So, The Brother (among his other wonderful qualities) has a habit of taking bread from the house when he visits, along with cheese, to make sandwiches later. This is not a problem. Mother buys cheese and extra bread specially to allow him to do this. No, the problem is HOW he does it.
See, he always opens a new loaf. It doesn't matter if there is one open, how many slices are in it, or even how long it has been open for; he always opens a new one, which, of course, often leads to us ending up with two open loaves, both around half full.
Now, I had never actually been here to see it; I always find out too late, after he has gone. I told mother what was happening and she agreed that it was ridiculous and irritating; because we do NOT stock stale bread in our cupboards. It either gets eaten or frozen LONG before that. There is no reason to open a new loaf (I can only assume) to attain 'fresher' bread. So we agreed that if either of us actually CAUGHT him doing it, we would say something.
Well, today I got home from The Grandpapa's to find him buttering bread. Sure enough, we had two half loaves of bread, both perfectly serviceable and edible and nice, in the cupboard. So, what did I do? I talked to him, right? Like I'd planned to all those times when I had found the results of his 'freshest' bread hunting and gritted my teeth and counted to ten to stop myself from exploding. Right??
Nope. I didn't. To avoid any possible unpleasant confrontation, I, as the youth of today (I think) say; "chickened out". So I said nothing. Absolutely nothing at all.
Yeah; *nods* go me.
*shakes head*
In other news: my shift at the SENSE store led to the discovery of FOUR full large bags of donated clothes that were damp. VERY damp. And VERY smelly. And most of them were knickers and bras.
*shudders*
Who DOES something like that? WHY??
In other other news: today The Grandpapa and I used his computer lesson to grapple with Google Earth. I had never used it before either, so we learned together. Very cool. Fun was had by all. Though judging by the snoring, Bingo didn't find it as impressive as we did. Ah well.
- Ooh, and also, he's invited me out on the Severn Valley next week. We just have to pick a day.
Yay!
In other other other news: only five days and four shifts to go until my week off.
...Not that I'm counting...
Well, that's it for my exciting news. I've nothing else noteworthy to report. Nothing at all. Nada. Zilch.
Oh well. Maybe tomorrow will be different. Maybe tomorrow B&Q will be invaded by green and purple frogs, sporting yellow umbrellas and belting out compilations of songs from various musicals.
You never know.
Toodles.
Alice xxx
Tuesday, 30 April 2013
Sunday, 28 April 2013
T'is Sunday.
* The spasm-ing has eased in my back, so I feel much better and more relaxed than I did yesterday and the day before.
* My shift was easy (admittedly, I made it so, but that was because of my poorly back, and I DID get everything of importance done) and over and done with by 11am. I henceforth afterward had/have the day to myself.
* My leg has finally stopped smarting.
* Dinner tonight is nice and easy: I am shoving some already breaded plaice in the oven and then simmering some new potatoes and petite poi (posh mini peas. Nice and sweet tasting) on the hob. And no, I don't care that using 'ready prepared' fish is "cheating". It's plaice with breadcrumbs on it: and a doctor I spoke to about the subject once assured me that that was just fine. And in any case, as it's a Light Orchestra night, I need to have dinner on the table for mother at no later than 5:45, which wouldn't be a problem, but I have to fit it around The Brother using our oven to bake blasted pancakes (don't ask); and as they get blasted at around 230 degrees, I need something that can cope with being cooked at that temperature, rather than having to wait for an hour or more (which I do not have) for the damn thing to cool down again.
- As an aside, supper will be extra scrumptious all this week because Tesco had the yummy strawberry mousses in stock, rather than the nice-but-bit-boring chocolate ones. Plus, extra mature cheddar was on offer as well, so my daily cheese sandwich will be extra scrumptious as well.
* There are only seven more days (and six more shifts) till I get a whole week off. One. Whole. Week.
* Though dinner will be a rushed affair, thanks to Light Orchestra, I have the house (and therefore the television) to myself tonight. Catchphrase on ITV1 and then a Ken Dodd DVD ahoy!
* After a long stretch of there being NOTHING for me to apply for, I found 7 suitable jobs to go after yesterday. 7! It'll probably come to nothing, but hey, at least I have actually done something. Even minimal chance is a heck of a lot better than no chance at all.
* Sundays are my official Slob Out day, with no housework being done (you heard me. NONE) and Bingo being walked for me. Therefore I am sat here in my pajamas. At 14:30 in the afternoon. So stick that where the sun doesn't shine, productivity: you are not welcome here today.
And last but not least:
* I ordered a book for choir rehearsals two days ago and got an email today telling me that it has been "dispatched". The estimated delivery date is this coming Friday at the latest, so by then I should have my very own copy of Madrigals and Part-Songs. Yay!
* My shift was easy (admittedly, I made it so, but that was because of my poorly back, and I DID get everything of importance done) and over and done with by 11am. I henceforth afterward had/have the day to myself.
* My leg has finally stopped smarting.
* Dinner tonight is nice and easy: I am shoving some already breaded plaice in the oven and then simmering some new potatoes and petite poi (posh mini peas. Nice and sweet tasting) on the hob. And no, I don't care that using 'ready prepared' fish is "cheating". It's plaice with breadcrumbs on it: and a doctor I spoke to about the subject once assured me that that was just fine. And in any case, as it's a Light Orchestra night, I need to have dinner on the table for mother at no later than 5:45, which wouldn't be a problem, but I have to fit it around The Brother using our oven to bake blasted pancakes (don't ask); and as they get blasted at around 230 degrees, I need something that can cope with being cooked at that temperature, rather than having to wait for an hour or more (which I do not have) for the damn thing to cool down again.
- As an aside, supper will be extra scrumptious all this week because Tesco had the yummy strawberry mousses in stock, rather than the nice-but-bit-boring chocolate ones. Plus, extra mature cheddar was on offer as well, so my daily cheese sandwich will be extra scrumptious as well.
* There are only seven more days (and six more shifts) till I get a whole week off. One. Whole. Week.
* Though dinner will be a rushed affair, thanks to Light Orchestra, I have the house (and therefore the television) to myself tonight. Catchphrase on ITV1 and then a Ken Dodd DVD ahoy!
* After a long stretch of there being NOTHING for me to apply for, I found 7 suitable jobs to go after yesterday. 7! It'll probably come to nothing, but hey, at least I have actually done something. Even minimal chance is a heck of a lot better than no chance at all.
* Sundays are my official Slob Out day, with no housework being done (you heard me. NONE) and Bingo being walked for me. Therefore I am sat here in my pajamas. At 14:30 in the afternoon. So stick that where the sun doesn't shine, productivity: you are not welcome here today.
And last but not least:
* I ordered a book for choir rehearsals two days ago and got an email today telling me that it has been "dispatched". The estimated delivery date is this coming Friday at the latest, so by then I should have my very own copy of Madrigals and Part-Songs. Yay!
Saturday, 27 April 2013
Alice Is Pissed Off.
Yeah, that's right, you heard me; pissed off. I am not above swearing when the situation calls for it. And my injuring my back AGAIN calls for it.
I can't believe it. I was just cleaning, doing my job (and not even a particularly vigorous part of my job), when TWANG; I felt it go, and I've been in varying stages of discomfort - with the occasional painful jolt if I move incautiously. Or simply try to bend even a little bit - ever since. It isn't agony, don't get me wrong - although the OW! caused by incautious movement is pretty unpleasant - but it's just THERE, all the time, throbbing away. Painkillers ease it, but only for a while; it doesn't take more than three hours after taking them - and we're talking seriously strong makes-you-drowsy stuff from the doctor here; not the weak ones you can get over the counter - before the massively uncomfortable throbbing is clawing its way back into its rightful place at the very front of my attention.
Damn damn damn! I knew that due to the type of injury it was - not bad, just persistent. Something to do with muscles and nerves - it would be really easy to do it again (the doctor was really frank about that. Depressingly so, actually), but still. This is incredibly frustrating. I mean, I know I move slowly at the best of times, but this is ridiculous. Last time I had to take two days off work - I had tried to 'power through' the pain, which, according to the doctor, was a mistake - to let the "spasm-ing" die down. Thanks to mother helping me with the dog walking and officially relieving any guilt I may feel about slobbing around the house and not doing very much of anything except padding up and down to ease the throbbing - I really can't sit down for very long before my muscles scream at me to please get up and MOVE - I should be able to avoid that. Sundays are easier on my back than the rest of the week anyway, even though I move around a lot more and work for an hour more than I do any other day, because the mopping is practically non-existent. The doctor said that I could do the other cleaning, so long as I was careful, but not that, due to the immense strain it would put on my already strained muscles (hence the two days off). So I shouldn't have anymore time off, hopefully. Fingers crossed. I can't afford to lose any more money.
So here I am; sat (though not for long. I need to get up again very soon), uncomfortable and pissed off and quite depressed about things, which I know is pathetic when you compare my minor inconvenience to the very real problems people are facing all around the world right now - including mind numbing terror, starvation, disease and, yes; agonizing pain - but still, it is how I feel. Uncomfortable, pathetic, pissed off and depressed.
