Wednesday, February 27, 2008

I hate being a jerk

My Husband has been on a get fit kick since before Christmas. He asked me to plan a workout for him and I did. I also bought him new running shoes, gym clothes that have dri-fit so he wouldn't get cold in sweat-soaked cotton. He's doing really well. Awesome well. He's running 5K now on the treadmill, pushing his weights. He does this five days a week. He's getting slimmer, and getting really tones. He's so proud of himself, it's awesome to see him excited about the gym.

I'm so damned jealous I could spit.

I'm an awful person! I'm also very supportive and want him to succeed. I also want some success. I want to have it come easy. He says it hurts, I know, I know it hurts. He says it's exhausting, hell I know that too. But damn him and his male metabolism with it's ultra-quick results. I just want to scream FUCK!

So while I choke on my green and eat my turkey breast and abstain from carbs of all kind, and the grumpy angriness begins to settle in - even though I'm not even having wild cravings like I did the last time, nope, not even - I'm still feeling annoyed. I know on one level it's the competitiveness I'm struggling with, and I want to beat him. Beat him at...what exactly? Getting fit?

I really am fucking nuts.

But I know I can do a better 5K time than he can. He'll not ever do a better time than me and if he does, I'm slipping quarters into the soles of his shoes. NO I'm Not...no. no. *sigh*

I'm so mad at myself, annoyed at him and, well...Damn Damn Damn!!!

He's getting really nice abs and hard arms though so there's a bonus to all of this.

natalie dee
nataliedee.com

Monday, February 25, 2008

Too many choices means nothing.

I'm free. Free from the confines of employment. It feel strange, I'm not used to it yet. Tonight is the first night I'm not having to rush my afternoon to get to work for 6pm. I still feel the same "Gotta do this, gotta get that, don't forget the thing and..." really I should take a deep breath and chill. It's ok. I have the time.

The chilling out and not worrying about time; well it worries me. I don't want to become idle. So I won't. Plans they be a'forming. Had a flash of an idea to be an exporter for my father-in-laws movie business to Japan when we emigrate. I have absolutely no clue how I'd do it, how it'll be received, but for now it's an idea. My FIL created his own movie company, of sorts, where he buys old movies out of copyright and resells them under his own label. He has a few westerns because he loves them, but the bulk of his success has come from historical Scotland movies. He has one about the old steam train routes, about the building of the Forth Road Bridge and another about how the bridges were defended during WWII. I haven't watched any of them, (which you can never tell him!), but historical societies and tourist shops buy a lot of his productions. You can view the catalogue yourself at Panamint Cinema. I'm not sure how the Japanese would take 40's British interpretations of WWII, but they may like some of the other things. If FIL could come up with a whisky making movie, that may go well as Japan has an affiliation with Scotland over whisky production; where Masataka Taketsuru came over and learned all the skills to making a malt whisky and took it back to Japan where they still produce to the Scottish way. Anyways, it'll give me a puzzle to ponder for the next year and then if it all looks good to work out, a job when I'm in Japan.

So, over the weekend we got the complete series of Black Books for the amazing price of £12. If you've never seen Black Books, you're missing out; it's hilarious. Dylan Moran, Bill Bailey and Tamsin Greig. You can catch some of the episodes on YouTube, which is where I first saw it because I'd never heard of it before until Mark Farley posted a clip of Bernard having a drunken tantrum over not being picked up by a publisher. the series is damn brilliant and I wish they'd make a new one, but both Moran and Bailey have busy careers outside of the show.

