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 |  Empty or full, shiny or a little in need of washing and sometimes just cracked! |
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I heard about these blogs and wondered why people would want to air their dirty laundry online. But I feel safe on this site so maybe it's worth a try. We'll see. This blog is complete. Please find my new blog from the link below...
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| I don't think I've ever made two entries in one day and rarely thank those who do. Time is precious and we can only give so much. I'm not asking for sympathy or hoping to attract readers but today I just feel at the end of my rope. Warning: Personal feelings and rant on the way. Leave now if you just want some light-hearted fun. So do I actually, but life doesn't allow it right now. I read blogs of people in dire circumstances, fighting to survive, facing horrific circumstances and I'm moved beyond belief. I tell myself there are many worse off than me and I should be grateful for what I have. I am, but it doesn't stop the anguish, the tears, the feeling of overwhelming helplessness I'm going through right now. My parents are a constant worry. My mother is losing it and is not prepared to admit it. My father is 87 and getting very frail. They don't communicate and I'm their only contact in this world. Every day of my life I have to think for them, organise their appointments, medicines, shopping and other needs and I'm getting very weary of it all. There's no help available so it seems I'm stuck with it until the inevitable, which I alone will have to handle. My own marriage is far from perfect. Not on the scale of my parents but I find it hard to deal with a man who is so jealous, so insular, so unprepared to make any effort outside his own family. I'm gregarious by nature but here it's considered a crime. I would never survive without other people and don't believe blood is thicker than water. My comfort comes from understanding friends, many of whom I've made through WDC. Here is where I bear my heart; right or wrong is a matter of opinion but this is my blog, my place and my right to tell it how it is. And right now, it hurts like hell. My son has been the light of my life. I'm not an overbearing mother as my own is and have allowed him to be his own person. Biased I may be but he's a wonderful human being - warm. honest, intelligent ,funny and caring. I supported his travels whole-heartedly despite knowing it would be a wrench. It's HIS life and I want him to live it without the confines I have endured. I have gone through every emotion imaginable to try and accept what he is about to do. I say on a daily basis that I must come to terms with whatever happens in the future, I love him and that will never alter but this is something I'm finding so difficult to cope with, He now informs us he is planning on going to Australia with his new bride in February. Fair enough; that's where he planned to be at that time, But, the baby she gave birth to a couple of months ago is being left behind. Oh, he assures us they are a loving family who will care for her, but why do alarm bells ring in my head as to what sort of woman can leave her child to go off travelling with my son? How do I ever come to accept this woman as my daughter-in-law? Could you do it? Am I being unfair and narrow minded? Please be honest. I value your opinions and want to find a way to handle this, |
PlannerDan   blogged about his desktop and put in a couple of interesting photos of items he keeps on his desk. He also wrote a very entertaining story about the flag he keeps in a wooden box on his desk and asked other bloggers to take photographs of some items on their own desks. Being the good girl I am I always do as I'm told.  Actually it's a good excuse for a blog entry, as I have little else to report. Well, I could write a very long entry about all my concerns at present, but I don't want to bore the pants off readers any more than usual or dampen anyone's humbug spirits. Fa la la  I have two computer areas in my home. One in the downstairs area which I tend to use in the evenings and one in a spare bedroom upstairs which also houses many ducks and teddy bears and where I prefer to write. So, here's a couple of pictures of my desktops. Upstairs is my beary monitor. Moyra the Feng Shui frog sits on the desk by my downstairs computer. She holds a small coin in her mouth and faces away fom the door. This is supposed to ensure she will look after my finances. Six years on I'm still waiting for my windfall. Please don't go away shaking your heads in despair; if you think I'm weird, you should meet my parents. lol    |
