Out of Sorts

Today is one of those days where I had work to do and was merrily doing it ready to finish work at 2pm, an early finish for me, and nip to town to pick up my wedding ring which is having the inscriptions put back inside the band (long...ish story).  That is, until I had to report a water leak in one of my pipes.

Luckily, the leaking pipes appears to be one that feeds the shower so to avoid stopping the entire household from washing because 1. Eeeew and 2. None of us take baths (in my humble opinion, and yes I know it is stupid, I feel like I am wallowing in my own dirt), I have wrapped some putty like stuff around the leak provided by Dad (thanks Dad, working but not so well) and surrounded that by a load of beach towels.  That are now wet.....

I can, and am, thanking small mercies that it is an intermittent leak and I can control it (unless Beautiful B and her boyfriend both shower, and no not together! because they take ages).  However, now I am waiting for a call from the plumber to tell me what time he will be here - apparently within the next 24 hours so again a good job it isn't gushing all over the bathroom.  Except he hasn't rang and so I am inside because he may ring while I am driving or wandering around town seeking my ring much as Gollum does in Lord of the Rings.

On top of that, the sun is shining outside and I am not completing work that I can do without an internet connection so cannot sit in garden.  The girlie fluff bags keep intermittently running into the dining room office and crying at me to tell me it must be nearly tea time.  Earlier today, in protest of being shut out of the dining room office because I was on a conference call, I was subjected to a barrage of high pitched barking at the door.  Apparently for no reason other than to run around my legs barking when I opened the door to see what was wrong.  

Why they protested I have no idea; the patio doors were open so they could sunbathe.  No, that is not a joke...they really do sunbathe.  They may have been protesting at not being able to rip the post as soon as the postman shoved it through the letterbox - clearly he was giving me a day off from delivering bills.

So back to the feeling; am I bored?  Restless?  Anxious? Overwhelmed? and more to add to the list....

Bored?  Possibly, even though I have a to do list which has more ticked off than normal for a change.

Restless?  Probably, because I actually want to be in town putting my wedding ring back where it belongs (and no, Hubby did not notice it was missing - AGAIN!)

Anxious?  Not really, I do feel a little bit but cannot put my finger on anything that could be causing it.  So that means it is the idea of Beautiful B leaving home.

Overwhelmed? Always rofl.

As an update: Beautiful B, Ry and I did not get to see the house they will be renting on Monday evening as the current tenant was not available - and so the fun starts getting her to move out at the end of her 4 week notice.....

Beautiful B was fuming, especially as she had already spent the weekend with 'ants in her pants' and randomly repeating that she wanted to see the house NOW.  She has the shortest patience threshold I know. Luckily, she was out with Ry when she got the news that they could not see the house on Monday evening so I didn't have to listen to her rant and rave other than in 2 text messages. Yay!

They have slept in today until midday!  Middday!  What a waste of a day, and when they did wake up they merely wet the towels wrapped around the pipe some more before quickly telling me they were going out.  So I won't see them until tomorrow because they rarely return before the witching hour.

No jobs done, dirty pots left by the side of the sink, and I would put money on the sock she dropped last night still being on the stairs handrail by her room where I left it for her when she was sleeping this morning.  It took her 3 days to move the diet coke I bought for her Saturday and that was only because I took it upstairs and left it in front of her bedroom door to find when she arrived hoome last night.

Oh to be a teenager again!

Teachers shouldn't have the right to strike.....

....or so says some mother according to the radio yesterday morning. 

 

 

Returning from dropping Hubby off at work yesterday morning I was listening to the news headlines purely because I was being too lazy to turn the radio channel over.  The one person who reads this blog regularly may know that I don't really like listening to the news as it annoys or upsets me (if she read it yesterday when I was having a rant) and yesterday's news was no exception.

 

Yesterday some of the public services were striking for a pay rise (any would do as we haven't had one for 3 out of 4 years and by pay rise I mean more than 1% which is way below the rate of inflation), to stop the erosion of the pension they work damn hard for, better work conditions etc etc.  Among them was the Government Department I work for and our eucation system.

 

Now I am not a teacher and have never been one primarily because they have to teach people like me when I was a kid and I was pretty good compared to many at that time.  Nowadays society norms have dictated that our children can get away with more and more bad behaviour without punishment.  By punishment I mean almost anything that constitutes more than a stern word.  In fact, suspension or even expulsion from school is considered to be something to be proud of these days.

 

As more and more people have been unable to find work and dare I say some quarters do not feel the need to work we find our children can and do sometimes grow up with those same values.  Little excuse, therefore, for the children to want to learn or have any respect for those wonderful people in our society who do want to stand in a room full of 30 or more of our kids and try to teach them not only the syllabus but also moral standards.

 

I have always said that teaching is a vocation; if you go into teaching for a just a wage you risk learning to eventually hate going to work.  I believe you have to love the work and more so, love making a difference even if it is just to one child.  That is not me and I more than admire anyone who wants to take such a hard and sometimes unthankful role in life as a career.

 

I get annoyed, therefore, when I hear people saying that teachers should not have the right to strike.  For a start; everyone should have a right to strike.  Like me, most of us cannot afford to but that is besides the point.  Without the recourse to strike what power does the workforce have? And trust me I am using the word 'power' in the loosest of terms.

 

Today a mother spoke to a local radio station explaining that she radio felt that she shouldn't be in a postion where she has to look after her child at home when they should be in school and her comment '...if they don't like the wage they should not have taken the job' had me ranting at the radio, you know, because she could obviously hear me telling her what a narrow minded individual I thought she was.

