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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/item_id/1315450-Bloggerholic/sort_by/entry_order DESC, entry_creation_time DESC/page/4
by Acme
Rated: XGC · Book · How-To/Advice · #1315450
A place where everybody can feel easily offended - my head!
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 *Up* 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?

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WELCOME TO THE HUMAN GOOGLE!


*Check2*I may never have mastered the art of tying shoelaces, but I win every time I play Trivial Persuit.
*Check2*Friends place bets on how many people I can, unintentionally, upset on a night out.
*Check2*I am the place where boundless enthusiasm meets embarrassing arrogance.

*Exclaim*Important Information - Please Read*Exclaim*


*Note5* 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:
 Invalid Item 
This item number is not valid.
#1290842 by Not Available.

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? *Confused*

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*Heart*

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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}:
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January 12, 2010 at 8:15pm
January 12, 2010 at 8:15pm
#683559
I was walking along and I fell down a dark, deep hole. I was lonely, I was frightened, I was hurt, and I thought I might die there. After time and effort, I pulled myself out, but it was hard. I walked on. I fell down another hole. I hurt all over again. I knew I couldn't stay there, and I had to help myself out like I'd done before. It was hard work, but I got out. I brushed myself off and started to walk again. I saw a hole, but I still managed to fall into it. I got hurt, but I pulled myself out. I continued to walk. I saw a hole. I avoided it.
~misquoted by Acme (author unknown [well, forgotten really--I'm shocking at the moment, aren't I? Besides, Sis told me it, and she couldn't remember who wrote it either])


It's been a very weird day. A day with very mixed events, less lists, and a lot of positives (possibly not in the order of importance that one might expect, but then, this is early days, and I'm all for going with the flow).

*Note* I went to work. It was just the distraction I needed. The kids went to school, so to get back into a routine that included work. There were no client groups in the hall to see my hideous visage (ooh, I do not suit a lack of sleep. Exhaustion is not a good look on me, at all). I deal with quite a varied slice of parish life, but to be honest, this time of year is normally full of funerals and panicking about how close Lent is to Christmas. Once every blue moon I have to deal with weddings. Today was full of weddings. I had to write to three different marrying couples, and then listen to a lovely man detailing his granddaughter's bridesmaid responsibilities. I thought it all very odd, to say the least.

*Note* I ate. My mother took me out for lunch and insisted I nibble on a tuna sandwich. I love fish, but seldom have it at home because TA does not like the smell of it about the place. Feck it. I love fishies, so juicy-slick, like a regular Gollum. I ate half the sandwich and a bit of salad, which is a huge improvement on two biccies and a slice of toast since Saturday night.

*Note* Had a bit of self-help therapy session with myself. It was a revelation. I've put TA before my own needs too often. Not now. BA asked me what I was going to do with all the left-over love I had and didn't know where to put. I told her, that I'd give it to myself. She liked this. She said it made perfect sense, since I wouldn't be filled up because daddy's love was missing. What a clever girl she is. I've had the simplest, yet most powerful personal epiphany: I've put his needs before my own, and that's my fault, not his. I can change that. I can put me first. It's all in my hands. I figure I have conspired with him to become a utility, not a person: I am the washing machine, the oven, the childminder, and PA. Wrong. I am Acme, hear me roar. I opened a rare-old Pandora's box when I asked myself the question: What do you want? I have so many dreams and ambitions. There is nothing to stop me except myself. I'm seeing a different person in the mirror of my soul--I see all the people she can be. I'm boiling a frog:
There are two ways to try to boil a frog.
If you put a frog into boiling water, it will jump out. Your frog will not be boiled.
If you put a frog into cold water and slowly bring it to the boil. You will have boiled a frog.



*Note* I'm very proud of the way I've handled myself in his company. Yes, since hiding in the Vicarage, I've come a long way. I spoke clearly, calmly, and openly about how I felt, without resorting to:
*Check3* making lists
*Check3* begging him to come back
*Check3* getting snotty and teary
*Check3* being anything other than wonderful


*Note* TA asked me to attend Marriage Guidance. Whilst I was happy that he'd recognised that the need, I did wonder why he couldn't have done so sooner, before the kids were involved... when? ooh, I dunno... how about in November when I suggested it? Anyhoo, I didn't want to be an arse, I wanted to know if I wanted to go ahead with it, before I answered yes or no. I had a long think (overnight is long for me) and realised it wouldn't hurt to know what was going on in his head. Mini-epiphany: I don't have to make spur of the moment decisions, but information is always welcome in a situation where there's been a lack of communication. I also thought it might be sensible if the marriage was irreparable. I didn't want to get my hopes up, nor the kids'. After they witnessed the leaving, I thought it only right to inform them that their dad and I were talking things through. I made it clear that the talking was to help us to get through the current situation, and not to get their hopes up of reconciliation:
"But mum, you still love him don't you?"
"Yes."
"And he's the one that left, isn't he? So that hasn't changed. If you want him back, and he wants to come back, then that's great!"
"Hang on, a minute. It doesn't matter what I want, because I've no idea what he's going to say. It's not all about what he wants, either. There are a lot of variables."

I think that has to go down as the first mistake I've made. What child can't help but get their hopes up, when their newly separated parents are talking again?
I can honestly say I went there with an open mind: I didn't know whether it was to try again, hear confessions of bad things, or make separation easier. We both laid our cards on the table: he wants me back. I will not put my kids, or me, through that twice. I fell down a hole a few months ago, and I never thought I'd climb out. I did. I fell though a hole a few days ago, even though I saw it coming. Next time, I'll step around it. It sure won't hurt as much, if I slip and fall in again. Eventually, I'll learn the art of hole avoidance.

*Note* I'll take my husband back. I will do so on my terms, which happen to be most equitable and fair: both of us need to be prepared to work on this marriage. For me, that means that I become more assertive, more self-orientated, and a little less Moll Flanders when he wants a bit of Jane Eyre. For him, it means he has to get used to the fact that utility days have ended and a woman replaces them. This particular woman no-longer has him perched on a pedestal, because we need an equal footing. I count. I matter, and he certainly doesn't have the right to make my decisions for me anymore--something that I've been guilty of allowing to happen in my desire to put his needs before my own.

The thing is I've noticed more than I could have ever imagined during this really shit time:

I am stronger than I think
I am blessed with beautiful girls, a loving family, and fantastic friends
I can survive
I am good catch
I've got a whole lot of love, especially for myself


I'm not ready for him to move back in the house yet. I still want my Bacardi night with the girls, and I'd like for him to take me on a date while he's off work. I'd both like us to keep up the good dialogue we had during counseling. I'd like very much to see us share the journey of life beside each other, but don't know what the future will bring. I hope for the best, but will invest in myself.

I know one thing for sure: things will never be the same again. Is that good? Is that bad? It's neither--it's just different.



Mater: "He's got two beautiful children, a nice house, a good job, a comfortable living, and a wonderful wife who loves him, cares for him, and worships the bloody ground he walks on. If he throws all that away, the man's an idiot."

Acme: "I know, but if he throws all that away he won't be my idiot anymore."





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January 11, 2010 at 6:20pm
January 11, 2010 at 6:20pm
#683403
Write: Lists. I had an inkling that I could get a little OCD, given the opportunity, and what do you know? I'm a list-maker, not a hand-washer. Here's a list of the lists I've made so far:

Future Smiles List: a list to look forward to happier times
Inspirational Quote List: from biblical to Tony Robins, they're all there
How many times have I cried by the minute/hour/day list
Personal Care Things-to-do-list: shower, breathe, function, brush teeth/hair, dress etc.,
Children's Care List: includes their social schedules, feeding routines, hygiene, cuddles, a friendly ear, and endless reassurance.
Things I can cook with a tin of tomatoes List
Public and corporate bodies to inform of change of circumstances List: (this one is not very well developed)


Edit: No, but for once in my life I have a fantastic excuse *Thumbsup*

Kids: It breaks my heart to see them so torn. BA, that wise seven-year-old, said that her head felt like it was going to pop with all the sad thoughts bumping into each other, and that her heart was going to pop with all the love that didn't know where to go anymore, and that when they popped, her whole body would pop, too, and all that would be left of her would be broken little pieces of love all over the floor. I told her that I knew what she meant. Junior's taking it hard. She needs to blame someone, so she's blaming me. I know she's just trying to find a way through the hurt, so I'm keeping schtum. I'm reassuring them that none of this is their fault (both have said things like: "Maybe if I tidied my room more?" "Maybe if I was a good girl?" "Maybe I could have loved him more."). I tell them they have done nothing wrong, that he left me not them, that they are loved, that they are still allowed to love me and their father... and to hate us, too, because all of their feelings are valid, and are what they need to feel. Nothing is 'wrong'. Nothing is 'bad'. Their job is to be kind to themselves and know that they are loved.

