Saturday, 4 January 2014

Bloggers Block.

I know you're not really that interested but I've been busy dismantling my life.   A bit dramatic, you think? Hmmm..maybe that's not quite accurate. OK, in that case I've been painting.  I've been painting everything!  I've painted the kitchen, I've painted the bathroom, I've painted some picture frames and I've painted some jolly nice hearts! 

You see, I've had bloggers block for a while.  I'd sit at the blank screen of the computer...and sit...and sit...smoke a fag...sit...make a coffee...sit.  It's made me feel practically useless so instead of just staring at the blank screen I thought maybe I should get creative.  I'm pretty good at painting. Not so good at sewing. Baking makes me fat...and exercising? Well, that just makes me tired.

So yes...I've had bloggers block ( I admit it!) and I felt (and still feel) that I didn't/don't have one original thought in my head!  Not one single one! Nothing I have to say is very interesting (still isn't, and please, I'm not looking for sympathy here).  I suppose my blog is a bit like my mind.  It jumps from project to project...thought to thought with very few paths, clear ideas or where it's going and where it will all end.

I love writing about the kids, but in all honesty although they amuse me I'm not sure it's fair to inflict them on the world.  I love the dogs and they make me giggle but really...a blog about the dogs?  I'm not that self indulgent not to know when something I find funny, others don't.  I'll be like one of those mums at the school gates who turn away when they see me coming.  "Oh here comes the boring know the one that always has a tale to tell...not funny!"

Can I just tell you this though? 

Ma phoned me the other day. She was crying with mirth.  Mirth I know.  Mirth is when something happens to someone else.  Mirth is merciless and can not be hidden.  I knew I would laugh but didn't know for how long.  They were in Waitrose, at the tills paying for their groceries.  Pa's become a little clumsy in older age and dropped his paper, whilst holding onto the bags, so Ma bent down to pick it up as he rummaged in his pockets for his wallet.  As he leant over to put his card in the machine he could feel his trousers slipping slowly down towards his knees.  Ma was still on the floor picking up the scattered paper but looked up to see the spectacle of my father holding onto the bags, rummaging through his pockets as the his trousers slid south.  Apparently (she said) she let out a screech of horror (which I interpreted laughing uproariously!), which attracted the attention others, not only immediately behind, but those in other aisles...who started to laugh.  I have visions of everyone pointing at my Pa...laughing.  It fills me with pain...but it doesn't stop me from giggling...just a bit!  Pa managed to hitch his trousers back up before it became a "offensive act" and scuttled out of the supermarket, with Ma trailing behind, weeping, barely able to walk.  When she stopped crying (with mirth) long enough, she called me.

Anyway, I digress.  I think I've had this conversation with myself several times over the past few years and I'm no clearer in my direction than when I first started. As it's only for me (my blog, I mean) and as I'm not trying to please anyone but me...perhaps I should carry on down this road...but if I do will the bloggers block continue?  Or has this little post broken the cycle? I hope so.  I so enjoy it here!

Friday, 13 December 2013

Is Venting good for you?

Okay, so we all like a little rant now and again. I'm good with that. It's fine.  It's normal. Isn't it what Facebook is for after all? Something annoys you so you have a little rant and release all that pent up angst and fury.  Keyboard warrior comes rushing to the fore.  Let it all out. It’s good for you.    But is it? 

I’m a member of a forum of which I’m quite active.  A few of the people on the forum are personal much as the internet allows relationships with people you don’t actually know in real life.  A few are also Facebook friends.  I’d posted something on Facebook which I thought was ironic, witty and sardonic.  However, someone to exception to the status and proceeded to lambast all similar posts on social networks on our little home (the forum). 