 

Now before anyone berates me for calling them narrow minded I am not using that as a blanket term for all that feel that teachers should not be allowed to strike, of course I am not.  Merely, that this woman was annoyed that she had to look after her child for more than 2 days a week.  She did not seem to have any understanding that it is her role to look after the child she gave birth to and that eachers are more than underpaid for the job they do let alone the difference they can and do make to an individuals life as well as societies. 

 

Without teachers we would be in a state of anarchy, we would not have most of the technicological, medical and all sorts of other ...ical advancements we do in most of the world.  Our children would not have been motivated to investigate and motivate, to want to strive to be better people, to be useful membera of society and all sorts of other wonderful things.  Yes, as parents we do a lot of that but teachers support us in teaching our children those morals and I don't know about you but I may have a more than average IQ but there is so much that I could not teach my child that I have relied on teachers to do.

 

Personally, I do not think our school system has enough powers to reprimand our children and I do think that as a society we are making teachers roles in helping to bring our children up more and more difficult.  And here is where I sound old:  25 years ago I would not have dared to speak to any of my teachers the way that children do now; I would not have dared to get to the stage where the school had to contact my parents about my behavioiur; I wanted to be a productive member of society when I grew up; the idea of not working as an adult was completely alien to me; I believed and still believe that you have to work for your money; I wanted to make my parents proud of my achievements; I was brought up to and did respect my teachers and even then I knew what they did for me and every other child was invaluable.  I also had enough respect for my parents to not want to disappoint them and I dare to think that a lot of parental powers have been stripped away too in the last 25 years.  Without the ability to discipline from both teachers and parents then what do the children of today have to be scared of?

 

I, unlike teachers, do not have to go to work and gain the respect of children so that they not only sit quietly but want to listen and learn from what I say; I do not have to put up with foul mouthed language, violence, disrespect, and some parents that are as abusive as their children, etc.  I know that if I had to cope with that each day that it would wear me down and chip away at my spirit and that eventually I would hate my job.  It takes a special person and one with a vocation to teach to be able to cope with what can be 5 difficult days out of 7.

 

Therefore, when someone says to me that a person should not have a right to strike because they have to take a day off to look after their own child while that teacher exercises their right my response is that if you only wanted to look after your child for two days a week then maybe you shouldn't have had children in the first place!  Those teachers provide us parents with a gift - the gift of knowledge and I would defy many people in society to be able to impart the same level of knowledge to their child.  Our role as parents is also to support the teachers in teaching our young.  If wages continue to stay as they are in the teaching arena it becomes harder to attract teachers, let alone good quality ones - then where will our children be?  Where will society be?

 

Rant over and I will say flippantly - this is why I do not listen to the news often....

 

 

 

 

 

Decisions decisions

This post isn’t funny, not that I am generally funny but just a forewarning – I am sounding out my thoughts thinking putting it on paper might help me make a decision.

Going to work is handy (as handy as going to work can be without a lottery win) at the moment as Hubby and I work in the same direction from home – I drop Hubby off on the way to my office so the only issue I have is convincing him that he has to work the additional ½ hour it takes me to travel to and from my office from his.

The Government are rationalising their estate and closing a site in Blackpool, naturally this is the one that I work at.  In their position I would do the same thing, it is the oldest and therefore most expensive to maintain and the best site to sell in terms of real estate.  However, this causes issues because the site I am being moved to is in the opposite direction from home.

As much as I love Hubby, who refuses to learn to drive on account of him ‘being too old’ now (how old does that make me seen as I am older than he), I have refused (and not that he expected it) to drive in one direction to drop him off, turn around and drive past our house and beyond to drive to the new office twice a day.

Luckily some are being financially compensated for the forced move of offices as their daily travelling distance will increase.  Unfortunately we are not one of them as my new office is nearer than the current one and our household increase in expenditure cannot be taken into account, only mine.

Despite the obvious increase in travelling cost it drastically increases Hubby’s travel time as he will have to catch 2 buses to work (and back) which will add 2 hours to his day or use a bike which will add an hour to his day.  It will be amusing to watch him on a bike, though not as amusing as watching him from behind while he attempted hula hooping on the Wii Fit……

All of this leaves me with a decision to make.

I have a tendancy to work longer hours when I do not have Hubby insisting it is time to go home and without the regiment of picking him up that tendancy will increase.  My manager is already not too impressed with the additional leave I accumulate as a result of increased work hours as it leaves her work uncovered at times (strange that, seen as mine is always uncovered when I am on leave and she is part-time which exacerbates the situation).

For a long time I have hankered after working 4 days a week instead of 5.  We cannot afford the drop in salary, especially with increased travel costs but as Hubby will be out of the house for longer I could do 5 days over 4 – essentially fitting 37 hours into 4 days instead of 5.  This should be easy for me to do as I have a tendancy to work longer days anyway and will help in the unwanted accumulation of work hours.  I would still be out of the office the same amount as Hubby as a result of the increased travelling time he will incur.

I also hanker after being more productive at home as a wife and mother – and I am almost sure (because my memory is sieve like and useful on most days) that I have twittered about this previously.  The opportunity to be at home earlier than Hubby gives me the time to clean daily and cook tea for the family to eat together and still have time in the evenings to spend with Hubby and Beautiful B.

As you can see, these options are a direct contradiction of each other – longer days for 4 days of the week means I won’t be home until Hubby is home.

Hubby thinks that doing 5 days over 4 will put me under pressure at home and he is saying this purely because he knows that I get stressed when I cannot get the cleaning done that I want and potentially for 4 days of the week I am going to have to make a decision between cleaning and spending time with the family.