I read a story over the weekend about a 40stone man (that's 254kgs, 560lbs) who lives not far from here who...he...well...it's just awful. Calling out the fire brigade because "I've fallen and I can't get up". What makes me sick and angry is the man's attitude, "what's the fuss about? Sometimes I slide to the floor in my living room, and it's hard to get back up." A more detailed article from the paper explained it takes ten firefighters and two trucks called out (two trucks are a standard call out procedure) to move this man two feet. Each call out costs taxpayers £400. The man can't work, lives in a council home and has carers. He is the epitome of sloth and gluttony. His carers feed him. His Carers Feed Him. Does that sound like enabling? Does it sound like the council is perpetuating this situation? Why not get him a nutritionist and a personal trainer? I think someone has to take that man by his turkey neck (if you can find it) give him a shake and get him to wake up! "I can't help being the way I am." He says. Uhm, stop eating gross amounts of food, that would be a start. I feel saddened and frustrated by the whole debacle. The guy had to think when he was 20 stone "Gee, I'm getting a bit fat. I should do something" or at 25, 30, 35...but nope. He sees himself blameless. A victim, perhaps? And yet we; the taxpayers, firefighters, and carers have to wipe his lazy ass and nose for him. And yet, I hate coming across as fattist. No, I don't hate fat people. I hate people who can't be bothered to take control of themselves and feel no responsibility for the consequences of their actions. That goes for drug addicts, alcoholics, repeat offenders and people who tailgate aggressively (Is there a tender way to tailgate?). Grow up.

You may find my posts over the next few weeks a bit strange. I've started Atkins again and I remember the first two weeks made me rather grumpy. Stay with me, I'll get through this. In fact it may not be as bad as the last time because I'm not as carb addicted as I was before. The coffee withdrawal headache is not nice. Not wicked, but annoying, and shows me I was definitely having way too much. I was showing too many slip-back behaviours into anxiety: Out of control coffee consumption, lack of sleep, inability to finish one task before moving onto another, nail biting, stuttering, daydreams about death and disaster, cigarette cravings (which I did not give in to ) and cakes, sweets and pastry cravings which I did give into and which led me to gain 70lbs from 2003-2004 - so I'm putting a stop to it now. The only downside is the thought of living on such fatty foods, as it's kind of icky. And I can't eat cheese, cream or butter. It'll be FINE. I'm using a hypnosis program as well. *shrug* if anything it helps me fall asleep.

I will be able to do more with my wee video camera. So maybe some beach walks, and I definitely want to do a wee tour of Edinburgh and show some of my favourite places. Try and overcome my shyness - I have some! A bit of shyness. I'll need to let that go. Repression causes disorder.

I haven't read A Thing since book four of Deathnote. I've ordered the rest of the series and a couple other books too but Amazon is sitting there with its thumb up its ass and not sending my books. I don't know why as they're all in stock. They're annoying me. I want my books grumble grumble.

I need new pajamas. I like satin pajamas because I hate it when my clothes bunch up under me and make wrinkles because they're sore. So satin ones are nice and slippy, I can roll about and not have the blankets or sheets tangle up around me. the downside is most satin pajama sets have a button down tops, and if you've ever owned a satin button down pajama top then you'll know that whenever you roll over, the button undo. I would wake up most mornings topless. I did try and sew the buttons in, but then it tears. Really the tops should be a t-shirt shape. I've never found satin t-shirt pajama tops. Yet another reason why I need to learn how to sew.

So, I'm needing hugs. Anyone have a hug for me?


***Just re-read this, and notice I said I gained 70lbs from 2003-2004 and well yes I did, because I was pregnant(And eating a lot. Babies make me hungry) I didn't make that connection yesterday during my rant. Still.

Thursday, February 21, 2008

Who is this woman?

I'm having an identity crisis. I think it's been going on since I was a teenager and heard the phrase "Find Oneself" and thought that it was something everyone has to do before being considered an adult. Finding one's passion, striving force, glory and calm and whatever the hell else the vagueness of finding oneself encompasses. I think to this day, I still have no clue who I am. Somedays that makes me feel all right, like I still have tons to discover and that I'm an evolving being, not static. Other times, I feel like I'm stuck in the mud, spinning my wheel and aren't ever going to find the way forward. I kind of feel like that this week. Stuck, spinning and lost. Temporarily.

I know it's temporary. Eventually something shiny will come along and distract me. I lack that ability to remain focussed on one thing for too long. Unfortunately that attention span has been diminished to minutes lately. I have a house full of half finished chores, I get half dressed (pajama top and jeans) and haven't been doing my homework. I keep forgetting to finish the cup of tea I'm drinking and go make another one. Cold tea is depressing. I've given the gym a miss this week, as I'm getting a cold and my head is throbbing. Running with a throbbing headache; doing anything with a throbbing headache, is misery.