| Do you have a recurring dream? Do you think it has any meaning? Can you take any messages from it? As long as I've been old enough to carry a handbag (purse to you lot) I've had a dream that's had more re-runs than The Wizard of Oz. I have never lost, mislaid or had a handbag stolen in my life, so why on earth I dream so frequently about losing my handbag I don't know, I frantically dash around, retracing my steps in search of the lost bag and nine times out of ten I either find it or wake up in a panic, then feel relieved it was just a dream. It's obvious it's an anxiety dream and I've had far worse ones, like the time I put my sister in the washing machine, but the handbag one is so bloody repetitive. Last night I had the mother of all handbag dreams. Not only was the main character my best red bag from Sardinia which left me in need of remortgaging the house on return, but this time the ending was tragic.  For some reason I was back at college somewhere in Italy of all places and my bag had been stolen. A shame really as I've always had a thing for Italian men and to think one of them stole my bag.  Another illusion shattered. After a great deal of searching I asked at a lost property office if a red bag had been handed in. I was so relieved when the lady said yes but she did warn me not all the contents were present. She wasn't kidding - gone was my purse, (which just happened to be loaded - well, it was a dream) all my credit cards, my keys, phone and camera. In fact there was nothing in it but a few receipts and a plastic comb. But the worst part was the bag had been thrown into a river and was totally discoloured and mis-shapen. A sign of too much baggage and a fear of losing the most precious things in my life or just too much cheese and wine? I was woken abruptly at the crack of nine o' clock by the sound of heavy drilling yet again, as the workmen continue to erect 600 new houses on what was once beautiful farmland at the end of our lane. Another nightmare. I can't imagine there'd be 600 families who'd want to live around here, but it seems all land must be turned into roads or housing estates. But it was a relief in a way to be taken out of the handbag dream and into the Friday routine. Comforting in a strange way to clean the bog and gaze down the U-bend, contemplating whether life is indeed a load of shi...ning opportunities. |
| On Tuesday evening my dear friend crackedbizkit came for a visit and brought me a little unhumbug gift which I found very comical. I thank her again for all her support and efforts to make me laugh during this testing time. If you can't work out what the gift is from the photo below let me explain. It's a jar of water containing two black stones and a carrot. The label on the jar reads 'Melted Snowman.'  Very ingenious and amusing I thought.Late last night hubby commented he thought the jar a dig at the male of the species and yes he had read the label. I'm afraid that statement left me rather gobsmacked and I questioned him as to how a snowman's eyes and nose floating in water could be related to man-bashing. He said it should be obvious. Well, I guess under different circumstances two spherical objects and a longish vegetable could represent other parts of the male anatomy  but I am just mystified as to how his mind works to conclude a jar containing remnants of a deceased snowman could be interpreted that way. So ladies - Am I being obtuse in any way by not seeing his point of view? And Gentlemen - Do you think all men would see it that way or just one with a weird brain cell?  |
| Apologies if I haven't read and commented on your recent blogs but Murphy and Sod have decided to bring me a little more Humbug cheer. Last weekend my very expensive Boss spectacles decided to break so I've been struggling with a weaker, old pair while necessary repairs take place. This means slow reading through screwed-up eyes and probably a few typos into the bargain. Yesterday when we returned from the gym, we discovered our internet server was down. Enquiries led to the admission that for some reason the company had cut off our Broadband connection. No one could offer any explanation as to why and despite profuse apologies on their behalf they informed us we were in a queue to be reconnected with a 24 hour wait. Hence I spent last night fuming while straining to watch a DVD on this rather dark monitor in the spare room to avoid an evening of sport on hubby's television. I wish I hadn't. The film was 'Turner and Hooch' and much as I love Tom Hanks, the ending did little to lift my already dampened spirits. Anyway, that's left me way behind on WDC with little time to catch up. On top of that my old keyboard has decided to play silly buggers. It's bad enough normally as half the letters on the keys have worn away with use and I'm not a touch typist to put it mildly. Now, it's decided not to add some letters, including all the vowels and the space bar unless I hit them with the force of a cast iron hammer. I've lost most of my nails and have bruises on the ends of most of my fwinkers as a result. So if my comments on your blogs are missing or full of typos it's not because I hit the bottle too hard, just down to a few more irritating events on this joyous road we call life. I'm beginning to wonder just how many robins I killed in my last life. Still, things could be worse, but I won't tempt fate by saying it too often. Grump over. |