That option is obvious – family should come first which they would but it also means that I will begin to fidget, twitter and all round get stressed because I find it difficult to relax (in fact, impossible) if there is cleaning to be done – I blame my dad and the only other person that understands this is my longest friend and one of my best friends, Angel because she is worse than me.

So I’m at a crossroads and have no idea which way to go.  Do I do 5 days over 4 and blitz the house one day a week so I still have the weekends for the family or do I become the housewife that I hanker to become……

Decisions decisions

John or is it Jack....

To help save money for the wedding, I got a little weekend job at KFC.  I still have my full time job but Hubby spends the weekend watching sport so all I was going to miss was cleaning.  I like KFC - it's like playing shop when you are 4 years old.  I get to go to work and have a laugh with kids who are younger than Beautiful B and have a great time serving customers.

Having moved into Accountancy I miss the customer contact I used to have when working on the front line where I spoke to customers all day so KFC gives me the opportunity to feel like I am making someones day better.  It is amazing how many regular customers we have at KFC; though why I am surprised I do not know - Hubby spends a whole shifts worth of my pay on KFC food each week.  No we don't get it free and it really can't be good for Hubby's health...

Anyhoo; there is a little old man who comes into KFC each night.  He has a walker and it honestly takes him 5 minutes to walk from the door to the counter.  He always has a small fries, large fries, tub of beans and a coffee but he has the coffee after he has eaten.  It takes him an hour to eat his food and I have taken to going to the door and helping him sit down and then fetch his food to him.  He is almost skeletal thin and one does wonder whether it is the only meal he gets all day.  

Now I talk for England - of course you haven't noticed this  ;-) so I have twittered about this little old man to Hubby and Beautiful B because I find him very sweet and I am honestly in awe of him - to come in KFC each night when he struggles to walk the way he does is some level of determination and I am not sure that I would have it in his position.


Last weekend he didn't come into KFC.  I commented on it and wondered if he was ill.  Beautiful B came home from work at the hospital on Monday and the conversation went like this:

BB:    Mum, what does that little old man eat at KFC?
Me:   Small fries, large fries, beans and coffee - why?
BB:    Is he thin with longish hair?
Me:   Yes, why?
BB:    I think he is on my ward.  He had a fall and I heard him talking to the Drs and all he could talk about was KFC and what he ate there.  He takes ages to eat his dinner so it must be the same little old man.
Me:   Bless.  Yes it must be him, I can't imagine many people would eat the same meal each day.  Does he have any visitors?
BB:    No, he has been in since Thursday night with no-one.

So I messaged Hubby:

Me:        You are going to think I am mad but long story short; the little old man from KFC is in BB's ward and has no visitors so I am going to see him.  All I can think of is that I wouldn't want your mum in hospital without visitors.
Hubby:    No, I do not think you are mad, I think your heart is huge and there is too much love for just your family.

So, I went to visit the little old man who is called John but prefers Jack.  I spent an hour and a half with him and he talked and talked and talked because he rarely has visitors at home and from the conversation it was evident that the only visitors he has are district nurses and carers.

Poor Jack visited KFC on the Thursday night and then went home.  He lost the grip on his walker which started to slide down a small slope and his automatic reaction was to reach for it.  Except, he cannot stand unaided so down he went.  When he landed "he knew his hip had gone" - what a way to say that he knew he had broken his hip - anyone else would say that it was agony.

Poor Jack lay there in the dark and rain for 2 hours before some young boys saw him and called an ambulance.  I dread to think what was going through his head during those 2 hours!  

Hubby has visited Jack with me since my first visit and called him "Sir" which I found so sweet.  Poor Jack is 80 and partially sighted so when I took some Tropicana fruit juice to him, remembering he had taken some home from KFC once and said the following evening he liked it, I had to explain what it was.

I find Jack inspirational.  At 80, he has a determination for life which is rarely seen.  You can tell from the conversation how scared he must have been at 18 when the war was on and his conscription was extended by 6 months.  You can tell how upset he is at losing his sister following a fall down a drain in her garden because some thiefs had stolen the manhole cover to sell the iron.  You can tell how he physically struggles each day yet he does daily exercises to try and keep his back, stomach and arms strong to compensate for his legs.

I think I may be in the wrong job.  I certainly think that I should quit KFC and volunteer as a carer.  I only hope that I have the same zest and determination for life when I am his age.

I'm Back.......

....as the drunken father in Independance Day said to the nasty aliens.....

So, I've been back at work nearly 4 days now and I am still alive and kicking.  Not exactly running at full steam - no-one thought to mention that coming back to work after a 12 week hiatus makes you tired.

My new office is beginning to take shape - I have taken it upon myself to order a white board and a magnetic one at that - oooeeeerrrr; which promptly initiated a call back asking why I wanted a magnetic white board - eeerrrmmm because I do!  It was obviously a man that asked that question because any woman would have worked out that the usage was doubled when magnetic.  After all, not only can I scribble inane rambling thoughts all over it but I can stick things to it with magnetic thingymajigs.  After explaining, the dual usage meant I was not asking for a pin board the caller seemed happy enough.

Oh and Damon's headshot is looking very cute staring at me with those sultry eyes from my notice board all day long.

Now I just need some potted plants.....

On the other side

I spent 3 days in hospital, which for the major operation I had is amazing when you stop to think about it. Sending me back up one the ward without morphine turned out not to be such a good idea as the nurses went mental at whoever made that mistake and soon got me sorted out.

For Hubby and mum and dad to come visiting less than 4 hours later to find me sat up in bed and talking to my ward mates both amazed them and gave them some much needed comfort. Possibly also shows that my existing medication regime must be pretty strong to be able to sit up and hold a full conversation under such influence! Hopefully this operation will mean I can stop taking such potent medication on a regular basis.