Also, I shaved my legs yesterday - before the back thing - and thought I'd been really careful and meticulous, then found that I'd missed a strip about half an inch wide right up the back of my left calf. I tried to rectify it this morning - yes, after the back thing. And yes, it hurt, but damnit, I was pissed off already; I did not want hairy legs as well - but was a little too over-vigorous with the razor and ended up grazing myself all along the calf, which bled enough for me to have to plaster it up. All the way up, from just above my heel to just a couple of inches from the crook of my knee. So I am uncomfortable, penned in, pissed off and with a stinging leg sporting plasters half way up it.
Great.
Ok. Moan over. I'll be happy and less of an ungrateful brat tomorrow, I'm sure I will.
xxx
I can't believe it. I was just cleaning, doing my job (and not even a particularly vigorous part of my job), when TWANG; I felt it go, and I've been in varying stages of discomfort - with the occasional painful jolt if I move incautiously. Or simply try to bend even a little bit - ever since. It isn't agony, don't get me wrong - although the OW! caused by incautious movement is pretty unpleasant - but it's just THERE, all the time, throbbing away. Painkillers ease it, but only for a while; it doesn't take more than three hours after taking them - and we're talking seriously strong makes-you-drowsy stuff from the doctor here; not the weak ones you can get over the counter - before the massively uncomfortable throbbing is clawing its way back into its rightful place at the very front of my attention.
Damn damn damn! I knew that due to the type of injury it was - not bad, just persistent. Something to do with muscles and nerves - it would be really easy to do it again (the doctor was really frank about that. Depressingly so, actually), but still. This is incredibly frustrating. I mean, I know I move slowly at the best of times, but this is ridiculous. Last time I had to take two days off work - I had tried to 'power through' the pain, which, according to the doctor, was a mistake - to let the "spasm-ing" die down. Thanks to mother helping me with the dog walking and officially relieving any guilt I may feel about slobbing around the house and not doing very much of anything except padding up and down to ease the throbbing - I really can't sit down for very long before my muscles scream at me to please get up and MOVE - I should be able to avoid that. Sundays are easier on my back than the rest of the week anyway, even though I move around a lot more and work for an hour more than I do any other day, because the mopping is practically non-existent. The doctor said that I could do the other cleaning, so long as I was careful, but not that, due to the immense strain it would put on my already strained muscles (hence the two days off). So I shouldn't have anymore time off, hopefully. Fingers crossed. I can't afford to lose any more money.
So here I am; sat (though not for long. I need to get up again very soon), uncomfortable and pissed off and quite depressed about things, which I know is pathetic when you compare my minor inconvenience to the very real problems people are facing all around the world right now - including mind numbing terror, starvation, disease and, yes; agonizing pain - but still, it is how I feel. Uncomfortable, pathetic, pissed off and depressed.
Also, I shaved my legs yesterday - before the back thing - and thought I'd been really careful and meticulous, then found that I'd missed a strip about half an inch wide right up the back of my left calf. I tried to rectify it this morning - yes, after the back thing. And yes, it hurt, but damnit, I was pissed off already; I did not want hairy legs as well - but was a little too over-vigorous with the razor and ended up grazing myself all along the calf, which bled enough for me to have to plaster it up. All the way up, from just above my heel to just a couple of inches from the crook of my knee. So I am uncomfortable, penned in, pissed off and with a stinging leg sporting plasters half way up it.
Great.
Ok. Moan over. I'll be happy and less of an ungrateful brat tomorrow, I'm sure I will.
xxx
Thursday, 25 April 2013
*SIGH*
Well, this post may irritate all you good people out there (all one of you), as I am going to moan about something that is completely and utterly my fault and that is perfectly changeable should I actually take charge and do something about it. So, yes; irritating. But then, this is my Blog.
So; tough! *bright smile*
Ugh. I really, really have to do something about my size. Really really lemon squeezey, with a fake umbrella and a glacial cherry on top. And I know, I know, I had that great plan, and it WAS great and IS great, except that the second I get upset, that plan - along with any other I've tried over the years - is thrown out of the window and...to put it bluntly, well, I stuff my face. A lot. And that is what I have been doing ever since just a couple of days after I foolishly told my Blog (and possibly...unlikely...but possibly, therefore the world) that I was doing this whole eating plan and it was based on 'non-deprivation but control' (or some fancy pantsy stuff like that) and that it was going great.
Kiss of death, that. Every time you actually admit that something that requires will power is going well, something WILL happen to sabotage it. In my instance, that something is emotional. If I get nervous or worried (like about joining a choir) or upset or distressed (for instance because I have been verbally berated for not doing my job at speeds that are physically impossible), I eat. A lot. And I know that it's bad and I know I shouldn't and I know I regret it afterwards but I do it anyway, and the really stupid thing is that I only have 28 lbs to lose. 2 stone is my goal*. And 2 stone is nothing! Even going incredibly slowly and gently, losing an average of 1lb a week, that's a little over half a year to target.
I know why I do it, because very recently my then counselor helped me work it out (among other things) and clarify exactly what was going on. It's called "self destructive loop behaviour" (fancy title or what?): basically every time I get upset my mind overreacts and I am compelled to engage in self destructive behaviour - in my case eating - rather than face the actual issue at hand. All very smart and psychobabble sounding. To put it simply, I am a "comfort eater" rather than just "greedy" (though I am that too, obviously), which is bad, obviously, and rather hard to control. In fact, I have never controlled it. It just starts and then I spend a while pigging out before I manage to claw my way out and start all over again having wrecked any progress I may have made. Which is great to know. But doesn't help me to get OUT of it.
Only I can, I know that. I need to find "coping strategies that work for me" (sorry; more psychobabble. I can't seem to stop) and that I am able to use instead allowing myself back into the "self-destruct part" of my "emotional loop" (really: can't stop). Which is all well and good and I thought I had worked it out ready, but when it came down to it I forgot (or ignored. But lets not quibble) all about that and just did as I have always have done, and the upshot is that I am now incredibly bloated and feel nauseous and disgusted with myself. I'm not going to put into type exactly HOW much (or WHAT) I have been eating because I can't bear it, but to give you an idea; think of how much (and what) YOU would eat if you absolutely and totally pigged out, then times that by (at least) three. Then imagine it on top of ordinary meals and repeating for up to three or four weeks at a time. Yeah. That much. As an already big girl, I have a capacity to eat more than most people would think physically possible, and to keep on doing it, over and over again.
Anyway, starting now, right this second, I am picking myself up (mentally speaking) and starting again.
I know that there are other options available - various slimming clubs for example - but I don't want to do that (not again, not ever). I don't want to go to be weighed weekly at the doctors (yet again) either. I want to do something that I feel happy with. I want...I want... Well, I want to be able to actually ENJOY food, rather than counting calories or weighing portions and panicking every time I feel hungry. I want it to be an enjoyable part of my day, rather than something I am at war with. And I think the plan I worked out does that, I really do. Because my plan DOES work for me on an ordinary day to day basis. I stopped getting bigger, felt healthier, and even though I was still eating a lot, I began to lose weight. While I was "practicing" before I faced the scales I lost 6lbs in three weeks. That's an average of 2lbs a week. Then I lost a further 2lbs in the two weeks I was weighing, which I'll have put back on now, obviously, but forgetting that; as weight-loss goes, that's pretty good, right? No, the plan works: I just need to deal with how I deal with things when I am upset. I'd have to do that anyway, no matter what I was doing. It's just something I need to work on. I need to break the loop.
And I will. I'm determined that I will. Because I want the old Me back. The one that was plump and curved and healthy and beautiful and happy with herself. I know that I am still in there. I just need to find Me again and draw Me out into the daylight.
And I will.
Thanks for listening, Blog. I feel a lot better now I've talked about it. Better enough to actually enjoy Bingo's walk (which he has been hinting for for the past half an hour), rather than merely enduring it because I have to. And considering how I have been feeling, that's good. Really good.
Toodles.
Alice. xxx
* Of course, the actual amount I need to lose to be the "right weight", the one according to the medical profession, is actually closer to eight and a half stone. That would get me down to between 9 and 10 stone and within the "healthy weight range" for my diddy 5 foot 3 height. But in my opinion I need to lose only two stone, getting me down to around 16 stone, or maybe 15 and a half should I go an extra bit further and lose 2 and 1/2 rather than just the 2.
That is still 6 stone heavier than is "healthy", but frankly I don't care. My body is happy at that size. Therefore I am, too. And in any case, to get down to the weight the doctors want, not only would I have to deprive myself to the point of being starving and miserable all the time, but by their own admission I would need to undergo surgery and have a breast reduction to reduce the resulting pressure on my back and lungs, and my response to that was an unequivocal "NO", and still is. Just..."NO".
So; tough! *bright smile*
Ugh. I really, really have to do something about my size. Really really lemon squeezey, with a fake umbrella and a glacial cherry on top. And I know, I know, I had that great plan, and it WAS great and IS great, except that the second I get upset, that plan - along with any other I've tried over the years - is thrown out of the window and...to put it bluntly, well, I stuff my face. A lot. And that is what I have been doing ever since just a couple of days after I foolishly told my Blog (and possibly...unlikely...but possibly, therefore the world) that I was doing this whole eating plan and it was based on 'non-deprivation but control' (or some fancy pantsy stuff like that) and that it was going great.
