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All the crap I manage to fit into 24 hours.
About as exciting as it sounds. |
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Hopefully, what with this journal being 'out in the world', I should be able to minimise my moaning and actually clarify a few things. Anything's possible. |
| Damn, it' s nice to get on here. What with the PC playing up (which feels rather like being gagged for some reason) and family staying, I seem to have spent the last however long cleaning and fretting. And now today is beautiful weather, so I'm not going to waste it in here, so after I've deleted the 100+ crappy emails in my Yahoo box, I'm going outside! *Breaks into song* Oh what a beutiful mooooorning, Oh what a beautiful day.... |
| There is, yet again, something going on in my mouth. Now I am back walking upright my teeth are acting weird (think something's broken off, and something's sticking out) and my car is also unhappy. So, I would like dentures. Nice, perfect, dentures. Straight and white, and easy to clean. I would also like a spare car so we don't get stranded out here and unable to work. The other weird thing is our daughter is seven on Wednesday, and we've been meaning to have more kids since she was two, but what with work and health, it's just happened. Now here we are with a seven year old, and we really have to get on with this. It's a pretty big age gap already, and I've starting thinking about how cute Stewie from Family Guy is, so either I'm broody, or there's something wrong with my brain. |
| Man, am I ill. I don't feel too bad, but it's like a virus that's just attacking my equilebrium. I have to hold onto wall and doorframes wherever I go, I'm sure people think I'm drunk, wish I was! Going back to bed now...... |
| ...is the name of the demon hamster that is making my life hell. She won't stop chewing around the door of her home. It's big home, filled wtht tubes and mini houses and I have grown some special cress just for her, which she loves, eats, then goes back to chewing. And it's plastic she's chewing, making a horrible grinding-sqeak noise that give me goose bumps and a headache at the same time. She's my daughter's (hence the name, I'd have called her something far, far more apt) and she's taking over the whole house. I need a holiday, and possibly a new life and body to go along with it..... |
| The phone rings, it's husband dearest saying that another new person is being taken on at work. Husband is a temporary worker, and is hoping for a permanent job. He keeps getting passed over as he can only work six days a week every other week, whereas there are some there who pile the hours in, and that's what the company wants. My husband wants a secure job, but also to have some semblence of a family life, and what with our childcare situation, he can't be gone all the time. There are so few jobs around here, it's really tough, and he's only qualified for one thing. He's been redundant before, and it was just horrible. I have to remind myself to put it into perspective, it's not like having a child with cancer or your country invaded. I'm not a poor Tibetan robbed of everything, or immersed in genocide, but I still fret when I forget to remember those things. I know there's no such thing as security, it's a complete myth, but I'd like something that resembles it. There, moan over, gonna eat some pineapple now.... |
| I'm supposed to be going on a picnic tomorrow. It's home-schooling thing, kids getting together, etc. I just hope the rain lets up. It's not that I'm anti wet weather, in fact, I like all weather, but too much of anything does me in. There was too much snow before, now there's so much rain everything is getting flooded. I think it's too much to ask that I get up tomorrow to a bright sunrise, and the kids can run about without wellies. Still, it's nice now, dark, damp and misty, and when I stood outside my front door a minute ago, wrapped in my big pink blanket, I could hear the cows in the field next door, either gently mooing or tearing up chunks of grass. Overhead bats flapped about, circling manically, getting a little too close to my head for comfort, so I came back in.... |
| Another day, and other 'update you blog' email deleted, and so here I am. Although, very little has happened to me. Hmmmmm.....oh wait, I had a revelation last night about food. Being a funky veggie Buddhist I try to remain mindful of my actions and their implications, and so I'm going to stop buying mass produced junk and cramming it down my throat at an alarming rate. My attachemnt to food and the way I view it is completely messed up. i've let it control my life, and I need to see it as what it is, and not place so much importance of having emergency chocolate supplies and nice meals to make an evening complete. It is possible to enjoy an occasion or relax on my sofa without something made of sugar and fat to hand. It really it really is a temporary pleasure that just creates a void that demands more of the same. So I went to the supermarket today and bought a ton of fruit, veg, brown rice, wholemeal pasta, nuts, seeds and loads of great herbs and spices. The only thing is, now I actually have to cook the stuff, rather than just defrosting things........ |