I'm also amped up on the anxiety scale. Constant worries over disaster, this week mainly mudslides, although this part of Scotland has never had a mudslide. The ground is soft and muddy, and I keep thinking about the hill giving way. Or the bridge collapsing. Train wreck. House fire; that's a pretty common scenario run through, so much so that I was doing fire drills with the kids yesterday. I also double checked our home insurance was up to date with correct information. Anyone I pass in the woods gets the over-the-shoulder stare so I know I'm not getting followed, and I scour the woods for anyone hiding in wait. I walk with an uncapped pen in my pocket, and my keys in my hand. I'm extremely jumpy and loud noises send me into the stratosphere. Volumes must be low, and I'm always being picked on my for my selective deafness, but lately, everyone keeps turning up the volume and it hurts. Is it any wonder after a day like that, I'm sleeping like the dead and unable to finish a task to completion?

Poor Husband must be anxious too. I woke up to hearing him scrape his coins off his bedside table into his pocket (I hate it, every morning, too loud, drives me NUTS) and I said "Why are you leaving so early?" he said the alarm went off and he was going to work. I thought - no way, I never sleep through an alarm - looked at the clock and it said 5:55. The alarm goes off at 6:30. "It's not even six yet." he was stunned, swears he heard the alarm. He heard something, but I don't know what. "No wonder I'm so tired this morning. I may as well go in since I'm up." so he'll be home early at least.

I'm going to have to be "The Girl Of 100 Lists" in order to get through this.

I really dislike spam mail. It's annoying me.

Last Thursday night shift!!

Did I mention I've stopped drinking caffeine, I hate it. I mean I hate not drinking it because I love caffeine.

Did I also mention I've just finished my first cycle with the mooncup? Well I did and it's not too bad. I did struggle with finding the best way to get it in place but I've got that sussed now. The only drawback is the need for scrubbing with a nailbrush after using it. My poor cuticles are raw.

Thinking of going back on Atkins. Carbs (that's the bad sugar laden, processed whiteness ones) are a depression trigger for me and I've been craving cookies and fruit cake lately. Time for a carb purge and get some dietary perspective back.

I know that Pink by Victoria's Secret are popular, but why are Goldigga and Playboy?? They scream cheap. They scream tart. They scream cheap tart. I would never wear something with "Goldigga" blazoned across the front. Apart from the obvious - I'm the least vampish looking person going, but that aside, what is the apparel appeal?

Song of inspiration for today is Echobelly Great things

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

Moonlight Shopping...

One of the benefits I liked about working the late shift in a grocery store is that all the discounted goodies we staff we got first refusal for. It didn't happen all the time, but often something good came along like a bouquet of roses or pack of organic chicken breasts for pence. Last night I got a four pound shoulder of lamb for fifty pence. I thought, who could refuse a slab of meat fit to feed the whole family for fifty pence. Only thing is; I rarely cook lamb. Those cute, fluffy, frolicking animals shouldn't be on a plate. So maybe once a year, if something like this comes my way, I'll make it. Plus: lamb is So Fatty! But, whole shoulder for fifty pence? The frugality that plagues me won over.

I also have no clue how to prepare a shoulder a lamb. I asked others (as there were about seven joints going) and some said they were making lamb stew, or scotch broth or slow cooking in foil. Onward to the internet I forage for insight. there's a lot of recipes and most recommend a slow cook for gentle, forking after cooking. four to five hours in a low oven at least. One recipe I looked at suggested cooking over night. So no light undertaking this shoulder of lamb. In the end I decided that simple is best and am following this recipe I found on Somerset Farms Direct and the recipe is by Coralie Dorman.

roasted lamb shoulder



New seasons lamb shoulder
2 tsp ground ginger
2 tbsp soy sauce
1 tbsp Dijon mustard
2 crushed garlic cloves
2-3 tbsp olive oil

1. Take one new seasons lamb shoulder and put it on a rack in a roasting tin.
2. Mix together the ginger, soy sauce mustard, garlic and oil.
3. Smear this paste over the lamb and roast at about 300ºF/150ºC/gas mark 2 for about 4-5 hours.

By this time you can forget about carving and just fork the meat off.



