Wednesday, August 31, 2005

Postcard Apology and A Promise

I have an apology to make to some of my blogger friends. I feel really bad about this, and it's been bugging my arse for ages now, so I must confess to you all.

I still have postcards sitting here in front of me. Postcards I was intending to post out to whichever part of the world you're currently residing in. Postcards that don't even have anything written on them, and stamps ready to affix to said postcards.

What's more, I have misplaced the piece of paper that I wrote the addresses down of the last few people that asked for a postcard. Which has driven me crazy over the past week trying to find it. I kept thinking it'll be here closeby somewhere, thus trying to avoid trawling through my inbox to find those that have wanted to play the postcard love game that I so enthusiastically became part of a few months ago.

I originally sent out 17 cards to various destinations far and wide (I've received 13 in return, if you count the two bloggers that sent me 2 cards each)...then thought I'd wait for the next lot to want them and send them all out together. Then I got busy, then tired, then forgot about it, and now I sit before you feeling like a naughty little girl, because I let the NZ postcard side down.

Shame on me!

Schotzy, June, Kat, Gabby (thanks for your new addy) and I think there's someone else. Please forgive me if it's you I can't remember, I'll blame it on "complex partial seizures"...I only know this because I finally found the letter from the hospital from years ago with the actual diagnosis of my form of epilepsy on it. Ok, it's a lame excuse, I know I'm scraping the bottom of the "get me out of shit" barrel here.

I owe Schotzy a double apology because she actually requested twice (I've just scrolled through the inbox to discover this!). I'm so sorry Schotzy.

So, I have 4 postcards to send out (once I've written on them first of course) and anyone else that's interested in receiving a postcard, please email me and I'll add your name to the list. It would be my pleasure to send you one. I'm going to make this Friday my day of posting...that way I have a target to aim for, so please send me your address before then if you want one. It'll cost you nothing but a postcard in return. This is the only way I can get some of me out there to various parts of the world, and I figure that's a good thing, even if it is only my handwriting!

One more thing while I'm here....I have a new reader I wanted to give a plug to. His name is Don Lewis and you can find him here. Don is relatively new to Blogger, so it wasn't too difficult to read his entire blog, which I attempted to do the other night. Don has been going through a rather lengthy and frustrating experience with some tradesmen who are/were supposed to be repairing his boat.

If I've got my facts correct (please don't quote me on this, I read it all late at night), Don's residing in the Virgin Islands, planning to get his boat in the water and sale all over the place (sorry that bit's a tad fuzzy). His crew appears to consist of his much loved pets. There's a lovely post he's written in memory of his dog Shep, which will also give you the reason why his boat is named "Promise". You can find that touching post here.

He's worth the read, and a comment or two. I discovered the other day, that I was his first commenter ever on Blogger...and then went back to find out I was also his second. I'm sure he'll appreciate you calling in to say hi and giving his guest map a poke!

Oh and hey! Speaking of guest maps, I have lots more tiny little bodies clinging to my world now....AND you've all manged to shoot me to 2nd place on the Clix ladder. That's fantastic guys, thanks so much! I don't know how long I'll stay there for, but you can be sure I'll take a screen shot, just to prove I got that far up there with your helping hands.

To recap, here is your assignment for the day class:

1. Email me your address so I can post you off a postcard on Friday.
2. Visit my new friend Don.
3. Poke my guestmap if you haven't already.
4. Slap yourself on the back for vaulting me to second place for now on Clix; and
5. Each of you send me a $1,000 in the mail to help me feed the teenagers under my roof that inhale food faster than I can restock the pantry.

Ok, you can skip number 5, that was wishful thinking on my part.

If I don't get round you all this morning, I'll be back to visit as many of you as possible after work tonight.

You lot ROCK! *mwah*
Tuesday, August 30, 2005

Blog-Whoring

I was going to write a long, intense post today...lots of wordy paragraphs full of joy and entertainment...throw in a bit of sex to draw the punters and string it all together with witty anecdotes. I was going to write something that would make you howl with laughter...something to make you ache with pleasure and get you offline faster than usual, to jump on your respective partners.

But I didn't.

Cos I couldn't think of anything....boo.

In place of that, I will blog-whore a little on my own behalf.

Those of you that haven't poked my map on the sidebar yet...please do so. There's a huge amount to cover there, it would be great to try filling up some of it. Besides, some of my most regular readers still aren't on it...so poke away!

And to help me move up the ladder a little, or at least get on the front page, click here...or go over to the vote thingymajiggy that's under my map, and it will do the same thing.

This morning I went and spent $100 on getting my hair foiled and cut. And now I'm knackered and going to lie down on the bed, squish my new do with my headset and yak to Walker until it's time for work.

Have a great day everyone!
Monday, August 29, 2005

The Dangers of Three Way Calling (Revisited)

Due to my empty head, my boyfriend missing in action and my oldest son still not home from school yet (it's 6 friggin .26pm, I'm gonna kill him!), I'm going to post something I posted a long time ago...very few of you have already read it. I'm cheating purely for your amusement you understand. Because it's all about you right? I do this just for YOU!

Thus, I demand that you be amused!
(If that's ok with you, of course. Afterall I wouldn't want to offend you, cos it's all about you *wimper*)

***

Years ago, I had a 4 month fling with a fellow softballer. He was hard work...had difficulty communicating really...but I refused to give up because I'm that kinda girl and if it falls to pieces then I did all I could. Savvy?

Eventually, it came to an end. In fact, he dumped me via email (boo). But that's ok, cos I wasn't heartbroken or devastated or the like..it was more a sigh of relief that I didn't have to keep going with something that really wasn't working (yay).

One day, I receive a letter in the post from the finance company that takes care of my local gym...they say I owe them $50 for whatever reason, so I ring to sort out the problem and leave a message on their answerphone giving my full name and saying I'll be in on Wednesday to settle the account.

Then, I ring my best mate and have a conversation with her, we talked about the message I left and I tell her what I really wanted to say was "I'm sorry, I won't be able to pay that $50 back because my good friend is having a sex toy party tonight, and due to the fact that my boyfriend just dumped me, I really must make it a priority in my life right now, to attend said party and acquire something that knows nothing about email"....we laugh and then continue to talk about past lovers, how good they were or little quirks they had etc (as you do).

5 minutes later the words heard on the phone make me gasp in horror ..."Your message has now exceeded the time limit, thank you, goodbye"...

OH MY GOD! *thud*

Every time I think about this I blush and think how stupid I was to not check that I hadn't hung up on the finance company first before calling my friend. Another example...once when we rang Vodafone together and talked about various products that we were thinking of purchasing....after we thought we'd hung up, the chap was still on the phone listening in (peeping tom?)...but we weren't aware of that til my friend declared she needed to pee and took us both to the toilet with her. I'm always horrified when she does that, and I tell her so...and she was being blaise about it and said some smart comment...she was answered by the Vodafone man.

You'd think we'd have learnt how all the bells and whistles on our phones worked after that wouldn't you?

Oh, and one more thing, I never did return to that gym...I was mortified that swiping my card into their computer the next time I turned up there was going to have something flash up on their screen... like "this is the phone girl..you know? that phone girl".

***

If only they knew how much of a phone girl I am these days. *smirk*
Sunday, August 28, 2005

Keeping the Home Fires Burning

The other Friday night..you know the one?...when I went out with my good friend to celebrate her birthday and then had too much alcohol, and then suffered horribly the following day?...yeah, that Friday night. Anyway...during the conversation at the beginning of that evening, one of the ladies was talking about the fire she'd 'made' one day....she'd been burning some scrub. It was mainly blackberry bush, and she was rather animated whilst talking about it.

Apparently when blackberry bush is ignited it kinda goes "WOOOOOOF!" (not in a doggie sense of the word, but in an "everything must be flaming immediately and with great fanfare" kinda woof.) One of her friends piped up with "You shoulda heard her when she rang me that day. She said "OMG, you shoulda seen the fire, it was GLORIOUS...it was so amazing, it was better than a vibrator!" Well, yeah ok...each to their own I say. Besides, we all know how fire attracts people right?

Now the other thing I never told you about that evening was, I actually went out with my ex-husband. Well, not 'out' as such...but he's a good friend of the birthday girl, and a previous work colleague and it seemed good sense to go together. In fact we picked up the birthday girl and the three of us went into town together.

Over the course of the last couple of years (possibly more), my ex has been very unhappy in his current relationship...to the point where the rest of his mates (me and my kids included) would be doing all different versions of the 'happy dance' if he left her. This relationship has been going for over 6 years now, and has been fraught with problems from the start. Quite frankly, I just want him to be happy and to find someone more suitable for him. (Although there have been times over the years that I've thought they deserved each other. lol)

Presently, his girlfriend is overseas. This has given him more freedom to come and go as he pleases, and not worry about where he's going and who he's seeing, without having the possibility of a sledgehammer response coming from the homeland. The boys and I even had him over for dinner one night...that's a first. Because of who I am to him, I fall under the heading of "Don't you fucken dare go anywhere near her!" category. He's been raked over the coals just for talking to me at the softball club.