Kiss of death, that. Every time you actually admit that something that requires will power is going well, something WILL happen to sabotage it. In my instance, that something is emotional. If I get nervous or worried (like about joining a choir) or upset or distressed (for instance because I have been verbally berated for not doing my job at speeds that are physically impossible), I eat. A lot. And I know that it's bad and I know I shouldn't and I know I regret it afterwards but I do it anyway, and the really stupid thing is that I only have 28 lbs to lose. 2 stone is my goal*. And 2 stone is nothing! Even going incredibly slowly and gently, losing an average of 1lb a week, that's a little over half a year to target.
I know why I do it, because very recently my then counselor helped me work it out (among other things) and clarify exactly what was going on. It's called "self destructive loop behaviour" (fancy title or what?): basically every time I get upset my mind overreacts and I am compelled to engage in self destructive behaviour - in my case eating - rather than face the actual issue at hand. All very smart and psychobabble sounding. To put it simply, I am a "comfort eater" rather than just "greedy" (though I am that too, obviously), which is bad, obviously, and rather hard to control. In fact, I have never controlled it. It just starts and then I spend a while pigging out before I manage to claw my way out and start all over again having wrecked any progress I may have made. Which is great to know. But doesn't help me to get OUT of it.
Only I can, I know that. I need to find "coping strategies that work for me" (sorry; more psychobabble. I can't seem to stop) and that I am able to use instead allowing myself back into the "self-destruct part" of my "emotional loop" (really: can't stop). Which is all well and good and I thought I had worked it out ready, but when it came down to it I forgot (or ignored. But lets not quibble) all about that and just did as I have always have done, and the upshot is that I am now incredibly bloated and feel nauseous and disgusted with myself. I'm not going to put into type exactly HOW much (or WHAT) I have been eating because I can't bear it, but to give you an idea; think of how much (and what) YOU would eat if you absolutely and totally pigged out, then times that by (at least) three. Then imagine it on top of ordinary meals and repeating for up to three or four weeks at a time. Yeah. That much. As an already big girl, I have a capacity to eat more than most people would think physically possible, and to keep on doing it, over and over again.
Anyway, starting now, right this second, I am picking myself up (mentally speaking) and starting again.
I know that there are other options available - various slimming clubs for example - but I don't want to do that (not again, not ever). I don't want to go to be weighed weekly at the doctors (yet again) either. I want to do something that I feel happy with. I want...I want... Well, I want to be able to actually ENJOY food, rather than counting calories or weighing portions and panicking every time I feel hungry. I want it to be an enjoyable part of my day, rather than something I am at war with. And I think the plan I worked out does that, I really do. Because my plan DOES work for me on an ordinary day to day basis. I stopped getting bigger, felt healthier, and even though I was still eating a lot, I began to lose weight. While I was "practicing" before I faced the scales I lost 6lbs in three weeks. That's an average of 2lbs a week. Then I lost a further 2lbs in the two weeks I was weighing, which I'll have put back on now, obviously, but forgetting that; as weight-loss goes, that's pretty good, right? No, the plan works: I just need to deal with how I deal with things when I am upset. I'd have to do that anyway, no matter what I was doing. It's just something I need to work on. I need to break the loop.
And I will. I'm determined that I will. Because I want the old Me back. The one that was plump and curved and healthy and beautiful and happy with herself. I know that I am still in there. I just need to find Me again and draw Me out into the daylight.
And I will.
Thanks for listening, Blog. I feel a lot better now I've talked about it. Better enough to actually enjoy Bingo's walk (which he has been hinting for for the past half an hour), rather than merely enduring it because I have to. And considering how I have been feeling, that's good. Really good.
Toodles.
Alice. xxx
* Of course, the actual amount I need to lose to be the "right weight", the one according to the medical profession, is actually closer to eight and a half stone. That would get me down to between 9 and 10 stone and within the "healthy weight range" for my diddy 5 foot 3 height. But in my opinion I need to lose only two stone, getting me down to around 16 stone, or maybe 15 and a half should I go an extra bit further and lose 2 and 1/2 rather than just the 2.
That is still 6 stone heavier than is "healthy", but frankly I don't care. My body is happy at that size. Therefore I am, too. And in any case, to get down to the weight the doctors want, not only would I have to deprive myself to the point of being starving and miserable all the time, but by their own admission I would need to undergo surgery and have a breast reduction to reduce the resulting pressure on my back and lungs, and my response to that was an unequivocal "NO", and still is. Just..."NO".
Wednesday, 24 April 2013
I'm Too Exhausted To Think, But Feel Like Posting Anyway...
...So, in true Blue Peter style; "Here's Something I Prepared Earlier!"
Enjoy.
ALICE ALICE
ALICE
Enjoy.
BUGGER ME. A TALE OF THREE WOMEN ON A BENCH;
Brought to you By Alice Collison.
~ START ~
{Scene begins with our heroines; Amanda, Mother and Alice, sat on a bench quite high up in Habberly Valley
Park
MANDA: (telling
story)…and so there I was, waiting at the cash point, when this man comes up
behind me, yelling into his mobile phone. He’s having an argument with whoever it is, and I tell you when, it was
every other bloody word: F’ING and
BLINDING away at the top of his rotten lungs, and I turn my head a little and
see that he’s with this
woman and they’ve got two
small children with them! Would you ever! Two tiny children; stood by his legs
and he’s “FUCKING” this and
“FUCKING” that, and I thought ‘bugger me,
that’s awful’. No more than five, those kids were, dirty
mouthed twat…
MOTHER:
(unsuccessfully suppressing a smile) Sorry, tell me what you thought again,
Mand?
MANDA: (confused)
Well, he was just being such a prat, stood there yelling into his phone,
shouting “FUCK” every other word, and with those two kids there, it was just
shocking, that’s all…
MOTHER: (grinning
and exchanging looks with her equally amused Alice
MANDA: (a bit confused
and miffed) I thought ‘bugger me’…look, obviously I’ve said something
really funny - ?
(Mother and alice start giggling)
MANDA: (a bit more
miffed) Look, what have I said?
MOTHER: (wiping
away a tear) ohh, Mand. It’s just that
you are sat there being all indignant about this man and all his use of the
word “fucking”, and your first thought is ‘bugger me’.
MANDA: (still
confused) so…?
MOTHER: (tries to
stop laughing, but can’t) …‘bugger me’…Oh, it’s priceless…
MANDA: What??
What’s so funny??
MANDA: I…
(enlightenment dawns) …Oh.
MOTHER: Mm. Oh.
MANDA: (shoulders
start shaking) oh…
(all three dissolve into helpless laughter)
MOTHER: (wipes
another tear) it’s just so
funny! You getting all huffy at a man swearing and thinking ‘bugger me’…
MANDA: (ruefully)
Ok, ok, I get it now. (starts laughing again) you are always so MEAN to me!
MOTHER: well, you
do ask for it, really.
{Scene closes with all three dissolving into
helpless laughter once again.}
~ END. ~
Saturday, 20 April 2013
Another Day, Another Fun Filled Computer Stint With Mother...
Oh Dear God. Need caffeine. Lots and lots of caffeine.
...And chocolate...
...And maybe some whisky....
... *thinks* ...
...Yeah. Definitely. Some whisky, too...
EDITED TO ADD:
Settled on a large glass of Pepsi Max Cherry (heavenly stuff. In fact, to put it in what I believe to be the internet language of today's modern youth: it is "OMG! RLY, TLY GR8! LOL!") and a - small* - bowl of sweets.
No whisky, though. There was no whisky to be had. Plus it is only 3:30 in the afternoon.
*SIGH*
* See? See? I was good. ...ok. 'ish'.
...And chocolate...
...And maybe some whisky....
... *thinks* ...
...Yeah. Definitely. Some whisky, too...
EDITED TO ADD:
Settled on a large glass of Pepsi Max Cherry (heavenly stuff. In fact, to put it in what I believe to be the internet language of today's modern youth: it is "OMG! RLY, TLY GR8! LOL!") and a - small* - bowl of sweets.
No whisky, though. There was no whisky to be had. Plus it is only 3:30 in the afternoon.
*SIGH*
* See? See? I was good. ...ok. 'ish'.
Friday, 19 April 2013
T'is A Sunny Day:
So! I've decided to be really terribly daring and hang the washing up outside for the first time this year, ever present risk of rain be damned.
AND I may decide to wear sandals when I take Bingo for his walk later.
Yep. *nods* Go me.
Oh, my life is just one thrilling whirlwind of adventure after another...
AND I may decide to wear sandals when I take Bingo for his walk later.
Yep. *nods* Go me.
Oh, my life is just one thrilling whirlwind of adventure after another...
Thursday, 18 April 2013
Well:
I came. I saw. I sang. I went.
Great success; everybody was friendly and although I found it difficult to read the music (sight reading is not one of my skills), I don't think that I disgraced myself too badly. And nobody pointed at me and hissed "You! What made you think you could sing?! GET OUT! You are ruining our choir!" or anything like that. In fact, it went very well indeed and I now feel fantastic and buoyant and happy and very incredibly glad that I nerved myself up and went*.
Good good, then. I was worried over nothing and will look forward to next week.
Yay!
Tara xxx
* Mother helped coax me. She promised me gin. Which I am drinking right now. So if I've made any spelling mistakes, you now know why.
...And no, I don't care if my drinking gin at 10:20 in the evening when I have a 5am start is a bad thing. I like gin, and - in moderation - it likes me. So any naysayers can stuff it, as the saying goes.
