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No regrets.

Standing at the crossroads of life, do you ever wonder where that other path may have taken you? You know...the one that you stood at, looked down and thought '"Nah...I don't like the look of it"?  Do you regret the choices you've made or worry about those missed opportunities that might have made the life you live so very different? I'm pretty happy with my lot. Last night I did something that I don't regret. Generally, I'm someone who always looks forward, tries not to look back and gets on with the task in hand. I don't look over my shoulder, and I know that the grass is never greener on the other side or if it looks it, it's usually the same as the grass on this side. It's all grass. I have no idea what made me do what I did and I had no intention of doing anything about it. I looked on Facebook for an old boyfriend...and found him!!! Well...I found his profile anyway. It took me back to those days when I was young, pretty and ,

Competitive parenting

We've seen and heard it all before at the school gate, but there appears to be a phenomenon where lots of my friends congratulate their children on Facebook.  Nothing wrong with that.  It's nice to be proud of your little sprogs, but it's beginning to make me feel that my little and large sproglets are on a hiding to nothing.  Really, it makes me feel a bit sick in my mouth when I open up my FB page of a morning and has found that my frenemy, Giselle has posted on her wall "Well done, Sproglet!  Winning the overall champion of Mensa!"   I mean, really?  Isn't that boasting and not congratualting? Your child is 5!! He doesn't  even have a Facebook account!  I know, I've looked.   Now I can understand being proud. I can understand writing on your childs wall, but I can't understand why you don't realise that I know, that you know that I know it's just plain competitive and it makes me feel inadequate. But that's what you want, isn

My Talking Dog

Now...I like writing in my office. I like to sit down with my cuppa and ponder my world for a few minutes (possibly for a few hours after I play a few games of Candy crush...eek!). I could sit in there all day if my life didn't drag me away...but I just don't get the chance! No sooner am I lost in something  really, really, really important or am in the middle of the masterpiece, I'm thwarted! Yes, you've heard it. Thwarted!  Not by the kids (and don't they know better than to interrupt mummy's  'mummy time'? Yes they do!) , not by BH, who knows that something very important is going on behind that door, and not by the phone ( just ignore it) but by the large brown bear called Peewee! He stands at the door screeching! Yes...Peewee displays vocal abilities in all manners! Peewee is a talker. More than that he's a crier. A wailer and a moaner! Baby Bear (yes, I was forced into getting another brother for the brother of another mother) on the othe

Losing a Parent.

My Dad is strong, fearless and brave. Those were the opening words of my eulogy for my Dad and those were the words I'd written in my exercise book when I was 8 years old. It was accompanied by a picture of Batman...another hero. There are not enough words to describe him. I said that too. How can you condense a persons life into  a few paragraphs? When I sat down to write his eulogy I found I couldn't stop. I had my memories and I wanted everyone to know what a great man he was. It was easy, because I knew and loved him. Losing a parent when you're an adult is strange feeling. As you get older you know the inevitable is going to happen but you consign it to the back of your mind in the hope you'll deal with it. Fleeting ideas pass through your mind. How would one parent cope without the other, or how would you cope without one of them? The little things they do as they get older is a reminder of their mortality. The general loss of confidence as they get o

"Where have you been?" they cried?

Well..I thought the last post was the break in my 'block'...but it appears it wasn't!  Not that it matters. Shit comes in all sizes and I've had a colon full this year.   I couldn't remember my password as it's been so long, neither could I remember the email address I used. Useless, that's me.  Anyhow, I've found my way back, so for me at least, that's a good thing. I'd hate for it to be lost in cyber world and I'd hate for all the words to mean nothing. I've been away so long that I've forgotten how it all works. I've forgotten about Twitter and I've forgotten about Facebook. It became so complicated, especially when Google decided to change its method of feeding the feeds and all of that complicated stuff so I decided I'd really had enough.  Following someone because they followed me, just to get a few more views. Working out the best ways to get read and to promote the blog. For what?  It really became pointless aft

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 ve

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 friends...well..as 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 ye

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 jostle

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

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

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