Anyway...while she's been away...I've been almost encouraging him to have an affair. Can you believe that?? I can barely believe it myself. I haven't so much as said the words "Ok, time we got you sorted out and found someone you can bonk"...but the implication is there. I'm ashamed to admit I'd be delighted if he actually did it. And I'm not the only one of his friends that feels this way.

Months ago, I remember writing on here the shock I felt at his fumbled suggestion that he and I get it on together physically. This is BIG stuff coming from my ex. For him to go this far...to stoop that low...things have gotta be bad at home...REAL bad. I know my ex...being unfaithful might cross his mind fleetingly (as it can with some spouses), but to try following that thought through?? It's not him at all. He has a loyalty built into him that he can be proud of, yet I know that the stress of his home situation and what he knows he should do about it are starting to unravel him.

Soooooo.... never being one to give up on a 'cause' in a hurry...last Friday night I tried again. As we walked our way back to the car together, we bantered about the various people at the party. Suddenly a possibility came to my mind.

Me: "Ya know? You could be in tonight."
Him: *raising eyebrows* "Yeah??"
Me: "Not me ya twit!"
Him: "Oh...who then?"
Me: "Well...I was thinking....if you'd just let me set you on fire..."
Friday, August 26, 2005

Look At All The Pretty Colours!

Last night I went to a Dvice party. It's a party plan thing like Tupperware except it's for the purchase of sex-toys. I've been to Dvice parties before. They've had a huge sweep through the region over the years. In fact the very first party I went to I bought the love balls. Oh, which incidentally, I found out last night....will indeed be detected going through customs at the airport. (Just in case you were thinking it a good idea to work out those pelvic floor muscles whilst at several thousand feet above sea-level.)

I didn't want to go, but felt I had to go. Over the course of this week, I have received 2 text messages and 3 phone calls from my friend, the hostess...she wanted me there. What does this mean? That she thought I was going to be her biggest customer cos I'm living on my own at the moment? She seem to think I might have forgotten, although I'd penned it in my diary while she was watching...and it was on the calendar at home as well. Maybe I have that kinda sexless look about me that she felt needed some revving up....and out of the goodness of her heart...and her concern for my sexual wellbeing...she felt it necessary that I come along for the evening to discover my inner sexpot-ness.

Under the weight of this pressure, I went along. But...after my shift in the morning, I was so knackered I spent the afternoon horizontal in bed, talking to Walker on the laptop. As can happen, one thing led to another ...blah blah de blah....and my body left the house feeling warmly flushed and satisfied...but more importantly, not in the least bit needing to look at a table covered with an assortment of shapes and sizes of male phallic symbols in a rather unrealistic array of colours. Bright orange or yellow with black spots....black with zebra stripes....dark purple dildos that have the added talent of adhering to the shower wall (eh??).

We all sat there and listened to the demonstrator talk about the various attributes of each item she had displayed...vibrators with dancing pearls...cock rings made out of rubber, same made out of leather, nipple clamps, g-spot finders - with little lights on the end (for when you're playing doctors and nurses maybe??), gyrating and vibrating phenomona aplenty. When she discussed anal sex the room went quiet....it always does. Each time I've been to one of these parties, the anal sex talk is one sure way of stopping the laughter that's bouncing off the walls.

There were different sized bottles of lubrication, 75ml (purse pack, for um, that spontaneous tryst in the public bathroom), 250ml (be aware, your family could mistake this for the latest shampoo) and a 500ml pump pack (for those really heavy sessions...or the ladies who cart around huge handbags and secretly have a fetish for public displays of affection I guess).

As we age, we don't lubricate the same apparently. Being that I'm not of that age, I'm yet to experience the dryness that accompanies it. The demonstrator's favourite lube was one called "Probe" (oh my, who thinks up these names??). It's tasteless, has the consistency of your natural body fluids..saliva included and the interesting part?...if you happen to fall asleep and dry up....when you awaken, you don't need to add any extra lubrication. Just throw a bit of water or saliva into..uh..play....and wa la!... the dried up lube comes back to continue it's slippery existence again.

*nudge nudge*
"Sorry Cyril, it's got a tad crusty overnight" *blush*
"Ah no worries Hilda, I can fix that quick smart"
*hooooiik...spit*

This scenario would give me an instant 'headache', so anyone who's intending to bed me during my years of dryness...I suggest you don't attempt this with me. I feel sure it would result in no sexual activity whatsoever on my part...and possibly a black eye on yours.

Long story cut short, I actually did purchase something last night...well I tried to anyway...by the time I got to the front of the line, they'd sold out. So it's on back order. Now how unfair is that?? Not only do I now have to keep a nervous eye out for the postie every dang day until it arrives....I have to wait a few months to actually use it for what it's intended.

*sigh*

Ah well, such is life....the best things are worth waiting for.
Tuesday, August 23, 2005

Please Say It Aint So

I heard on the car radio this morning (come on, don't look like that...it's been a while since you got a post from me that was inspired by the radio)....Pamela Anderson has moved into the rock/music scene..besides swinging from the ceiling with Tommy Lee I mean.

This doesn't surprise me or bother me....those under the heading of 'hot and famous' often move from one side to the other...acting to singing...singing to acting...whatever. No...it happens all the time right? We're used to them trying their hand out at the various arts...and why shouldn't they? They're already in the spotlight due to some of their other talents (some of their 'gifts' far more prominant than others)...why not continue with their winning streaks (this appears to be fast leaning towards a sexual post, anyone else feeling that vibe right now??).

It's ok Fizzy, I aint going there today, you can open your eyes again.

So, I say...good for them...jolly good show old chap etc....lovely jubbly...bring it on. First time I ever heard Gwyneth Paltrow singing in "Duets" with Huey Lewis, I was floored by her husky dulcet tones. I thoroughly enjoyed listening to those two singing "Cruisin"...I also loved Gwyneth's version of "Bette Davis Eyes"....wearing that short skirt didn't do my musically tuned ears any harm either I might add.

BUT....What I heard this morning over the radio about Pamela Anderson bothered me...in fact it bothered me GREATLY. "But why Lisa?"....I'm glad you asked, thank you. Listen up, cos I'm going to tell you. Why? WHY?? Because she's coming into the music scene by singing a duet of some sort with Bryan Adams...that's why. Read my lips people....BRYAN.... ADAMS!

Bryan, my man, YOU'VE GOTTA BE KIDDING??!

Besides the obvious love of my life, Walker, and our cheeky Happy & Blue, coupled with the notorious RainyPete....Bryan Adams is one of my all time favourite Canadian men...in the whole world...that's a lotta world to be competing against don't ya think? How can he possibly ruin my dreams of becoming one of his backup singers, by throwing that bleached blonde, harness swinging, mammoth-titted, tight-arsed, floozy into the mix?? Yeah...I'd like to throw her into something alright.

And yes I know Bryan Adams is Canadian, and I know that Ms Floozy is Canadian also, and yes I've thought that maybe the Canucks may feel the need to stick together....all that brotherly love...patriotism blah de blah....but MY Bryan?? How COULD he??! Does he not know what the rest of us do? That just one of her implants has a higher IQ than the rest of her body put together? (And that's inside OR outside her body.)

You know what part of this new career move of Pammie's is going to bite the most for me? And that is, if she actually has a half decent singing voice. Although I think that even me, with my vocal chords cut would sound pretty amazing if I was singing alongside Bryan Adams. (Ok, I might just be swaying in time with the music, raising my eyebrows, showing all my teeth and pointing at Bryan, but I BET I'd look hot purely cos I was standing beside him....or even just his guitar when I think about it.)

*shakes head* "Bryan, Bryan Bryan...what were you thinking?"
Monday, August 22, 2005

Hair of the Job

After unlocking the door at work this morning and letting in 6 people, who had been patiently waiting on the doorstep....I sat down behind reception, put my ear-piece in and checked the time. The clocked ticked over to show 8.00am....I took a deep breath....spoke out loud to myself "Right, here we go then"....and switched the phone on.

8.05am: I have three phonelines flashing "on hold"...four patients standing waiting in front of me, and my new co-worker nowhere to be seen yet. In the next 15 minutes I'm answering phones, punching more people on hold and chasing the nurse around the office. During this time I'm constantly checking the front door each time I hear it open...in the hope my new co-worker might appear.

I have a new co-worker to share my Monday morning shifts with. After all the nasty business of our most recent receptionist being asked to leave, we have taken on a young chap who is a whizz with the software we use and has apparently worked at several medical centres in the Auckland region before moving to Wellington. This young man has joined us in the interim, while my practice manager files through CVs to start off the interviewing process once again.

Today I discovered, he's a tad too laid back when it comes to Monday mornings. This is not a job you can be late for. With all the stress and mayhem that can come about on any given Monday morning, it's vital we turn up on time. I start at 7.45 to turn on all the PCs, distribute the weekend faxes from the afterhours clinic and accident & emergency to the doctors trays, switch on lights, get the money draw ready etc. He's to start at 8am...in time for when I switch the phone over.

By 8.30 I'd given up looking at the door, and realised I was going to have to deal with this on my own...people were just going to have to show more patience. God forbid anyone demand I go any faster than I was already. About the only positive of Monday mornings is the speed with which they fly by without me noticing.