Now, I’ve taken this a wee bit personally as my status was clearly supposed to be humorous . This particular person waxes lyrical about being pious and saintly yet has the audacity to take others to task over something which is a personal choice.  What followed was a debate about people who don’t send Christmas cards, preferring to donate to “charidee.”   I think the “friend” was more cheesed off with the fact that people were posting it rather than the actual act.  What’s wrong with that?  Isn’t it a personal choice? The “friend” thought it was tacky publishing it for all to see, but isn’t it a way of letting people your FB friends know that you won’t be sending cards to them all?  
"Charidee?  Charity?  Wassat?"

 I send cards but the list has gotten smaller these days.  Relatives dying off; friends moving out of your life; lost addresses.  I used to love writing Christmas cards but now it’s just a chore.   Looking through my Christmas card address book (oh yes, I have one) I see the names of those no longer with us.  It makes me feel sad and it makes me feel vulnerable.  I send cards to people who are important in my life and people who I don’t see as often as I’d like, not to send a card for cards sake.  I send a card to a friend each year in the hope that one day we’ll be friends again; and I send a card to Mrs B down the road, so that she doesn’t think she’s been forgotten.  She’s not on Facebook.

But charity is a choice and there’s nothing wrong with it. There’s nothing wrong in letting people know you won’t be sending them a card, is there? 

One year I sent a card to a friend I hadn’t seen in years. We sent the yearly Christmas card but that was about it.  Soon before Christmas I had a phone call from her. 

“Is everything all right?” she asked 
“How lovely to hear from you! Everything's fine. Why?” I replied.   
“It’s just that Connors name wasn’t on the card and I wondered why. “ she said warily.   
“No, Connors fine...but he’s the dog”. 

Whilst it might feel good to get it off your chest research has shown that that “venting” could make you less happy and more angry in the long term.  Andrea Weckerle, president of CiviliNation, a nonprofit organization working to reduce online hostility and adult cyberbullying, said "Online hostility is a public health crisis. Lives are destroyed through aggression online,".

Actually, I feel a bit better now...thank you for letting me vent.   And she’s off my Christmas card list!

Wednesday, 31 July 2013

My Left Foot - Day 18

Yep, it's still there...marginally better but it wasn't that painful in the beginning so I can honestly say that it's been a bit of a breeze...until yesterday that is.
Yesterday, I thought I'd take a spin around town and do a little bit of well earned retail therapy. I thought I'd take a look at shoes as I haven't even been able to contemplate pretty shoes for a very long time.  Just practical ones...ones that didn't hurt.
I'd forgo the mobility scooter and take my chances on the crutches  I haven't been out since the operation -and I don't count the visit to the hospital to get the dressing changed and the visit to the petrol station, afterwards! So I was kind of looking forward to leaving the kids at home, especially as BH had volunteered to come home early to take me out for a coffee! How could I resist such a gallant offer? But I wish I hadn't.

It was...scary.  It was very scary.  I was invisible even with the crutches.  I was jostled. I had giant, audible "Tuts" whispered into my ear as able bodied humans whooshed passed. People came to stand in front of me as I peered at the baked goods.  I'd actually become invisible and a pest...both at the same time!

I was advised not to walk without the crutches in public.  People apparently avoid you when you're on crutches..apparently. Which wasn't apparent to me.

I kept my eyes to the floor in case, inadvertently came across an uneven pavement, or step. I couldn't move that fast and I couldn't avoid the crowd swervers.  You know, the ones who swerve out into the oncoming traffic because the crowd is moving too slowly, only to come nose and face to my forehead as I edged my way along hugging the shop-fronts. 

"Hrrumppp!!" one particular swerver admonished. My crime? Looking in a shop window.  He kicked my crutch (I'm sure in error) and had I not been resting on my good foot I would've gone "a" over "t"!