Relationships: Wow. What can I say? I'm so completely blown away by the kindnessess showered upon me. I have cyber friends on WDC who are just as real, if not more so, to me as fleshies. The support, thoughtfulness and outpouring of love and sympathy that I have received from you is overwhelming. Put it this way, thanks to your combined correspondence I have had (new list coming...):
My first smile since he left
My first laugh since he left
Have been made to bathe (good news for all around me)
Reminders that even though I feel lost, vulnerable, crushed, etc., I do not have to go through this alone
A whole heap of great advice
More brackets than a DIY store (((hugs)))
Phone calls from acrost the globe
A lot of grateful tears, because of the way your words have touched me.
My first sleeve full of coffee in my life 1
Nothing that I could write would do justice to the impact your words have had on me. I feel truly blessed to know you and call you 'friend'. Thank you.

Physical:
Lots. With the car still out of action, I've been walking everywhere. Fancy another list? No? Well, I do...
*Bullet* Walked BA to school: they were lovely when I explained the situation. The pastoral care given to her today was such a comfort to her, and so, as a side-effect, it comforted me, too.
*Bullet* Walked to the supermarket to buy essential groceries (not done a 'proper' buying-in since mid-December). These consisted of (ooh, goody! I get to make a sub-list):
i) Coffee
ii) Cigarettes
I made extra special sure to STAY AWAY FROM THE VINO. The last thing I need to do right now is get drunk, phone him at 3 in the morning, slurring/begging/shouting gawd knows what. I also don't want to look any shitter. Not an easy feat. BA reckoned I looked like what Jesus would look like if he was a girl who'd been crucified. She's got a point: my bounteous 'fro has wilted/turned to frizzy fuzz with an abundance of ringlets; the bags under my eyes are so bad that I look like I've broken my nose, and out went the tight-fitting vesties, in exchange for my Che Guevara over-sized T-Shirt, which sort-of looks like a version of a militant Turin Shroud.
*Bullet* Walked to paper shop: I promised the girls I'd save tokens from a tabloid that let you have a cheap caravan holiday.
*Bullet* Went to see my Priest. He's ace. He works for the big fella, but didn't mind that I left snot and goo everywhere in the parlour. I broke down completely. He didn't mind. I worried about work. He told me not to. I worried about everything, and he said it was good to let it all out. Then TA ('The Artist' or another acronym variant, depending on mood ... erm, can't keep calling him 'hubby', can I) was seen in the car park *Worry* I wasn't ready to face him. I hid. (not big or clever, but something). I could have really done with a Priest Hole. I think my experience proves that there is still a valuable need for them.
*Bullet* Walked to the Doctors: got an emergency appointment and a fist full of Prozac.


FFF:
Fags: Lost count. I'm wheezing, though, which can't be good.

Food: I have stuck to four of the major food groups:
*Star* Coffee
*Star* Fags
*Star* Cadbury's Chocolate-coated Digestive Biscuits
*Star* Toast


It will improve. Hence the Things I can cook with a tin of tomatoes List.

It took me an hour to make the children scrambled eggs on toast. Bless them, they didn't complain.

Fermented Grape Juice: None, for the sake of my dignity and sanity--good gravy, I daren't. On the plus side, The Girls have invited themselves over for a Bacardi Night on Friday. They're going to come on over when the kids are in bed, confiscate my telephone, and get me good and snozzled.

Footnotes
1  I couldn't tear myself away from a lovely email. My coffee was at the perfect quaffing temperature, so I took a HUGE mouthful. I didn't have time to swallow it before I sneezed, but I did have the speed of thought to know that if I covered my mouth, it would come out of my nose and spray out between my knuckle joints. I tried to open my mouth before I sneezed and the results were terrifying. NEVER sneeze with your mouth full of coffee. Trust me on that one, please.

January 10, 2010 at 2:38pm
January 10, 2010 at 2:38pm
#683245
You can see a freight train coming straight for you. You can see it, but you can't do anything about it. Even though you can see it coming, when it hits, it doesn't hurt any less.

My husband left me.

I'm panicking about the practicalities--kids, shelter, mortgage, transport, bills, breathing--to take my mind of my sorrow. It isn't working very well.

Never was a man so loved, adored, pampered and desired than he. I can honestly say that I gave my relationship 100%. It is not my fault that he doesn't love me. I have to hold on to that one scrap of sanity in a sea of tears, snot, and 'stiff-upper-lips-for-the-kids'.

I may not be around much while I get my shit together, or, I maybe around so much that it bores all and sundry.

One day, I'll view this as a chapter in the book of my life, but for now, it's horrid.

I started with trains, let me end with a fish:

"I put him on the carpet."
"And what was Emilo doing on the carpet?"
"Flapping."
"And then you stomped on him. And when you lifted up your foot, what was Emilo doing then?"
"Nothing."
"He stopped flapping, didn't he?"

Kill Bill Volume II

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January 9, 2010 at 10:31am
January 9, 2010 at 10:31am
#683048
Write: Yes, a two star blunder for the Talent Pond's Winter Games (see rant below *Down*). Sure, it's not the best thing that I've ever written, but I'm not ashamed of it, either, especially because I get to be mean to the daft protagonist at the end, and it's always a delight to be in charge of an imaginary universe, isn't it?
 Invalid Item 
This item number is not valid.
#1634147 by Not Available.


My puff-pastry Cornish Pasties went down a treat at the Writing Café today. So did The Hollinwood Dragon, which has now gone to the editing team. As close run thing as it is, we're still on track for a March/April publication.

Edit: I love the review system here at WDC, and yes, I do actually appreciate the 'comment in a box' facility, too--no, really, I do--but I'm going to whinge about it anyway. How the feck does a 2 star rating give me any room to improve? It states that my item is clearly below average with numerous errors. What the feck are they? According to that most illuminating of site guides, "Comment-In-A-Box"   by The StoryMistress , a *Star**Star* rating is as follows:
This item is below average for me. I enjoy a few aspects of the item, but for the most part, I do not enjoy reading through it. The Author has paid no attention to the language used and words chosen. I will leave the item feeling nothing special in particular, and I would not recommend it to a friend. There may be an abundance of grammar or spelling mistakes present throughout the item.

- If it's a static item, the item is not original or creative in the theme, plot or layout. There are confusing areas within the item that I have to reread a few times in order to fully grasp the desired meaning. The plot and wording are not smooth and I can not read through it without hesitation in many areas.


It takes all sorts to make a world, I guess. And, yes, that includes twats. I've had to slap a 'rating requires review' thingie on the story in question, now, because how the heck else am I supposed to move forward with editing something that clearly is riddled with mistakes, is confusing, and requires re-reading in many areas?

On the plus side, it sure makes me appreciate those people who take the time to offer thoughtful and considered criticism.

I also think that this part of the SMs's advice rings true, too: "I will leave the item feeling nothing special in particular". Why does that particular snippet nudge me from my confusion? Because my ego assumes that the rater actually did feel something special about the item: they hated it *Pthb*, and that's good, because I got to wax lyrical about gooey romance, and anyone who knows me at all, knows that romance is a very subjective thing. I loved creating Michael's character. His ethos in the pursuit of hot chicks is romantic--to me, anyway--as well as being one that won't prove popular with ugly chicks:

"That's an awful thing to say! Out of your league? I would never say that." Susan spluttered.

"But it wouldn't stop you thinking it." Michael winked at her. "It's alright, I don't mind, because it's true. I don't ask out the girls I think will say yes--I ask out the girls who I think will say no. The way I see it, I could get rejected by the ugliest, so why take that risk? If I aim low, the best case scenario is that I end up with a 'make-do' girl. I'd rather get rejected by the hottest women there are, and gain the possibility of ending up with a goddess on my arm."


Kids: They were very well-behaved at the Writing Café today. I do like showing them off in company when they're on form. Of course, for every ying there's a yang, and I'm sure they'll bite me on the ass soon enough. There was one sticky point: children are welcome as writers, not as a babysitting service, and just like WDC has a rating system, we have one, of sorts. Our system basically says that if a writer wants to share a piece of work that has graphic violence, erotica, or harsh expletives, then the author must announce it before it's read--children present or not--so that each listener can make up their own mind as to whether or not they want to listen to it. Today's writer read her erotic piece out without a disclaimer, and I had to watch Junior squirm in her seat listening to men tweak pert, pink nipples on blossoming girls' breasts. I reminded everyone of the rule afterward, and am sure that the writer didn't mean any offense, as she's a really good friend, and usually very conscientious. She said she forgot how steamy it got in places. Fair enough. I was kind of on shaky ground with the kids being there, though, because, while Junior is a writer and brought work to read out, BA is clearly just there for the babysitting. If someone else was bringing their kids to play, I'm not sure I'd be as tolerant as I'm asking the Café members to be. Gawd, I really need a babysitter. If not for Café Saturdays, then at least so I can get out of this house. I'm going stir crazy.