| The usual supermarket run and delivering to parents as is set in stone for every Monday, except today the shop had that manic air about it which always starts around this time of year. What is it with people? They dash round piling a dozen of everything in their already overloaded trolleys as if Humbug is tomorrow. Are they scared the shops will sell out before they've stocked up enough stuff in their own cupboards to last until next August? Are they terrified they may risk starvation during the ONE day the shops will be closed? I just don't understand the panic. And how come if one family has enough stuff in their trolleys to feed the whole of Nottinghamshire, the whole of Nottinghamshire are still in the shop loading up their trolleys too? Surely those being fed and watered by others should be sitting at home with their feet up? Monday is normally a quiet day at the supermarket but today it was mayhem. It's two bloody weeks before Humbug I want to yell. And where do all these people come from all of a sudden? Surely they haven't finished work yet? The only explanation is there must be more people on the planet during December than other months. Maybe they come from planet Humbug or something just to join us for our 'celebrations.' I have a friend who always writes her Humbug cards and sticks stamps on them on August 31st. We are good friends despite being chalk and cheese and always talk straight to each other with no damage done. She's a bit of a penny-pincher despite having a lot of money so I remind her what a waste it would be if she popped her clogs before posting those cards in December and what if some of the recipients fell off their perches before the great day arrived? But she continues to do it because she claims it saves time. Saves time for what? To pack her suitcase for her summer holiday on Boxing Day? You can't save time - it rattles along whatever we do and time spent doing Humbug things is time used whenever you choose to do it. I'm getting my knickers in a twist so I'd better go. Off to the gym - a bit earlier than usual - maybe it will save some time I can store in a bottle for another day. Gawd, people never fail to amaze me. |
| I suppose if the weather was the same every day it would become rather monotonous, but I'd much prefer a lot more warmer days than these cold, dark damp ones. I'd also prefer it if everyone's body thermostat was the same. I don't consider myself a person who tends to feel the cold too much - I don't generally need electric blankets, hot water bottles, gloves or scarves, but come the winter I seem to fight a constant battle with myself and others over maintaining a comfortable temperature. Take today. Hubby allows the heating on for a couple of hours in the morning, which is sometimes a bit too much when I'm dashing (alright crawling) about doing household tasks. But just as I settle down at the computer, the heating goes off and I end up doing computer chair aerobics to keep my circulation going. Then we go off to the gym which is nicely air-conditioned. But after an hour of agony on the treadmill, bike and weights (I will be thin, I will be thin, I will, I will,I will) I tend to be a little red and glistening and look forward to my swim in the pool to cool down. Today the pool was empty - perfect for my fantasy about this being my own private pool at my huge mansion in the country and I'll be holding a WDC ball tonight and wearing my size 10 (that's small in England) red backless evening strap and matching five inch heels while I dance the night away with... Anyway, it took a nanosecond to work out why the pool was empty. It was bloody freezing. After a few olympic speed lengths I jumped (okay clambered) out, shivering and shaking but consoling myself with the thought of my private hot jacuzzi which was also devoid of any bodies. You've got it - that was bloody freezing too. So were the showers. After a juddering ride home hubby dropped me off then went to the hospital to see his mum. An hour to spare to catch up on WDC. Now hubby doesn't believe in having heating on in the day time and if I say anything about it being cold he just says 'Well, put the fire on then.' The fact the fire is in the lounge downstairs and I'm upstairs on the computer seems to elude his brain cell. There was no point putting the heating on as by the time the house had heated up it would be time for me to go out, so I managed an hour in here whilst wiping condensation from the screen and breaking icicles off the monitor. A brisk walk to the parent's house cured me of threatening hypothermia. Now, my mother feels the cold like no one else and will sit in a blanket with the fire on in the middle of June. Their house would be the ideal place to grow tropical plants and hatch ostrich eggs. So after a couple of hours of sweating cobs over the latest jigsaw and removing as much clothing as possible without offending mother's delicate sense of decency, I was counting the minutes until hubby fetched me to return to the igloo. Can't win can you? I think a little alcoholic beverage is in order - purely for inner heating purposes of corset. |
| It's been a nothing sort of day - dark, cold and pimply sissing down. Been nowhere, seen no-one, done very little. Lazy good for nothing Scarlett. Mother-in-law appears not have anything seriously wrong with her at present - these wrinklies are sure made of tough materials. Some days I think it's only WDC that helps keep me (in)sane. This morning I received a lovely little box of goodies from The Storymaster and Storymistress and if you look up  you'll see I've actually decorated with the lovely sigs I've been gifted recently. Thanks people.I won't be doing a great deal for Humbug but to prove I'm not as grumpy as I may sound about the whole thing here's some photos of some cards I made over the past few months. You can still call me Scrooge however as most of the materials I used are bits from old cards sent to me last year. Well, we're all encouraged to recycle these days aren't we?   |