| So last night I go out to feed and check on my rabbits. I used to have 10, but over the years they have dwinded, and I was left with two. Nutmeg is seven and the only child of two of my other long dead rabbits, who were so old when they had her, she was it for the litter. Willow was 9 years old, and I bought him as he was termed a 'problem rabbit' and severely reduced in the pet shop. I didn't want him to go to a bad home, so I took him back to my brood. From day one he has done everything in his power to escape, he was a nightmare to handle and he ate holes in my coat as I held him to trim his claws, but boy, he was a perfect, beutiful, big healthy bunny. Over recent years he had mellowed slightly, enjoying a belly rub without taking my hand off, and being held for a few mintutes before resorting to violence. Just the day before yeasterday he was running around at the end of our big garden, trying to mate with Nutmeg (who would have none of it!) and eating well. Then last night I went to see him, and he didn't come out to inspect his dinner, he was curled up in the bedroom area of his hutch, on a bed of clean hay, dead. He really does seem to have died of natural causes, he was nine after all, and never went to the vets in his life. I don't feel too bad about it, but my seven year old daughter keeps crying, and kept wanting to stroke his body. Luckily he looked perfect, peaceful, and so not disturbing. We dug a hole for him today, and had planned to just nip into the garen centre for flowers and things after she had been to a friend's house to play, but then our plans were sabotaged by the annoying little friend. She is six, and a real little madam. She wanted to come with us to pick our flowers and ornaments for his grave, so instead of my daughter carefully picking her memorials she had her friend moaning at us to hurry up. My daughter is home schooled and so it's important we keep the friend contact going, but this little girl is such a pain! Twice today she told ME off, just because I asked my child to put something down, or stop being bossy! She told me she was coming to the rabbit funeral and she didn't care what I said, and that I couldn't tell my daughter off as it showed I couldn't take a joke?! I drew the line at their invasion of the funeral, so after a quick play on the swings outside the garden centre I firmly took my daughter home, listening as we walked away, to the screams of this little friend, whose mother had to restrain her from running across the road at us. So we got home, and my daughter started to whinge at me just like her little friend had been, so I nipped that in the bud and aid if she started to act like her friend, she wouldn't be friends with her for much longer. Then we had what tunred out to be a nice little funeral. We buried him under a 300 year old Beech tree in our garden, planted by monks from a nearby ruined abbey. We took some rocks from the wall and my daughter will paint one with his name, and we bought a little brass lantern which we put a candle in, along with some artificial flowers. She arrranged it all over the rocks, the lantern at the top, along with some plastic butterfiles she has picked, and the whole thing looks really sweet. Rabbits aren't renouned for their personality, and I know I've been more upset about dogs in the past, but he was my incredibly naughty little boy for nine years, and I will miss him. My daughter cried so hard at his funeral, and when we first told her, that she couldn't breathe. She seems better now, and loved lighting the candle for him, along with all the other little ceremonies. Last night I got her to write him a letter, as she was worried he woudn't know how much she loved him, and we popped it inside the pillowcase he was buried in. If it hadn't been for that annoying little child this day could have been quite beautiful, as funerals and death are my profession, I really wanted this one to be perfect, and I'm so glad I put my foot down and wouldn't let that child attend. Good night my sweet little Willow, I'll always have the holes in my clothes and the scar on my hand to remember your wild little spirit by. |
| The main character in my book is a young widow, her husband is killed right at the beginning, and so I'm using a hell of a lot of material and the like that I've amassed whilst working as an embalmer, and also from back when I was a nurse. I know that sounds really depressing, but it's not, it's a positive book about death, I really do think there can be such a thing, but it's not easy! Plus, I keep trying to 'be' her, and I keep trying to imagine what would happen if my husband died. I've held so many widows hands and buried a few of my loved one, but I've never lost a husband, and trying to put myself in that position is working so well I am getting rather upset about it all. I've been talking to the widows in the family, expecially my cousin who was so young when her husbad died, and it really seems the more you are expecting it the easier it is. I wonder if it's because an illness debilitates the body to the point of not imagining them continuing, that a natural end is approaching, whereas a sudden accident, if it had been avoided, would have meant life would have sustained as normal? |
| Getting on with a book. I wrote one once before. It was exhausting, and although I got an agent, my poor little book failed every last hurdle with each publisher. Since them I've just been scribbling notes, coming up with a hundred false starts, and changing my mind constantly. Today I worked a couple of hours into my day, and at that same time every day, six days a week, I will get on with this thing. It will be done, as I have to keep reminding myself, not writing the damn thing is one sure fire way to not get it published. |
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I still think, if the other mom is letting that sort of thing break up their friendship, maybe it's for the better. You never know.
Yoga isn't helping?