Relationships: I guess my interaction with Café members counts toward relationships. It was good to catch up with folk that I haven't seen all year... fair enough, that I haven't seen for a few weeks. Apart from being a massive hypocrite and laying down the 'rude' law, I think I played nice with others today. Let me see if I can keep it up and extend the same civility to those nearest and dearest to me (BA keeps coming in to the Studio and asking me how to spell things, and I'm not being very tolerant about it *Blush*)

Physical: Walkies. Walked there and back to the café today. A good hike in the snow. My arms were aching this morning and I wondered if it might have had something to do with only getting 2hrs sleep last night (I'm so pleased that this is a written blog and not a video one--I look like Swamp Thing), but then it hit me: I spent a good half an hour to an hour pushing snow-bound cars up hills yesterday. I kiss my guns.

FFF:
Fags
Hubby watched me chuck another dimp on the snow drift outside the back door this am. He wondered what it might look like when we finally get a thaw. "Terrible," I answered. "It will be like the trash at an animal testing cancer research facility." He didn't laugh. erm, I did. I'm a bad person, but hey! The rate I'm smoking, I'll be dead soon, and it's hard to offend from six feet under.
Food
Oh, I am the queen of the Cornish Pasty. I can cook. I can, I can, I can.
Fermented Grape Juice
Funnily enough, no. Hubby and I did discover schnapps, though. How very continental of us.
January 8, 2010 at 10:56am
January 8, 2010 at 10:56am
#682956
Write: I had some hard decisions to make this week; buckle down and finish that gosh-darn Hollinwood Dragon story before the anthology deadline tomorrow, play over at the Talent Pond's Winter Games, or blog. Blogging lost out. I'm relieved to say that, first draft that it may be, I have now finished the dragon story, and submitted it to the editing team. While I'm sure they'll come back with quite a number of editing suggestions, I'd be more than grateful to anyone on WDC who can make time to offer up words of wisdom:
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This item number is not valid.
#1634062 by Not Available.


Edit:The Talent Pond's Winter games have been a whole heap of fun, and have reasserted my love of all things reviewish. And one of my favourite past times has re-opened: "Invalid Item I have to say that I enjoy reading and reviewing poetry far more than I do writing it. Other poet's seem to have a greater grasp of capturing the essence of meaning and emotion than I ever can. No, I'm not being self-effacing, I'm just being honest; I'm about as deep as a puddle. Sadly, this never stops me from pretending to be a poet, and I doubt it ever will *Wink* While I may not take my own poetry seriously, the same can not be said of my appreciation of the work of others. I love the fact that Lornda~Hopping in Wonderland~ gives me a free reign to explore the poet's portfolios that sign up for her raids. She tells them straight that I'll choose my own poems to read and will research both form and content before I'm comfortable to offer my views, so I like to think that my reviews show the time and effort that I put into them. For example, the current reviewee is translating the works of a Romanian poet. This scholarly task means that I'm not going to go in there guns blazing without a bit of background research. Maybe it's the historian in me, but I do feel a buzz of delight in endless research ... mmm *Rolleyes* Actually, it's a wonder that I ever write, because little things mither me. Take The Hollinwood Dragon, for example. I interviewed twelve people to garner ideas; a church group of matronly ladies who gave me post-war memories of bonfire night, of 'cob-coaling' (they sang the song, and it's the only thing left to include as an author's note); the deacon gave me an insight into the culinary treats of the day, including the "poor man's mulled wine" which is hot-pokered ale (smoky and smooth to drink); the coal pits belched out so much muck that smog was black, and a body couldn't see their own hand in front of them; numerous miners died when pit props collapsed, and the absence of houses in terraced rows, like toothless grins, is due to the subsidence caused by the old tunnels. All of this, and research of how the area looked before modern building works, made cramming the information into the shape of story rather an onerous task. I still don't think I've done all those people's memories the justice they deserve, but, hopefully, I've captured the essence and spirit of them in some small way. Is it the best thing I've ever written? Probably not, but I did enjoy the process of interviewing, researching, and then writing it. One of the people interviewed happened to mention a few nuggets of personal interaction with Albert Pierpoint, the infamous British hangman who lived and worked (not hanging, but Pub Landlording) in Hollinwood. I've saved the interview for some future write. It's too good an opportunity to miss.

Kids: BA wanted a Bill Murry day. Who can blame her? She's watching him make every effort to 'not cross the beams' as I write. Junior's written a new song, and keeps desperately checking her school's website. Because they have been snow-closed for a week, the teachers are posting homework, and if one thing drives her crazy it's the thought of not doing her homework. I love that kind of neurosis. Long may it mess with her head *Thumbsup*

Relationships: I have been the good neighbour. I have shoveled snow, dug drivers out of drifts, and pushed them back onto the road of freedom. Hurrah for me. More importantly, the rude family at the bottom of the street have finally been forced to acknowledge the neighbourhood community spirit. They're the kind of people I can (erm, and have *Blush*) go right up to, blocking their way, and smile and shout a jolly 'hullo!' to, and they still ignore me. On one occasion I almost flashed my tits at the miserable bastard (who I've nicknamed 'Rude Dad'), just to garner a response, but thought better of it--I had a crap bra on. Well, today, hubby--ignoring my advice not to drive down the street--drove down the street. He got stuck in a never-ending wheel-spin outside the rude family's house. Rude Dad came down the street, ignored us, even with hullos and cries for help and went inside his house. Bastard. But, then, he's never dealt with an Acme playing on tilt. He re-emerged some time later, when we'd managed to gain some headway (erm, about two feet), and I nabbed him. "Come on. Help us push," I demanded in my best, no-nonsense, Sunday School Teacher brogue. He was helpless. He had to push. We moved the car, and I made sure to thank him. See? I can even make the miserable do what I want. I should be president. In Iceland, maybe?

Physical: Big push car mover lady need no more exercise. *drags knuckles off to find mate*

FFF:
Fags Puff, puff, puffity-puff. Cough, cough, coughity-cough.
Food We're a third week into 'store cupboard cooking', which means that we've eaten rather healthily. All the junk food got used up first, so the past fortnight has seen a trend of home cooking from scratch. Rather tasty, actually, and the kid's have been having much more than 5-a-day of their fruit and veg fix. Of course, hubby's back for one night only, so we'll be on take-out pizza and kebabs tonight, but one naughty night out of so many good ones is a bit of a thing to celebrate.
Fermented Grape Juice I haven't bought any, so I haven't drank any. Golly, is that nearly a week on the wagon? My liver loves me, of that I'm sure.
January 4, 2010 at 7:38am
January 4, 2010 at 7:38am
#682328
Hurrah for the Ponds; they do go all out for these smashing events. Take a peek and jump on in by clicking the big bellied snowman:

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January 3, 2010 at 8:36am
January 3, 2010 at 8:36am
#682196
Okay, he probably didn't because he was a good Jewish boy, but I love crispy bacon and they serve it in floury baps after Mass at church, so I think he'd approve.

Write: Yes. I'm off to write just as soon as I've blogged my intent to do so. I will put that dragon to rest.

Edit: whoops. So far I'm 0 for 3 when it comes to days editing. I shall probably do some editing by accident as I re-read The Hollinwood Dragon before I add to it.

Kids: BA took the long walk to church with me this am. She was glad she did, and had an ace time learning to swing the thurible in Sunday school. Junior stayed home with poorly hubby, and I was glad she did. Gosh darn pre-teen hormones have kicked in, and there's only room for one grumpy bastard in the morning in this house: me.

Relationships: It was actually pretty cool to spend time with my church family today. I enjoyed the company of some of the older members of the congregation. We moaned about the weather, aching joints, the-youth-of-today, and anything else we fancied. I needed a group whinge-fest, so even though I didn't agree with any of their gripes, I griped along anyway, for exercise.

Physical: Sherpa Acme braved the elements and slippery snow-covered surfaces to hike to church and back. I feel ever so wild and untamed. Such successful daring-do has also made me a bit more positive about my ambition to become a self-sufficient farmer. Sure, I may not know the wheat from the chaff, but I have balls, am plucky, hardy, resilient, and as stubborn as shit down a nightclub pan. I can do anything, whether I can do it or not.

