edit{/c}: {c:green}Kids{/c}: {c:green}Relationships{/c}: {c:green}Physical{/c}: {c:green}FFF{/c}: |
| Took six full months of constant physical rejection for me to finally wise up that I'm not on CandyBoy's kiss list. Feck it. I really liked the fella. Well, this sorry tale's taught me a couple things:  I'm incredibly moralistic. I turned down numerous dates out of bizarre sense of loyalty, duty and affection for a man who didn't really care much for me. I'm incredibly masochistic. I turned down numerous dates out of bizarre sense of loyalty, duty and affection for a man who didn't really care much for me. I'm incredibly stupid. I turned down numerous dates out of bizarre sense of loyalty, duty and affection for a man who didn't really care much for me.Oh, and as much as I'd like to be, I'm probably not the one-night-stand type of chick. I obviously want a steady fella who I can enjoy both the physical and emotional journey of being together. Looks like rather than a date, or a lovah, I'm after a boyfriend. This isn't supposed to be a whinge-fest, but heck, it's Christmas eve. It's the first Christmas without TA, and although I wouldn't want to go back there, I have my kids miserable that this is "the worst Christmas ever". I can't help but agree with them. I know that in a year or so all this will be another chapter in a rather smashing life, but right now I'm even jealous of Bridget Jones. Eternal optimist that I am, I have decided to forgo the usual New Year Death List, in favour of a New Year Things To Do list. I'm going to go for quarterly installments, as I have no idea what life will throw at me:  January:Get my head down at college and work toward my Cert. Ed. Finalise my divorce. Go to Up Helly Aa and grab a viking to pillage, or something like that. February:See MaryLou and visit my best-friend's wife in Arkansas. Detouring, if possible, to visit Ms Mullins. March:Insure the car. This may seem small, but wheels are my escape, and my insurance is set to rocket after gaining several points on my license. I will certainly need something else to look forward to. I'm a 'point and shoot' gal, not a 'go with the flow' type. Some folk need goals, and I guess I'm one of them. This year, my main goal is to survive Christmas with more ho than humbug. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| Provence: Part 1 "The Journey matters, not the destination." The way my batteries are recharged, and the amount of marvellous things I got up, to mean that a day was as good as a year. Okay, so maybe a year would be even better than what amounted to just over 24 hours, but what a time I had. It was good for the soul. I needed it. I'm on Prozac and sleeping pills, but for the first time in nine months I slept like a policeman in the road, without the need for self-medication (and, yes, that includes the soporific vine). I made new friends, too. Perhaps not the ones you may expect... At every public mass migration there is a person who makes the trip memorable--the one causing a fuss/kerfuffle/show/entertainment for the other migrators/passengers. I gave up looking for them: this person is always me. Sarah. I love the name. I created a campfire here at WDC in Waltz's 'Turnarounds' contest, "Invalid Item" , and one of the most loveliest WDCers in the universe is called zwisis. What's in a name? Quite a bit, actually. If you've ever known an Andrew who was a right t**t, then you probably have preconceived ideas about any new ones that you meet. Lovely memories of Abigail? Bet you're extra special disposed to the character of that girl who works in the store with the same name on her uniform badge. Either way, I like Sarahs. They've never let me down. My newest Sarah in the Acme collection is no exception. I loved her the minute I spilled red wine down her pants.A lone traveller can keep themselves to themselves (see Brad Pitt/Ed Norton in Fight Club) or become a travel buddy (like the late, great, John Candy in Planes, Trains and Automobiles. Guess which one I am. Go on. Yeah, I'm no fighter; that's for sure, but I play a mean tuba. So, there are two cosmopolitan looking, smartly dressed, chic women in their late twenties/early thirties. My 'fro likes them. It bounces in their direction, taking me with it. One girl (brunette, Parisian fashionista) sits by the window and pouts, beautifully. She is, of course, sat correctly, but internally is coiled like a cat upon a cushion. In the middle sits an empty seat (soon-to-be-mine). In the aisle sits a stunning example of blonde bombshell. She smells of cotton-fresh, ice-breeze-blasted sheets on a washing line, has polished pearls where teeth should be, porcelain skin and a sunflower smile. I am in love. She is Sarah. "I say, ladies, is this seat taken?" (Yes, I really do speak like that at times. I do it all with a bluster and gusto that would send Margaret Rutherford into raptures). Parisian makes the smallest motion of her eyebrow to give her consent to my sitting at her elbow. That's good enough for me. With all the grace of goose at Christmas, I hoist my bag into the overhead compartment, nearly slicing into the toupe of the gentleman in the seat in front, and glancing the cheek of the embarking passenger directly behind me with my rucksack straps. After much fawning and apologising, I let him pass while I do a jiggly dance to remove my, still armoured, motorcycle jacket. This I then try to wedge into the tiny gap left by my compartmentalised bag. The jacket's arms have a mind of their own and playfully ruffle Sarah's hair; they would have tried to gouge her eyes out, but the savvy lass is wearing the most delicate and treat-me-as-an-intelligent-blonde-or-I'll-tell-Reese-Witherspoon-over-you pair of glasses. I can make an entire flight without annoying the people next to me. I repeat this mantra. Even though the laws of flight say that the person in the middle seat has exclusive use of both arm rests, because they're in the middle and don't have a window to look out of or an aisle to stretch into, I am well-behaved and allow elbow room for all. I also, rather thoughtfully, picked up a travel magazine before