I admit I snickered at "fork the meat off" because it sounded dirty. This is in the oven just now and I'll have to search about for some accompaniments. I think something potato and then...I don't know. I have Brussels sprouts, but YUK! I only bought them because the kids asked for them Yes you read that right, my kids like Brussels sprouts. This always makes me think swapping in the hospital must have occurred. With aliens.

Ok. I was thinking this through and with lamb I think Moroccan cuisine. So I have eggplants and will roast them until pulpy then I'll make some basmati rice with turmeric, cinnamon and cumin. Add some almonds and raisins, then mash the whole lot together. Forked lamb and eggplant pilaf kind of thing. It'll work, I'm sure of it.

Monday, February 18, 2008

Almost done...

I went into work on Friday...wait, back up. I was talking to Husband Friday night before work and told him I anted to quit. I told him how miserable I was, how awful it's become and that I've had enough. He said it was my choice and that he'd be happy to not have me working until midnight anymore. So that was wonderful and I went to work feeling buoyed and a bit better for letting my feeling out a bit. I'm something of a hold it in type. So when I got to work I asked my Team Leader (They never lead teams though, they just do all the jobs a manager would do minus the actual motivation, organization and monitoring of staff teams like you'd expect.) how much notice I needed to give. She said one week. I then knew I better get my letter in that night, or have to come back in an extra night. So when I went on my break I bought a cheap notebook and packet of envelopes (I did go and try and get a piece of paper from the manger's office but their paper is made with holes for three ring binders and I thought it would be obvious I used their own paper to write my notice on; which I thought would be a bit cheeky.) prepared to write out a short letter.

I got up to the break-room to find the manager, team leader, and a couple of the boys there. As I only get a fifteen minute break, I just pulled out my materials, and wrote a short note, put it into the envelope and passed it to my manager. She read it right there and said "I'll come down and talk to you later."

A couple hours later she stops me out on the shop floor, in the middle of the main walkway where everyone was working and asks me why I want to leave. I was dumbstruck for about two seconds before I thought; you want it, you got it. And I listed my reasons in a calm rational voice: I hate the way the warehouse has been reorganized as it makes my job twice as hard, the shop is constantly covered in stock cages which customers hate, there's no proper staff training to ensure that procedures are followed, there's no follow-up on mistakes (of which with a group of part-time college students as staff there are tons because they just want paid and give a crap about anything but a bit of socializing and) and no re-train for consistent errors, that for the 13 months I'd been there I'd never had a performance review but the boys who's been there six months have, I never get feedback on my work, I hate being told I have to have everything done no excuses and then I'm given an incompetent staff member to help me who then gets taken to other jobs that other departments are required to staff; so ultimately get the job done and we'll give you flaccid support. I then said that I'm the kind of person that who knows a job has to be done and I'm fine with doing it and I hate that others don't feel that way nor are encouraged to work that way and that the managers look at those who don't put the effort in as "Their just kids". Sorry, but they get paid the same as me so where's my motivation to do a good job? They put the bulk of the responsibility on the few of us who are used to being responsible, and they would all be 30-50 something mothers. And we're all fed up, but none of them want to complain to the bosses; not because anything bad will happen, but because nothing will happen. So Why Bother?

So I'm rattling off this list, and her eyes grow wider - I'm certain she expected me to say something every other wife who quits says; because of my husband's work/kids' schedules/ family obligations. So She rather regretted her decision to ask me why, where everyone would be able to hear me. She then says to me "I'm interested in hearing more of this and discussing it further so we can look at making improvements. Other staff aren't able to leave when things get tough so it would be a benefit to them." which was a fine enough dig as I've always said I worked because I want to, not because I have to. Then she says "I'm on holiday next week, so I'll have to talk with you another time." "I'm finishing next week. There won't be another time." "But you'll still shop here, right?" <- Can you believe that?! I'm to come in on my time and explain to them why they suck? Business consultants get a fine fee for that kind of service and she wants it from me for free? And I thought I was cheeky!

So this is my last week. I tried doing the barest minimum of Friday but it's impossible for me to be lazy - which is weird as I'm perfectly happy to be lazy in my own home and leave dishes another day or forget to vacuum.

Friday is my last day, and just bring it on. Of course, I am thinking about what I'm going to do next. No good being complacent.