FFF:
Fags: I'm beginning to think this subheading is a little redundant. Why? Because I smoke my head off all the time, and don't think that will change in the foreseeable future. It may make more sense to change the subheading to Fumbling as my efforts to get my end away keep getting thwarted by absent/ill/low-libidoed hubby. On second thoughts, the last thing any blog reader wants to know is how laughable my seduction techniques are.
Food: BAAAAAACON! mmm, pork products never cease to amaze me. I like it 'crozzled', which is my nan's expression for the ability to smash its carbonized meatiness to smithereens with a fork. For tea tonight, I plan on reminding the soon to work away hubby that the excellence he's missing in the bedroom extends to the kitchen. I shall wow him with my roast beef in gravy: Sunday Dinner with roast potatoes, carrots, peas, broccoli, cauliflower cheese, and, of course, Yorkshire pudding. I may even make seductive, edible underwear out of any spare Yorkies and the joint's roasting string. I have an image of me being rather daring with the gravy boat *Rolleyes*
Fermented Grape Juice: Last night it came to me that while I've been filled with the rosy glow of an alcohol-fueled Christmas, hubby's spent most of his time on Lemsip and cough syrup. Tonight, I shall get him pissed and ravage him senseless.

I do note a certain one-track-mindedness to this blog entry.

I'll have to fix that.
January 2, 2010 at 10:52am
January 2, 2010 at 10:52am
#682088
Write: I just can't seem to get a full head of steam up to tackle the end of The Hollinwood Dragon. I keep wanting to take it to dark places, and as I'm writing it to order for a feel-good publication, I really can't afford to go there. So, to distract myself and let the eeevil ooze out, I plan on trawling the contest listings here at WDC to see if I can exorcise that particular blackness via a new shortie.

Edit: Day 2 of the New Year, and Day 2 of avoidance. Silly me. Must try harder. I've got to English-i-fy an Americanish tale (change spellings, meanings, and descriptions). Tomorrow... maybe *Blush*

Kids: They're in the garden building snow monsters with hubby. Anyone can do cute when it comes to snowmen, but it takes real genius to make them look as if their twig fingers could slice open your belly and delicately display your innards like shiny red Christmas lights. If anyone can do it, BA will.

...

Hang on, yes, BA has just revealed something akin to a voodoo doll/Easter Island/booby statue. She's even used stone shale for nipples, and wood chippings for fangs. Ace. I'll see if hubby can take a photo so I can upload it later *Thumbsup*

Relationships: I have no time for people today. The snow is thick and it's much safer to walk than attempt to drive (remember, the UK is a country that has never heard of summer/winter tyres, and the rail network grinds to a halt if there's a leaf on the track). And yet, they still insist on driving too fast on untreated roads. Wankers. We've lost several safety bollards at the junction near to our house.

Physical: Walked to the shop. Good and energetic exercise plus a chance to flick the vickies at bad drivers. Much head shaking and tutting was done. I think that may help tone and tighten my neck. I need to tone and tighten my wallet, too. I only went for icing sugar. I didn't get any, but managed to spend a tenner on candy, vino, and fags. Oh, and I did not win the lottery again. I was actually quite relieved. For ages I've been lotto-dreaming about getting a small holding, so I can live off the land and live the good life. I've been on the waiting list for an allotment for two years, now. I've been having bad farming dreams of late. Dreams where I have no idea what I'm doing and we all starve and become destitute. It's putting me off. I may have to give up doing the lottery until I can have a new idle fancy to sustain me.

FFF:
Fags I feel all Dick Van Dyke: Chim-chiminey, Chim-chiminey, Chim-chim-cheroo.

Food Pancakes for breakie. It's an onerous task, guaranteed to put me in a bad mood. The family argue over who has had the most, whose turn it is for the next one, and they make shit-loads of mess with the syrup. Meanwhile, no one thinks to ask if I've managed to eat one because I get mine last, when the batter's gone all weird, if there is any batter left. This morning I executed a cunning plan: I made double the amount of pancake batter. Even with twice the amount available, I ended up with two, misshapen, slightly burned, pancakes. Ho-hum. Will set my alarm clock earlier next Saturday so that I can first dibs on the batter *Pthb* I need some comfort food today. Something tomatoey and garlicy... it's definitely an Italian day. mmm, and I picked up a--

Fermented Grape Juice
--fruity little Italian table wine when I hoofed it the shops earlier *Delight*
January 1, 2010 at 6:19pm
January 1, 2010 at 6:19pm
#681981
How the flip do seven thousand views happen? I'm not that fecking interesting. Me thinks the system glitches too much. That said, my ego and I are quite happy to go to bed on a glitch. Heck, it's how I run the rest of my life.

Glitch on.

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January 1, 2010 at 8:23am
January 1, 2010 at 8:23am
#681934
just a small 'Hurrah!' to say the New Year is barely a day old and I just won 2nd place in Jam's poetry campfire for this little ditty:

I've torn up your shirt,
...vest and trews,
planted cress in your carpet,
poured milk in your shoes,
razored your suit cuffs,
and glued all your zippers,
covered your sofa in old, rotted kippers,
put porn on your hard drive,
phoned outer Mongolia,
used all of your creditt
to buy a Lagonda,
and if that's not enough,
I've talked with your mother,
and told her that you were
your dad's cheating 'cover',
so don't expect mercy,
you mean little man,
you should have loved me
when you had the chance


Yay! *Bigsmile*
January 1, 2010 at 6:50am
January 1, 2010 at 6:50am
#681930
Write: Wanted to, but didn't know what to write, until northernwrites Spiritual Newsletter made me chortle. They are a writer, and reviewer, who I appreciate has a well-crafted and thoughtful writing manner, but, a bit like Fyn, my eyes can't tune into their particular style and voice. This means that I tend to skim read their newsletters, even if they are about a subject that really interests me--unlike, say, a Bill or Waltzy special that will hold my interest, even if the subject matter were something along the lines of "Most Interesting Anorak Design Patterns of East European Rural Communities 1985-1989"

What caught my skimming eyes was the following *Down*. I've answered them in my own inimitable way: ignoring the point and making my own merry use of it.

*Bullet* List all the nicknames and "sweet" names you have had, and who used them. Do you know where the unique or unusual ones came from?
Fartface = My sister. A term of endearment, alluding to the fact that I daydreamed so much I looked like "a fart in a trance"

Dickhead = My best friend in Primary School. She would always smile and shake her head lovingly before saying it. It usually followed the execution of a 'plan' of my invention that inevitable ended badly, with hilarious results.

Taco = My owd comic strip dabbling name. I have a lot of affection for it. I particularly enjoyed it when hot boys would announce they were 'going to grab a taco'. Unfortunately, they weren't referring to me.

Stig = erm, this one followed me through Primary School, Secondary School, and University. I put it down to the fact that most of my peer group had been forced to read Stig of the Dump. For some reason, many family members, friends, and lovahs, thought my short, fro'd, messy form resembled aspects of the book's main character. One day I wailed to a boyfriend that I was fed up with being messy. He said, "No! You're not messy--you simply have an affection for randomness." I liked this. It sounded far more hygienic.


*Bullet* Do you like being called by a nickname or not? Why?
I have no strong feelings either way. I find it interesting that I am who I am, but that other people what to re-label and package me better for their own needs. I do it myself. I'm proud to say that I am the inventor of several long-sticking nicknames.


*Bullet* Write about a time in your life when looking back was important to moving forward.
Being chased by an angry goose. I needed to know where the plucky fecker was, just as much as I needed to know where my escape route was.


*Bullet* Write about a time in your life when looking back was hazardous for you.
When I was looking back and chatting to a friend. I fell off the edge of a jetty and into a lobster pot. I stank.


*Bullet* Which do you do most often: look back or look ahead? Why do you think that is?
Neither. I tend to look in between the real bits of life, and seek out the topsy-turvey bits. It's far much more fun to imagine, to daydream, to avoid reality, than it is to soberly examine it. When working in an office, I loved filing. I could work on auto-pilot and dive into my wildest dreams. Unfortunately, I did get caught in the copy room on a few occasions, doing stunt rolls with an imaginary gun behind the storage files.


Edit: No. What a shocking way to start the New Year *Blush*

Kids: Took them dancin' last night. There aren't an awful lot of options at New Year for kid friendly events, but we found one for last night. All of us joined other friends with families at a huge event dinner at the local 'wedding' hotel. All three function rooms were turned over to partying families. It was kid friendly, 3 different DJ music styles in the function rooms to cater for all tastes. Lobster, mollusks, and salmon buffet for me (non-fishy for everyone else. Seriously, all the chicken nuggets, chips and pizza went, leaving HUGE platters of dead fish just for me! I was in fishy heaven... just like the fish *Delight*) My dancing is something to behold. I fully admit that I'm bad at it, but everyone agrees that I'm fully committed and entertaining, nonetheless. I checked my outfit's danceworthiness before making it my final selection, and, true to experiments, it carried me past the midnight chimes with nary a wardrobe malfunction in sight *Thumbsup* Baby Acme thinks me quite the most exciting sight to behold when dancing. Junior thinks me the most embarrassing punishment for crimes she's yet to commit. Hubby spent most of the night in the room we had booked. He said he was ill. I left him to it, but demanded he join us at five to twelve, which he did. We didn't make it to 12:30pm.