What's happening with my hair can be a sure indication of how my morning's shaping up. I can arrive at work, my hair smartly coiffed in place with a giant claw clip, bobby pins keeping any strays in place. Several hours later, it's looking like I've just run through a wind tunnel...clip hanging to the side, bobby pins slipped well out of place, if not disappeared completely and I've got that wild hair thing going on.

At 9.45, I hear the familiar sound of the front door again.

I look up to see my new co-worker casually strolling in smiling broadly at me.

I pushed the hair out of my eyes, smiled sweetly in return and thought about how much I SO wanted to fire his cute arse.

By the time I'd found the claw clip later on the floor out the back beside the fax machine, I'd already decided we were having pizza for tea.
Sunday, August 21, 2005

Brain vs Body

Friday night's escapades is going to take me probably at least 3 days to get over. Hopefully I'll be back to having a clear head tomorrow morning, because I'm back to work.

I don't indulge in the art of drinking large volumes of alcohol much these days...well, not for years really. I usually have a few bourbons, then switch to water for the remainder of the evening. Keeping my water levels up, tends to cut down on the slowness and thick-headedness that can hit me the day after.

Friday was different. I went out to celebrate a friend's birthday, and each time my body screamed "stop drinking now!"....someone would put a drink in front of me, and I'd feel obligated to drink it. Noone held my mouth open and poured it down my throat, but at $7.00 a pop, I was loathe to feel I was wasting their money. For some reason I never felt the urge to start on water, regardless of the fact that it was becoming so obvious that water would've been more helpful.

So, after several double bourbons (to be honest I'd lost count)...and a few shots...aka evil, nasty fire-water....I came home, still able to walk a straight line, but knowing I was going to pay dearly for it the next day. And I did. I got to bed just after midnight...finally got some sleep after 2am...and was seen pulling clothes on over my pjs to take Cameron to work at 5.30am. After enduring a small lecture from him re the dangers of alcohol, I dropped him off....came home...went to bed...got up...blogged yesterday's non-post....went to bed....got up and pulled my clothes on over my pjs again, and collected The Righteous One from work at 12.30.

Yes I had a good night out on Friday night...good company - yes, many laughs - yes... and yes, I enjoyed the music.

Was my body happy about this the next day? Saying "no" would be an understatement.

Body: "All that alcohol, and then the physical exertion of dancing TOO? What the hell is up with THAT girl??!"
Brain: "Come on...I don't do it often, don't I get points for kinda scheduling it several years apart each time?"
Body: "Oh whatever! Haven't I already taught you that even several years apart it still causes me damage?"
Brain: "Um...yes..but..."
Body: "And what about those bloody shots? Did you not feel them burning in my throat, making my eyes water, clearing my sinus' and moving up to burn my eardrums??"
Brain: "Oh, yeah, sorry 'bout that"
Body: "Now...read my language and get back to bed!"
Brain: *sigh* "You're such a drama queen"
Body: "GO!"

So, that's where I'm headed, yet again. When my body and my brain are back in sync I shall return.

Hope you're all having a blast this weekend...but a gentle blast at that.
Saturday, August 20, 2005

No Post Today

After telling Walker on the headset yesterday that I really felt the need to drink bourbon last night...that's exactly what I went out and did....and did....and did....and did.

Due to unforeseen circumstances *cough*, I will not be reading your blogs today...I will catch up on them all tomorrow. It's taking every ounce of energy I have left to keep upright for this non-post as it is.

In the meantime, perhaps you could lend a hand to a bloggy friend of mine. Please read his latest post and give him your opinions on what he could do to help out his current situation at home. I know he'll appreciate it.

Please leave your hangover cures in the comment section below.

Thank you *half smile*
Friday, August 19, 2005

Hello...My Name is Lisa.

Anyone who took my quiz yesterday, should now be aware of my real name. Lisa. Well it's actually Melissa, but noone ever calls me that, so it seemed pointless putting that as the correct option for number 10. When I was a teenager, I kept a diary. When I first began writing my diary, I found it easier to write 'to' somebody. So each of my entries starts off like a letter.."Dear Sara"...hence my blog name. Taking into consideration that I 'outted' my kids names, I felt it was time to give up mine. I will change my profile, which should mean it will be showing up on your comments shortly. Anyone that doesn't like my real name or feels odd using it after all these months, may still call me Sara (how generous is THAT of me eh? Damn, I'm good to you lot). Anyone who's ever emailed me and received a response, will also know Lisa is my real name because I'm too dumb to figure out how to change it in my Outlook Express options. Anonymity be damned!

A couple of other bits about the quiz. It might comfort Walker to know that Cameron got the London/Paris question wrong. It might also comfort Walker that Cameron felt the need to debate this issue with me rather vehemently this morning after he'd taken the quiz. I was surprised at Todd's score...he's always given me the impression he's the "all seeing eye" of whatever's happening in Kurt's life, thus I expect him to know more about me. I am however, not the least bit surprised at Kurt's score. I'm thinking he should be disqualified, because although, for some reason I'm not getting emailed your quiz answers...thus I have no idea what you got right or wrong....I have great suspicions that once Todd had taken the quiz....Kurt had intimidated him into submission, to the point where Todd 'fessed up the correct answers. It leaves me wondering what Jeff Bridges would think of these tactics.

Ryan was a completely different kettle of fish. He took the quiz...saw his score in comparison to others and stomped off saying "You never tell me ANYTHING anymore!". I did try to soothe him by bringing up RainyPete's score but his response was "So? He doesn't LIVE with you does he??". Cameron being Cameron, has to get involved.

Cameron: "It's your own fault, you're never out here to find out what's going on in her life anyway"
Ryan: *glaring at Cam* "Who asked YOU??!"
Cam: "My, aren't you a little ray of sunshine today?"
Ryan: "Oh shut up!"
Cam: "Fuck off!"

I hurry back to the kitchen

Me: "What the hell is going on here?!"
Ryan: "Cameron is making me feel stink"
Cam: *pointing at Ryan* "That's because YOU'RE a piece of SHIT!"
Ryan: "That's IT! I'm not going to school!"

Cameron snatches his lunch money off the kitchen table and storms out of the house....Ryan stomps passed me to his bedroom and slams the door...I rip my Mummy badge off my dressing grown and throw it at the floor, resisting the urge to jump up and down on it.

I tried to talk to Ryan, to no avail, he's not interested...it's "None of your business!" and "I HATE Cameron!" blah blah blah. By this stage my voice is getting louder and angrier and I'm ready to get his father on the scene. But what good would it do to have two angry parents yelling at him? I can hardly drag him out of bed can I? - physically, he's just too big for me to do that. I also don't want to force him to school in the mood he's currently in. Considering he's already teetering on the brink of expulsion, God only knows what kind of outburst during class it could cause if I actually got him there.

I've rung the school and left a message to inform them of his absence and why, and asked them to get the counsellor to ring me. Ryan is grounded and I've removed any and every possible privilege I can think of from him. Short of beating him senseless with a piece of wood, it's the only punishment I could come up with.

Cameron has an incredible gift at winding up his younger brother. With this morning's shouting match, I would hazard a guess that Ryan is getting the same talent towards his older brother. For Cameron to swear to that extent is major stuff. He may swear around his mates at school, but within earshot of me? Never. Completely out of character for him. Something's up. I will attempt to talk to him after school to make sure nothing else is bothering him. As the school year gets closer to ending and his NCEA exams loom, I suspect that he's feeling the pressure of achieving enough credits. Or he's just being a shithead.

Years ago, someone told me..."When your children are pushing you away, or being more difficult than usual to deal with - that's the time they need you most". I've taken this on board several times over the years, never forgotten it, yet I am at a loss as to how to react half the time. Why should I feel like spending time with them, when they're being little bastards and their attitudes are the last thing I'm going to warm too?? Oh...yeah...because I'm the adult. Shit.

The good thing about my day so far? I don't actually have a headache.
Thursday, August 18, 2005

For Your Reading Pleasure...A Short One

From somewhere in the depths of my mind, I've been managing to come out with some rather long posts lately...so today...I shall give your wee eyes a rest and make it a short one. *the crowd goes wild*

I had McDonalds for breakfast this morning. I dropped the boys at school, drove over the hill and straight into the McD's drive thru. I ordered and paid my money at the first window.... got to the "here's your food, have a nice day" window...and waited. I waited, and waited, and thought about turning my car engine off...and waited some more.

Don't know what the hell was going on in there, but noone came to say "Won't be long" or "Sorry for the delay"...they just ignored that I was sitting there, engine running, and waiting. I ended up waiting so long, there were several cars waiting behind me. If I hadn't forked over the money already, I would've driven off.

While I waited I had several things running through my head. One of which was to yell at them "OI!...I've had my engine running for too long waiting for you...are you aware of the fuel prices at the moment?? Mr Haney would KICK...YOUR...ASS if he knew I was burning away costly petrol because of YOU! And Lord only KNOWS what Kurt would do to your brain...NOW FRIGGIN' MOVE IT!" But I'm chickenshit, so I didn't. *sigh*

Speaking of Kurt, I have pilfered a quiz from his site. Well I pilfered it and then made up one of my own. How much do you think you know about me? It's pretty simple I reckon, but then that's easy for me to say...it's my quiz and I know all the answers. Besides, I couldn't think up any really tough questions. Click on this to take my quiz. Here's the scoreboard if you're interested.