we took off, so that I am not enticed into chatting/interrogating fellow passengers. I am a model travel companion. Until the trolley dollies turn up. "Red wine, cheese and biscuits." I grin at the stewardess. Sarah makes the mistake of catching my eye; she's in my line of ordering. "It is, after all, after midday and I'm on holiday. Are you on holiday, spying for a foreign potentate, closing the estate of an estranged aunt who has left you sole heir, or business trip?" I can't help myself. I'm a machine-gun of questions. It's not my fault; I've been quiet for half an hour. How can that be natural? For feck's sake, I grind my teeth, talk and moan in my sleep. Being conscious doesn't make it easier. Anyhoo, I strike it lucky. Sarah's quite the talker. She tells me everything; from lovers and house-shares, to what to be wary of in the dating scene, to work, love, life, laughter, play. I, in return, tell her of TA whose response to my airport text of: "Give the kids my love and let them know I'll phone when I land." elicits the response of: "Do not contact me unless it's a matter of life or death. Preferably yours, you cretin." ouch. I also tell her of CandyBoy and how I dumped him the night before because, although I like him beyond reason, he rejects me physically ALL the time. I'm starting to get a complex. I've not you know for a month, so I dressed to the nines, painted my nails, troweled on the slap, shaved all my bits, donned a frock (yes, a dress), and tried to snuggle up to him. He retreated and refused, point-blank, to let me touch me. ouch. Got wise, hurt like hell, but called it quits. We are, I'm pretty certain, still friends. I then tell her of my possible adventures with wolves. Or, rather, The Wolf in particular. My palms are sweaty. I confide in her about my usual suave first impressions: "Typically, I'm the gal who walks into a room, falls ass over tits and farts out of embarrassment." She laughs. It sounds like rainbows tickling pots full of gold coins. She tells me of her last distasterous relationship with a chap that lasted 3 months. She had finally got up the nerve to ask the fellow if they were girlfriend and boyfriend. He called her 'wrenk'. Apparently, this is the worst of the worst thing to call any girl. "Worst than 'ho' or 'bitch'?" I query. "Much worse. Believe me, if any future date calls you that, the evening is not going as well as you may have told yourself. Take the hint. Run away. Crying." I take her words of wisdom with me, and pity the fool who calls me 'wrenk'. I also find out that M, her lovah, has paid for her trip out to France as a birthday treat to her. "Is he your boyfriend?" I ask, innocently. She looks like she's going to cry. "I dunno!" she wails. "I'm too scared to ask. We've been going out together for three months. He calls every day, and we get together whenever we can. I want to fall in love with him, but I dunno if we're a couple." "Surely a trip to France, three months dating and constant contact should give you a clue?" "I'm a lawyer. I'm a cynic. I need the words, not the actions." "Aww, just ask him!" She laughs like I'm tapped. "You can't go around doing that kind of thing, for goodness sakes! Heck, that's tantamount to stalking." Really? Mmm. I don't do subtle. I do direct. I'm worried. We land. "You're coming back on my flight, right? You have to tell me if you find out if you're a couple and if the weekend was fab." "Yes, but I'll be with M, so I won't be able to really talk to you. You can tell me all about The Wolf though, and if you fall over and fart." "I sure will," I promise, "Even though I'll be with his sister-in-law. Nowt much about me embarrasses me. I'll tell you everything; warts and all." At this point, I spill my bottle of red. She's wet, but giggly. She may have started out this journey as a classy lawyer with a Carrie Bradshaw complex, but she's ended it as my pal. I turn to the Parisian. It's her turn. Thwarted. The plane has taxied to a halt. |
| Aww, feck. I'm too damn loyal to one idea at a time. If I were a braver/dafter person, I should say something that once said can't be unsaid. I'm not brave. I'm not daft. I just have an overblown sense of responsibility/duty/honor. Why did the planet make such a steely need for me to fall upon my sword and fight impossible fights for high ideals? I wanna be a weasel. I wanna be selfish. I wanna be a hedonist  I'm me. I'm honest. I'm loyal. I'm too frickin' good for my own good. Arse. *stomps off growling and kicking cans. Knowing she's a good person doesn't feel very feckin' good. And it certainly isn't any fun.* |
| I've had a few faltering days. They've resulted in me being more cock-sure than ever. (I do despair, really I do.) I have gone from contemplating a life better served without me (not quite as dramatic as George Bailey, I'll grant you, but a pondering, nonetheless--and NO, I do not mean suicide. Good gravy, can you really imagine me not being pompous enough to think the world would turn without me? Sheesh.), to considering myself to be quite the excitable, bright young thing. Shim-sham, flim-flam. I've been guilty of trying to please others before myself again. I forgot all the wonderful things I would like to try my hand at. Consequently, I'm back on track: I start college in two week's time to get my post graduate certificate of education. Heck. Two years from now I'll be a qualified teacher *gulp* I start college in one week's time to gain my Basic Motorcycle Maintenance certificate. Sure, it's £150 but, in the long run, it should save me a few pence in shop bills. I'm going to visit Jyo and Sonali with Anglophile!!! Can't send off for my visa until I get back from France this weekend (need my passport, see?) I'm going to trip the light fantastic with MaryLou. Who else, in the entire universe of 'forever', has had that fabulous opportunity? I tell you, they don't make dreams this bliss-shaped. Aside from having a crazy affair in Rio with MetaphorSquared  --if she's still up for it, of course--during Mardi Gras 2013, I intend to ride a motorbike through Africa in 2013, all the way to zwisis and onto I love my life. My