Beautiful B works in the hospital and gave up her breaks to come and visit and woke up the ward (unintentionally) fetching me contraband choc chip weetabix and milk for an early morning breakfast.

So, now I am home, pain levels are up and down but not as bad as I expected. Hubby has the week off and is ensuring I ignore Physio advice and stay in bed for the week. The Physio wants us to get up and shower, get dressed and move about the house daily - hubby is having none of that considering that it will give me licence to do too much to soon. So he is waiting on me hand and foot and tells me off if I dare to venture downstairs.....

For someone who is so independent, so keen on cleaning and happy doing for others I am surprisingly happy led in bed sleeping, reading and catching up on recorded TV...oh and watching feel good Christmas movies. I doubt I have suddenly fetched home a lazy gene from hospital so maybe it is a sign that even I know when I need to take a step back and rest.

This, however, is week 1 and Hubby is here to give me the evil eye and I sooooo do not wish to worry him more than he evidently already is. When he goes back to work, however......remains to be seen if I continue to be sensible. Especially when work are expecting an 8 week sick leave and the Physio insisted that it should be a 12 week minimum.

Not Important At All

This is the second of three posts I had difficulty uploading - written nearly two weeks ago now...

I have had to admit defeat.  It doesn't really matter what is wrong with my hands, regardless of the outcome of further tests.  Medication has only been masking the condition getting worse, whatever that condition may be. 

So, I am now located in a little office, making friends with voice-activated equipment.  So with so many grammatical errors in today's blog, I hold Dragon entirely responsible.  Incidentally, Dragon is the name of the voice-activated equipment.  I may have a tendency to name things but even I am not nuts enough to call voice-activated equipment by a name.

In the real world, in this lovely organisation, one normally has to work 40 years to get an office.  I could consider myself important, but that is as unlikely as winning Olympic 2012 tickets and I feel self-conscious, I feel like I am making a nuisance of myself, I worry that others will think I have an inflated ego, which probably explains why it's taken me eight years to make a fuss.  In reality, I'm scared of my GP.  :-)

My desk will be moved into the room next week (now moved in).  So maybe it will feel more like my office (not yet it doesn’t).  My boss is moving to another site, who vacated this office because I made a fuss, maybe when her paperwork has been replaced by mine it will feel more like my office (yet to occur).

In reality, it may take more than that.  Maybe what it needs is a couple of full-size posters.  You know the ones like full-size posters of Hugh Jackman or Damon from The Vampire Diaries.  I'm not sure that will be considered professional though....

Holidays are coming.....

Okay, I could go all sorts of places with that so firstly lets get this out of the way.......Christmas is nearly here - whoop.  I know Christmas is coming because Next has put out their Christmas ware for sale.  Hubby rolled his eyes when I got excited - just wait until the red votive holders with berries arrive.....

I am holidaying again - at home but it is a holiday away from work and I desperately need that for more reasons than I was spending all hours there lately.

One main reason was that they have some semi-stupid rule to help manage their annual leave policy that you cannot carry more than 10 days over into a new leave year - I had 14 plus more flexi than you can shake a stick at.

The other main reason was the sky man - no he was not cute, though he was 7 foot tall so I had a crick in my neck when he went after his recent visit - because besides doing all sorts of wonderfulness such as rewiring the phone lines to the virgin phone line so that the sky boxes can send their whizzy messages back and forth and replacing satelitte dishes and various accessory parts he wanted to replace my HD box. 

....Now understand, the HD box, only throws a wobbly every now and again but he was concerned because it is a babe in terms of age and he was concerned that it's wobbleness was wobbling in a way he had never heard of before. Nevertheless, I refused to let him replace it because I had 76% worth of programmes to watch on it, the majority of which are not in HD format so you can imagine the number of programmes I wanted to plough through.

Being the nice man that he is, though I suspect it is also some kind of service Sky offer, he gave me his card, told me to watch my programmes and give him a call any time in the next month and he would come and replace the box and give me a further crick in my neck - after all I am just slightly taller than 5 foot nothing.

So that is what my aim is this week - not to clean, I must not spend the week cleaning and doing jobs that my brain tell me must be done.  I must sit still and watch TV and clear the planner.  That is my mission.  Granted so far I have watched the majority of it while completing the biggest cross-stitch pattern I could come across just to keep me in the seat but so far it's an achievement.

The back garden furniture is calling me on a regular basis to attack it with a hammer and screwdriver so that it can be broken down in small enough parts to be taken to the tip but so far I have avoided it.  It helps that it has rained most of the weekend to be fair.

Avoiding the visit to the GP with Beautiful B and the hair appointment that will take 4 hours today because I am greyer than any other 39 year old with thicker hair than most of the western hemisphere population, oh and the hospital visit on Wednesday to have my manky hands and arms electrocuted, I don't have much planned in the way of other activities.

So I may get the majority of it watched.  Might be worth spending the following weekend clearing the sky planner in the bedroom too so he can replace that seen as it randomly turns itself on and off - usually when I want it to record something.  Now either that is not normal or it is the electronic version of a woman with PMT.

One extreme to another....

You know you are in trouble when you go from this at 8.30 at night:

.....when the world and his wife in the remainder of the organisation go home at 7pm (at the lastest) - notice how dark it is everywhere else but my little domain? Yeah you should have seen me wandering down the corridor in the dark trying to find an unlocked door which to escape from.

and to being told that you are going to burn yourself out within weeks because when you get home at stupid oclock you start on the sports and social football club accounts until 1am in the morning because you thought that would be a good volunteer type thing to do in which to keep your finger in all sorts of actual techy type accounting things to do....

to deciding Hubby might be right and deciding to organise some recreational activities after work to prevent the call of treasurer roles when you suddenly realise that the rest of your week looks like this....