Relationships: Spent last night in the company of two families of friends. I was delightful company. I also made sure to make new friends, whether they liked it or not. These included all the other social pariahs who stood outside (-4) in skimpy partywear, smoking their heads off. Hurrah! I only let my mouth run away with me once. A grumpy guest arrived and no matter how much I smiled at her, she refused to return it. "Cheer up, cocker!" I grinned, like a maniacal skull, standing directly in her way. "Slap a smile on for New Year, eh?" She was too frightened to disobey. Smile secured, I let her in the building. Ho-ho-ho. I'm the Happy New Year bouncer.

Physical: Dancin'. I mean really dancin'...

FFF:
Fags Not so many, on account of having to brave the elements to smoke 'em. I certainly am in no position to quit them for New Year, so I haven't.
Food Dead fish last night. Full Monty this morning. Ace. I clocked it in my head, and while huge on protein, it wasn't bad for fats and such. I've been healthy by accident.
Fermented Grape Juice It's not big, and it's not clever, but I smuggled my own ale in last night. I'm bloody glad I did. It was £3 for draft soda. Do I feel guilty? No. Do I have a hangover? Not yet. I think I may still be slightly snozzled, and so am waiting for a lunchtime doozie.

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December 30, 2009 at 12:56pm
December 30, 2009 at 12:56pm
#681577
Write: Yes, but I can't tell you about it. Can't is not the same as won't, as recently discussed with hubby (see below *Down*)

Edit: No, but I'm feeling so guilty about it that I'm starting to dream about school again. It's been over a decade (erm, nearly two) since I was at school, but school dreams always happen when I have work to do. They're so damn boring and mind-numbing that I don't pop 'em in my Dream Journal.

Kids: They're going through a 'hate' agenda with each other at the moment. While this is a lot of fun for me--because I get to stir up trouble, take/change sides, and generally admire the strength of emotions contained in little bodies--it does make for a grumpy hubby. Things are still very shaky, but if the chap wants to find excuses to hate his current family then he'll find them whether the girls are 'good' or not. We both agreed to go to our respective workplaces one day this week: he chose Tuesday, and I chose today. Last night he came home and announced he'd arranged a meeting for this morning, but as my work was 'not a proper job' and he was the main bread-winner, it was fine. I told him that it wasn't. I told him that it was fine for him to go to his meeting, and that the girls were sure to enjoy spending time at daddy's office. He laughed. "I can't take them to work with me."

"Have you asked? Phone the colleague you're meeting and explain the situation. It's up to them, then, if they want to postpone the meeting, or to go ahead with the kids there. They can take a bag full of snacks and games. I'm sure there'll be no problem."

"You don't understand. I can't take them to work with me. It's not allowed."

"You mean there's a rule? Or are you confusing can't with won't?"

"Alright, alright! You win. I'll cancel the meeting that Trevor is driving miles to come to, and I'll lose a day's wages and we'll have no money."

"No money? I thought you only planned to go in one day this week, anyway."

*hubby: sulk, stomp, rolleyes, 'just another reason why you don't understand me or support me', boo-hoo, 'Acme's the bad guy, Acme's the bad guy, Acme's the bad guy...'*

"Hey, hubby, I've got an idea. Why don't we do a compromise--the kind you like? I'll go out of my way to let you have your way. I'll take the kids to work with me, and you do as you please."

"I knew you'd be like this." *followed by the forlorn sigh of the wifely oppressed*

Relationships: the ones with non-husbands are tickity-boo. He makes me feel so shit about everything I say and do at the moment. I can see his brain whirring and his heart withering. What's worse are the looks on his face that I see out of the corner of my eye. They used to be sneaky glances at my ass or tits, but now it is the wrinkled nose of disgust. I've gone past the 'make it all better' robot housewife with fake smile plastered onto my chops and am now in full 'me' mode. This consists of: trying too hard and pushing him further away; pushing him away and not trying hard enough; making mental lists of all the hopes, dreams and ambitions I give up to allow him to follow his; jumping on him at all hours of the day to get as much sex as possible before he leaves me (I want fresh, flesh flashbacks to see me through any possible period of drought). I'm fed up. All I need is food, sex and ale and I'm a pussy-cat. In fact, I'm frickin' adorable. I told him he was a lucky fella to have someone so hot, loyal, low cash maintenance, and highly sexed, as me. He replied, "What are you trying to say?" erm, I think I said it, but in simpler terms: I'm ace. Love me, you fuckwit.

Physical: Go me! I'm like one of those fatties on The Biggest Loser (with less fat) *Delight*. You know when they've been in the gym with Jillian and they look as if they're on the other side of a heart-attack? Well, that's what I looked like today. I have a bit of a hang-up about visible signs of sweat, so tend to work-out below my ability, dressed in black, with my hair scraped back and an ever-present towel to dab shiny areas of skin. Yes, I'm one of those annoying people in the gym who uses all the blue roll, wiping other folk's imaginary sweat from the equipment. I've also mastered the art of sliding my butt off the machines in a seamless "I am only standing up" manner that actually wipes away any possible trace of arse-sweat from where I've been sat. I'm so proud of that skill; it's up there with the ability take my bra off while remaining firmly in my T-shirt... not that I do that at the gym *Confused* Anyhoo, this isn't actually about the gym, it's about my super cleaning work-out at the Parish Hall. A private party booking used the hall on the 28th and I walked into the mess today. I worked on all things ecumenical first, but then gave into my OCD and did a clean that normally takes our volunteer cleaners 6 hours to do in the record-breaking time of 2 hours. This included bogs, kitchen, and full floor buffing. It's not the only thing that's buff around here, now. I feel one chin-up closer to Linda Hamilton already *Thumbsup*

FFF:
Fags: Lots. Just to annoy hubby.

Food: Crumpets for breakfast with lashings of best butter. Chicken balti and rice for lunch (before work-out/cleaning). I'm currently listening to the sound of Junior not chopping her fingers off as she makes soup for the family meal. We may well eat before midnight, but I'm not holding my breath--a possible trip to A & E could add hours to the recipe.

Fermented Grape Juice: I'm getting down and dirty with a broody Argentinian. Hurrah!

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December 28, 2009 at 12:21pm
December 28, 2009 at 12:21pm
#681280
... like now.

Write: I wanted to write, but not any of my current projects and deadlines. So, I thought, Feck it! Write what you want, you dolt--don't stop loving it, just because some aspects of it have turned into something akin to hard work. Keep the graft for the work, and dip your nib in the fun pot for the love of writing. I thought this quite profound of me, and no, not just because there were a serious lack of expletives involved. I write because I like it. End of. The only person who can make it become a chore is myself, and I refuse to make villainous something I like that actually won't kill me (unlike the wine, fags and food)

Edit: LOTS *Delight* Not my own, but back to reviewing. After 3,410 reviews here at WDC, I have to admit to it being one of my favourite pastimes. I can appreciate other people's work so much more clearly than my own, but even then, doing so gives me a better understanding on what I should be looking to improve in my own work. So, with the hedonist firmly in control of my decisions today, I've extended writing for writing's sake, to reviewing for reviewing's sake. I looked at my review tool and was confused by the time I got to the second page of the drop down arrow's scroll. How many review groups do I belong to? Too many, that's for sure. I just want a plain, "I'm reviewing you for no other reason than I want to review you" type of tool... have I got one of those? No. Right! I'll make one. Some time later I had a Random Review tool to go with the site's Random Read thing-a-ma-bob. I've gone forth and used it. It's a very simple tool and suits my present mood wonderfully.

Kids: BA has got the grumps today. We are all hiding from her wrath. She went so far as to wag her finger at me, whilst standing with her other hand on her hip. No one quite does, "I'm bloody angry, and I mean it" better than her. I just wish it wasn't so darn scary at times. On days like these, I do wonder if my parenting skills are a bit shit. Surely, I should not stand for outrageous displays of children knowing their own mind instead of their own place, but who am I to crush their righteous anger? Be angry, be righteous, even if you're wrong. I applaud anyone who is determined to have their way, even if it's the wrong way. As long as no one gets hurt, every person has the right to pursue grumpiness--hey, isn't that part of the American constitution? I should encourage her to get her green card.

Relationships: I decided to be a cheeky-chappy kind of personable today, aka, The Artful Dodger. I made small talk with the bus driver, winked at old people, and bemoaned the state of the weather with folk at the supermarket. When I choose a role to play, I'm much better at cultivating amiable social relationships, than when I am myself. Tomorrow, I well may opt for a character who is all-knowing and mystical, aka, Mr Miyagi.