It's given me food for thought.  It's made me realise we take a lot of disability for granted as it's not ours.  Not the access, ramps or parking facilities but the small acts of human kindness, of thought, of care.
  • Being aware that when someone is on crutches they might not be able to take their hands off their crutches to prevent the door from slamming in their face. 
  • Thinking of assisting a customer who's appearing to have difficulty with a basket and is pushing it along with a crutch.
  •  Holding the lift as someone hobbles towards it and not keeping your finger on the "Close" button.  
  • Being patient in the car park as someone gets into the car whilst holding up the traffic as they couldn't manoeuvre their way passed the tightly parked vehicles. 
  • Thinking that because someone is disabled their capacity for coherence is limited too.
As we stood waiting for the lift to the car park (which had quickly disappeared on my approach) a middle aged woman turned to BH.

"Wassa matta wiv 'er. then?"

"Foot operation." he replied.

"Oh. My mum 'ad one and it was a nightmare. Couldn't get outta bed for a munf"

At that point I pretended I was deaf too...what was the point? She would never have got "it", would she? 

Friday, 26 July 2013

Overstepping Boundaries...get outta my zone!

We all know that personal space is that precious zone that others shouldn't encroach on. Sometimes we allow others in that zone.  Sometimes we allow others in to save offending them. Someone that gets up close and personal feels like either we're being threatened or comforted.

The other night I was at a party.  There's someone I've met on several occasions, and we've exchanged the usual chit chat, but I don't know her well. Each time, she gets up soooo close that her breast is rubbing against my arm.  She talks from the side of her mouth almost like she's whispering secrets.  I found myself leaning in closer. She's right in that comfort zone, but it's OK because it makes me like I'm a really good friend each time we meet.

There's another person at the party who also invades my space, but on this occasion I find it really off putting.  I move back each time they lean in. I know them well, but they just get too close for comfort and I find myself feeling very uncomfortable.  I want to say "Step're in my zone" but they continue to follow until I find my self pressing up against a chair or someone else...I'm invading their zone so step forward into the zone that's become a problem with them almost touching my nose.

Personal Space Calculator

My next door neighbour.  She invades my space. She cuts holes in the hedges when I'm not looking and each time I go into the garden I can see more holes she's cut through. The hole started off as a little hole and got so large that I had to put a shed in front of it!   It's driving me insane.  I've no idea why she's doing it, although she has mentioned that she wants the whole hedge down.  It's a weird one this, and I don't know how to deal with it.  Short of cutting it all back and sticking in a 9 foot fence which will take time, I don't want to feed into this "You cut a bit, I'll stick a another plant in, cut another bit, I'll find a piece of wood to block in the hole!"  I'm a little bit over sensitive on this subject.  We came home from our anual holiday a couple of years back and they'd taken down a 9ft section of hedging.  No discussion, nothing!  I told BH he'd better get round their PDQ otherwise the kids might hear some very choice words! So up went the fence which I didn't want in the first place. 

So that's boundaries and zones...I suppose one way to get them to back off is to lick their face!

Wednesday, 24 July 2013

My left foot Day 11

I had a bit of a sneak preview yesterday. It's all looking pretty lovely. 

Who would've thought I'd be getting excited over a foot! I had to go and have the dressing changed and was a little apprehensive as she peeled but the layers but once the last layer came off and my foot was exposed I nearly wept. It looked great. It looks like it's healed...and it's all nice and straight and pointing in the right direction. 

I called in BH to have a look at the surgeons great handiwork and he peered over my shoulder squinting, exclaimed,

"Is it supposed to look all gory and mutilated? I'd get the Frankenstein boot on quick if I were you. You don't want to scare the kids!" 

He asked about the wire in the second toe and how they'd get it out...I stuck my fingers in my ears at that point and chanted "Lalalalalalalalala!" in case I heard the answer. 

As I stopped I caught the tail end of BH saying "...suppose they just pull it out!" 