Oh, and I now have a guestmap over there on the sidebar. Please go and plug yourself on it. Once you've all done that, I'll print it out...it's a requirement for the Stalking 101 night class I've just enroled in at the local College. Ta.

Come on! You have to admit, it's definitely shorter than usual right??
Tuesday, August 16, 2005

"Small Talk"

Years ago, when Cameron and Ryan were 7 and 6 years old respectively, they were invited to take part in a new television programme. It was called "Small Talk". It was a game show programme that involved adults on a panel being asked questions and then the adults having to choose which child/children they thought would give the correct answer to the question. I believe this was a spin off from a British tv programme of the same name, hosted by Ronnie Corbett.

In New Zealand, the show only ran for one season...I think this was due to the fact that the parents and grandparents of the children involved were the only ones watching it. The questions would be asked...then the adults would say something like "Um I choose Cameron and Ryan, I think they know the answer to this (or don't know the answer)". Got it?

The questions were asked by studio staff and the boys were taped giving their answers. Any and every answer was taped...then the studio would edit that to fit in with the actual programme for that evening. Each programme there was a total of 9 children up on a large panel that the contestants could pick out. Like this: (my 2 are right in the middle if you can't tell)

They chose to film my boys together as one unit...instead of individuals. I liked this...Mum being the paranoid person that she is, liked the idea of her boys having each other to lean on during this experience. The studio staff told me they'd never seen two children so in tune with each other...the boys fed off each other...finished each others sentences etc.

During one weekend of filming, I was fortunate enough to watch some taping from the control room. This was only due to the fact that I'd been rung to come back, after dropping the boys off, because Ryan had said he wasn't going to say anything due to feeling unwell. I was called on my cellphone to collect him and they would film Cam on his own. By the time I arrived back at the studio, Ryan had said he would be ok, he would just sit there next to Cameron and not say anything. If you knew my 6 year old at that time...him NOT saying anything would be virtually impossible. Most of the taping involved Cameron answering the questions and Ryan interrupting him or talking over him. The kids were to sit behind a small school desk while they were being "interviewed". While Cameron answered the questions as best he could at the time, Ryan sat beside him playing with a Batman toy ignoring what was going on.

I heard one of the recording staff say under his breath "Come on Ryan, DO something". Course, Ryan couldn't hear him...but like magic, the "action" switch flicked on in my youngest son. From that moment on Ryan spent the rest of his time, leaning all over the desk, leaning against Cameron....fallling off his chair etc. At one stage he was lying across the desk looking up his brother's nose. He reached up to put his finger up Cameron's nose. Cameron was becoming tense with this new turn of events. He was on camera, and very aware of it...his brother's activities were going to blow his chances of stardom. He politely brushed away Ryan's hand...all the while answering questions with as much decorum as possible. The recording staff were wetting themselves laughing. Cameron just kept going, trying his best to ignore Ryan, but the occasional "look" was directed at his brother...I could read his mind.....oh the shame of it all.

As parents we were invited to particpate as the studio audience, and invite whomever we liked. Besides myself and my husband, the boys' primary school principal, the majority of her teaching staff, their grandparents and aunts and uncle were present. There were obviously lots of other people too, but I don't know who they were...so they're not important for this post lol.

This pic was taken just after Cameron had finished introducing himself...he then pulled Ryan to centre screen so he could introduce himself too..."and..and...my name ith Ryan, and I'm hith bruvver and I'm sith yearth old" (kid had missing front teeth at the time, can you tell??).

I'm not sure how I felt about how things went that first night....the adult contestants were actually starting to annoy me. When one chose my sons he said "I'll take the "Terrible Two" Cameron and Ryan"....I wanted to stand up and say "I beg your pardon?...how can you be so judgemental??!".....when another said that he didn't think either of my two knew how many stars were on the New Zealand flag I wanted to stand up again "How DARE you make such assumptions!!". But...I didn't, I sat there quietly simmering instead. My husband spent most of his time hanging onto the bottom of my blouse...he'd seen the look on my face and was ready to yank me back down, should the need arise. Smart man. (Incidentally, Cameron answered the flag question immediately with "4 and there's a Union Jack as well" (that's correct in case you didn't know lol)...his school principal told me later, it took all she had not to jump up and yell "Ha!, Take that LOSER!" to the contestant.

Some questions asked, and answered:

What is a spitoon?
Cam: "It's one of those things that are in pubs...people bite the end off a stick and spit in the bowl"
What are dreadlocks?
Cam: "Goldilocks' sister?"
What country is Nelson Mandela president of?
Ryan: "Um...that question is a little bit too hard"
Cam: "America? United States of America? uh....Australia?!"
Do you know who the Beatles were?
Cam: "They're a band like The Monkees."
Do you know anyone who smokes?
Ryan: "My mother smokes but she's giving up at the moment....I think it's going to take a long time." *rolls eyes and sighs*



This pic is taken right after both boys say "yeah" about Mum giving up smoking. Look how happy they are about that...It made me take note of how smiley that thought made them both.









and my favourite question/answer:

What do Mermaids wear?
Ryan gasped "I know!" and his hand shot up to answer (in fact, his hand shot up several times during the tapings, must've thought he was still in school)
Cameron takes over again: "They wear a fishtail and..um...*blush*...breasts...they wear breasts" *nervous giggle*

100 POINTS!!!!

The boys were on 6 episodes during that season. I've just finished watching all 6 episodes this morning and thinking back to how cute and innoncent they used to be *sigh* Oh well, can't expect them NOT to grow up now, can I?


(PS: sorry about the quality of the pics, I took them all while I watched the telly today lol)

Monday, August 15, 2005

My Brain is Hurting

Well, my video thing was a bit of a flop wasn't it? Half of you can't see it. Not to worry, I won't be doing those instead of writing, would take up most of my brain power to think up what to say anyway lol.

Speaking of my brain...it's been having a difficult time working lately. The last 2 weeks to be more precise. For the past couple of weeks I've been getting headaches at the back right side of my head. On Wednesday last week it was so bad I was in the nurses office asking for painkillers while rubbing the back of my head. They're becoming distracting (the headaches, not the nurses, although the nurses are getting close). So distracting that I've had to concentrate as much as possible on what's happening around me. This avid concentration is causing me to have seizures, which means my vision becomes impaired and my eyes aren't sending the right signals to my brain. In other words I can be seen to be sitting there looking like a right air-head. I'm amazed I haven't made any major cock-ups.

It was particularly busy last Wednesday afternoon and the practice manager came out to tend the front desk with me. I could feel her watching me, and eventually I asked her "How big a catastrophe would I cause if I didn't come to work tomorrow?". She said she'd noticed I wasn't my usual self the past few days and that perhaps I should take the time off to get it sorted. I have so much sick leave up my sleeve, it sounded like a good idea to me. Maybe my brain just needed a wee holiday?

I don't think giving it a holiday means farting around with HTML on my template. Although I did try to do that, I so completely messed it up I had to resort to copying the saved template out of a Word document to make it look normal again. Unfortunately that template was about 2 months old, so some of my new links weren't on it. Please, if I've forgotten to add you back, let me know and I'll remedy that. Boy, was I swearing up a storm yesterday lol But how hard can it be?? I'll be changing my template, little bits at a time....and possibly several weeks between changes, but I'll do it all the same.

Also yesterday (Sunday) the pounding in my head got so bad I rang my boss from my bed, to say I wouldn't be in on Monday and would go and see my GP. She was very understanding and said she would rather have one of her good workers take the time off than keep going and completely fry her brain. So that's what I'm doing today...besides writing this at 7.20am, I'm waiting for my doctor's office to open up the phone lines so I can go visit him.

I'm sure it's ok and only a tiny brain tumor, not a big one. I'm sure that, in keeping with the rest of my body, my brain is also overweight and that a lil ole tumor won't affect it too much. I'm also sure I don't have the faintest idea what I'm talking about, which means of course, I must jump to all the wrong conclusions.

****
9.30am
Been to see Dr Tim (lovely man), who told me to stop taking the multi-vitamins I started a week or so ago (he said it probably wasn't the reason, but wouldn't hurt to rule them out)...he took my blood pressure (it's usual)...asked if I'd been doing anything out of the ordinary lately (no)...told me to start taking anti-inflammatories (done)...and gave me a week off work (see? told ya he was lovely didn't I??).

And guess what?? No mention of brain tumors or possible haemmorrages(sp?) or anything like that! Yay! My brain will live on to see another day!

Anyway, I came home, cleared my mail...and what do I find there? but mail from The Incredible Fizzy-Woman (I vote we get her a cape with duckies all over it), who has gone down my entire template and explained in red writing alongside each bit, what each part does and what will change if I play with it. I just about cried when I read it. Between Fizzy and DataMonkey, I'm hopefully going to turn up with something more interesting. God damn it you guys, you rock the party that rocks the house!! Thank you ever so much. *mwah*

If you were here right now I'd be squishing ya. That's right I would.