Physical: Was going to walk all the way to the supermarket (there are still a few centimeters of snow and ice), but after slipping around like a Rom Com boyfriend on ice skates for the first time, trying to pass himself off as an Olympic medalist, I decided it was too dangerous, and so I held onto car bonnets, fences, and lamp posts all the way to the bus stop. I did, however, push an incredibly full cart of groceries around while wondering why my arms ache. Then it came to me, I spent all last night playing Wii Sports Resort with hubby over a few bottles of beer. Of course, I won. It's always the same when we're playing normal rules instead of strip rules. Anyhoo, beer aside, I think those hours of drunken gaming count toward the new healthy lifestyle *Thumbsup*

FFF:
Fags Not many. Not only am I still painfully aware of hubby's disgusted looks and complaining, but I also thought the skin colour on my legs looked vaguely cancerous: you know, sort of blueish grey wash out, instead of pinky-peachy. I needn't have worried about such a scientific analysis, it seems the dye from my new jeans bled all over my sweaty thighs when canoing (on the Wii). This has also reminded me that I have not showered in approx. 42hrs. This is something I intend to change rather swiftly.

Food I decided to eat only square shaped things today, to add variety to my usual food groups. Rectangles were, of course, included in this. I forgot to have breakfast (not like me, I know, but this was while I was worrying about cancerous legs, so is understandable), so had a large, late, lunch consisting of potato waffles, Belcher's square sausage meat, a fried egg (with square trimmed egg white!] and an oblong tub full of baked beans. Ace! I have no idea what to have for dinner, though *Confused*

Fermented Grape Juice I did not replenish the wine cellar at the supermarket today. For one thing, I'm a bit of a snob and a cheapskate. Both don't often go well together, and I refused to pay the extortionate price the supermarket wanted me to pay for a reasonable bottle of red. I also refused to pay the price I wanted to pay for a bottle of red table-vinegar made with left-over grapes of indeterminable colour and including sweeteners, colourants, and the brewer's foreskin. As I finished off hubby's beer keller last night, both of us now face a night of sobriety in each other's company. Whatever will we do?

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December 27, 2009 at 11:41am
December 27, 2009 at 11:41am
#681181
I wanna be a drummer. I do have a nagging suspicion that I would look like the chick out of The Whitestripes, though, and that's not good; I'll need to come up with a suitable wardrobe, oh, and yes, I will need how to learn to drum, too.

Been watching people play on The Beatles Rock Band game at friends. I couldn't get up the nerve to try it myself, but already know that I would be genius at it. My thought process went along these lines:
mmm, they're all pretty crap at drumming. I bet I'd be brilliant. It looks so darn easy. After all, I can drive a car and that means multi-limb use. Yes. I'd be genius at drumming. I'd look really cool, too. Should I buy the game console, all the bits and pieces that go with it and the game itself? No. I should just buy a drum kit instead. Where will I put it? I'll make room. There's always room in any house for a drum kit. Yes. I shall be the world bestest ever drummer.

... some time later ...

Right. I've looked on eBay, and drum kits are rather expensive. Have decided not to become a drummer. Will become a mountaineer instead, as the price of crampons is very good.

Write: No, been out and about: church ff visiting friends. Deadlines continue to loom and I just grin at them. Must stop grinning and start crying.

Edit: No, been avoiding it like the plague.

Kids: Kids are ace. Baby Acme made me a little sad, inadvertently. The friends we visited had members of their family over. BA never forgets anything. The last time we saw the extended family, she was 5 years old. The little boy her age was great friends with her until he saw a spot on her arm (the result of a viral infection). She'd showed it off with gusto, he ran from her as if she were diseased. He wouldn't play with 'spotty' any more and she was left in tears. He was there today. BA sat quietly in a corner away from him, stroking her villainous cat, and shooting daggers from her eyes. She refused to play, she refused to eat, she refused to speak (except when spoken to, and then only with measured responses). Hubby just ignored her, but I knew what it was all about. I said to her, "Boys smell." She replied, "Yes, like a million dead things trying to crawl all over my happy thoughts." I couldn't argue with that, so I removed the sharp objects in her immediate proximity and left her to her darkness. I love that girl so much I could explode.

Relationships: I was very well behaved. Even though there were plenty of opportunities to be 'witty', I wasn't. I made sure I refused all alcohol and stuck to coffee. My tongue was polite, charming, and really quite delightful. I think I may have left a 'good impression' on people.

Physical: I shuffled over to the buffet table on a number of occasions, and did walk to church this am. Not the most active of days, but not the most inactive either. If I had a drum kit, I would, of course, have had a thorough upper-body workout. Still, it's time I let that go.

FFF:
Fags Bloody hell! I've been in the company of a bunch of smokers today, and I have to say that I don't smoke half as many ciggies as they do. This makes me feel rather pious and socially acceptable. On the other hand, all the snow has now melted outside my back door. It has revealed the butt-tray of my excesses. I picked up no less that 40 cigarette ends *Sick* Okay, so that's over a week and a half, but they do only reflect the ciggies I couldn't be arsed shoving in the bin.

Food mmm, what is it about buffet food that makes you feel as if you are being really good about portion sizes (little napkins and paper plates)? I returned several times to it, so the reality is that I've probably had the equivalent of Chrimbo dinner all over again. It was darn nice, though. I may get away with not cooking tea. We'll see.

Fermented Grape Juice Good gravy. Another day of sobriety. Whatever can it mean? I do hope the wine producing countries of the world don't think I've abandoned them during these times of international economic crisis. I feel such a heel... and just a little bit too sober for my own good.

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December 26, 2009 at 12:23pm
December 26, 2009 at 12:23pm
#681079
erm, that's a lie. I'm not having turkey for tea. At the moment, I'm not having anything for tea, because I can't be arsed moving of my arse. Oh, hang on, I have a template, I should use it...

Write: Yes, had another whinge about 'not getting' S. Paul. I must either work on my relationship with him until we've got one, or just bin the idea of cultivating one. I started to write it here in Bloggerholic, but the musing nature of it makes it more rant-worthy over at Blog Off, so here's the entry if you fancy it: "Invalid Entry

Edit: Minor. And I mean minor. I added a comma into a story I'd written, and then, after much pen sucking, I removed it again. Seriously pathetic, and now I have an inky blue smile.

Kids: Very happy with these ladies. They did me proud over at twinny's house. They were friendly, happy, cheerful, helpful, and very well mannered. It was as if they had been raised by supernanny instead of yours truly *Delight* They've been lovely today, too, which is just as well because I haven't been. I had a lie-in and woke up grumpy. Everyone got a piece. I'm a horrid grump at times. Hubby called me a shit. Quite right.

Relationships: I've been on the Boxing Day visit run, and it freaked the feck out of me. I'm pleased to say that I wasn't the only one whose sensibilities were tipped over the wrong side of the knap. Here's one for you: we visit hubby's side of the family today, as we had mine yesterday (fair). We went to his best-mate's house for five mins (fair). We went to his mum and dad's house for an hour (fair). We spent time with his sister and niece (fair). We drove to drop off a card to his eldest son from his first marriage (fair). He wanted us all (him, me and the kids) to go up to his first wife's front door, knock, and invite ourselves in for tea and biscuits. I did not think this fair, and I don't mean for me. Sure, a lot of water has flowed under that bridge, and there's been another spare wife between us, so there's no hard feelings. In fact, we're more than civil to each other, having bought each other's children gifts for birthdays and spending time at family events together. The thing is, I wouldn't want an ex-anything of his in my house, on my turf, in my intimate, personal space. It is like I told him: "I know she wears knickers, but I don't have to see them when we meet; what if they're drying on the radiator?" He didn't get it, he thought I was being weird. Personal space is never weird. If she had invited me onto her turf, then I would have felt comfortable going to visit, but just to turn up and expect to be admitted to her inner sanctum was a dreadful faux pas! I was truly thankful that they weren't in when we got there. Now I know why Vampires get all embarrassed if they're not invited into someone's house; they just can't wander in, because the living are exs. Vampires are exhumed, while the living still cling to life. Vampires are the ultimate ex-wife: they are ex-life.

Physical: Standing up-right. Yes, that counts as physical activity. It's like an ice-rink out there. Sure, we've laughed cruelly at the whirring comedy-fall legs of passers by, even tried to take the odd scrap of footage of someone falling for YouTube, but to no avail. Standing up took energy today. As did wandering around the Boxing Day sales and visits to relatives.

FFF:
Fags Very good! I've had about 5 and I've been awake for ten hours.

Food Can't be arsed. I made the family scrambled eggs on toast for breakie, and then cheap-o Subway as a late lunch for us all (it's amazing what you can do with a part-baked baguette, a limp lettuce leaf, and a tin of meatballs), but cannot get motivated for dinner. Aah, well, it will happen. I just don't know when, how and what *Confused*

Fermented Grape Juice Hubby didn't plan for his family's presents, so he went into my wine stash, wrapped it ALL up and handed out my lovely cellar to his family *Cry* I have no wine... I have NO wine... I HAVE NO WINE!!!