Tuesday: work until 5pm, get home in time for the electrician who will look at the bathroom light switch which whose cable inexplicably came off in Hubbys hand before going round to M & Ks with birthday cards and presents.  Return home at 11pm and consider whether you some start some cleaning;

Wednesday: work until 3.30, take Hubby's mum shopping, rush home and unpack shopping, go to fat fighters then rush half way across town to pick up hubby from snooker;

Thursday: Work until 7.30 pm, rush to pick Angel up, go to pictures to see Friends with Benefits and get home at midnight;

Friday: Work from home in the morning while the Sky man rewires the cabling to the new phone line, go into work from lunch until 7.30 pm, rush to pick Hubby up, go round to spend an evening with friends who should have been caught up on eons ago and get home at midnight (earliest);

Saturday: clean, do some treasury accounts despite it being my birthday, quick trip to be tortured at the beauticians as it is apparently relaxing to have hair torn out at roots, hop on train with Beautiful B, see Alan Carr live, return home at half past midnight;

Sunday: clean, because lord no time to do much of it before now, round to Hubby's mums for a joint birthday lunch with Hubby's brother, home, out to pictures with Beautiful B to see Fright Night and return at midnight.

Does anyone else get the idea that I am swapping one kind of crazy for another.

If only returning to work on Monday would be a rest.....  

Boxes and more boxes

So..... I have a hubby who would let me have anything I wanted. I love shoes. Truly. When we met I had the old fashioned thing called money. Well, not a lot of it, come to think about it more that I didn't agonise so much as I do now when buying non essentials....like shoes...and more shoes.

Some shoes were what I considered expensive so they were loving kept in their cardboard boxes when not being worn. They hankered after a better home; a step up from their starter homes. Its taken me 5 years; after all I baulk at paying the same high prices for shoes as I did 5 years ago. Hubby would argue that I don't need more shoes. Bearing in mind that I have moved 15 pairs up in the world of real estate for shoes and estimate I still need another 25 boxes even I have to think about conceding that argument......

Beautiful B thinks I am a bit nuts, Hubby has reduced me to tears previously teasing me about selling my shoes on eBay as I never wear them.  My defence that they were "expensive" shoes and therefore not worn every day didn't really wash with him.  My friend K rushed to my defence, even though she understands the need for lots of shoes regardless of whether they are worn often and knew he was joking; I wasn't sure but even I admit I did not think the idea of losing shoes to someone else would make me so tearful.

I always thought that no matter how much weight a person puts on the shoes would always be there.  Ooooh how wrong I was. Turns out feet can get fat too (yes I know - Duh!).  Now that I have been on a mission to halve my body weight the shoes are so much more comfortable - all things being relative - and are making appearances. 

The number of times the conversation has gone like this in recent weeks:

"Are they new shoes?"

"Nope." 

"Are you sure?"

"Yep - these are older than our relationship darling."

Hubby refrains from commenting on whether they are pretty or not - apparently "shoes are shoes".  Good job that there are people at work that appreciate their beautifulness.....

Mind you, I shouldn't be suprised - Hubby rarely notices the attire - now don't be rude.  If we are off out and I dare to make an effort that is more than the usual jeans and a top or more often gym trousers and a top he comments on my face and hair rather than my clothes.  One could argue that there is no need, therefore, to spend a fortune on a wedding dress because I doubt that he will take much notice let alone be able to describe it in any way, shape or form the day after - I am, obviously, ignoring that argument......

......as I am ignoring the argument that the evening reception would be so much better if it was held in the works social club because the room has just been decorated, the room hire is cheap and the beer is cheaper than anywhere else.......because well, IT'S LOCATED AT WORK.

Now how did this post get onto weddings......

....ahhh but it would be a good excuse to add wedding shoes to the collection.

Hubby

Mmmmmm - this was scheduled to be posted on the 19th of August and something went wrong........

6 years ago today we were friends. 6 years ago we were colleagues. 6 months before that I had been your line manager at work; in the 6 months that I moved to another team our friendship and respect for each other grew. I started to come out of my shell and you liked my sense of humour (you refer to that time as noticing that I was nuts); I saw more of yours as our friendship grew.

6 years ago yesterday you sat with me and the rest of our team and watched me drink 8 vodka, lime and lemonades in less than 2 hours and I am sure your respect for me grew later that afternoon when I delivered a 2 hour training course without slurring one word or even hiccupping…I wanted to continue celebrating my imminent departure from the team to start my career as an accountant, you offered to look after accompany me and make sure I got home safe. 

We put the world to rights for 3 hours in the pub and I felt bad that you had missed dinner so invited you to join Beautiful B and I for a late supper. Wanting to make sure I got home without falling over safe Feeling flattered or hungry you accepted the invitation. Little did you know that an 11 year old girl was about to give you the grilling of your life and before you went home 2 hours later she knew everything about you, even if she didn’t believe that your mum was as old as you said she was – after all 71 year old women do not have 32 year old children…..

6 years ago tonight we surprised ourselves by becoming a couple. Had someone told us not 2 days before that it was going to happen we would have laughed hysterically; after all we were friends with no sign of a romance. Looking back some might argue that allowing yourself to be interrogated by an 11 year old the night before was a sign that a relationship was to follow but as ever I was oblivious to the fact that any man might like me.

It took you nearly 12 months after that night to tell me that for the first 2 weeks you were unsure if the relationship would turn serious.  Not because Beautiful B and I came as a package but that you were unsure if you could cope with the two (then) baby fluffs as all they did was bark. I am thankful every day that you persevered…. You stayed with me knowing that you would be unlikely to have children of your own because of how difficult it would be to conceive and I adore you for that.