friend, A, has liver cancer. He's lovely. We're proper pals. You know when you meet someone for the first time and just KNOW you're both going to get up to all sorts of giddy escapades and end up being the Hardy Boys or Enid Blighton's Famous Five? Well, the minute I met him, he was my friend for life. In 2009 he came into work (the Church) to do the yearly Fire Extinguisher check. I was fat and unhappy. He was fat and unhappy. One year later (when the extinguisher tests needed doing again) he was divorcing his two-timing wife and I was divorcing my two-timing husband. I was thinner due to being on a Cougar-mission to get laid. He was thinner on account of being cancerous. I was having a mid-life crisis and working on getting my motorbike license. He was having a mid-life crisis and working toward his private airplane license. His cancer/treatment of said cancer means he can never fly. He asked me to marry him. I told him that if I were free--and he were still alive--we'd get hitched in 2014. To which he replied he'd hang on to life just to wind me up, make me make good on my promise and set up a small-holding near Port Stanley on the Faukland Islands. He's a funny fecker. I like him. I'm a bit pissed at the universe for giving him such a timed innings: it's like watching 20/20 cricket; one hardly knows what skill is involved, unlike a Test Match. Now, perhaps it's time to stop testing the wine I'm liberally dousing my chili with. Yes. Time to eat. |
| France. Home of the delightful alfred booth, wanbli ska , and of The Wolf. He was my first date after TA left. We have never kissed, but he is all that is charming in a man. He sends letters... letters that reach out to my soul, make me smile, guffaw and answer their contents out loud in crowded rooms. By return, I send the occasional rushed email. He got on his beautiful 80's classic Kawasaki ZX750 and rode for four days from the South of France on a whim to come see me. I only had two days with two hours in each to spare him. Romantic as his gesture was, it would have been lovely to have some notice to rearrange work patterns. He took me as pillion for one of the two hour slots, so we did not speak. For the next date I took him bowling. He won. I'm crap. We spoke. He has a little out-of-the-way cabin in the woods, is a carpenter and creates stained-glass windows. We had a good evening  He's charming. I wish I felt a spark. All the same, I'm looking forward to spending the weekend in his delightful company.I'm also not a cheat and as much as CandyBoy keeps repeating how little I mean to him, I still feel incredibly loyal. I have no idea why. I'm a dutiful little thing, even when no duty is expected. What a dick. To top it all off there're two more wild cards in the mix: The Romanian = so named after one of the country's more famous topographical features and The First = so named on account of him being the first ever boyfriend To be honest, I know it's only nostalgia that drives me toward The First, but we have so damn much in common. Truth is, just like The Wolf, I don't have the necessary feelings for him  So, realistically, that leaves CandyBoy, who really won't work out in the long run, never mind the short run, and The Romanian, which isn't practical whatsoever but who sparks my intellect. Never underestimate an intellect on fire. Fecking Up Seems I hit another car when parking my car and failed to realise it. Why do I realise it now? Simply because the Police have sent me a finger-wagging letter saying that my car was involved in an incident and that the driver fled the scene. I've never fled anything in my life, not knowingly. Is it possible that I've hit a car on not realised? Doubtful, but not impossible, so whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. I am condemned by Sherlock's logic. Bastard. I'll tell the truth: yes that's my car; yes, it's full of bumps and scrapes, but to be fair, it's been full of accumulated bumps and scrapes for over 5 years now; yes, it's possible I hit something, but I honestly don't recall doing so, so please tell me what, where and when. I'll hold my hands up to anything I'm guilty of, which makes this incident all the more surprising: I once returned 5 miles to a store because an item in my shopping did not appear on my receipt once I'd returned home. I'm the kind of asshole who would get caught passing on a cold, so I always own my own shit. This is no exception. Intentionally, unknowing, or otherwise, if I've done the crime I'll do the time  Field Sports. In the UK you are either a 'beans' or 'spaghetti' fan. By this, I am, of course, referring to tinned produce. A tin of baked navy beans in tomato sauce versus a tin of shortened spaghetti strands in tomato sauce. In case you're wondering, I'm 'beans'. Along the lines of the same reasoning, I believe it's possible to make a judgement call on whether a body is a 'balls' or 'wheels' fan. I don't do ball/field sports. My recent passion for motorbiking, vans, and crashing into invisible things in cars, has only served to remind me that I am, indeed, a wheel fan. So, when it comes to wheels and balls, which camp are you in? Or, do you think there's room for both? Right. Going to ask a man out on a date. Laters. |