*Pretends Cameron is Fizzy/Dave*

*Squish, squish, SQUEEZE*

Cam: *muffled* "Geez, Mum, GET OFF ME!!"
Saturday, August 13, 2005

A/V Blog
by Userplane

Waiting, waiting, waiting...

I have attempted to do another audio/video post. I hope you can see and hear me. You may want to leave my page open and read something else while it's doing it's buffering thing. I've had a look at it in 'composition' form and all it seems to do is flash green...I hope that's not the case forever after. If so, I'll delete it and either try again, or given up completely and get a new programme (sometime in the future).

I also still have a lisp with this programme. Beggars can't be choosers right, it's given me a lisp, so I have to put up with it. That's probably it from me for the weekend. I do have some things I could write about...thinking them up is the problem lol

Hope you all have a great weekend, and I'll catch you on your comments (or mine for that matter).
Friday, August 12, 2005

You want pics...you got 'em

I have attempted to take pictures of one of the corners of my bed. In true Sara style...instead of snapping the offending corner in question...I have chosen the opposite end of the bed. Besides, it was easier to get to and seeing as it's exactly the same as the top left corner, I can't see a problem with it.

Laying on the floor at such an angle and trying to keep the camera steady was... so I hope you're able to see the pics clearly enough to give an informed solution.

I could of course wait until Walker gets here, but I'm sure he's not going to want to get down on his hands and knees to silence the bed after travelling for 27 plus hours. Besides, why put off something we've been going crazy to do since last October? No no no, best get it done now so we can get directly down to the business at hand (or no hands for a change..."Look Ma! No hands!" ack, let's leave mum outta this, that could have a completely opposite affect to what I'd be wanting).

And just so's you don't think this is all about the fixing of noisy beds, I'll add a couple of extra pics for the interest of ...well...me, actually...cos I just want to add a couple of extra pics. It's my blog and I'll do what I like with it.



This is what the corners of my bed look like when they're in the "usuable" position. Check out that carpet folks...yes I know it's fugly but it's warmer than bare boards.





I was asked what was 'behind the screw'...well sorta...so I removed the allen screw to have a look. I'd forgotten, it's been such a long time since I bothered trying to fix the racket. Lo and behold, there was a dang hole behind the screw! Wood is what it's screwed into....and a long screw at that (about 3 inches I think, what would I know? Distance and measurements are a challenge for me)...I shoulda taken a pic of the screw too but forgot due to the excitement of a wooden hole taking me over. *sigh* This is such a draining business.



I pried the end board away from the base of the bed and the following is what I found. Imagine my surprise after telling you it was a piece of dowel, to discover there were actually two pieces of dowel involved? (remember, it's been a while). One at the top and one at the bottom. Sounds like double trouble to me. Sorry about the photo, it's the best of the several I took. After having my elbow cramping up and my hand going into funny shaky spasm thingys, you're lucky you aint looking at a pic of the ceiling really.





This pic is of part of the mosquito net I've got hanging over the head of my bed...I've pinned it so each side is draping down the walls either side. This will also show you that my bed isn't against the wall, that it does indeed come 'out' of the corner of the room. Also it shows off more rainbows. Gotta love them rainbows eh?





And last but not least, this is the picture on the other side of the wall (that's opposed to the picture of the capital letter R that Ryan drew, and the paintings that my godson did, shown in an earlier blog post). This was drawn in pastels by Cameron when he was 9 years old. It's entitled "Orca's Paradise". Yeah I know it's outta focus, but that's not his fault, it's his dumbass mum and her camera that's to blame.


I suspect you've had your fill of my bedroom by now, I know I have.

Pfft, how hard can it be?? or as one of my favourite bloggers would say "Damn the torpedoes...full steam ahead". *winks at Mr Haney*

Hope you're all having a fabulous day/night!

Thursday, August 11, 2005

The Noise of the Dance

I have a problem. It's been hanging over my head for a while now, and I must do something about it before the end of December.

The problem? My bed.

Now, don't get me wrong, I love my bed. My bed is made up of 3 main pieces...the headboard, the baseboard and the bit that joins them together in the middle. It's a slat bed and the wood is Rimu (that's natural new zealand timber people). It's a little higher off the ground than the norm, thus I can fit all manner of boxes and junk beneath it. Occasionally I pull these boxes out from under it, have a look through them...thinking "Ooh, so that's where you've been all this time" and "Why the hell am I still holding onto this?" and more often than not I shove them back under, thinking..."I'll deal with that some other time". Anyone else have stuff under their bed like this?

When I'm in my bed alone, everything's great (well, it's not, but you know what I mean). I don't move the bed around much at all by myself. It may creak a little under the strain of me getting into it each night, but other than that, it's a silent bed.

That is, until I try to move it. I mean, until I add another body to the bed and we both move it...together. That's when the problem begins. That's when the neighbours wonder what the hell is going on. That's when the children come rushing to my room to make sure noone's maiming their mother. (As thrilled as I am at their devotion to my safety, this is not a good time.)

The noise is defeaning. It's not like an embarrassing "squeak squeak squeak" noise....although it's definitely a squeak of sorts. But it's more of a loud squawking. Everytime the bed is in motion, the squawk is ringing out to ricochet it's echo off the bedroom walls, down the hall to the kids rooms and out into the street. There's no way I'm able to do the 'hokey tokey' without my neighbours knowing.

AND...it's distracting...oh so incredibly distracting...to those in the bed moving it. So distracting, it can stop the ramba mid-dance...the occupants of the bed desperately trying to find a way to continue dancing minus the hideous noise.

When we were in Powell River, Vancouver...(and I don't need to elaborate on who WE are right? you should all know by now)....that first night, once we realised the headboard was not going to play fair, even after stuffing a pillow behind the most troublesome area...we found that sideways across the bed, was best for noise control. Course then we had to work on shutting me the hell up, but oh well, least I sounded more interesting.

Although hanging off the side of the bed adds to the excitement of the tango, it's not where i want to be for the rest of my dancing days. My head hanging off the bed like that can feel amazing. Yep, it's damned good...especially for the visuals...you know...it kinda pushes all the other dancing stuff up and out...like an instant bodylift. But...what about all the blood rushing to my head? or is it not rushing to my head while I'm dancing like that? Is it rushing to all the other bits that are taking part in the body salsa? Am I not increasing my chances of brain aneurism if this is the one and only position that's available to me and my partner?

Course, there's always the option of me taking the lead, but we still have to be across the bed, thus increasing the possibility of similar fears for my booty baby right? *sigh*

ANYWAY...each corner of my bed is held together with a piece of dowl. like a kitset bookshelf (fuck sake....I wouldn't screw on a bookcase, who the hell thought up using the same technique for a dang bed??!). Four pieces of dowl from the corner of the bed base, to be shoved into each corner (leg) of the headboard and baseboard. There's 6 screws altogether...allen screws....the 4 corners and the middle of top and bottom boards. That's it. 6 screws holding my bed together.

The top left piece of dowl and screw are what makes up the problem. This one piece of dowl is moving back and forth inside it's confines (omg, that's kinda like mirroring what's going on during the dance...why that filthy piece of shitty dowl!..oh, I digress). I have unscrewed it to have a look and tightened it as much as I can...poked around trying to fit it back in differently...oiled it....and wet it (hoping for expansion, sounds dumb but I was getting desperate). I have even taken the hammer and tried 'knocking' it into submission. It's made no difference.

Mentally, I have grabbed my imaginery sledgehammer and smashed the entire bed to pieces, all the while sobbing with frustration.

Getting a new bed is not an option at this time, so I put this out there to you brilliant DIY people to help me solve this. Do I have to continue worrying about where the blood is rushing around while we're rocking and rolling? Are we going to crash to the floor as the Pasa Doble is about to reach it's thundering passionate climax??

I beg of you. Please help. Over to you Mr Haney.
Wednesday, August 10, 2005

A Family Tradition

A couple of nights ago the boys were in Ryan's bedroom playing on the playstation. Then:

*paaaarp*

5 seconds later:

Cameron: "I am SO outta here" *strides quickly down the hallway to his own room*

Cam closes his bedroom door, turns around, opens his door, comes straight back out into the hallway again and walks back to stand outside Ryan's door. (That's the pull of a playstation game I guess)

Ryan: "It's ok, I've sprayed some deodorant around"

Cam: "And you think deodorant's going to cover THAT?!"

Ryan: *laughs* "It's gone now...I've wafted it around a bit"

Cam: *still standing on the threshold* Yeah whatever, it better have worked, that was extreme. I thought I was gonna hurl."

This reminded me of when I was a kid. My father. Oh...My...God....my FATHER!

Most mornings my mother had trouble getting her 4 offspring out of bed. Eventually she figured out a great way to make us move. One sentence would have us all bounding out of bed in a hurry.

"Does anyone need to go to the toilet before your father gets in there?"

That was like lighting dynamite under us. There was a chorus of "Me!" and we were outta that bed in nano-seconds, scrambling for the loo. Anything to get there before Dad parked up and commenced his morning ritual. Nothing could disguise the aftermath of my father. People that were redecorating would invite my Dad over just so he could use their toilets....after he'd been, the paint would peel so easily off the walls, it was magical! He's a talented man indeed.