*sticks out tongue*
Oh Lor', I feel happy. I've felt happy all evening. Music (and the promise of strong alcohol) does that to you.
God bless music. May it be as eternal as the oceans. More so.
If all things should perish,
From under the sky;
Music alone shall live, music alone shall live, music alone shall live,
Never shall die.
And it never, ever will.
Great success; everybody was friendly and although I found it difficult to read the music (sight reading is not one of my skills), I don't think that I disgraced myself too badly. And nobody pointed at me and hissed "You! What made you think you could sing?! GET OUT! You are ruining our choir!" or anything like that. In fact, it went very well indeed and I now feel fantastic and buoyant and happy and very incredibly glad that I nerved myself up and went*.
Good good, then. I was worried over nothing and will look forward to next week.
Yay!
Tara xxx
* Mother helped coax me. She promised me gin. Which I am drinking right now. So if I've made any spelling mistakes, you now know why.
...And no, I don't care if my drinking gin at 10:20 in the evening when I have a 5am start is a bad thing. I like gin, and - in moderation - it likes me. So any naysayers can stuff it, as the saying goes.
*sticks out tongue*
Oh Lor', I feel happy. I've felt happy all evening. Music (and the promise of strong alcohol) does that to you.
God bless music. May it be as eternal as the oceans. More so.
If all things should perish,
From under the sky;
Music alone shall live, music alone shall live, music alone shall live,
Never shall die.
And it never, ever will.
Cripes!
Tonight I will be visiting a church - Baxter Church it is called - at around 7:30.
I shall not be visiting there to attend a church service, nor shall I be turning up in hope of spiritual guidance: I shall in actual fact be turning up with an application form and my bestest and most eager and willing (and nervous) smiles in the hope of joining a choir.
Not just any old informal singing group, the Kidderminster Choral Society is prosperous, professionally run (although due to the fact that the singers do not get paid it is still classed as an "amateur" group) and from what I have been told; very very good indeed. They are supposedly a "non audition" society, meaning that anyone, theoretically, can turn up and join in, but I don't know. Any singing that puts on public concerts - as this one does - must have high standards that need to be adhered to, surely. So despite the assurance of their website* I have the uncomfortable feeling that I might be asked to give them a rendition of something. And while I have a not too bad singing voice with the added ability of being able to harmonize (mother is so jealous of that); singing on my own in front of a group of people is not an idea I relish.
I have come up with a small song that I think might help me through that possible eventuality though. It is called "If All Things Should Perish"; a pretty little ditty designed to be sung in a round. That, hopefully, will show my ability to hold a note - so long as I am not too nervous - while being short enough for me to remember all the words (again, so long as I am not...).
Of course, none of that may happen. Nor may they take an instant glaring dislike to me the second I walk through the door - another of my fears. And if I DO have to prove that I can sing, I may well do it perfectly well and soundly and not make a total, humiliating fool of myself. Everything MAY, in fact; probably will, go very well indeed.
I keep telling myself this.
But I am still nervous as heck.
Cross your fingers for me, Blog.
Tara xxx
* http://www.kidderminsterchoralsociety.co.uk/
I shall not be visiting there to attend a church service, nor shall I be turning up in hope of spiritual guidance: I shall in actual fact be turning up with an application form and my bestest and most eager and willing (and nervous) smiles in the hope of joining a choir.
Not just any old informal singing group, the Kidderminster Choral Society is prosperous, professionally run (although due to the fact that the singers do not get paid it is still classed as an "amateur" group) and from what I have been told; very very good indeed. They are supposedly a "non audition" society, meaning that anyone, theoretically, can turn up and join in, but I don't know. Any singing that puts on public concerts - as this one does - must have high standards that need to be adhered to, surely. So despite the assurance of their website* I have the uncomfortable feeling that I might be asked to give them a rendition of something. And while I have a not too bad singing voice with the added ability of being able to harmonize (mother is so jealous of that); singing on my own in front of a group of people is not an idea I relish.
I have come up with a small song that I think might help me through that possible eventuality though. It is called "If All Things Should Perish"; a pretty little ditty designed to be sung in a round. That, hopefully, will show my ability to hold a note - so long as I am not too nervous - while being short enough for me to remember all the words (again, so long as I am not...).
Of course, none of that may happen. Nor may they take an instant glaring dislike to me the second I walk through the door - another of my fears. And if I DO have to prove that I can sing, I may well do it perfectly well and soundly and not make a total, humiliating fool of myself. Everything MAY, in fact; probably will, go very well indeed.
I keep telling myself this.
But I am still nervous as heck.
Cross your fingers for me, Blog.
Tara xxx
* http://www.kidderminsterchoralsociety.co.uk/
Tuesday, 16 April 2013
Feeling A Bit Better, Now:
Well, after my long winded whine about Best Friend 1, I went to meet her. I'm not sure if that makes me hypocritical, a coward, a bitch, or all three; but anyway, I went. We shared a bottle of Oasis Fruit Drink. Talked. Laughed. Enjoyed. Then we headed into the store so that I could buy some CoffeeMate* for The Grandmama. Oh, and some of what The Grandpapa touchingly refers to as 'Feminine Products'**. Then we wandered home so that Best Friend 1 could prepare lunch (salad) for herself and Squidgum and I could let the dog out into the garden for a wee.
Totally, thrilling, thrilling stuff. Yup. *nods*
Toodles. xxx
* Disgusting powdered stuff that some people like to put into their coffee instead of milk or sugar. Personally - if I were a coffee drinker - I think I would rather drink the damn stuff black. But ah well; each to their own.
Anyway, if you're interested, read about it here: http://www.coffee-mate.com/ .
*** I have to admit, that DOES sound nicer than 'sanitary towels/pads' or 'tampons'. I think we'll stick with that.
Totally, thrilling, thrilling stuff. Yup. *nods*
Toodles. xxx
* Disgusting powdered stuff that some people like to put into their coffee instead of milk or sugar. Personally - if I were a coffee drinker - I think I would rather drink the damn stuff black. But ah well; each to their own.
Anyway, if you're interested, read about it here: http://www.coffee-mate.com/ .
*** I have to admit, that DOES sound nicer than 'sanitary towels/pads' or 'tampons'. I think we'll stick with that.
A Moan.
Just had a text (isn't it a wonderful invention, the mobile phone?*) as I was leaving work, from Best Friend 1. She asked me if I was free this morning - we often meet up sometime during the week for a cup of tea and a chat - and I affirmed that yes, after nipping home for a shower and change of clothes, I was. Then she asked me if I had £5 she could borrow for gas**.
*SIGH*
I texted back that I had none spare (which is true, thanks to my clothes shopping binge), and I expect that that will be that, but it irritated me, it really did.
It isn't that I begrudge her, because I don't. Or at least, not often. Because the thing is, she - along with her arse of a husband - is absolutely HOPELESS with money. HOPELESS. Due to long term bad luck and now a child*** she is unemployed, and he is on a kind of sickness benefit due to his 'mental health issues'****.
They are in mountains of debt. And while she doesn't often ask me - which she doesn't, comparatively - she does ask other people. I'm not sure how often, but there are several people, both of their families included, that they turn to for financial help, and meanwhile their debts are getting worse, and worse.
I've tried over the past few years to be understanding. I know from first hand experience - thanks for landing us in thousands of pounds of debt then buggering off, dad; appreciated it - how hard it is to get out of debt once you're in it; it just grows and grows and grows and meanwhile you are struggling and still having to pay bills and eat etc. And I know that it embarrasses and upsets her, having to ask (not that it bothers HIM. He couldn't care less about other people. I've actually heard him aggressively pressuring her to beg people - myself included - for cash). But the money they make jointly COULD go further, it really could.
Planning sensibly may not magically solve everything and make the debts disappear (I shudder to think how much they come to now), obviously. But making the right choices they COULD be better off. They really could. I know they could. So much of what they buy could be brought more cheaply, or even gone without completely, but the real killer is the impulse buys they make. Small things, often enough, but those things add up over time. If they just worked together and TRIED, things would be easier, they really would.
I've tried to bring this up, tactfully - Money idiocy aside, I love her, I really do. She is oldest and quite my very dearest friend - and she whole heartedly agrees that they need to "plan better", but fortnight in and fortnight out, nothing changes. And every now and again - it really is rare - she asks me if I have any money that she could borrow.
*SIGHS again*
I'm not being too coherent, I know. Nor am I being very fair, possibly, because honestly; usually I really don't mind. Usually, I inwardly smile a wry smile and hand it over (it's always a small amount). It's when I can't do that, like today, that I feel irritated. I don't know why that is. It should be the other way round, shouldn't it?
Anyway, I just wanted to get that out of myself before I see her. That way I can enjoy her company and not be dwelling on things.
I really do care about her.
Damn-it. Running late. Got to go. Thanks for letting me moan.
Tara for now.
* it's quite scary how powerful they are, actually. With all their videos and internet access and bells and whistles; they've progressed from mere phones that are mobile to mini computers. Plus, all I actually know how to do - other than ring people - is text. But still; pretty cool.
** to any Americans that may be reading; that's 'gas' as in gas to use in the household, for fires, ovens etc. NOT 'gas' as in gas for cars. Over here we call the latter 'petrol'.