Hey, depending on the way you look at the FFFs, I could be on a detox or be the victim of an intervention. Cool! *Cool*

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December 25, 2009 at 5:54am
December 25, 2009 at 5:54am
#680977
Write: My Christmas list for Santa. Yes, I guess I left it to the last minute so I shouldn't be surprised at the lack of a shark tank in the back garden *sigh*. I'm not sure I could have maintained the correct temperature for a pet Great White, though--not given the present climate. Oh, well, maybe next year.

Edit: No. Tis the season to be jolly, not the season to get flustered by a misplaced apostrophe.

Kids: My mini super villain to be, Baby Acme, got a 'Fur Real' cat. She has spent all morning turning slowly on a computer chair with it on her lap saying, "Double jeopardy, Mr Bond." It may just be my rose tinted glasses, but I swear her maniacal laughter is getting creepier by the day. I'm so proud. Meanwhile, Acme Junior's ambition to become a Formula One driver shows no signs of slowing. She's currently using the Italian track as an expensive form of demolition derby. Ah, well, race on, my lovely. Race on.

Relationships: I'm waiting for the half past one panic to set in. It's the family Christmas Lunch at my twin sister's abode at 2:00pm. We always have it at her mansion, because everyone fits in so nicely. She's not daft though. Catering for such large numbers shouldn't be left to one woman, so all the ladies dip into a hat to find out which course is theirs. We even have a 'drinks' and 'after dinner mints' category. I lucked out this year; I got cheese & biscuits and port. Hurrah. Stinky Stilton, Wensleydale with Cranberries, apricot White Stilton, Cheshire, Cheddar, and Red Leicester. mmm, I might just forgo the actual Chrimbo dinner... yeah, right!

Physical: I got my Christmas present at 6am. Mother Nature's timing never ceases to deflate me. I take it pretty hard, and I am by no means a wimp. This means that my family are rather understanding that I'm blogging on WDC this Christmas morning and not being the life and soul of the place. They know that I feel like crap, so they're leaving me to it. This also means that physical exertion extends to making coffee.

FFF:
Fags. I've had quite enough of the dirty looks from hubby. I've stretched out my smoking to one ever one and a half hours, just so I don't have to put up with the disgusted looks and "What are you smoking? It smells like cigars. There's no point you smoking outside the house if you bring that awful smell back in with you." Feck off. What hubby fails to realise is that all the time that I'm not having a fag I'm not having it for him. I'm getting dangerously close to wishing him back at work.

Food. Not the best. I really needed Chili-filled pancakes for breakfast yesterday. Now that I've got my period, it all makes sense. My body craves all kinds of red meat, usually with copiously large amounts of herbs and spices. I've been known to rustle up a curry for breakfast in the past, so a chili isn't that surprising. Had a full Monty this am, to tide me and the family over until 3:00pm at twinny's house. My Christmas dinner should be rather healthy, because I love all the veggies (especially sprouts!). I rarely eat pudding, but the cheese board may be my downfall... wafer thin mint anyone?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v29QfOyuZ3Y

Fermented Grape Juice. That rather nice Shiraz stopped me going to Midnight Mass. How rude.

December 23, 2009 at 9:45am
December 23, 2009 at 9:45am
#680801
Write: Yes-ish... okay, so, no, not really *Blush* On the plus side, I've now finished work for a week, have shaved legs, and a clean house, so my procrastination does have benefits. I really only have tonight free, before Christmas kicks into gear with Christmass at church. It's hard being the Sunday School teacher's glamorous assistant. Normally, I'm just in charge of glitter and glue, but the Crib Service means I have to get a lot more involved in actually remembering the Nativity story. You see, the biblical stories that appeal to me are the 'action' numbers in the OT: kick ass big G in Charlton Heston mode. Don't get me wrong, I love Jesus, especially when he was in the Temple kickin' butt and at that wedding making merry, but the Nativity's never really clicked with me, because all the information changes. I know, I know: it's in the bible, the info doesn't change. But my story of the Nativity has been molded by more than the bible. For instance, I was the robin in my first ever school production. I had to pierce my heart on a thorn. How's that fit in? *sigh* Dangerous theological questions regarding the relationships between the Messiah and birds aside, I have been scared for life by last year's Crib Service. None of the lads turned up, which meant that all the girls cried when approached to play the part of Joseph. I had to play him. It was bizarre to find myself in full beard, sat like a giant next to the miniature, trembling Mary, whilst tiny kings and shepherds bumped into my knees. I got quite the ribbing from the congregation all the way to Easter. I do hope the lads turn up tomorrow. I've told 'em straight: I will not be Joseph... although I might stretch to gawping Shepherd if pushed.

Edit: Yes! Surprised myself by tidying up more than my house and appearance. I tidied up some of my enthusiastic, but ultimately flawed, grammar in my recent not-for-the-site-contest piece: "Invalid Item . Some of my favourite reviewers (Lornda~Hopping in Wonderland~ , Alan Philps and LJPC - the tortoise ) stopped by with some handy notes on typos and grammatical errors, and I implemented their suggestions straight away. There's more work to do, and Lorien gave me a smashing review with some great places to start with plot development in future edits. Ace *Thumbsup*

Kids: They've been fab. We all worked-out yesterday by hiking to work and back in the snow. They helped the flower ladies create the Christmas displays in church while I rattled on right through to Epiphany. We then pushed another skidding car back on the road on the long walk home. Did we stop there? Did we heckers like *Delight* Instead of bumping into each other doing a video work-out, we each bagseyed a room to tidy and now have a shiny house for Christmas. Now BA is the grand old age of 7, she's able to join Jnr's writing site http://kids.faithwriters.com/ This is the first item she posted (written the night before last, and reproduced here with her kind permission):

The girl in the mirror


I was having my tea one night and it was almost my bedtime. When I was walking up the stairs, I remembered what my mum said.

“Well,” I said to my self, “I’ve never had spooky things before.”

I was getting my pyjamas on. I heard a noise in my mirror. I touched the mirror and a girl popped up.

I jumped in surprise and the girl in the mirror said to me, "Hello, my name is Millie."

I said, "Can you be my friend?"

Millie said, "Yes."

I heard footsteps. I said to Millie, "Mum's coming up!"

Millie hid. I jumped into my bed. Mum was almost there. I shut my eyes so tight. Mum woke me up reading her story. I had a nightmare at 10 o'clock. I got out of bed just to see Millie. I couldn’t see Millie, and my sister Emily woke up.

Emily said, “What are you doing up so late?”

I was speechless.

Suddenly I had a word in my brain, “Emily can you keep this a secret?”

Emily said, "Yes. What is the secret then?”

I told my sister, “There’s a girl in my mirror called Millie!”

Emily did not believe me, because always lie, so I told her, “It isn’t a lie this time!”

“Prove it then!” said Emily.

“I will even shout Millie then.”

“Go on then, but I still don’t believe you,” said Emily.

Jennifer took a big breath hoping that Millie would come out. I shouted Millie at the top of my voice and Millie jumped out of the mirror. Emily screamed.

Mum and dad woke up saying, “Are you ok, Emily?” Just then Millie jumped back into the mirror.

Emily replied, “Yes, nothing is the matter.”

Dad said, “Why are you up so late, Jennifer?”

I answered, “ I had a nightmare. I thought I could wake Emily to make me better.”

Mum said, “Ok, get back to bed. I love you both.”

“Night mum!” Both children said. The two girls went fast asleep.

However will the girl in the mirror stay in the mirror or will she be up to her tricks.
Find out in chapter 2!!!!!!!!!!!



Relationships: I tried to be civil today, but people do make that rather hard at times. I needed to do a 'top up shop' for Christmas; because of the snow, I haven't been able to drive since Thursday morning. The kids and I walked to the local supermarket before I started work. I used to work in the service industry, so I always like to make sure I treat counter staff as I would have liked to be treated. That said, I also remember the hygiene training that I went through, and wouldn't have dreamed of being gross in public. The till girl was chewing gum. Yes, I realise I sound more horrified that an Oompahlumpah in a chocolate factory, but she didn't just chew it, she wound it around her finger before shoving it (gum and finger) back into her gob. Then she used her spittle dripping fingers to pick up my loaf. No. Oh, no, no, no. I did not like that. She now knows that I did not like that and why I did not like that. My kids were embarrassed. They do not like it when I think I have the right to tell someone how to do their job. They have a point. Still, neither wanted to lick the plastic packaging of the loaf where the clerk's fingers had been when I suggested they do so, so I win.