So...as tradition demands....and while ex-husband was still under this roof...this sentence was also a sure way for me to get my boys to move in the morning...not so much at the speed of light, but still very effective. I've been saying it for years...since the kids were very small. In fact, it became such a habit, that both my boys will automatically ask anyone that's in the house at the time they need to do their 'business'...if they need to use the toilet first.

When they were little, it was kinda cute. Now that they're bigger it's kinda embarrassing, but I thrive on them still being so considerate. If there were 10 people in the house at the time, they would ask each and every one of them first. You have to answer them, cos they stand waiting for a reply. Trust me on this, I've seen it time and time again over the years.

This is a heads up for you Walker...if either of my kids say that to you while you're here (and habit being what it is, it's certain to happen)...you need to rush for the toilet door first, or just politely answer "no thanks". You can't respond by asking "Why?"...cos then you'll end up with a red faced teen staring at the floor, shuffling from foot to foot, cos he can't bring himself to say "I need to take a crap".

I used this line today because I needed to go to the loo myself. Both kids answered "no thanks" from the comfort of their beds. How nice...it seems I'm sweeter than i thought. I'm going to take their replies as a compliment.
Tuesday, August 09, 2005

Tools 'n' Ghouls

A couple of years ago, when I had my head fully buried in the business of being the super duper secretary to our local softball club (otherwise known as shuffling papers around and giving off an oscar-winning performance of being a body of great importance)....I was invited (along with the president and other committee members of our club)...to a casino evening. This evening was being held by the softball club's largest sponsor (the large local hardware store).

Actually it wasn't a casino evening, I've just forgotten the details of it...it was more an evening for the hardware store to bring together it's largest customers for food, drinks and a bit of fun. The fun part being the auction they ran at the end of it. Now that I think about that harder...it wasn't an auction...no money changed hands. I am so having trouble trying to set the scene for this post...it's a wonder I don't give up right here...but I won't, cos I know how bitterly disappointed you lot would be if I stop right here and now.

Anyway....when I first arrived I had to write my name down on a piece of paper, this paper went into a box. At the end of the evening the box was given to a man (read arrogant prick)...he stood behind a table that was laiden with various tools, hardware, sleeveless jackets etc...you get the idea. If you were lucky enough to have your name withdrawn from the box...he would take a few things from the table in front of him and give them to you as the 'prize'. How exciting!

During the course of the 'handing over free prizes', I noticed a pattern forming. Any time a woman's name was called, one of the first things this gentleman asked her was "Do you have a man at home dear?"....the general answer was "yes"...he would then give her things such as power tools, sleeveless vests etc...you know?...MAN stuff?

As the evening wore on and I sat continuing to guzzle down free bourbon in the corner of the room (I'm a closet drunk don't ya know, I try to avoid others seeing me licking the inside of the glass...corners are handy for that, you just need to turn into them), my name was called. My fellow-corner-hog elbowed me "It's you! Your name's been pulled out"...."eh?..oh...shit...yeah ok".

I stood, pulled my knickers out of the crack of my arse, smoothed down my trousers and walked as lady-like as possible towards centre stage. I wished they were playing music at the same time as I did that victory walk. At the very least if I'd veered off my "walk-a-straight-line-please-Madam - yes-sir" path...I could've incorporated that wobble into a little dance move. Might've looked quite cool to be busting a wee dance move on my way up to the spotlight....least that's what I would've thought...just before I tripped and did a graceful face-plant on the floor. I can see it now....turning onto my back, staring at the ceiling, the slur of my words "Oooooo, look at all the priddy lights" *giggle giggle*, as my eyes rolled back in my head and I passed out.

SETTLE DOWN!.... I didn't do that...sheesh...I'm far too dignified to do that kinda stuff! *cough*

I arrived in front of the gent with his Scottish accent (most disappointed to find he really didn't look like Sean Connery at close range)...and smiled sweetly.

Him: "Do you have a Tim The Toolman tucked away at home somewhere dear?"

I froze. I knew whatever he gave me was going to be based on my reply. Should I lie and tell him "yes"?....or should I tell him the truth and be given a couple of vouchers for squat? Oh man...what to do?...what to DO??!

Me: "No, just me and the kids" *smile*

Him: "Right, let's see what we have here for you then" *searching contents of table and looking around behind him*

This happened near the end of the 'giving out freebies' bit, so there really wasn't a lot left to choose from.

Him: "Ah, where we go." *handing me a broom and a couple of packets of spanky new wash-cloths*

Me: "Oh!" *reaching out to touch his hands...pushing the goods back at him*

For the next 15 seconds we did this cute little pushing back and forth waltz with each other over the table. (See? if music was playing, we could've done that in time with the beat)

Me: "Do you mind if I choose what I'd like?" *smiling so hard all my teeth show*
Him: *mutter* then so the audience could hear him "Of course Madam!" *winking at the crowd* (there's the recipe for a black eye right there folks).

I walked away with a couple of new sets of screwdrivers, a craft knife, a pair of long nosed pliers, a tube of silicone gel and the tool you use to squirt said gel out of it's confines. I have no need for the silicone gel, but hey, I'll be damned if I'm going to let that man stereotype me into being a dizzy, helpless woman that knows nothing about tools...unfortunately there were no power tools left. Cos if there were, I would've come home with something else I didn't know how to use yet....hahaha.

How dare he make that assumption. Pah. And by the way...the tools I picked up that night have come in handy on various occasions since then...except the gel...I'm still looking for a leak of some sort to plug up. If I do indeed find something to use it on...I might wait til Walker gets here for that....besides, I might break a finger nail using that silly contraption and that just wouldn't do at all, would it? I love my screwdrivers...they're such a lovely yellow colour and they match the colour of the pliers....all tools have gotta match in colour right? otherwise they don't work properly, right? Yeah, I thought so. I am SO onto the concept of this tool thing!
Monday, August 08, 2005

Ba Humbug

I've just spent the better part of 2 hours farting around with the webcam trying to make a video/audio clip. How frustrating!

I eventually managed to put one together...nothing too spectacular, but a clip all the same and once I saved it, it showed up as being 77.7MB in size. I only talked for just over 5 minutes...how could that make up 77MBs?? *sigh*

Now, besides the fact that I don't know how to get you to view it, that's so large I fear it'd be a waste of time trying to figure out how to put it on here. So I didn't.

And now that I've attempted to do all that, I'm exhausted and annoyed at my failure to achieve it....and because I was trying to do this for YOU...it must be all YOUR fault! Ok, well it's not, but I feel the need to lay the blame on someone, so for a brief moment there, it did feel good to say that. Far be it for me to make myself feel worse by taking responsibility for my lack of computer knowledge. Pfft.

I'd love to completely revamp my page...do something with a 'watery' background...you know?...a lovely relaxing backdrop of waves...dress it up a bit.....make it look more appealing. But do you think I can figure out how to do that without having an aneurism?? No.

If anyone knows of a way I can do this....and it won't cost me a lot of money, if any at all...please let me know. Otherwise I'm off to do some major grocery shopping to entice this gentleman off the street.


I hope the rest of you are having a bloody nice day.

*stomps away from the PC to break something*
Saturday, August 06, 2005

Oh dear, is that really MY body?

Firstly, I'd like to say a heartfelt thank you to my commenters on yesterday's post and the emails I received. I was touched and comforted by your words, and very humbled. I am surrounded by so many giving and supportive friends here. Thank you all so very much for your kindness.

***

Anyone that thinks they're carrying around too much weight, check out this photo.

It served to make me feel rather good about the extra blubber I've got hanging off my body. I'm also hoping it's a photoshop hoax of some sort and that isn't really the body of someone out there in our world. The struggles about weight loss and weight gain are phenomonal from one side of our planet to the other. First and foremost, we should be concentrating on keeping ourselves healthy, and feeling good about the vessel that's carting our souls around...whatever shape or form that may be.

A few years ago I used to go to the gym 4-5 times a week. During my exercise crazed days I wasn't working, so had the time to spend pumping weights and running around the aerobics arena. I was overtaken with the joy of sweat dripping into my eyes and the aching scream of my muscles. The exhaustion that swamped me when I'd stumble through the exit doors after my routine was a satisfying one.

During those years I would look at others working out around me. So many differences, big...small...huge...tiny...short...tall...every possible weight and shape you can imagine. They're all there, for whatever reasons of their own...to drop kilos or beef up muscle etc. It occurred to me that, physically, we are all made up of such different shapes and sizes. Furthermore, we are attracted to different shapes and sizes.

I will confess I used to be attracted to men on the taller side of the scale. God only knows why, being that I'm 5' 5"....trying to kiss someone over 6' 2" can be quite the challenge. I also prefer him to be broad and solid...although in my experience *cough*...it's come to my attention that I really cannot break someone who's on the slighter side. Being overweight and remarkably heavy boned (which is why I weigh so much on the scales - ha! I wish)...I was always under the impression I may injure a slightly built lover.