*** unemployed and in debt; not the best time to sire a child, I know, but I can't blame her for that. She is a brilliant mum, truly, and in any case, she didn't merely want a child; she NEEDED one, so badly that it was tearing her up inside. I had heard of "baby rabies" before, but until then had never actually seen anyone experience it. It's a scary, scary thing indeed. I hope I never get that. *shudders*
**** do NOT get me started. I could quite easily rant about that for hours. Lets just say he is a lazy, arrogant, selfish bastard who uses his -admittedly real and properly diagnosed - bi-polar disorder as an excuse to not have a job and to act like a complete and utter twat and leave it at that.
*SIGH*
I texted back that I had none spare (which is true, thanks to my clothes shopping binge), and I expect that that will be that, but it irritated me, it really did.
It isn't that I begrudge her, because I don't. Or at least, not often. Because the thing is, she - along with her arse of a husband - is absolutely HOPELESS with money. HOPELESS. Due to long term bad luck and now a child*** she is unemployed, and he is on a kind of sickness benefit due to his 'mental health issues'****.
They are in mountains of debt. And while she doesn't often ask me - which she doesn't, comparatively - she does ask other people. I'm not sure how often, but there are several people, both of their families included, that they turn to for financial help, and meanwhile their debts are getting worse, and worse.
I've tried over the past few years to be understanding. I know from first hand experience - thanks for landing us in thousands of pounds of debt then buggering off, dad; appreciated it - how hard it is to get out of debt once you're in it; it just grows and grows and grows and meanwhile you are struggling and still having to pay bills and eat etc. And I know that it embarrasses and upsets her, having to ask (not that it bothers HIM. He couldn't care less about other people. I've actually heard him aggressively pressuring her to beg people - myself included - for cash). But the money they make jointly COULD go further, it really could.
Planning sensibly may not magically solve everything and make the debts disappear (I shudder to think how much they come to now), obviously. But making the right choices they COULD be better off. They really could. I know they could. So much of what they buy could be brought more cheaply, or even gone without completely, but the real killer is the impulse buys they make. Small things, often enough, but those things add up over time. If they just worked together and TRIED, things would be easier, they really would.
I've tried to bring this up, tactfully - Money idiocy aside, I love her, I really do. She is oldest and quite my very dearest friend - and she whole heartedly agrees that they need to "plan better", but fortnight in and fortnight out, nothing changes. And every now and again - it really is rare - she asks me if I have any money that she could borrow.
*SIGHS again*
I'm not being too coherent, I know. Nor am I being very fair, possibly, because honestly; usually I really don't mind. Usually, I inwardly smile a wry smile and hand it over (it's always a small amount). It's when I can't do that, like today, that I feel irritated. I don't know why that is. It should be the other way round, shouldn't it?
Anyway, I just wanted to get that out of myself before I see her. That way I can enjoy her company and not be dwelling on things.
I really do care about her.
Damn-it. Running late. Got to go. Thanks for letting me moan.
Tara for now.
* it's quite scary how powerful they are, actually. With all their videos and internet access and bells and whistles; they've progressed from mere phones that are mobile to mini computers. Plus, all I actually know how to do - other than ring people - is text. But still; pretty cool.
** to any Americans that may be reading; that's 'gas' as in gas to use in the household, for fires, ovens etc. NOT 'gas' as in gas for cars. Over here we call the latter 'petrol'.
*** unemployed and in debt; not the best time to sire a child, I know, but I can't blame her for that. She is a brilliant mum, truly, and in any case, she didn't merely want a child; she NEEDED one, so badly that it was tearing her up inside. I had heard of "baby rabies" before, but until then had never actually seen anyone experience it. It's a scary, scary thing indeed. I hope I never get that. *shudders*
**** do NOT get me started. I could quite easily rant about that for hours. Lets just say he is a lazy, arrogant, selfish bastard who uses his -admittedly real and properly diagnosed - bi-polar disorder as an excuse to not have a job and to act like a complete and utter twat and leave it at that.
Saturday, 13 April 2013
Catch Up:
Well, it's been a few days since I lasted posted, hasn't it? My Blog must have felt very lost and neglected without me, but hopefully He will forgive me and accept my excuse that I have just been far too busy.
In any case, I swore when I started this up again that this time I wouldn't drive myself mad trying to make sure that I posted every single day - regardless of whether I had anything of interest to say, I might add - simply for the sake of it. So, upset Blog or not, I feel no shame. None at all. So there. *sticks out tongue*
Anyway, on to my post. Busy as a bee I've been:
* Mother has been taking lessons on using the computer - ready for an eight week contract that has been set up for next term - and oh; what a trial it has been for both of us. They* say that doctors make the worst patients; well, apparently the same analogy applies to teachers trying to be students.
It isn't a deliberate thing, of course. She doesn't actively conspire to be a trying person to teach; but a fear of the unknown - computers in particular - combined with what she is learning being essential to her ongoing employment and compounded by the fact that she is a bundle of confused and tangled nerves at the best of times has made this past fortnight a bit of a pain in the posterior, frankly, and my patience has been strung out to the point of snapping altogether.
It has gone well, though. She has learned what she needs to; to download, to print, to save both to he hard drive and a memory stick, to use the "save as" function to create a copy of an existing file with a different name so that the existing file remains the same and the newly created file could be edited, to highlight and cut, copy, paste or simply type over... Everything she needed to know. It's gone well. It's just a matter of her having confidence in her new-found skills now; and that will come with time, as she practices and uses what she has learned day to day.
* Work has been...well, it's been work. Nothing unusual. I am counting the days till I get a full week off from it rather than a single day, though. 22 to go so far, if you're interested.
* I have started up my habit of visiting The Grandpapa and The Great-Aunt alternate Tuesdays again, which is nice. And it turns out that the three of us aren't the only ones happy about it; Bingo is positively thrilled. Thinking about it, of course, I can see why. While I get to see loved ones and have them to myself for a bit (whilst on the Tuesdays I visit The Great-Aunt also effectively avoiding The Brother and giving my nerves a rest), he gets a nice long walk and a visit with someone that will make a disgusting fuss of him...oh and a new bone each time. What's not to like?
* The volunteering has carried on in a reassuringly stable way. I tag or re-tag, check stock, fetch and carry...if Christine (the manager) is in I am able to train on the till too; I've served four customers so far. Nerve racking, it was. I think I prefer to be tagging, etc. upstairs and out of the way of everybody. I don't worry so much about getting things wrong, then.
Everybody I have met so far seems very nice. One man, Roland (or possibly Ronald; I still don't know) can be a bit unpredictable; if you don't immediately understand what he is saying he gets quite stuffy and impatient, but I can deal with that easily and anyway most of the time he is perfectly friendly. Yesterday he suggested a few films I might like to watch and told me where I could find them online to watch them for free. With mother back at work I'll have a but more time to myself - not long, but longer than I have had lately - so I'll see about watching them over the next fortnight or so. If I don't like them, well, I don't have to watch much of it and at least I can tell Roland that I've had a look: that should make him happy. Men like it if they think they've guided you into something.
* I've started my eating plan. Four days so far. It's going well. I nerved myself up and stepped onto the scales: I weigh 18 stone and 1/2 lb. It wasn't nearly as bad as I expected it to be. In fact, I've actually lost since the last time I weighed; last time I was 18 stone 6 lbs.
Anyway, I'm doing quite well. Being busy helps; a lot less time to sit around equals a lot less time to stuff my face. And that's all I'm all doing really: cutting out what I call the Pig Out sessions. I am still eating four meals a day, including a supper of a thick cheese sandwich and a chocolate mousse. In fact, I pretty much eat whatever I want for every meal - though breakfast tends to simply be a banana as that's all I can face at 5:15 in the morning - but I've eliminated the daily round of compulsively eating everything that I can afford to buy along with whatever I find in the cupboards. And it's going well. I feel confident. No diet; indeed no deprivation at all, really. There are rules I have to follow, of course, but they are quite simple.
The rules are:
1) Unless it comes with a provided meal (example: in a sandwich or hot meal given while out or at a friends') I am allowed ONE lot of cheese - one full slice worth - per day.
2) Extras between meals (treats) MAY be had - Example: chocolate bar, cupcake, sweets etc. - but ONLY when in company and preferably it will be something it would be something that was to be shared.
3) As once I am slightly tipsy the chance of a Pig Out increases by about...oh, 95%; with the possible exception of the visit to The Grandpapa's on alternate Tuesdays and the rare occurance of a day out (example: a day out on the Valley**) NO alcohol is to be consumed on any day except the accepted Naughty Day of the week (Saturday).
4) To avoid temptation and reverting to old habits, NO sweets, crisps, chocolate etc. is to be brought by me on any day other than Saturday UNLESS IT IS TO BE SHARED with another person (and therefore an accepted 'Extra'). And any sweets etc. brought to be shared with another person is to be brought ON THE ACTUAL DAY OF SHARING and not before.
5) Ketchup is to only be had with cooked (or provided) meals***, NOT with sandwiches/toast. This includes Saturdays.
6) All meals/extras/wobbles from Eating Plan are to be written down as close to eating as possible to give an accurate idea of what is being consumed and to remind brain that it is (MORE THAN) enough.
So there we have it.