| Write: I might change this heading... I'm changing this heading... Write Ride: I own one and a half motorcycles. They're both 70s Jap Classics (half a Honda and one, whole Suzuki). I finally passed my test. Friday 13th had a lot of free exam slots. Strange. Worked for me! Had to go for petrol for the first time yesterday. Sounds silly, I know, and I wouldn't think twice about it in my car, but with my hog between my legs, bright pink nail polish glinting against the tank and helmet-tamed 'fro, I went all to piece in petrol station. To make matters worse, I then looked decidedly uncool in front of a manly, superbike rider when I couldn't get my kick-start to start and had to bump the bugger  Edit: No, but I did get half an hour to read. Since TA left I've rather over-stuffed my life with things (yes, as well as my gullet: the fish fetish continues--see picture below). I'm desperate to read Ann's novel and will probably take it to France with me. I'll have to print it out. Try as I might, I still find it incredibly difficult to read direct from screen. Have popped on line to pick out a Writing Workshop and jiggle it about for the Writing Cafe later this morning. So, I guess that's editing! Kids: Weird. BA and I are turning into a couple of kids and ganging up on mom (erm, Junior). We really need to work on the shaping of our new family unit. I have to grow up and take responsibility. Junior's a kid, not the mommy. She just doesn't understand me. Relationships: Too many of all the wrong kind. I shouldn't moan; it's ace to be so feckin' popular, but as lovely as the men in my life are, I like the idea of someone to settle down with eventually. I'm made for life, not temporary delight (although, I'm certainly not knocking the delightful parts!). I guess one day I'll have to get serious, but for now, I'll go with the flow. Physical: Apart from eating there has mainly been riding motorcycles. I went to Boxercise... once... maybe I should double my attendance? FFF: Farce Hereby hangs a tale. I don't think the world is ready for it yet, but it involves an abundance of suitors. It will, if nothing else, make for a smashing tragi/comedy when all's said and done. If a writer has to write from life and experience, I'm doing great with the research of a gazillion future projects. Farts I'm not as tolerant of idiots as I once was. My latest insult to the mentally challenged is to call them all 'fanny farts'. Fannies are very different in the UK than the US. Friends I'm the luckiest gal alive. One of the reasons I'm MIA from WDC so often is because I'm blessed to have such fabulous friends in whose company I spend my time. Gladly, this includes many WDCers in fleshy form  Right. I am NOT going on eBay. Right. I WILL concentrate on creating a workshop for today. Right. |
| it's been a while, hasn't it? I have to say that divorce is making rather a mockery of my usual routine. After 14 years of marriage, nothing is usual any more. Don't get me wrong, I'm not moaning; I'm loving the adventure of it all, but the speed of life is certainly faster than it was. I can't write. Not entirely true. I've written a lot recently in completing my PTLL's course. I've also been doing rather a lot of 'note' creations over on FaceBook, but as for honest-to-goodness fictional writing? Nope. I couldn't even do 15 for 15 and that's one of my favourite ever WDC activities and motivators. Ah, well, I guess visiting my blog is good enough for now! I can't ... *text removed until a later date, when I have the gumption to see it in black and white* . I can't eat properly. What is normal? I lost a ton of weight when TA went, and now it's creeping back on. Well, when I say creeping, I mean piling, if I'm honest. I have the HUGEST craving for oily fish products. It's not that what I'm eating is bad for me, but the amount I'm eating is through the roof. I'm back to multiple meals a day--and by that I mean hobbit meals: breakfast, second breakfast, elevenses, luncheon, high tea, dinner, supper, etc., etc. And, no, I'm not eating for two. I'm just a glutton. I can laugh. I'm having a field day living with a revitalised sense of humour. Most things in life are humourous anyhoo, but having discovered that bad things happen whether I worry about them or not, I've sort of stopped worrying and started taking it all on the chin. After all, I'm bloody lucky: I've got two smashing girls, a boyfriend, a car, a van, one and a half motorbikes and a trip to India with Alan Philps to see the delightful Jyo and Sonali.I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. Not a near death experience, but rather reference to this damned divorce. TA and I are now in mediation, which means we sit opposite each other in a very civilized manner and discuss the division of assets and conclusion of the marriage. It's not easy, for either of us, but it is progress. Who knows, it could all be over by Christmas... I can boogie. Oh, yes, I can. I'd not been to a nightclub all century, and was rather worried about setting foot in one again (especially as I'm the other side of 35...). I went, I danced, I got blisters. I was the nominated driver, so I don't even have the excuse of dancing like a prat due to alcohol. Fab. Life is good. Life is living. Life is starting to settle down a little. It must be, I'm back here today. Write on, my lovelies. Write on |
| is mucho grateful to the handsome (and in-no-way effeminate), male eye-candy, for using all his brute strength and clever manliness to refit the Parish Rover's clutch. Thank you--you're my hero. x |
| Write: Like you wouldn't believe! Unfortunately, most of it is not fun fiction, but work, work, workity-work. The good thing about this is it's still exercising my writing and editing skills: Magazine (editing), weekly liturgy and assoc. items (typing skills and computer software use), new client bids (creative thinking, writing, editing and selling), research (erm, research!), presentation (fact finding and writing plus delivery). The down side to an increased workload is a reduction in the amount of free-time. Take now, for example: I'm shattered, I want my bed, it's quarter to midnight in Blighty, and I haven't finished all the paperwork I really should have finished because my kids wanted to watch a film with me, and I chose them. Once they were tucked up in bed I had an hour free, but given as I hadn't slayed a dragon on facebook for so long that I'd forgotten what their scales felt like I thought I might wind down there for an hour rather than type up minutes of meeting at 10:30 at night I have a presentation to finish (about a half-hour/hour's worth of work) and the minutes to type (another hour at least), but have to walk BA to her friend's first thing, and then take my car into the shop for two new tires (approx £70  ) for 10:30am, and Lord knows how long that will take! So, I'll have to do the paper work in the avo, if I can. Why not the evening? Well, because a friend has been threatening to cook for me for months now, and that's one date I wouldn't