In the 6 years we have been together you have turned my world around. Beautiful B and I were happy and content; we weren’t looking for a relationship and maybe that is why you found us when you did. I am grateful that we were friends before we started a relationship because on that grounding we have continued to strengthen our togetherness every day.

You always have and always will accept me for who and what I am. You do not try and change me, you accept what has happened to me before and how it shaped me into who I am today and you compensate for others failings. You have worked incredibly hard to build up the confidence that was knocked out of me by the previous 2 husbands and you take great delight in seeing that confidence grow. Because of you, I am more confident around strangers and make friends easier than ever before and I have learnt not to continually analyse what people say….mostly.

You consider Beautiful B to be yours and you get angry at the way she is treated by others. You love her as you would your own and you have helped to shape her into the young beautiful empathetic person she is today. You have been there to hold her hand and hug her when she has needed someone other than me to talk to; you have been there when she was younger reasoning with her to teach her how to think of others; you have been there to show her how a a father should treat his daughter and so much more.  You are her dad in your eyes and although Beautiful B loves her father she also loves you as her stepdad. You take the dad role very seriously and we love you unconditionally for that.

You love me unconditionally and I do not question that because I know you do - I see it every time you look at me; in the way you talk to me; in how gently you treat me and in how well you care for me. I know that you know that I feel and treat you the same way and because of that we are both so content and happy in our relationship.

Bad things happened to you to put you on the path to meeting me. I can never take that away or the pain you still feel at losing your dad but hopefully I soothe that pain and help in small ways every day. I will marry you one day….as soon as we can afford the dress, honeymoon and evening reception to celebrate with friends and of course you need time to prepare for standing in front of a camera and smiling instead of hiding your face…..

Happy Anniversary darling…..you are my world and I will love you until all the stars fall out of the sky.

All good things must come to an end....

So after 3 weeks I have returned to work.  Why is it I always feel, in some small way, that I haven't had a break from work.  Granted, we did not go away on holiday which would obviously make it feel less like a holiday...

I got a lot of maintenance jobs completed on the house - I am kinda going to ignore the fact that I have the same amount again still to complete.  That made me feel better even if I would have got more done had I not sliced through the majority of skin on a knuckle in the first week cleaning the kitchen floor.  You know, I had one of those moments where you see blood and think "Now where the heck is that coming from?" before you think "Oh yeah, from me!"

Beautiful B who is training to be a nurse saw the blood and ran off totally freaked out as seeing blood makes her feet hurt - yeah, go figure.  I am still trying to work that out after 17 years.  Personally, I think it is more the idea of a loved one hurting but meeeeh....

So...the little fluffers sat in a row, all 4 of them yesterday morning and looked forlornly at me as I left them for the first time in 3 weeks.  Yes, I probably annoyed them at home all day but they must of kind of got used to having me around.  Beautiful B was at home to provide company but it must not have been as good as I was bombarded with fluffers when I got home all of which desperately tried to attack me with sloppy kisses.  Baby fluff spent 20 minutes attached to me like a limpet whining as though to request I never leave her to her own and Beautiful B's devices again.

I wandered back into work to the delight of 128 emails which isn't so bad especially when one can delete 20 of them immediately.  The room is seriously depleted as the summer holidays are well and truly upon us.  I spent the day getting randomly confused at tasks I have been given with only half the information (if I am lucky) that is needed but I will give it my best attempt before the boss returns.

Unsurprisingly though, this latest 3 week hiatus from work and the subsequent return has only served to heighten my desire to be a stay at home wife and mum - yes I know she is 17 but still, I think I do an excellent job at that role.  Previously, I have desired to make a difference in my career, to be good at what I do and I needed it to fill a gap that I couldn't describe.  Then along came hubby and he filled that gap that Beautiful B and I so desperately needed and along with that the desire to continue to build that career disappeared.  Although I never thought I would say it, I feel complete being at home and looking after hubby and Beautiful B.  I don't feel torn between being at home and being there for those I love and being at work.  I can concentrate wholeheartedly on those that I love and the longer we are with hubby the more I feel that way.

So.....

.....I'd best go out and buy a few lottery tickets then.

Consistency.......and dreams

Well, evidently I am kinda not that am I?  Seen as it has been how long since I last posted?  At least I can rest assured that I am more consistent at work because it kinda helps to pay the bills when you have a job.

So where have I been?  Well the gym mostly and as the weather gets warmer walking 5km trails with the fluffers.  Oh, and at work which is pesky enough to get in the way of life. 

I had 2 weeks off work, a rare occurrence and I decided that I needed to win the lottery because, as much as 10 years ago I would have hacked my eyeballs out with an ice-pick before saying this, I loved being at home and the house being clean all the time and having meals cooked for when hubby and Beautiful B came home.  I'd be good at that job in fact I'd dare to say I would excel at that job.  Gone are the days when I needed work to feel fulfilled, now I just need my family.

If it ever happened......I may be buying ice-picks within a year though.....

Mind you, I'd breed bichons for a hobby and sell them to families.  Lets pause here to read again what I just said....."I'd breed bichons for a hobby" - that translates to "I'd not make any money out of it" - why?  Well, for a start to make money you have to breed bichons every 6 months for the 6 years that registered kennel societies will register litters then sell the female when they were no longer of use. 

Now, this may just be me - but are you mad??  How do you have a dog for 6 years and then just sell it because it no longer makes an income for you - and that is ignoring the fact that kennel clubs only register 1 litter a year and naive little ole me just found out that lots of breeders register litters with 2 kennel clubs so they can register a litter with 1 and then breed the same female within the year and register the next litter with the other kennel club!!  Do these people have hearts - clearly not! 