My goal is to lose around 2 stone in total and to reach a loss of at least 20 lbs (and hopefully therefore a whole dress size) before my trip to Scotland. Even countering in the fact that I am not depriving myself, the drastic cut in calories simply by not Pigging Out as well as the exercise I get with my cleaning job and the dog walking etc. SHOULD mean that this is do-able. We'll see.
* As I mentioned I was planning to do, I have taken the plunge brought some new clothes! A skirt; so sumptuous and sexy feeling, it shows off the few curves I have left that haven't been buried under 2 stone or so worth of flab to perfection. A pair of jeans; a perfect fit and VERY flattering to the stumpy legs as well as to my (admittedly already well formed) bottom. A pair of shorts; denim again, and flattering to the hips and bum again, which will hopefully distract from the bloody legs. And finally, a pair of flesh-ish/gold-ish coloured sandals; incredibly comfortable, pretty and they go well with every item of clothing I own. AND after finishing my totally selfish shopping spree there was just enough money left for a smoothie. Good-Egg!
* The Games evening went well. We played Monopoly. The Grandpapa and The Great-Aunt had to be helped through the process of collecting the rents - they seemed to be half asleep and had to be all but screamed at to drive home the fact that upon landing on properties they had brought, we owed them money - but it was still a good game and fun, along with dandelion and burdock and a little bowl sweets, was had by all.
* The weather is warming up, finally. No ice to speak of now - though the mornings are still very frosty - which has made Bingo's walks more pleasant (for me, that is; he doesn't care). Apparently it will be properly warm and Spring-Like by early May. That seems very late to me. But still, if it is, it will be in time for my week off. Kayleigh Anne and I are planning to have an evening out, meal and drinks, around then too; so it would be grand if Spring had Sprung ready for that. Hell, even just a dry day - cold or not - would at least enable me to wear my nice sandals. Town is only a thirty minute walk away and we'd be eating and drinking inside, after all.
While we're on that subject, actually; Now I am feeling a bit happier (and fitter), Bingo's walks have gotten a bit longer. Not much, but a bit. This has allowed me to not only start up my weekly relative visiting again, but to keep an eye on the pair of Green Woodpeckers that hang around in the gully I used to frequent as well. It's nice. And despite his weak legs, he doesn't seem to mind the extra distance. Good-Egg (again)...
Anyhoot! To finish off my inane rambling and to change the subject from the goings of the past week and a half or so; I want a gerbil.
It's a silly idea, of course. I have no rational reason for it other than the fact that they are absolutely adorable and cuddly and soft looking. Truly. That is the only reason; they are Very Cute.
I shan't be getting one, of course. Forgetting the cost and inconvenience - they are not named Little Houdini's for nothing - I have a cat that would probably like to eat it. And a dog that would probably not turn his nose up at the prospect either (though that is less of a worry as he wouldn't have a hope in heck of catching it). So I shan't be getting one.
I still want one, though.
It's a bloody nuisance.
* Who ARE 'they'? WHAT are 'they'? Where do 'they' come from? And where do 'they' hide out to make all these bloody observations?
** The Severn Valley Railway. I'll explain about that another time.
*** I am aware that the ketchup rule is a weird one, but it's necessary. Trust me. I have an addiction to the super-sweet tomatoey stuff and the ability to work my way through three or four bottles of it if my urge for it is not kept in check. Rule 5) is most definitely and absolutely and completely necessary. Definitely.
In any case, I swore when I started this up again that this time I wouldn't drive myself mad trying to make sure that I posted every single day - regardless of whether I had anything of interest to say, I might add - simply for the sake of it. So, upset Blog or not, I feel no shame. None at all. So there. *sticks out tongue*
Anyway, on to my post. Busy as a bee I've been:
* Mother has been taking lessons on using the computer - ready for an eight week contract that has been set up for next term - and oh; what a trial it has been for both of us. They* say that doctors make the worst patients; well, apparently the same analogy applies to teachers trying to be students.
It isn't a deliberate thing, of course. She doesn't actively conspire to be a trying person to teach; but a fear of the unknown - computers in particular - combined with what she is learning being essential to her ongoing employment and compounded by the fact that she is a bundle of confused and tangled nerves at the best of times has made this past fortnight a bit of a pain in the posterior, frankly, and my patience has been strung out to the point of snapping altogether.
It has gone well, though. She has learned what she needs to; to download, to print, to save both to he hard drive and a memory stick, to use the "save as" function to create a copy of an existing file with a different name so that the existing file remains the same and the newly created file could be edited, to highlight and cut, copy, paste or simply type over... Everything she needed to know. It's gone well. It's just a matter of her having confidence in her new-found skills now; and that will come with time, as she practices and uses what she has learned day to day.
* Work has been...well, it's been work. Nothing unusual. I am counting the days till I get a full week off from it rather than a single day, though. 22 to go so far, if you're interested.
* I have started up my habit of visiting The Grandpapa and The Great-Aunt alternate Tuesdays again, which is nice. And it turns out that the three of us aren't the only ones happy about it; Bingo is positively thrilled. Thinking about it, of course, I can see why. While I get to see loved ones and have them to myself for a bit (whilst on the Tuesdays I visit The Great-Aunt also effectively avoiding The Brother and giving my nerves a rest), he gets a nice long walk and a visit with someone that will make a disgusting fuss of him...oh and a new bone each time. What's not to like?
* The volunteering has carried on in a reassuringly stable way. I tag or re-tag, check stock, fetch and carry...if Christine (the manager) is in I am able to train on the till too; I've served four customers so far. Nerve racking, it was. I think I prefer to be tagging, etc. upstairs and out of the way of everybody. I don't worry so much about getting things wrong, then.
Everybody I have met so far seems very nice. One man, Roland (or possibly Ronald; I still don't know) can be a bit unpredictable; if you don't immediately understand what he is saying he gets quite stuffy and impatient, but I can deal with that easily and anyway most of the time he is perfectly friendly. Yesterday he suggested a few films I might like to watch and told me where I could find them online to watch them for free. With mother back at work I'll have a but more time to myself - not long, but longer than I have had lately - so I'll see about watching them over the next fortnight or so. If I don't like them, well, I don't have to watch much of it and at least I can tell Roland that I've had a look: that should make him happy. Men like it if they think they've guided you into something.
* I've started my eating plan. Four days so far. It's going well. I nerved myself up and stepped onto the scales: I weigh 18 stone and 1/2 lb. It wasn't nearly as bad as I expected it to be. In fact, I've actually lost since the last time I weighed; last time I was 18 stone 6 lbs.
Anyway, I'm doing quite well. Being busy helps; a lot less time to sit around equals a lot less time to stuff my face. And that's all I'm all doing really: cutting out what I call the Pig Out sessions. I am still eating four meals a day, including a supper of a thick cheese sandwich and a chocolate mousse. In fact, I pretty much eat whatever I want for every meal - though breakfast tends to simply be a banana as that's all I can face at 5:15 in the morning - but I've eliminated the daily round of compulsively eating everything that I can afford to buy along with whatever I find in the cupboards. And it's going well. I feel confident. No diet; indeed no deprivation at all, really. There are rules I have to follow, of course, but they are quite simple.
The rules are:
1) Unless it comes with a provided meal (example: in a sandwich or hot meal given while out or at a friends') I am allowed ONE lot of cheese - one full slice worth - per day.
2) Extras between meals (treats) MAY be had - Example: chocolate bar, cupcake, sweets etc. - but ONLY when in company and preferably it will be something it would be something that was to be shared.
3) As once I am slightly tipsy the chance of a Pig Out increases by about...oh, 95%; with the possible exception of the visit to The Grandpapa's on alternate Tuesdays and the rare occurance of a day out (example: a day out on the Valley**) NO alcohol is to be consumed on any day except the accepted Naughty Day of the week (Saturday).
4) To avoid temptation and reverting to old habits, NO sweets, crisps, chocolate etc. is to be brought by me on any day other than Saturday UNLESS IT IS TO BE SHARED with another person (and therefore an accepted 'Extra'). And any sweets etc. brought to be shared with another person is to be brought ON THE ACTUAL DAY OF SHARING and not before.
5) Ketchup is to only be had with cooked (or provided) meals***, NOT with sandwiches/toast. This includes Saturdays.
6) All meals/extras/wobbles from Eating Plan are to be written down as close to eating as possible to give an accurate idea of what is being consumed and to remind brain that it is (MORE THAN) enough.
So there we have it.
My goal is to lose around 2 stone in total and to reach a loss of at least 20 lbs (and hopefully therefore a whole dress size) before my trip to Scotland. Even countering in the fact that I am not depriving myself, the drastic cut in calories simply by not Pigging Out as well as the exercise I get with my cleaning job and the dog walking etc. SHOULD mean that this is do-able. We'll see.
* As I mentioned I was planning to do, I have taken the plunge brought some new clothes! A skirt; so sumptuous and sexy feeling, it shows off the few curves I have left that haven't been buried under 2 stone or so worth of flab to perfection. A pair of jeans; a perfect fit and VERY flattering to the stumpy legs as well as to my (admittedly already well formed) bottom. A pair of shorts; denim again, and flattering to the hips and bum again, which will hopefully distract from the bloody legs. And finally, a pair of flesh-ish/gold-ish coloured sandals; incredibly comfortable, pretty and they go well with every item of clothing I own. AND after finishing my totally selfish shopping spree there was just enough money left for a smoothie. Good-Egg!