miss for the world. TA is babysitting. Here, in the house. Hope he behaves himself.Edit: Only in the sense I mentioned above Kids: I love them. They reminded me that spending time with them relaxing, playing, and entertaining each other was just as important as working to provide for them. We had a good night and watched a crap film that wasn't that crap in their company. We all showered or bathed, got into our pajamas, ate nachos and cheese, and papered ourselves. I now have bright pink toenails (thanks, BA) and my curly hair is in curlers... It was fun, though  Relationships: People are beginning to realise that I can't do everything. Good for them. I'm beginning to realise that I can't do everything, so have started telling people who haven't noticed that I can't do everything that I can't do everything. I think this is working out well. I got in touch with an old friend of mine who I've blogged about before (last year). A is an inspirational speaker and business man akin to a British Tony Robbins. As the Writing Cafe's book launch approaches we're all making suggestions for invite nite. I suggested him, because a lot of his work with the Writing Cafe has contributed to our successfully researching, writing, editing, and publishing our first anthology. We were lucky enough to do some brainstorming in a Visioning Day guided by him that helped us create a mission statement and project plan for the future. So, I phone him. It was like we talked only yesterday. Some people have such charisma that they carry you along on a wave of their positivity. As we chatted, it turns out that we're on exactly the same teaching course! The only difference being that he is on a different campus to me. We've agreed to become study buddies and he's coming to the launch. I can't wait to see him. Physical: Ann asked me if I was still doing the sit ups. I should have been. While I'm still slim, I'm also still lardy. Must tone up. I need to get a good picture of me to send to a couple of pen pals. What's that you say? Acme, putting out the vibe? I guess so  Okay, so I'm still going through the divorce, but I can plan ahead and get this body in shape, become date fit!FFF: Fags Wow. Lent ended, Easter happened, and no fags. I guess I'm chalking up the 50 day mark by now, huh? Faboo! Food Hit and miss. I'm making healthy things, using lots of veg and cooking from scratch, but, when I'm waiting for healthy homemade things to cook, I'm snacking on chips, dips, candy and bread. I must start planning better! Fermented Grape Juice Spring sprung, warm days arrived and out cape the gin and tonics. Nice! Not too many, but enough to be refreshing after a long afternoon spent working up a sweat in the garden. How very civilized! Missed you guys. Don't be too surprised if my time at WDC is a little sporadic. I will get better organised soon. Promise. Again! |
| Easter Sunday is a day of resurrection. I always find it poignant when someone dies on Easter day. My friend, S's, father died this Sunday. He had a long struggle with cancer, but lived his life to the fullest. He passed away peacefully, without pain, and in the company of those he loved. May he rest in peace. It reminded me that all we can do is live the life we have to the best of our ability. There are blessings around every corner, and even in the darkest of days, there is the light of life and hope to sustain us. To quote my 'status' over at FaceBook, "I feel incredibly lucky to live, love and laugh. Life is short and full of beauty. It demands the measure of my appreciation and has my rapt attention." Amen to that. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| Write: Yes. I made it to the Writing Cafe--a little late, but I got there. I walked straight into an exercise. Everyone was studiously scribbling away so I sat down and joined in. The prompt? A doozie: "Once upon a time, in a land far away..." I did enjoy following this one. Wrote me a story called The Word Burper". If nothing else, I like the title. Edit: No, but if I can stop playing on FaceBook there is a chance that I might Kids: Love 'em. Missed them like crazy last night, but it's as good for me as it is for them to spend a little time apart from each other Relationships: Had a great time at the Writing Cafe because I let some key people know that I can't keep to some of the commitments I originally made before TA left. I was getting all worried and guilty about it all, so it was nice to be able to shake the weight off and find that they were really nice about it, too. I love my fellow writers. WDC is the only other place I can honestly say I've felt this supported Physical: Walked to the cafe and back... and felt good for it. Am getting a bit pissed off with the state of my wobbly bits and so started this morning with ten sit ups in bed. I'll do the same every morning. If you're reading this, and cocking your eyebrow while you think of me doing such a paltry amount, just think: that's 70 extra sit ups a week for me FFF: Food Stodgy and beer-soaky-uppy (rice, egg and bread) 1 x 99 (mmmmmmm) Fags No and I was in the company of smokers all night last night, including in my sister's house. Fermented Grape Juice Malbec ... nice... |
| Write: It's all about me. Actually, no, this planet isn't. I just have a hard time getting my head around the fact that I am not the centre of everybody's universe. Writing wise? Nil, nothing, nada. Fair enough, I've been reading instead... and, yes, playing on FaceBook, too Edit: Reviewing, if that counts? I always think it does, because I'm flexing my editorial muscles even if I'm employing them on someone else's work. Kids: Grumpy and poorly. Oh, spring has sprung, brought slightly warmer weather and has resulted in incubating germs. I can hear them now, wrapped up in bed, coughing and spluttering in between snores. Relationships: Good ones. I'm constantly delighted by the light and laughter that other people aim my way. People are wonderful, aren't they? I know you are. Physical: No, and it's starting to show. Okay, so I'm still slimmer than I was, but I'm wobblier than I was, too. I have started sneaking back into car driving excuses. I WILL LEAVE IT ON THE DRIVE TOMORROW COME RAIN OR SHINE. FFF: Food Lots. Everyone (mostly my mum, but occasional sibling and colleague) seems intent on feeding me up, no matter if I show them that little BMI graph/chart thing that says that I'm clinically classed as 'overweight' Heck, just because I'm taking a certain amount of time, effort, and pride in my appearance, doesn't mean there's anything to worry about Fags Want one. Not had one. Still want one. Fermented Grape Juice No, but I nearly bought some Sake today, because I've not had it in ever such a long time and thought it might be nice warm on a day like this--hailstone! |