Imagine my excitement at discovering that it's not possible to actually break a man! Sure, I could put his back out or wrench a muscle or two, but to physically break him so he is no longer capable of loving me on another day? Nah. In fact, one of my past lovers was about 5' 2", weighing in around 60kg. Gotta hand it to the little guys. Their determination to get it on with us larger body weights and get the job done, is to be commended. And as far as the really tall blokes are concerned...we're all the same height lying down right?

Male or female...we are who we are and our bodies are as they are. We should take care of them. (Relax, I'm not going to start preaching "my body is my temple".) My preferred body type of the male category still is on the taller side and I still prefer him to be solid and broad but that's just my taste. I like to have something to grab hold of...someone that's not going to be knocked over the moment I throw myself at him (let's face it, I'm a whole lotta woman to have coming at ya). Imagine if you will:

Me: *running across room* "Geronimoooooo!"
Him: *looking up* "eh? what? uh.."
*CRASH!*
Me: "Oh baby! are you ok? I'm SO sorry!"
Him: "It's ok, I'm ok, but could you get the fuck off me now?!"

See? Now how sexy is that on the big screen?

My body is going to continue to change even more in size and shape over the coming years...that could be for the better....or it could be for the "OMFG!" worse...but the bottom line is...it's my body...and it's the only one I have. I've been haunted with the genes of the big arse/thighs club....I'm drowned by the destardly polynesian early-grey-haired princess club...I have wide island feet (which would be perfect if I was to be walking across coral reefs on a daily basis)...and I have stretch marks like the railroad tracks at Central Station, running down my stomach.

So...my future plight at this stage is....I shall continue to downplay the size of my arse and thighs by never wearing a string bikini...and I will continue to whinge at Cameron, so he will feel pity for his mother and dye her grey roots. There's not alot I can do about the shape of my feet, but pedicures sure do make them look purdy.

As for the stretchmarks down my stomach? I will continue to wear them with dignity...like a badge of honour...and woe be tied anyone who points at them with distaste. They are the physical tattoos of motherhood for me....a time I rejoiced in my babies growing within...noone will take that pride away from me.

Love it or hate it...your body is here to stay...without it you aint goin' nowhere fast. Make peace with it, nuture it, and try to ensure it stays around for as long as possible. Besides, I'd miss you if you weren't here.
Friday, August 05, 2005

The Decision

I'm going to write about an extremely controversial subject today. This has been very difficult for me to write, yet I've been pondering about doing it for some time now. If you're looking to find a funny, happy post, please move on....this is not the post for you.

This post is here due to it being this time of year. A time of year that I still transport myself back to after 14 years. I am still overwhelmed emotionally by it. It's a time I think about an expected delivery date and grieve for the child that never came to be.

*****

Several years ago, when my sons were aged 2 years and 5 months respectively, I became pregnant again. The timing of this pregnancy couldn't have been worse. My relationship with my husband was on very shaky ground and our finances were in a such a terrible state, it was all we could do to feed the children we had at the time. We were struggling to meet mortgage payments, and my husband was struggling to start his own computer peripheral business, whilst working 7 days at a timber yard. Prior to Ryan's birth and due to the financial situation, I took on temporary assignments to help make ends meet. The stress of his 8 month pregnant wife working took it's toll on my partner...I know he was beating himself up mentally...he felt inadequate as a provider at that time. He was doing all he could possibly do...there really wasn't anything else he could do.

The day I found out I was pregnant was very emotional. I'd gone outside to have a cigarette in the morning and gagged on my smoke. My period was overdue, so the thought of being pregnant had been on my mind....gagging on my smoke confirmed it for me. I spent the next 20 minutes sitting on the side of the bath crying. I knew we weren't going to be able to do this...and I knew HE knew we couldn't either...it was unspoken, like a fog that surrounded us, rapidly moving in to choke us. He came into the bathroom, not saying anything and just held me as I sobbed against him.

I was supposed to be working that morning. We pulled up outside the building I worked in and sat silently in the car. Eventually I told him I couldn't go in today...I'd been crying most of the morning....my face was swollen and red...my emotional state in shatters. We decided to go straight to the doctor's office to at least have it officially confirmed.

After getting confirmation, we sat talking to the doctor about options. This is when we had to say it out loud. My husband did all the talking...I just sat there and cried more. The doctor referred us to the clinic and we made an appointment for the two day counselling session that was required first. I spent much of those two days crying....during one session I remember saying "We could still do this, we could still do this". I wasn't talking to anyone in particular...if anything, I was talking to myself. I was scrambling for ways we could continue on and add a third child to our family without further downgrading the quality of life for the two boys we already had.

One half of the scales; continue with the pregnancy..have another baby, and possibly end up being a single parent to 3 children under the age of 3. On the other half....terminate the pregnancy...help work towards upping the lifestyle for my sons and continue to build some strength into my flailing marriage.

I knew in my heart I wasn't going to be able to have another child without negative consequences falling upon my children, my marriage and my health. As far as I'm concerned, the ultimate decision was mine....my body, my children, my decision...the buck stopped with me. I did this.

An appointment was made for the termination. It was scheduled for two weeks after the counselling. I spent those two weeks in a daze...I performed my tasks at work and those of motherhood and wife on auto-pilot. I cut myself off emotionally from everything else that was going on around me...that was the outside world...that was the world I didn't want to be part of. Being part of it meant I had to look at what was going to happen...it meant I would have to feel something, and I didn't want to feel. I was numb and I wanted to stay numb...I wanted to stay frozen back in time when I didn't have to make decisions.

The guilt of that decision has haunted me off and on over the years. It was the hardest decision I've ever had to make in my life. Unless one of my sons, God forbid, is ever in a life threatening situation/condition, I can't imagine having to make another decision that will have the same amount of grief and heartache attached to it.

I closed my eyes as we drove through the protestors outside the clinic that day...I couldn't bear to look at the expressions of disgust and hatred on their faces...they were mirroring the emotions I felt for myself. I sat in the waiting room and looked at the other women sitting around me. All there for the same thing. I sat there with my mind fighting against itself. The advocate for my unborn child who never asked to be conceived, and the advocate for my sons, their health and well being.

You'd think after 14 years, I'd get over the anguish of what I chose to do. Yet, each time I try to talk about it...and now as I'm writing about it...I dissolve into tears. If you've managed to read this far and feel like spitting in my face...don't bother...I've been doing it mentally to myself for years. All it does is add to the contempt I already have festering away inside.

I lay on the table that day....the conversation between the medical staff right beside me, yet sounding from a long distance. Closing my eyes to the bright lights above me...I saw the faces of my children and knew this was the right thing to do...I knew it had to happen...I must not regret this.

Then the darkness seeped through...reaching into the very core of my soul, slowly suffocating me.
Wednesday, August 03, 2005

They said what??!

Listening to the radio again this morning on my way home from dropping off the boys (both looking and feeling much better, walking upright, no squinting from Ryan, no rushing to the loo by Cameron....Eureka! *pins mummy badge back on*)...they were discussing things that men find appalling about us women.

Apparently there are four things in particular.

1. We gossip.
2. We take a perverse pleasure in criticising our friends behind their backs.
3. We're needy.
4. We let ourselves go.

Today class, I'm going to address this list of appallingness.

1. We gossip. Righty ho...yes we can indeed be known to gossip...but this is like the pot calling the kettle black don't ya think?...I worked several years for a construction firm...an all man workforce in my office at the time. If anyone is going to try and tell me that men don't gossip, I'll be the first to stand up and wave the "Bullshit!" flag. I've heard them going on about who's doing who and did you see how bad such n such looked the other night...and "My God, who the hell is dressing Fred these days??"

2. We take a perverse pleasure in ciriticising our friends behind their backs. Ok, I don't take a perverse pleasure in it (I don't think) but the majority of the time, and that's a BIG majority, there isn't really much I won't say about my friends, that I won't tell them to their faces. I can be nasty about people I don't know for sure....let's face it...we all know that any gorgeous, leggy, big titted female, that has the male population drooling over themselves are actually skanks...that's right....they're skanks that haven't discovered there are other things to wear out in public these days, besides a teeny weeny hankerchief. What's more they all have gingervitis and need to have their backs waxed on a regular basis. How many of you out there have NEVER heard a male make a derrogatory remark of some sort about his wife?....laughing with each other about it. Ho ho fucken ho. I overhead my ex-husband saying to his mates one time "My wife has every excuse in the book why we shouldn't have sex...it's too light...it's too dark....it's too cold....it's too hot...I'm too tired"...blah blah fucken blah. I walked over and interrupted "You forgot to mention the real reason"....."Oh? and what's that?"......"You're too ugly".

3. We're needy. WE'RE needy?? Who the hell was that clinging to my leg last time I looked? What's that? That wasn't you licking my leg? That wasn't you wimpering because I chose to visit my sick aunt in hospital instead of running around all day and night at your beck and call? That's not you sitting around waiting for us to feed you?? That's not you feeling parched cos your peripheral vision sucks and you can't find your way to the fridge to get a beer?? Fuck off. I've better things to do with my life than hang around waiting for you to take a crap, so I can wipe your hairy arse. We WANT you...oh yes indeedy....we WANT you. But NEED you? I'd rather drive a pitchfork up my nose before i said that I wasn't capable of coping on my own. I don't need you to prop my pathetic carcass up. I am woman, hear me ROAR!