Physical: Sherpa Acme! Oh, give me some time alone with Bear Grylls and I'll be Queen of the Mountain in no time. Physical activities have knackered the entire Acme clan. We've done some miles today. Ace {e:bulgingthighs}

FFF:
Fags Not bad, actually! It looks like I'm averaging one per hour. I may try to clock watch and aim for not going under that. I'll see how it goes
Food Ham. Gosh darn ham.
Fermented Grape Juice I've still got the half-bottle of Shiraz, and may finally put it out of its misery tonight. Failing that, I've got a cheeky American chillin' in the fridge: a white grenache oozing refreshing strawberry highlights. I've also got a stinky slab of Stilton, and everyone knows how delightful Stilton and Strawberries are. It may be a crime against passion not to let them make love in me gob.

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December 21, 2009 at 8:11am
December 21, 2009 at 8:11am
#680584
Write: Yes, yes, I have. Short dream that freaked me out. Added it to "Invalid Item . But there are other things I should be doing for up and coming deadlines:
Add mining/dragon dream to Hollinwood Dragon story as an opening action sequence. I'll need to re-work it a lot, but I was thinking that my short story needed a big bang entrance, and a fella being eaten by a dragon might just do that nicely. Will work on it later tonight.

Beating the Bounds is a story I wrote 7 years ago, and would fit the historical/fiction anthology that I'm working submissions for. Unfortunately, I seem to have misplaced the original, so I'll have to write it from memory. I remember the gist: a fella is ritually murdered in a horrible manner *Thumbsup*

The Ref Script idea needs to be committed to paper. Deadline 31st Dec. Must get off my arse.

Edit: Hollinwood Dragon. See above. Re-write before proof and plot read.

Kids: I really must feed them--they're chewing the sofa--I will do so in now and come back to finish this in a bit...

...right. Food is now cooking, and they seem placated. BA wrote a delightfully macabre tale of dead bees poured onto boys' heads. Jnr wrote a song about getting old, losing everyone who ever meant anything to you and then dying. Ace *Thumbsup*

Relationships: I saw a neighbour struggling to drive up the street (we'er snowed in, and my car isn't going anywhere). Instead of pointing and laughing, I went out and offered assistance. I pushed the fecker right up the hill. Judging to how out of breath I was, and how my upper arms are glowing with strain and sweat, I think this little attempt to reach out to my fellow man may also be included in the 'Physical' section.

Physical: See above. I also think I'll do something daft later (possibly a work-out video from the 90s *Rolleyes*). At the moment this is still a 'thought' and not a 'plan'.

FFF:
Fags: Not good. I smoke on the back doorstep and flick my dimps onto the path over the course of the day. My usual practice is to wake the next morning, feeling like shite, and then go around picking them up by hand in awesome wonder of my grossness. I decide to become a non-smoker for approx. 15 mins. 15mins is how long it takes me to forget how shite I feel, drink two cups of coffee, and start craving nicotine. With all the snow cover, my out-door ashtray has been swallowed by pure white. This means that I've not even made a 15 min attempt to crush the dreaded weed. In fact, I may well be smoking more because the dimps hiss and fizzle out, and are covered in next to no time. A new fag swiftly follows. Will try harder. Tomorrow.

Food: I was supposed to supply a huge ham for a family dinner yesterday. We got snowed in. Now there's me and two kids faced with half a pig in the fridge. Since then we've had ham on toast, pea and ham soup, ham and cheese, ham and apple, ham sandwiches and battered ham (bit like Spam Fritters). So far today I started with a ham buttie for breakfast, and ham and ligonberry* jam (*or something like that from Ikea) for lunch. erm, I'm on my second pot of coffee, but that's no bad thing. oooh, and I found a box of Cadbury Roses choccies which fell into my gob.

Fermented Grape Juice: I have a lovely half-bottle of Shiraz waiting for me tonight. It would be rude to stand it up.

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December 21, 2009 at 7:20am
December 21, 2009 at 7:20am
#680582
Enough with the personal woe-is-me self-wallowing shit. I've never been that kind of person, so I don't think a shaky relationship warrants that I start becoming one now. After all, I'm nothing if I'm not the hugely egotistical bastard that nature made me.

With that in mind, I've decided to take a leaf out of other bloggers' blogs and do one of those template thingies that will look at a wider selection of all things Acme. Focusing on one thing at a time lacks imagination and will not help me become a phenomenal multi-tasker. I'm also increasingly forgetful in my dotage, so hopefully it will serve as a memory jogger, too.

Here's one I'm going to try. I shall tweak as necessary, so bear with me:

Write: This is something I should do more of, so is self explanatory

Edit: This is something that starts off well, but usually ends up reduced to visiting other portfolios while stuffing my face with biccies and coffee.

Kids: I have two would-be weirdos to be proud of. I should make more of an effort to enjoy them in all their glorious, budding, eeeevil.

Relationships: I don't play well with others. I will make a daily effort to interact with other human beings without rolling my eyes at them or sticking out my tongue. I have decided that I may have to give the whole 'friendship' thing a whirl. The last close friend I had was Julie Radkee when I lived in Scotland (age 10), but that was mainly because her big brother (12) was shit-hot at cartoons and loved 2000AD. I need to pour out the love and compassion that I know lurks somewhere inside my withered soul. Yes, I have WDC friends, but, at the end of the day, I can't go shopping round the mall with most of you, nor can we get pissed watching Eastwick while comparing the fatness of our thighs. I've never braided anyone's hair, but am prepared to learn. I shall practice on BA's Bratz dolls in readiness.

Physical: Believe it or not, but I used to be buff. I mean, BUFF. My body was temple and sport was something that I adored (usually competitively, so I could feel superior when I beat everyone else around me). Linda Hamilton was my poster girl, but I bet I could have made her cry in an arm wrestle. Nowadays I have to heave over a dollop of fat-filled skin-flap to investigate the possibility of a muscle, and the only sport I'm likely to show natural aptitude for is a pie eating contest. I will channel the essence of Ms Hamilton, re-watch T2, and get off my fat ass at least once a day to get my guns back.

Fags, Food, and Fermented Grape juice (FFF): The physical category leads naturally to one which has needed attention for over twenty years: smoking. I fecking like it, but it will kill me, and then everyone will nod knowingly at how pathetic my will power was. I'm not sure I can stop smoking, but maybe chronicling my efforts to 'cut down' and psyche-out my addiction, will be useful to review so. While I'm not addicted to wine, I do like the odd one here and there, and I'm an arsehole when I've had a drink (in other words, I think I'm scintillating company and a great wit, when in reality, I'm a bore with the ability to insult everyone around me). Food: I must be partially fit, because if I wasn't I'd be the size of a house. If there isn't coffee, conversation or a fag in my gob, you can bet there's a packet of Monster Munch clogging my teeth. Okay, so I've been lucky not to end up getting winched in and out of baths, but there's no point working-out to get muscles if they're going to be hidden beneath a fat-suit of my own making.

So, without further ado, I look forward to adding my first template post after lunch (first lunch, no more second luncheon hobbit menus for me, anymore *Pthb*)

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December 20, 2009 at 1:58pm
December 20, 2009 at 1:58pm
#680512
I feel like Brittney: I did it again.

Yes, I got the ring back... after constant whining, nagging and looking forlorn. Perhaps it will come as no surprise that the re-ringing ceremony felt oddly flat, then. After one reminder too many, he went straight to my jewelry box and then told me to stick my hand out so he could put it back on. He smiled. We hugged. Back to the telly programme we were watching. *sigh*

I had a friend who told his girlfriend that he was not happy with the relationship and that she should perk up and be fun to be around, if she wanted him to stick around. She felt on trial. She couldn't act the part he wanted and enjoy the moments of 'fun' they had together, so he upgraded her for another model.

I did something stupid, desperate, and senseless today, for which I feel suitably ashamed and guilt-riddled: I checked his email. I've never done anything like that before, and I felt so sordid that I can safely say I won't do anything like that again. Of course, when I choose to do something surreptitious and naughty, I get caught. I got caught red-handed.

"Things were fine!" he bemoaned. "I just don't know where I stand with you."

"Sorry, but I don't know where I stand, and it's making me crazy."

"I thought we sorted this all out. We had a laugh yesterday and a good time playing with the kids in the snow today."

I told him I was making the most of every moment with him until I stop being 'on trial'. I told him I was waiting for that moment when he looked me in the eye, told me he loved me, that everything was alright and that I was at the heart of every long-term musing and plan, that we were good to go forever.

He said, "I married you, didn't I?"

erm, yes, but that was before the shit bits.

I love him. I don't want to lose him. He's packing upstairs as I type, because he has to work away again for another week.

I really miss the relationship I thought I had, and hate the one I perceive to be in. I hope he re-considers the thought of marriage counseling. If we can't fix us, I hope someone else can show us how.

And I bet that checking the other half's emails is a bit of a no-no in the trust department *Blush*

Oh, and in case you're wondering, I didn't find anything 'bad', which makes me almost feel shitter, in a very warped way, because my nosiness was in no way justified.

I'd make a terrible spy.

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