| Write: No. Too busy. I've been working for two clients today {e:knackered} Edit: Only data input review. Kids: Delightful. They have discovered the joy of scalextric. Relationships: New faces, new colleagues, old faces and old friends. All in all, ace Physical: I've walked around the Parish today! I left the car at home and went back and forth on foot between the two clients, twice. I also walked the two school runs and a trip to the GPs. If that wasn't enough, I kneaded the Betsy out of pizza dough. FFF: Food 2 x slices of apricot jam on toast 1 x pot noodle 1 x individual homemade pizza 1 x beer 1 x vat of coffee Fags Still no, but a friend came around and smelled delicious. I want. Fermented Grape Juice Grain, not grape, but only one. A clear head is always a boon. I love you guys. I'm popping with joy on the inside. I've had a great evening and have smiled a lot. |
Write: Sorry Alan Philps ! I know I should be in bed, but I thought I'd just post a quick blog entry YES! Lots! Oodles, in fact. From new, growing story to dream journaling, I'm a writing machine  Edit: No. Well, ish. No. It's best if I stick with 'No'. Kids: Bloomin' busy things. After school Junior's friend came around. I cooked tea and then we took BA to Beavers. Once back home, the elder girls changed clothes and then I took them to Theatre Workshop. Didn't even make it home again, because it was time to pick BA up from the scout hut. We chilled out together for an hour before we were back on the road to pick Junior up. I'm bloomin' knackered. So are they. The little darlings are fast asleep. Relationships: Love ya, Ann and Nemesis. Love the rest of you, too, obviously, but these gals need a bit more of Acme, and who am I to be stingy with the lovin'? Physical: Lots of walking, and lots of driving, which isn't very good for me or the planet is it? FFF: Food 6 x hunks of Tiger Bread with butter and sandwich spread on them 1 x bowl of veggie chickpea curry and 1 x bowl of veggie chili (well, I've got to test them haven't I )2 x packets of crisps I've been eating rather a lot of crisps. I think I need to cut them out completely because now I have spots all over my chin and I can't just leave them there, oh no, I'm a squeeze'em-til-they-bleed Queen. Freud would be proud I'm a walking Benny Hill sketch today. Saying that, I'd also pass as staring in any episode of On the Buses or bit part in a Carry On! film. Fermented Grape Juice I have spots, so no, no vino. |
| Write: No time. Edit: No, but I bloomin' will when I get back in work on Tuesday--I've buggered up in today's Youth Sunday liturgy. Kids: Delightful. In the UK we have celebrated Mother's Day today, because as anglo-catholics this Sunday marks the mid-Lenten journey. It was traditionally the time when the Mother Church was celebrated and Lenten penitents were encouraged to continue their hard work and efforts toward completion of 40 days and nights of spiritual reflection before Easter. Relationships: Me versus Nature. Nature won. After Mass, TA picked the kids up to go and visit a relative's birthday party, from his side of the family. I took the opportunity to go visit the allotment. Jimmy (the little owd fella I'm helping out) had set me a small patch to one side, so I worked on it. It was supposed to be dug over, but it was really overgrown, so I used a fork to tackle the topsoil and will go back and dig when I get another chance. When it comes to me making more of an effort to reach out to my fellow man, I've also made myself remember where the fruit is: I went out on a limb for someone. Guess what? They were there. Life is juicy Physical: I don't think this is going to be an issue after my digging. I wore an old pair of TA's overalls and heck they looked sexy on me! He was such a lean-limbed lovely, and, thanks to the good Lord's endowment of the feminine when he created me, I never had the opportunity to grab one of his old t-shirts, let alone a jumper, because my chest size was MUCH larger than his. E-cup aside, and because I'm slimmer these days, his old overalls fit wonderfully. They were great to graft in, and I can see why workmen use them: good protection against stains and rips etc., whilst offering a free range of motion. Ace. FFF: Food Felt good, so ate good. I'm starting to sense a pattern... seems when I feel shite I comfort eat. This may be another reason why I've lost weight recently. Generally, I do feel much better now the boil has been lanced. 2 x Pancakes! Why not? It's that mid-Lent feeling where the belt is loosed a little 2 x soup. Lent soup was lovely today. Our churchwarden can whip up a whole storm of savory snacks. 1 x tin of baked beans in tomato sauce. Cold and still canned. Yum. Lots of coffee Fantasy Film Flirt Accidentally found a trailer for a new Russel Crow film that looks as if it could be rather good (are Russel and I still waiting for the next 'Gladiator'?). I'm flirting with the idea that this might be a good ole violent blowy-up flick with no brains needed. Every now and then, they're just what the doctor ordered. Fermented Grape Juice *sigh* Junior got TA to buy me a bottle of wine for Mother's day. I'm drinking it alone, on this, the day of our anniversary, while he's out on the town. I'm just feeling sorry for myself, I know. It's not as if I want him anymore. I think I'm allowed a dose of the glums, and this is the most appropriate day to experience them. Tomorrow's another day, and, in my experience, full of exciting possibilities and potential delights |