Now I know the world isn't sweetness and light but jeez - I'm not completely naive but smack me in the face with a wet fish - how unfair is that!  Makes me want to go out and buy all the females to save them from their lives of slavery.

So yes I currently breed my bichons - Lily fluff has had 2 litters, 2 years apart and is now spayed.  Cala fluff has just had a litter and as she is tiny tiny and had 7 puppies in this litter*  (Yep - read that again - she fit 7 in there somewhere) we've decided no more litters - we aren't risking her life - because our fluffers are family - they don't suffer, they live in the house with us, eat half of our food (given the chance), treat the house as their own (including the beds given the opportunity) and are loved more than words can describe.  Clearly you can see why I can't make a business out of it - I'm soft and squidgy and if what hubby says is true, I look completely relaxed and happy and fulfilled when we have puppies in the house.

Puppies are not sold to breeders because I (now) know that there are few people who breed dogs that are as naive as me - evidently - they go to good family homes with people who will love them as family forever - not just until they are 6!

So if I won the lottery - I have a plan - that involves fluffer breeding.  First, we buy a huge plot of land from a farmer - they have lots spare I assume or thats what it looks like the odd time I venture into the countryside - then I build a big house for hubby and I with an annexe for Beautiful B (then I don't have to listen to that inane noise they call pop music these days).  Then on the same grounds I build a house on one level for my parents and another for hubby's mum. 

In our house, fluffers would be given a huge room of their own with an adjourning room for baba fluffers when they arrive with access to a large paddock that they can run around in any time they want.  They of course, have access to the rest of the house (except baba fluffers who leave presents - as well meaning as they are and they nibble things......)

I'd also offer walking services - I mean come on, for someone who has recently got back into the fitness thing (wait...that is where I have been instead of posting) walking dogs is a great excuse and overnight stays so the baba fluffers that go to new homes wouldn't have to go in nasty kennels when their new families go on holiday.

See so I have a plan......now I just need a lottery ticket.

*     future post on the baba fluffers - who currently need a bath every hour or so.......

About Bl**dy Time!

Well!  I have no excuse other than it would appear that when you qualify as a bona fide accountant they expect you to know a few things...oh, and do them as quickly as someone who has been qualified for 10 years.  So basically I have lived at work and when I did venture home creeped back at the weekends to do a bit more.

I've decided I am not overly enamoured with the stress of working in the higher grade on a permanent basis but I so enjoyed the work I was doing and I am so very sad not to be able to stay on the same team.  I had to find a permanent post or be declared suplus at the end of March.  I applied for the only post available, because y'all know the new government have decided that we all must work hard enough to do the 40% of additional work that will be created as a result of laying of 40% of the workforce in order to claw back THEIR deficit.  

I got the job which I think was either out of desperation because only 1 other person applied (I suspect) or because I had layngitis and they thought that the extra high squeeky voice meant I must be desperate and they felt a favour was required.  

The job is in policy, lets just clarify at this point that I have avoided policy roles like the plague for the 4 years I have been getting qualified.  It's only fitting then that I work in that role as my first proper job - I am a little bit scared.  All right a lot. I think I may fall on my arse and ruin the career before it starts.  Hubby would say self-confidence was never my strong point.  However, I am immensely grateful to have a fairly stable permanent job at the moment so I am not complaining, just scared.

Where have I been?  Well working and stressing the rest of the time and I have decided that life is too short and family are much too important for that.  I love being at home.  I think I may have mentioned I want to win the lottery before so I can be a housewife and the mother I yearn to be....that and breed Bichon Frise and Maltese puppies and only sell them to families with children.

I had two weeks off for Christmas and New Year.  It was very greedy and indulgent of me but it was the first time I have had more than 3 days off for that period in 5 years.  Some would worry about the fact that I was writing daily lists of things to do around the house and moving things from cupboards to cupboards by the second week.  Others would think me mental for setting up and maintaining a spreadsheet that lists, by author, the books I have read, want to read, will keep and those I will read and then pass onto charities and friends.  In my defence....I AM AN ACCOUNTANT - SPREADSHEETS ARE WHAT WE DO (though I don't know how to work most formulas hence the need to stress and come in and do extra hours) - and I buy 2 books a week during the daily food shop (don't ask!) and so have a stock of 50 (and those are only the ones I will read and pass onto others, not the ones I will keep) that still need to be read. 

On other reasons for not blogging updates; all the TV programmes I love have started - having Sky HD and Sky + I MUST fill up the planner on both - and I am watching all sorts of new programmes plus some of my favourites - Glee (Sue Sylvester is my AMAZING!), Criminal Minds (because I am a closet FBI profiler and Morgan is SOOOOOO fine) and Greys Anatomy (well because it makes me cry and then go and hug Hubby and Beautiful B and they roll their eyes).

The whole gym thing is going okay - that slipped a little because of the work and resultant need to sleep or spend time with family but my New Years Resolution to teach myself to jog/run this year will sort that out kind of sharpish.  Seriously guys, I have never run-I need surgery for it not to be painful, enough is enough I have decided I can run on the treadmill while I am watching Morgan do his thing.  The weight thing is fabulous and my other resolution is to lose the same weight again as that which I have lost in the last 4 months - that's easy, after all, I can do that while at work.

Beautiful B is marvellous and as gorgeous as ever.  She is a hardworking little B having taken only Christmas Day and New Years Day off work and they were forced on her, well because, you know it's a HOLIDAY.  I am so very proud of her work ethic (or desire for cash), she makes me proud to be her mum every single minute of every single day.