* The Games evening went well. We played Monopoly. The Grandpapa and The Great-Aunt had to be helped through the process of collecting the rents - they seemed to be half asleep and had to be all but screamed at to drive home the fact that upon landing on properties they had brought, we owed them money - but it was still a good game and fun, along with dandelion and burdock and a little bowl sweets, was had by all.
* The weather is warming up, finally. No ice to speak of now - though the mornings are still very frosty - which has made Bingo's walks more pleasant (for me, that is; he doesn't care). Apparently it will be properly warm and Spring-Like by early May. That seems very late to me. But still, if it is, it will be in time for my week off. Kayleigh Anne and I are planning to have an evening out, meal and drinks, around then too; so it would be grand if Spring had Sprung ready for that. Hell, even just a dry day - cold or not - would at least enable me to wear my nice sandals. Town is only a thirty minute walk away and we'd be eating and drinking inside, after all.
While we're on that subject, actually; Now I am feeling a bit happier (and fitter), Bingo's walks have gotten a bit longer. Not much, but a bit. This has allowed me to not only start up my weekly relative visiting again, but to keep an eye on the pair of Green Woodpeckers that hang around in the gully I used to frequent as well. It's nice. And despite his weak legs, he doesn't seem to mind the extra distance. Good-Egg (again)...
Anyhoot! To finish off my inane rambling and to change the subject from the goings of the past week and a half or so; I want a gerbil.
It's a silly idea, of course. I have no rational reason for it other than the fact that they are absolutely adorable and cuddly and soft looking. Truly. That is the only reason; they are Very Cute.
I shan't be getting one, of course. Forgetting the cost and inconvenience - they are not named Little Houdini's for nothing - I have a cat that would probably like to eat it. And a dog that would probably not turn his nose up at the prospect either (though that is less of a worry as he wouldn't have a hope in heck of catching it). So I shan't be getting one.
I still want one, though.
It's a bloody nuisance.
* Who ARE 'they'? WHAT are 'they'? Where do 'they' come from? And where do 'they' hide out to make all these bloody observations?
** The Severn Valley Railway. I'll explain about that another time.
*** I am aware that the ketchup rule is a weird one, but it's necessary. Trust me. I have an addiction to the super-sweet tomatoey stuff and the ability to work my way through three or four bottles of it if my urge for it is not kept in check. Rule 5) is most definitely and absolutely and completely necessary. Definitely.
Monday, 8 April 2013
Well! Aren't I A Selfish Bitch?
*sighs*
I was feeling quite low today. I'd had a hard shift (and the one the day before wasn't easy, either) and the day was going to be very busy; what with the volunteering and Bingo's walk and dinner and then the Games Evening (I'll explain about that when there's more time)...not unpleasant, just busy, when what I really actually would like to do is lie down and sleep. Plus there's the hay-fever. And I'm hemming and hawing my way into starting my eating plan again - not a diet. I gave up on that years ago - and as I felt shit I've flunked that already today; and it's only just past midday.
So I was feeling sorry for myself.
Then the phone rang.
It was Barbara, ringing mother - she was out delivering birthday cake to my Uncle. Cake I wasn't going to get to taste; another black mark for today in my opinion - to tell her that while a cup of tea and a chat would be lovely, she was booked solid over the next few days being hustled hither and thither doing this and that until the day of the funeral. So thanks but no thanks.
After this news had been en-parted she enquired about mother's and my health and asked how we were and what we were doing today. Knowing she needed a distraction I told her in detail, which she seemed to appreciate, and the conversation flowed smoothly from there to cooking and then to the ever increasing demands of housework. And all the while she was just...so nice and gracious and bloody well POLITE. Even when we - briefly - touched upon her recent loss and her infirmities - illness has left her almost immobile and her sight is failing - she didn't rise to the bait of bitterness and rage, and I was both impressed and saddened. Impressed that she was managing to contain her grief over her husband's death and still talk to people rather than screaming at them - as I probably would. Forget grief; I would be so bloody ANGRY - and saddened that she had lost him in the first place. And on top of that I felt deeply, deeply ashamed of my earlier self pity.
By the time the phone call finished, my inner voice was in full swing and I had been well and truly mangled. How COULD I feel sorry for myself, when I had so much going for me? I'm young, with a reasonably healthy - fat, but otherwise healthy - body and while I did lose the love of my life, it was through desertion (God, that's melodramatic!) rather than death, and it was nearly six years ago now (rather than just recently). And I was blessed with the option of actually going out and DOING something, like volunteering in a shop for example, to take my mind off things. And with my family so large and loving and (most of them) living so close, as well as (most of) my friends; I had the option of visits and walks and cups of tea and chats and Games Evenings and - oh, so many things. So what have I got to complain about, exactly? Nothing, that's what!
Because of her age and what family she has not being nearby, Barbara doesn't have nearly as much to fall back on in times of need, and there can't be a greater time of need for the poor woman than right now. John was everything to her. Poor, poor woman. And I was feeling bleak and dismal because I was a bit tired! Ridiculous!
All that was going through my mind as I spoke to Barbara, and then it was repeated again afterward. And now, well, now ironically, and awfully, I feel a lot better. Because I DO have a lot of things to be grateful for.
I am such a bitch...
I was feeling quite low today. I'd had a hard shift (and the one the day before wasn't easy, either) and the day was going to be very busy; what with the volunteering and Bingo's walk and dinner and then the Games Evening (I'll explain about that when there's more time)...not unpleasant, just busy, when what I really actually would like to do is lie down and sleep. Plus there's the hay-fever. And I'm hemming and hawing my way into starting my eating plan again - not a diet. I gave up on that years ago - and as I felt shit I've flunked that already today; and it's only just past midday.
So I was feeling sorry for myself.
Then the phone rang.
It was Barbara, ringing mother - she was out delivering birthday cake to my Uncle. Cake I wasn't going to get to taste; another black mark for today in my opinion - to tell her that while a cup of tea and a chat would be lovely, she was booked solid over the next few days being hustled hither and thither doing this and that until the day of the funeral. So thanks but no thanks.
After this news had been en-parted she enquired about mother's and my health and asked how we were and what we were doing today. Knowing she needed a distraction I told her in detail, which she seemed to appreciate, and the conversation flowed smoothly from there to cooking and then to the ever increasing demands of housework. And all the while she was just...so nice and gracious and bloody well POLITE. Even when we - briefly - touched upon her recent loss and her infirmities - illness has left her almost immobile and her sight is failing - she didn't rise to the bait of bitterness and rage, and I was both impressed and saddened. Impressed that she was managing to contain her grief over her husband's death and still talk to people rather than screaming at them - as I probably would. Forget grief; I would be so bloody ANGRY - and saddened that she had lost him in the first place. And on top of that I felt deeply, deeply ashamed of my earlier self pity.
By the time the phone call finished, my inner voice was in full swing and I had been well and truly mangled. How COULD I feel sorry for myself, when I had so much going for me? I'm young, with a reasonably healthy - fat, but otherwise healthy - body and while I did lose the love of my life, it was through desertion (God, that's melodramatic!) rather than death, and it was nearly six years ago now (rather than just recently). And I was blessed with the option of actually going out and DOING something, like volunteering in a shop for example, to take my mind off things. And with my family so large and loving and (most of them) living so close, as well as (most of) my friends; I had the option of visits and walks and cups of tea and chats and Games Evenings and - oh, so many things. So what have I got to complain about, exactly? Nothing, that's what!
Because of her age and what family she has not being nearby, Barbara doesn't have nearly as much to fall back on in times of need, and there can't be a greater time of need for the poor woman than right now. John was everything to her. Poor, poor woman. And I was feeling bleak and dismal because I was a bit tired! Ridiculous!
All that was going through my mind as I spoke to Barbara, and then it was repeated again afterward. And now, well, now ironically, and awfully, I feel a lot better. Because I DO have a lot of things to be grateful for.
I am such a bitch...
Wednesday, 3 April 2013
Life Waddles On (In Bullet Point Form):
* My first session as an Official SENSE Charity Volunteer went well. The people are really nice and I feel that I am doing something useful, therefore I am happy.
* Took the dog to the vets with a suspected recurrence of mange. Turns out he is fine, but may have allergies instead. Allergies! *sighs*
* Speaking of which, I must remember: I need to ask The Grandmama's permission to use her walk in shower so I can bathe Bingo with the special oatmeal shampoo the vet gave me. It's supposed to greatly ease any itching.
She never minds - she doesn't begrudge that dog anything, ever - but it's still polite to ask in advance; after all, it IS her shower.
* Tonight I go out for pizza: mother's treat. It is to say thank you for giving her computer lessons.
* Am giving mother computer lessons. The lessons are absolutely essential for her to continue working as a Relief Teacher, particularly one who has been offered an eight week continuous contract of four out of the five school days a week.
We have had two sessions so far. To go into full details as to why this is such a big deal will take far too long, but suffice to say that computers do not like her, nor she them. And while mother is a wonderful and like-able person and an excellent teacher, as a student; she's Hell. Absolute Hell. Believe me.
Two weeks to go. One lesson per day. *closes eyes*
* Still no sign of Eli. Her Blog still seems to have vanished, too. I wonder what has happened? I do hope she is alright: it would be horrible if she - or someone close to her - weren't.