| Write: Yes! I wrote the first 300 words of my detective story. Actually, I re-wrote it. I wasn't happy with the farty way I introduced the story, so I ditched the entire thing and started from scratch. It's already much better. When did I find time to do this? erm, this morning, whilst hungover and drinking coffee in my pjs Edit: Only if you can consider editing to mean scrapping the original draft! Kids: I missed them. The one disadvantage of having them stay out overnight is the fact that I miss the mess and mayhem. As good a night out as I had, it was still weird coming home to an empty house. BA's tooth has finally dropped out. I'm glad it waited until she came home to me before doing so. Relationships: Outdoorsy ones are fab. I got my key for the allotment today, so tomorrow, while the kids are out at a relative's party, I'm going to go and dig until my back gives out  I've also had a great time connecting and re-connecting with friends on FaceBook. One of those friendships is now blossoming into a delightful textchat, too. I'm so lucky to have such wonderful friends in my life. Recent events have certainly shown me how blessed I truly am Physical: I should have done a lot more than I have done, but I just didn't have any energy to spare; my body was too busy trying to fight the hangover. I also have belly ache from laughing so much last night. What a top night out that turned out to be FFF: Food I guess I should tell you about yesterday, too: 3 x square meals and 4 pints of lager Today: 1 x fried egg buttie 1 x cheese, ham and mustard baguette 1 x spaghetti bolognaise 2 x packet of crisps Fermented stuff... The beer from last night is still swishing about in my guts and my boots. It will be a while before I can go there again Fecked-up World of the Strange I'd forgotten what it was like to talk about something enthusiastically to another person and for them to thoughtfully remember it at a later date. A person who I like very much did this today. In fact, it was so out of the blue that it fair knocked my socks off. I felt rather special. I think human beings often underestimate the wonderful power of showing another human being that they've been in their thoughts. I keep catching myself smiling. Fecked-up? Yes, I should be very sad because it would have been my wedding anniversary tomorrow. |
| Hurrah! Can't wait for tonight. I can hardly write a sentence without having to go back and correct a typo; I'm tripping over my fingers so much in my excitement. I've always thought that a smile was better than a shrug, and the doldrums were something to get out of as soon as practical. Life is short, so why waste time being miserable? I need a laugh. And tonight I'm having one. I'm off to the Comedy Store in Manchester After a quick look at the line-up, I can safely say that I'm going to have a great time. Right. Best go and put by extra roomy laughing pants on. Have a great night whatever you do and whoever you do it with http://www.thecomedystore.co.uk/whats_on.php?location=2 |
| Write: YES! I know! Fab, isn't it? I made myself shift my arse and go into town to the other writing group that meets mid-week. Sure, a lot of the faces are the same as those at the Writing Cafe, but there are plenty of other folk there, too, and today was the first of a ten week project called, 'Digital Storytelling'. The woman who is running it has her own radio production company and does a lot of work for her old boss, the BBC. I figured it wouldn't hurt to rub shoulders with her and the other writers and see if doing so could kick-start my lazy muse. I'm glad I went along; the project looks interesting. Basically, we all have to come away and find a dozen personal photographs that will illustrate a story that centres around one aspect of our lives (past or current). Then, over the next few weeks, we'll write a 250word story, turn it into a script and record it to be shown in sequence with the stills. Once it's all done, we will be able to host a viewing to our family and friends. I'm not too bothered about that, but I am interested in learning what I can from her and her vast experience in audio script. Wrote my plan out (just a spider graph), but it felt good to commit ideas to paper Edit: No. Kids: Had to arrange a funeral today for BA's goldfish. We held a full requiem mass, but had a bit of a quandary regarding disposal of the corpse. She wanted a flushing funeral, while I was extolling the virtues of a match-box graveside. In the end, the sensible side of Junior won out, and Mr Fish got a plastic carrier bag in the outside bin Relationships: All the school mums were laughing at me today. They could see me approaching the playground on foot, and, apparently, whenever I passed anything male my normal slouching gait would change to a hip-swinging catwalk fierceness. I told 'em it was a purely unintentional physiological reaction, and I could not be held responsible for the actions of my hips. Physical: Walking... with, apparently, a large proportion of wiggling. FFF: Food I have eaten well today! 1 x bacon buttie with lashings of HP sauce 1 x cheese and onion pasty 1 x beef stroganof with boiled rice 1 x spicy tomato pasta snack 1 x urn of shite coffee Feeling Tickity-boo I may have lined up another casual client for my secretarial services. The local primary school needs a few hour's worth of report making/data input. I've let them know I'm willing to offer my services, but can only work up to 4 extra hours to retain my other benefits while the divorce goes through. I wait to see... Feels good to feel employable, though Flippity Gibbets An old favourite, but one that always amuses me when other people hear it for the first time and I get to see their reaction to it: "You're doing my nuts in." Of course, it only sounds fab when a female says it. Males should naturally choose the alternative version of: "You get right on my tits." |