Hubby is wonderful.  He is at home while I blog  work doing the washing and making lasagne for tea during football, snooker, golf, cricket, darts breaks.

Angel is having a mare!  If I was the praying sort (and lets face it, as a disfellowshiped Jehovah's Witness and only one step up from the devil I am not sure it would help if I was) I would pray for her right now.  I may talk about God but I do sometimes question if he exists and even if he doesn't cause the problems, why doesn't he stop them - Angel and her beautiful family are crapped on from a great height on a very regular basis.  I am there for her, holding her hand throughout, and loving her more each day and she knows that and says it helps.  On the up side, she is ecstatic at Blackpool's antics in the Premier League.  I will not even dream to know what half of what is going on - all I know is that the manager's interviews are always worth watching - like me, he says what he thinks and I am not sure he thinks about the potential fallout before he opens his mouth.

 

Enlightenings!

Sometimes you just need a kick up the butt.  Granted God decided to give me a very stressful one but it was what I needed at the time.  There I was minding my own business, being unusually self-centred and stressing about all things that one cannot change; exam results being the biggest thing but also the inability to clean the house to my usual standard because of the long drawn out decorating that is still going on.

So God decided I needed a wake up call and Dad had a stroke.  As strokes go, minor but still we all stressed for a week and 2 days ago (comfortable in the knowledge he was well on the way to recovery and mum was not going to have another heart attack worrying about the love of her life) I realised that I had not worried about the exam results in nearly 2 weeks.

Because folks, lets face it, they are not that important in the grand scheme of things.  There is nothing I can do by stressing about them and dreaming about them (not being able to find my way out of a school when I haven't been in one for 20 years but I got the analogy) and yet my brain would not turn off so God did it for me.  Now I am not complaining, I needed that kick up the ass, the world does not revolve around me and I was making myself unhappy.  I had lost the ability to walk around thinking "it could be worse, get a grip" and actually doing what I told myself to do.

However, I have no nails.  Well peeps, exam results are out tomorrow morning, at 8.30 to be precise.  So what if I fail the exam I expect to fail, it means a re-sit, study for another 5 months and no room in the wardrobe for new pretty shoes but who cares? 

I think the little aliens that live in my head are stressing slightly however, they keep forcing me to nibble my nails when I am busy doing other things without realising it. 

However, on the off chance I pass both exams, I am then fully qualified and I will be dancing around a bonfire burning the books by the evening, probably on the verge of alcoholic poisoning.

What will I do immediately on finding out the successful results?  Cry (but then I do that when I pass or fail), join the gym spending the whole afternoon in there, then drink copious amounts of alcohol after ordering myself a new cross stitch to complete.  Yes, you may think me weird but I find them strangely relaxing.  I am thinking this one.....

http://www.country-designs.co.uk/Products/Safari-103319.aspx

or maybe this one:

http://www.country-designs.co.uk/Products/Sunset-At-Kilimanjaro-105581.aspx

both of which would go very nicely in the back room once we bother to put the new colours on the wall.

Alternatively, because I was Mrs Claus in a former life I am probably likely to go for this one:

http://www.country-designs.co.uk/Products/Santa-Claus-At-The-North-Pole-105014.aspx

despite Hubby telling me that I really do not need another Christmas picture in the house.  Really?  You think so, because I don't.....

Now, in some ways parts of my life are on hold.  I know I promised to go to gym I don't know how many blogs ago (think picture of the random woman on a bike who I took a picture of whilst on a bus) but lets face it, when I do bother to join I will live there and I cannot very well do that if I have to re-sit an exam. 

I only have my own self to blame if I fail but if I join the gym when I have to re-sit I may as well kiss the future pass good-bye.  So, I may well be destined to be more than slim (or less than whichever way you look at it) for another 6 months but as I said earlier, who cares?  There are much more important things to worry about.....

Perspective

After whinging for the past few posts I am full of perspective today.  Dad had a stroke just over a week ago and suddenly the pass or fail of an exam is the furthest thing from my mind. 

He is much better, sounds more like my dad (as it affected his voice, face and throat) and we could tell when he was feeling better as he started being naughty in the hospital.

Poking his head round the door of his room when it was near visiting time at the hospital to see if we were waiting to get in the ward (cos you know, they lock them in - there will be a good reason for it, lets face it some of them will be confused and wander off to the shops or similar).  He'd then wander up to the doors and attempt to escape or attach himself to the doors like a limpet making us all laugh.

Mum has decided that the next time a hospital doctor says "We'll just keep them in overnight for observation" it really means "You will be here for at least 3 days".  Maybe it is a big conspiracy to make you spend more on the TV and phone cards - as it's £5 for a day and only £10 for 3 days (£20 for 6 days!!!) they are on a nice little earner.

Brains are funny things - I have slept okay for the most part while Dad was in hospital - unfortunately my brain didn't.  I'd wake up each morning and feel more tired than I did the day before.  I am sure I was seriously in need of a makeover, or at least some damn good foundation, by day 3....

I am so glad Beautiful B has decided to be a nurse.  She chose her uniform (the dresses are horrid apparently) and opted for a tunic and trousers - she was not impressed when I asked her (in total innocence, of course) if they do trousers in 4 feet nothing size......

So, as we are all to look after our parents in their older years, as is only right, Beautiful B will be qualified to look after me.  Let's face it, she is going to need all the help she can get, my memory is going already and I am still all of 18......

On the home front, Lily had decided that as we are not going to take her to the Bahamas for her doggy holidays she will take to lying on her back with her head hanging off the end of the couch ala sunbathing.  When someone walks into the room she slowly turns her head as if to say "Hello Waiter, I will have a gourmet biscuit please." 

Pictures to follow......