The nurse explained exactly what had happened as immediately after the surgery I didn't really take anything in. I'd assumed they'd broken the toes with a hammer, used a sander 
and sanded down the bone..all very primitive like. I was surprised and delighted that they'd 
moved on from that type of barbaric surgery. What they'd actually done was broke the toes with a hammer, chiselled a V in the bone, put it together with a pin. Chiseled another V somewhere stuck in another pin. Stapled it somewhere, shaved something. The wire sticking out of the second toe was to keep it straight until it set then something would happen to it. I lost track with the first pin as my stomach was heaving ever so slightly. 

I told the nurse that I'd been wearing the boot in bed as I have a tendency to flex my toes and feet in my sleep and it seems to stop me doing it with the left one. 

"Wear your shoe in bed?" She exclaimed. " It's very unhygenic! You wouldn't normally wear tshoes in bed, would you?" 

So I gave it a whirl last night and what did I do? Flexed the foot! So on it'll go again tonight. 

I wish I'd taken a picture of the before.  I didn't.  I've taken plenty of it with the Darco shoe which rocks the foot backwards to the heel so that pressure it only placed on the back part of the foot.  I actually quite like it. It's comfortable but I won't be adding it the wardrobe as I've only been given one!
Darco shoe

I asked when I could start going out.  

"If you do go out then I suggest a chair."

"What sort of chair?" Thinking she meant one of those fold up ones that I could tuck under my arm...which might be a bit difficult as I'm still on crutches! 

"A wheel chair."

WTF!! Am I supposed to roam around the village in a wheelchair looking a fraud...I don't think so!  So I've been looking into the feasibility of hiring a mobility scooter! We've found one that might suit the whole family.  It has a back seat, a basket in the front and I thought we could add a side car so that BH could come along.

Mobility scooter
Mimi said she'd "Bling it up! " but I'm not too sure of the colour...

Luckily, I've had no pain.  I'd been reading horror stories of the amount of pain some have suffered and I can honestly say, hand on heart, I haven't had any.  

I've been doing a lot of sitting on my bum with my foot perched on the stool...watching daytime TV (which I've never had the chance to do!) or sitting in the garden under an umbrella watching the dogs and the kids frolic in the garden in this amazing weather.  They've been fantastic I can tell you...the dogs I mean!  I think they have this innate sense of something not quite right.  They've avoided my foot and skirt around me gently.  The kids however, haven't seemed to have mastered the art of avoidance and their patience has worn off. They don't see the crutches any-more and twice, each of them have inadvertently trod on my foot!   They still think I'm Super-mum and look at me in confusion when I ask them to empty the dishwasher!

Ah well......normality has resumed!

Monday, 15 July 2013

My left foot... Day 1

I have a left foot. I think I've had it fixed although at the moment my eyes are not too clear and the brain still a bit fuzzy.  I had a lovely sleep, thank you very much but they woke me up to make sure I was still alive.  Did I ever tell you how much I like sleeping?  Anyway, I digress

I've never been a fan of feet.  They look disgusting - on me anyway so for years I've hidden my left foot beneath various items of covered shoe-wear or socks.  Ski boots have been the best as they show no deformity. My shoes have generally been a size too large.  I often trip out of one as it's too big and embarrassingly end up bleating "Oohhh...there goes my shoe!" giggle, giggle!

In my befuddled state I've posted a picture on Facebook of my left foot.  I didn't mean to, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.  My foot is twice the size of the other one.  The sympathy trail was delightful.  People thought I'd had an accident.  I hadn't. I'd had Hallux Valgus and an Osteotomy Hallux scarf  surgery and a few other things.  In plain English that means a Bunion (disgusting word) and a hammer toe surgery.  I didn't ask for too many details about the surgery as I didn't want to worry unduly which is what I'd do if I knew exactly what they were supposed to do. I'd worry I wouldn't wake up and I'd worry that they'd do the wrong foot, which is what they could've done had they not triple checked with me and the foot! Thank god, they didn't ask me in the pre-op phase.  I may have told them to take them both off and give me a face lift instead! 