| Write: No. But I will. I am determined to write for at least 15 mins per day. If I don't, how can I call myself a writer? Edit: No. Kids: Both ill with aches and pains. The general malaise of BA is worrying; she's not one of life's great whinge-bags, which makes me concerned when she turns into one. Junior is nursing a cross-country running injury. She injured her heel last week, only just got it all better and then aggravated it by running again too soon. Relationships: I have been a 'lady what luncheons' today. I'm a volunteer cleaner for the parish hall, along with two other wonderful ladies. Temporary volunteer cleaners were sought two years ago, but nothing is ever quick about 'temporary' at church. Suffice to say, we're still hard at it while a regular paid cleaner is discussed and voted on *brushes cobwebs off the parish council's decision hat*. We've never had a Christmas-do or treated ourselves for all our hard work, so, when one of the volunteers birthdays came in sight (tomorrow) along with the opening of a new carvery down the road, we decided it was time to treat ourselves. It was ace. We had a right good natter and put the world to rights. Physical: Cleaning. Sounds like nothing, I know, but I've been tossing tables aside, buffing floors and moping like a woman possessed. FFF: Food 1 x bowl of muesli! (Told you I could do it )1 x turkey carvery with cabbage, carrots, steamed leeks, peas, sweetcorn and gravy 1/2 a tuna pizza homemade chili and lime potato wedges Feeling Tickity-boo The sky stretched out taught like a tent of blue this morning. Gawd, but it's good to be alive. Do you know, even on the bleakest of days, I'm always delighted by the sights that greet me when I look out high above my horizon? Flippity Gibbets Today's phrase of delight is this little gem from one of the cleaners. Sure, it's not really a phrase, but it tickled me, so I pass it on: ACME: "Have you thought about going on the Parish Mystery Tour in April?" VOL-S: "I can't stand mystery tours. Of course, I've never actually been on a mystery tour, but I can just imagine me not standing them." Ace! |
| Write: Liturgy. Tuesdays are all hard work and no play. I love it, though Edit: ish. Working on next month's parish magazine. Kids: BA looked so cute today! Everyone has an 'age' to their looks, and since the day she could toddle, BA has looked like a flapper: straight, black, concave cut bob, fair skin, big brown eyes and ruby red lips (she also makes a great Disney Snow White for fancy dress parties). So, keeping that in mind, consider that she looked so bloomin' cute in navy blue knee-socks, navy blue pinafore dress and her two front teeth missing Junior is blossoming, too. I think spring has sprung up through their boots.Relationships: Weirdos, weirdos everywhere, and all of them want me... There is a certain breed of the employed who do my nuts in: the 'jobsworths'. My friend, R, runs outreach community projects and is truly inspirational. She was ill today, so one of her groups that uses the hall had to come in on their own. I let them in. They had a creche. The creche workers were not happy. Now, let me detail one of my past experiences with one of these workers: WORKer: "That room is not safe. We've done a risk assessment. We're going home. We get paid anyway!" Over the weekend, some kids bricked one of the hall windows. It's tempered glass, so it didn't shatter, it just looks messy and spiderwebby. The contractors are scheduled to replace it tomorrow morning, but there's no need to board it up and the main hall has been made safe. ACME: "repeats that it's safe*" WORKer: "Okay." [two minutes later they are on the blower to their boss] "And there's no possible way that we should have to work in such dangerous conditions." *My colleague appeared and spoke to their boss, reassuring them that the room was safe, and you could see the smiles of a paid, workless, day drop from their faces.* [some time later] "R didn't leave any fresh fruit for the children. What are we supposed to feed them?" ACME: "Can you go to the shop across the road?" Oh, no. Not only could they possibly use their own money or leave the premises, but they'd noticed that the church had a loaf of bread in the freezer, and couldn't the poor, starvin', children have that. Of course they could, I replied. Ten minutes later they asked where the toaster was. We don't have one, I told them, but we have jam and butter. I swear that this was the response: "Jam? Give the children jam? It's more than my job's worth--I'd be sacked." erm, tuna mayo? "Are you having a laugh? They could have allergies!" erm, their mothers are upstairs; why not ask them if the kids are allergic? "Oooh, we couldn't do that--not if we don't have it in writing." Looks like the kids are on bread and water then, doesn't it? weird. Physical: A lot of walking, which is a boon, because I am expanding again. I've popped ten pounds back on, but, considering that that means I've still lost ten pounds, I'm not overly concerned; I can lose or gain half a stone (7lbs) in any given week. I'm just conscious of it. It might not be as bad if I was writing, but I'm just vegging out in front of the telly of an evening. I'll have to come up with a better alternative. FFF: Food 1 x fried egg buttie (will change this to muesli tomorrow: filling and a better carby start to the day) 1 x tuna mayo buttie 1 x chicken and bacon spicy pasta 1 x cheese and onion pasty half an urn of crap coffee Feeling Tickity-boo Still looking up at the horizon, but the spring in my step is not as bouncy as of late. It will be, I know, but some days you get the bear and other days... Flippity Gibbets Today's saying came from last night. I was with a friend and we were talking about, of all things, cancer. It was actually rather a light-hearted conversation, as we've both suffered some horrific loses of loved-ones and there's only so much misery you can take before you take the piss. Her father was too late in getting diagnosed to receive effective treatment before he died. We started talking about symptoms and she dolled out his advice for every symptom ever suffered by every person with any possible ailment: "Rub a carrot on it." It made me laugh. I shall use it as a preferred response for all future symptomatic enquires. |
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