4. We let ourselves go. Hmm...who am I to argue with this one? Have I not stacked on weight over the years? Am I not now wearing baggy flannelette pjs that cover my swollen body from head to toe? What can I say?...it's a life of hard knocks. I've just spent years watching you cock your leg and fart proudly in public, you laughing loudly because you think it so funny. My tits have lost their battle with gravity because I've spent months breastfeeding children that are the result of your drunken demands for sex. My arse has spread from one side of the sofa to the other because you've turned into a cheap shithead and don't take me out dancing anymore. My eyes have bags under them due to lack of sleep after tossing and turning all night because your snoring is shaking the whole damn house. Yeah, I guess I have let myself go. By the way, that extra tyre around your middle just appeared overnight to attach itself to your intestines right? May I just say that it would put an 18 wheeler's spare to shame...good for you hun. Those nose hairs that have been known to poke me in the eye from across the other side of the room are pretty impressive...bravo. Oh, I do so love your dress sense these days....those colourful socks suit those sandals perfectly....they bring out the lovely bloodshot colour in your eyes.

Right class, that brings today's lesson to an end. Now where's me apple?

Disclaimer: The author of this post takes no responsibility for pissing off the male species on this planet. She only wants to bring to light the fact that we're actually just as special as each other.
Tuesday, August 02, 2005

The Straight and the Curly

Cameron (15) has got naturally curly hair. It grows almost at the same speed of light (almost), and it costs me a friggin lot of money each time he wants it cut. This is because he likes only the people at the swanky hair-do-ing saloon to do it...he trusts them only to get it right. Each time he let's them play around with his hair...it costs me in excess of $40. For a friggin kid's haircut! $40 doesn't sound like a lot to a woman that's used to paying at least $80 each time she plonks her arse into the stylist's chair. But hey, I'm paying for it...he's only 15...he has waaay less 'do' to play with...and as his mother, I don't think he should be enjoying the likes of scalp massages etc from other females at this time of his life. Their tits get far too close to his face...I want to rush forward waving my arms about wildly and scream "Get away! Get away from my son, you skanky ho!".

This is another way of saying "Mama's not removing her blinders quite yet".

I booked him in for a do-play last Friday. What's more, I told him he was going to be booked in somewhere local...somewhere cheaper....and if he didn't like that, he could pay for it himself and go to his swanky phlanky do-robber place instead. He chose to use my money instead of his own. Course he did, why wouldn't he? My money grows on trees right? His money is far too precious to use it for the likes of necessity.

I left him in the chair for less than a minute. "I'll just go see if I can spy your brother out there, he might want a ride home". 30 seconds later I'm back...my son is sitting there with half his hair gone....in fact, he has practically no hair on top, but thick dark curls down the sides and around his ears still. I try not to react, but it's too late. No sound comes out of my mouth, but he sees me in the mirror...the sudden "O" shape of my mouth has betrayed me.

Cam: "What?"
Me: "Nothing...I'm just not used to seeing you like...um...that"
Cam: "I figured if I get alot off now, it'll take longer to grow back and cost you less"
Me: "Oh...that's nice of you to think of me dear" *messing around tidying magazines on the table, hunting in my handbag for something important...anything other than look at my son's head*

Stylist finishes...Cameron has less than a centimetre of hair all over his scalp, I pay the $15 bill and we leave. ($15?? woo hooo!)

Ryan (14) arrives home from school.
Cam walks into the lounge.
Little brother does a double-take ....an "O" forms on his mouth.
Big brother glares at him.
Ryan turns to hide his grin in a sofa cushion.

Cam: "Is it really THAT bad??!"
Me: "No...Actually it's very nice. You look like your Uncle David."
Cam: "Oh great."
Me: "Don't be like that...you're uncle's a very handsome man. You should be proud to look like him."
Cam: "You're my mother and his sister, you would say that."

Dad turns up to collect his boys for the weekend.

Cameron walks into the lounge (take 2).
Dad: "Whoa"
Cam: "Oh for goodness sake!"

To be honest, my 6 foot son with his new do actually looks quite sexy. The word 'sexy' in relation to one of my offspring is not sitting comfortably with me. If I thought he would let me take a photo of him after the reactions on Friday, I'd show you. (As it is, I know I'll get racked over the coals for giving out their real names today, so don't rat me out ok? it'll be our little secret).

For now, I'll just tighten the blinkers on each side of my head and pretend to be oblivious to the fact that Cameron will be turning 16 next month.

Way hey, I just wrote another post about virutally nothing....Go ME!! lol

(Get the title? The straight - for giving their real names, and the curly, cos of the hair thing. I don't know why I think I need to elaborate on that, I know you're intelligent people and can work it out for yourself. Let's face it, half of you don't read the title and couldn't give a rat's arse about it anyway lol)

From One End to the Other

Ryan is feeling better today. He came out to tell me last night that he was feeling so much better and the relief in his voice was very evident. He even thanked me for being there for him. "I'll always be there for you honey, don't ever doubt that". This morning his head's still hurting, he can't read anything in front of him, and his peripheral vision's still to return. But things have certainly improved, so I'm grateful for that.

Cameron on the other hand, made the attempt to get out of bed for school, whilst grumbling about pain in his stomach. He went to stand up and discovered he couldn't do that properly without alot of grief...thus he's doing an oscar-winning impression of a hunchback scuttling between his bedroom and the toilet.

I'm thinking of throwing in the towel, and giving up my "Mother" badge of honour, due to the health of my children. I have failed to take care of them sufficiently. At the very least I want to throw my hands up in the air in despair and cry "Why? Why? WHYYYY?!"
Monday, August 01, 2005

Another Monday, Another Headache

Afternoon All.

Busy morning at work as per usual. Seemed to me there were more screaming children than the norm, but it's over now and I still have the capacity to hear, so I guess I'm doing alright.

Unfortunately 14 is not too well. I was rung from the college to say he had turned up in the sickroom there and wasn't looking too flash. I rang my ex-husband and asked him if he could pick him up and deliver him home...which he did. 20 minutes later, I get a call from 14, he's at home, and crying down the phone to me. This is very unusual...my 14 year old doesn't cry unless there's something very wrong. He had a migraine. It's not the first time either....last time, we ended up at the after hours surgery during the weekend....I dragged 15 along more to support me than his brother.

Today, I got home, gave him some tablets, put him back to bed and waited for the medication to take affect. Nothing. He started crying again. There is nothing that will wind me up more than hearing my children cry at this age in particular. When they're little, we can cuddle and kiss them better...the pain virtually disappears. Not so when they're teenagers.

Anyway, in the end the meds didn't appear to be working and I couldn't cope with it anymore...I rang the doctor's office, I knew full well there wasn't going to be a free apointment at this time of day. I told them what the problem was and I knew the receptionist could hear the slight panic in my voice. She told me to bring him in straight away and they'd squeeze him in somewhere.

He couldn't see properly, he hated moving...any movement made his head pound more...and by the time the doctor got round to the nurses' station to see him, he was practically snoring. I told the doc to come back after he'd seen his next patient, but 14 opened his eyes, so he got examined. I was told because he's practically adult size now, to take him home, shove him back to bed, give him another pill and if it doens't come right, we're to turn up back there at 5pm and he'll give him something stronger. I haven't told 14, that actually means an injection in the butt. I'm hoping it'll come right before I have to cross that bridge lol.

It wasn't until we came home that I realised his shorts were on back to front and he was wearing long socks and school shoes...there's a fashion statement right there folks.

On other news: Unfortunately Jess didn't get through to the next heat despite how many people voted for her. When I don't like bad news, I tend to push it away until I'm ready to deal with it....which is why I didn't bother telling you sooner. To those that voted for her via this site, thank you so very much...I appreciated the support she was given.

I spoke to her on Saturday morning straight after we found out...she was definitely disappointed, but more confused than anything. She couldn't understand how she didn't make it through when so many people had voted. Although it was certainly a bummer, she'd had an amazing experience, and now she has a fantastic video clip of herself singing. The other young lady (Caitlin) went through to the finals.

It won't slow her down though...in fact, the following day she came third in the finals of the annual regional singing talent quest. While I was talking to her on the phone after the announcement on Saturday, she was receiving text messages from her friends and teachers at school. One teacher texted "You'll always be number one to us"...aint that for sure. A friend of her mum's recorded the video onto DVD, so she'll always have it. This is certainly not the last we'll hear from her.

Better wrap this up now, it's become another lengthy epistle. Oh, before I go, I wanted to introduce you to a site that's supposed to help generate more traffic through to your blogs. Click here, and add yourself to CLIX (top sites) and see if it makes a difference. I think it's helping me and Walker...we've made it to the top 10! Well, I'm at number 10 at the moment, how long I can stay there is another matter altogether. Each Thursday they reset the counter, so every new blog site gets a fair shake.

Right, I'm off to navigate through the debris on 14's bedroom floor, in the dark, stumble my way to his bedside, and check on how he's feeling.