For some reason, I thought the view from bed as they wheeled me to the operating theater was really cool! I hadn't taken any drugs at that point but I could see how the impact from a patient's perspective could be quite interesting.  I wish I'd taken my go-pro!
The anesthetist told me that shortly I'd feel like I had a G&T  "I think I've had 10!" I said.  "I'm not saying anything else in case I incriminate myself." and "I think some one may have to show me back to my room as I'm not sure I'll be able to walk straight!".  I think they laughed, but I'm not sure because I next woke up in the recovery room.

I have a long piece of wire sticking out the end of the second toe, supposedly to keep it straight.

The hospital staff are absolutely lovely.  I love 'em! They were sweet, thoughtful and ever so caring. I'm not sure what I thought they'd be like but in their hands I had no worries and woke up with a gentle stroke of my arm and a sweet smile. I feel like I'm in fluffy land.  No pain at the mo, but I'm sure it'll kick in once the anesthetic wears off.

So now I'm sitting up in bed, with a nice cuppa and two hobnobs finishing off "And the Mountains Echoed" with a few blokes moaning and groaning around me.  I think they've had their bits done...I think I might have heard one of them ask for them in a jar...or did I imagine that?

Friday, 21 June 2013

Weird searches and rogue aupairs!

I check my stats and searches occasionally, just to see where they come from and to see how peeps end up here.

Unfortunately, for the  few that probably end up here, probably turn off in disgust when they realise that this isn't a site for "sexy au-pairs" or "dustmen xxx porn" .  I mean...really?  Dustmen porn?  Where do they get the idea that dustmen even have a porn site? I've had searches for school gate porn, mummy porn, garden porn, nude au pairs... funnily enough au pair porn comes out tops!  All you guys out there really do get your rocks off on our au pairs don't you? It happens quite a lot and it makes me wonder what goes through peoples mind when searching for that particular content?

Which reminds me of something that someone spoke to me about the other day.  We were all standing around at the school gate gossiping and someone asked how I found my how I found her generally. Miriam has gone (weep, weep) but in her place we have Silvia.  Silvia is lovely and after all these years of Miriam it's a breath of fresh air.  She loves the kids, the dogs...and me!  She's pretty (we need something nice to look at!) and kind and she's very young.

Anyway, one of the mum's grabbed me as I left with Mimi.  I don't know her too well.  She's generally quiet but sits on the periphery of our group.

"Don't trust her" she whispered.

"Oh, why's that?" I asked thinking she'd seen something I hadn't.  We always like to know what's really going on. 

"I've had the most awful experience and you must promise that you don't tell anyone"


I do keep a confidence when it's told to me in secret however I don't feel that the blog is breaking that confidence.

"I  went out with some friends the other night and came home the other night earlier than expected. Ian was supposed to be working late and I had left the children with the Minka, the au pair.  Ian was sitting on the sofa covered in a blanket.  I thought he'd come home early as he was ill.  I went into the kitchen and there was Minka draped in my silk dressing gown filling two glasses with wine. I couldn't workout why she was in my dressing gown.  I went back into the living room where Ian was frantically trying to throw some clothes on.  I hadn't realsied he didn't have any on.  I started to scream and shout and told her to leave.  "You leave!" she said.  I couldn't understand it.  It's been a nightmare! " 

And there was me thinking everything was peachy! She looked fine and I had no idea she was in meltdown.

Anyway as far as I can make out her husband has been having an affair with the au pair. He says he loves her and that "wifey" should leave as the kids love Minka! 


She hasn't left. Neither has he or the au pair.  What a mess! So I best get prepared incase Silvia has designs on BH.  On second thoughts she can have him.  I'm fed up with picking up his pants and smiling tolerantly while he thinks it's ok to fart when sweet talking me!  I've had enough already! Do you know how hard it is to get an au pair?

Anyway, if you're here looking for porn the nearest you're going to get is a blog about me going off to the pawn shop hocking the silverware when BH decides to trade me in for a younger prettier model...he can only but try!


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