And on a more selfish note: *sob!* I have lost my (only) fan! Oh, what a world, what a world!
...I do hope she's alright.
* Although it is still very cold for the time of year, Spring is on its way. Which is good. But I wish that just once Spring would arrive having magically found a way to stop me being allergic to everything it helps to grow: not only does hayfever - stupid name, considering that very few people are actually allergic to hay itself (although I am!) and especially as hay isn't around until late summer. But 'allergies' sounds so... *shrugs* - make one miserable, but the medicines necessary for one to go outside at all (for two thirds of the year, in my case) are expensive. Spring IS pretty, though.
* Did I mention that tonight I am going out for pizza? Because I am. And I'm not paying.
- Must see if I can persuade mother to buy me a milkshake while I'm there. Pizza Hut provide brilliant milkshakes. Truly. Try one and you'll see.
* Ordered a pair of shorts and a pair of jeans. They should be arriving over the next week. Size 24; should fit. I'm between a 22 and a 24, I think, or at least I was last time I checked. Anyway, the plan is that this way I have some shorts and jeans to wear in the summer that fit me as I am, rather than as I would like to be, which is a size 20. Not ideal, I know, but realistic nonetheless. And if I get my rear into gear and stop pigging out and drop a size or two over the next few months I'll just spend £5 or so on a belt. Simple.
Anyway, I hope to God they fit me. I hate sending back stuff I've ordered online; it's such a hassle and I always panic that something will go wrong, so normally I don't. But this time it worked out a lot cheaper ordering from Evans online rather than paying the train fare to Merry Hill (that's the very closest we have now that the Evans that used to be open in Kidderminster has closed down). AND there was a discount for ordering over a certain amount. If it works, I've saved almost £20 that I would have otherwise paid by travelling to the store and not having the discount, and that's a lot. And even if I have to send it back, I won't lose any money as there was no delivery fee. But I hope I don't have to. I hope it just fits.
* Am still having odd dreams. The last one was terribly rude. I shan't say more than that (I daren't!)
* I've found that the new version of Microsoft Word (2012, I think. 2013's hasn't been released yet) has confounded me. The damn thing has things missing and what is there makes no sense. I nearly screamed while I was at the library today (which is very much frowned upon), trying to find "save as". A simple enough command, no? Well, not according to Microsoft Word 2012: they've abolished it. Or hidden it. Either way, I couldn't find it and I tried everything I could think of. Bloody thing. Give me the 2003 version any day. I love that one (as does my computer, Niles).
* My holiday to Scotland is 5 months away. That means that in under half a year I will be touring the coast of Scotland and staying in a nice hotel and seeing lovely views and I will be (apart from the other people on the tour) alone and won't have to worry about making anybody happy except me. Oh, and there will be a boat ride in a glass bottomed boat and I may see sea-lion(s).
Just wanted to say that.
* I must, must MUST stop buying books from second hand stores. At least until I've read all the ones I have already purchased. Common sense dictates this, and I know it to be true, I do.
BUT; I see a book in the windows and I just get drawn in, and before I know it I've brought it, along - if I've the money in my purse at the time - with several others. And to make it worse, I keep getting stuff out of the library as well, so that the mass of stuff I am buying gets put on the back burner while I read the borrowed stuff, which I only have for three or so weeks before the library wants it back. And while doing that, I walk past a second hand store, see a book in the window, get drawn in...
*shakes head ruefully*
It seems that as well as being addicted to ketchup and Pepsi Max, I also seem to have a craving for buying books. Do they have therapy groups for that? And, even if they did, would I actually want to go??
Anyway!
That's it for the riveting progression of my daily life for now. I have a few things to do before I start out. Which reminds me:
Did I mention that I am going out for pizza?? Because I am...
* Took the dog to the vets with a suspected recurrence of mange. Turns out he is fine, but may have allergies instead. Allergies! *sighs*
* Speaking of which, I must remember: I need to ask The Grandmama's permission to use her walk in shower so I can bathe Bingo with the special oatmeal shampoo the vet gave me. It's supposed to greatly ease any itching.
She never minds - she doesn't begrudge that dog anything, ever - but it's still polite to ask in advance; after all, it IS her shower.
* Tonight I go out for pizza: mother's treat. It is to say thank you for giving her computer lessons.
* Am giving mother computer lessons. The lessons are absolutely essential for her to continue working as a Relief Teacher, particularly one who has been offered an eight week continuous contract of four out of the five school days a week.
We have had two sessions so far. To go into full details as to why this is such a big deal will take far too long, but suffice to say that computers do not like her, nor she them. And while mother is a wonderful and like-able person and an excellent teacher, as a student; she's Hell. Absolute Hell. Believe me.
Two weeks to go. One lesson per day. *closes eyes*
* Still no sign of Eli. Her Blog still seems to have vanished, too. I wonder what has happened? I do hope she is alright: it would be horrible if she - or someone close to her - weren't.
And on a more selfish note: *sob!* I have lost my (only) fan! Oh, what a world, what a world!
...I do hope she's alright.
* Although it is still very cold for the time of year, Spring is on its way. Which is good. But I wish that just once Spring would arrive having magically found a way to stop me being allergic to everything it helps to grow: not only does hayfever - stupid name, considering that very few people are actually allergic to hay itself (although I am!) and especially as hay isn't around until late summer. But 'allergies' sounds so... *shrugs* - make one miserable, but the medicines necessary for one to go outside at all (for two thirds of the year, in my case) are expensive. Spring IS pretty, though.
* Did I mention that tonight I am going out for pizza? Because I am. And I'm not paying.
- Must see if I can persuade mother to buy me a milkshake while I'm there. Pizza Hut provide brilliant milkshakes. Truly. Try one and you'll see.
* Ordered a pair of shorts and a pair of jeans. They should be arriving over the next week. Size 24; should fit. I'm between a 22 and a 24, I think, or at least I was last time I checked. Anyway, the plan is that this way I have some shorts and jeans to wear in the summer that fit me as I am, rather than as I would like to be, which is a size 20. Not ideal, I know, but realistic nonetheless. And if I get my rear into gear and stop pigging out and drop a size or two over the next few months I'll just spend £5 or so on a belt. Simple.
Anyway, I hope to God they fit me. I hate sending back stuff I've ordered online; it's such a hassle and I always panic that something will go wrong, so normally I don't. But this time it worked out a lot cheaper ordering from Evans online rather than paying the train fare to Merry Hill (that's the very closest we have now that the Evans that used to be open in Kidderminster has closed down). AND there was a discount for ordering over a certain amount. If it works, I've saved almost £20 that I would have otherwise paid by travelling to the store and not having the discount, and that's a lot. And even if I have to send it back, I won't lose any money as there was no delivery fee. But I hope I don't have to. I hope it just fits.
* Am still having odd dreams. The last one was terribly rude. I shan't say more than that (I daren't!)
* I've found that the new version of Microsoft Word (2012, I think. 2013's hasn't been released yet) has confounded me. The damn thing has things missing and what is there makes no sense. I nearly screamed while I was at the library today (which is very much frowned upon), trying to find "save as". A simple enough command, no? Well, not according to Microsoft Word 2012: they've abolished it. Or hidden it. Either way, I couldn't find it and I tried everything I could think of. Bloody thing. Give me the 2003 version any day. I love that one (as does my computer, Niles).
* My holiday to Scotland is 5 months away. That means that in under half a year I will be touring the coast of Scotland and staying in a nice hotel and seeing lovely views and I will be (apart from the other people on the tour) alone and won't have to worry about making anybody happy except me. Oh, and there will be a boat ride in a glass bottomed boat and I may see sea-lion(s).
Just wanted to say that.
* I must, must MUST stop buying books from second hand stores. At least until I've read all the ones I have already purchased. Common sense dictates this, and I know it to be true, I do.
BUT; I see a book in the windows and I just get drawn in, and before I know it I've brought it, along - if I've the money in my purse at the time - with several others. And to make it worse, I keep getting stuff out of the library as well, so that the mass of stuff I am buying gets put on the back burner while I read the borrowed stuff, which I only have for three or so weeks before the library wants it back. And while doing that, I walk past a second hand store, see a book in the window, get drawn in...
*shakes head ruefully*
It seems that as well as being addicted to ketchup and Pepsi Max, I also seem to have a craving for buying books. Do they have therapy groups for that? And, even if they did, would I actually want to go??
Anyway!
That's it for the riveting progression of my daily life for now. I have a few things to do before I start out. Which reminds me:
Did I mention that I am going out for pizza?? Because I am...
Monday, 1 April 2013
Where is Eli??
Eli's Blog has vanished.
Why??
Where has she gone??
Eli; speak to me! You can't go! Come back! You haven't read my brilliantly witty post "Saga of Geoff The Guinea Pig" yet! You'll laugh like a drain (as the saying goes), believe me.
Plus; I like reading YOUR Blog, too. Oh, bring it back, do. Pretty please.
Alice xxx
Why??
Where has she gone??
Eli; speak to me! You can't go! Come back! You haven't read my brilliantly witty post "Saga of Geoff The Guinea Pig" yet! You'll laugh like a drain (as the saying goes), believe me.
Plus; I like reading YOUR Blog, too. Oh, bring it back, do. Pretty please.
Alice xxx
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