| I don't know how many of you have read David McClain 's beautiful entry about December 25th 1965, but if you haven't I recommend you do. Maybe if you're old enough like me, your mind flashed back to that year and thought of what you were doing at the time. If you're not old enough, then I hate you. lol I don't remember that particular December 25th for any specific reason but I do recall what state I was in at the time. I was in WUB. The man of my dreams had walked into my life six weeks earlier and I was smitten. I guess all thoughts of my family, my friends, schoolwork and social activities flew out of my wickle brain as I walked around in a haze of passion and future dreams.For ten years I fell in and out of WUB with that man and vice versa. It didn't work out ultimately and the last time I saw him was in the year 2001 at a school reunion with his third wife. We chatted for a long time about old times, regrets and what might have been. Two years later he passed away suddenly, but I will never forget him. It made me think about my son and the situation we find ourselves in. Okay, he's ten years older than I was at that time, but we all know men mature at a slower rate than women. (ducking to avoid missiles) But he's still young and to my knowledge not been swept off his feet by WUB before. He's far from home, but I know the way he's feeling about his 'lady' despite the very unusual and rather frightening circumstances. That feeling of never wanting to be parted from someone is something easily forgotten after many years of marriage, but if I take myself back to 1965 I can rekindle it. When I look at photographs of him with this stranger who looks like she'd fit in his pocket, my emotions range from one extreme to the other. Contact is difficult - phone conversations are limited, distorted by static, delay and echo and e-mails often misunderstood as even the gentlest words can be misconstrued when there is no tone of voice. But one thing we have established is that we are still the same people as we were before he left, our relationship will not be ruined whatever happens and we can work this through. I still cannot condone what he plans to do. I still believe he will have many problems to deal with and that he is making a huge mistake. But I'm not saying it any more as there is little point when he feels so in WUB and determined to carry out his plans. No one can predict the future, so there is little point worrying excessively about it. It's difficult; one of the hardest situations I've ever had to deal with but I am trying to come to terms with it. What happens next I have no idea. He may continue to travel with his new wife if the wedding goes ahead in January. It's all very vague and distorted right now. At some stage in the future I hope he'll return to England and we can adjust to these very difficult and demanding circumstances. But there I go again - looking to the future is a waste of energy. One thing is for sure though - WUB will see us through the worst of circumstances. Excuse my sombre mood. This morning my 92-year-old mother-in-law was admitted to hospital with chest pains. This afternoon I had a phone call from my writing class pal informing me she's left her husband. It seems yet again Humbug is going to be a rather sad and anxious time. Nothing I can do to alter the situation though, but just tick over and find distractions. Speaking of which - if anyone would like to design any graphics or offer me advice on how to get them into WDC for The C*******s edition of the Blogville News I'd be very grateful. That task is driving me to distraction.  |
| I think I should be awarded a degree in confusing people; the older I get the more I do it. So, let me rewrite the request for contributions to the December issue of The Blogville News. Sorry to bring it up again. My references to 'Humbug' are just my way of avoiding using the word 'C*******s.' It's not my favourite season but I realise many love it and I don't have a problem with that. So, what I'm asking for are letters, jokes, poems, anecdotes, lists and articles about 'C*******s,' written from ANY angle. Positive or negative, old or new, serious or comedic although I would prefer the Newsletter to be pretty light-hearted. So far I've received one poem. lol I know you're all busy but please try to send a little something to me soon. Thanks. Supermarket day again. Woopdedoo. I'm sure there are more Mondays in the week than other days. I'll be rushing by those humbug aisles with closed eyes although I'm told these are some of the 'must haves' for C*******s 2006 - 1. A Nabazatag. This little desk-top companion which looks rather like a limbless white rabbit utilises Wi-Fi technology to fetch information from the internet and convey it back in various charming ways. A wiggling ear may signify falling stock prices, a certain pattern of lights that it's time to get up or a tune from Westlife that you need a bath. Well I never; how did we live this long without one? 2. A fun animal apron and glove mitt set. Since when did anything we do in the kitchen become classified as fun? 3. An inflatable, detachable beer belly. Perfect to fit under that Santa costume or for a pub crawl with the mates. I predict there won't be many sales around here - most males seem to already have a home-grown one. 4. Bog paper decorated with 'C*******s' images. The perfect companion for those of us who tend to mutter 'C*******s - my arse.' 5. Best of all, for the person who has everything - a pack of 'nothing.' That's right, for a price you too can own a package of 'nothing' although I gather the product is at the moment 'out of stock.' lol It really is a mad, mad, mad, mad, mad world. |
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