I've spent the weekend reading the first four books of the Death Note manga series. I bought those four for Husband's birthday, and there's twelve in the series. So he's asked me to get him the rest of the books and to not get Metroid Prime 3, which is what he'd asked for originally but is sold out and I've been on back order since Jan 15th. Fine with me, costs the same. they should be here any time this week.

Death Note is about the smartest boy in school, Light, who finds a notebook in the schoolyard one day. It's called the Death Note and has a detailed list of instructions on how to use it to kill people. All you do is write the person's name, time and way they die into the book and it'll come true. Now that Light has the book, it's his. The Death God who dropped it gets to watch and offer tips on it's used...if he feels like it. Death God and Teen Genius, the new dynamic duo. But not.

Light decides that this is a brilliant opportunity to rid the world of evil and violent criminals, so he embarks on a search for the worst offenders in the world, writes their name in the book and begin creating Utopia. The world's police soon realizes that its criminals are dying are dying with suspicious regularity and all with heart attacks. The death toll begins to soar and no one knows how these people are being killed, but it's obvious there's a "Kira" (which is killer in engrish). It's time to call in "L". "L" is a super secret, highly intelligent crime fighter who is unknown to any of the police as he keeps himself under strict anonymity. "L" wants to take on this case with full cooperation from all of the leaders of he different countries' police forces and FBI, NPA, MI5 and Interpol type organizations. They all agree, and "L" is out to catch Kira.

The cat and mouse game gets brilliant with Light and "L" meeting, working together and dodging suspicions. Then Kira does something neither Light of "L" expects; they send taped announcements to a TV station and begins to demand the police allow Kira to carry on with this cleansing of society. It's a surprise to Light, as he didn't send the tapes. There's another Kira, and it turns out this Kira also has a Death Note. She reminds me of Harley Quinn, she really does. And she wants to be Light's new girlfriend. Light was kind enough to kill the man who murdered her parents, so she's devoted. But with a Death Note (and Death God) of her own, how far can he trust her? If he pushes her too far will she write his name in the book?

I'm really enjoying this, and I've never been into comic books before. The thing I like is there's no authorial bend towards who is right or wrong. We aren't lead to believe Light is evil and "L" is good or the either way. They both do things that put innocent people into harm's way, they both have analytical minds that accept losses, they both want to do the right thing as they perceive what's right. Light is a bit of a jerk, and "L" is a bit weird but kind of endearing. Funny how they are both the same age and go to the same university. Yeah; "L" is a genius teen too.

There's also an animated series and they made it into a movie.

Friday, February 15, 2008

I is a poseur

but you knew that already...

Total Poseur
Total Poseur
Total Poseur
Total Poseur

I don't like my glasses. Or my Hair. My lipstick is okay, though.
I hate my job. Hate it. Spent most of last night on the edge of tears from being so angry because the other folks I work with, not all but quite a few, don't give a shit and end up making more work for me. I, of course, could also not give a shit and pass the load on somewhere else, but I'm not wired that way. I know the job, what needs to be done and I do it. Not everyone feels that way and I feel dumb complaining because it's not even an important job. It's not an essential job. I took the job for a little extra cash, get out of the house, free up the Mummy mind and get some grown up conversation time. But it's become such a frigging chore I'm not bothered and I'm going to quit. I've said this to myself for a few weeks but last night I thought; what the hell am I doing here?? This place Suuuucks! And it really does. There's no life in people here. They're ghosts. So negative, apathetic and defeated. There's no pride in doing a good job - even if they feel the job is beneath them which I don't believe any job is beneath anyone. Most of my closest freinds; foreigners. It's getting to me. It really is. I'm feeling isolated because I cannot deal with the blackhole of "I can't, I'm not into, I'm not bothered, why bother, who cares, it's fine, it's ok..." kind of folks here. and now Look! LOOK... I'm being all negative and crap! See!! In-fucking-fectious. Although my house is a lot tidier becaue I'm so stressed out - chest pains and everything - that I can't stop scrubbing the house. I'm in dust attack mode. And craving sugar. And... stuff. All bad stuff. Like cigarettes and speed. Such a bad thing to do, treat stress with poison. And yet it's what we do as human beings; amplify our distress. OK rant over. I'll need to go back in tonight but I'm handing in my resignation on Monday. Still need to discuss with Husband about when I should actually set as a quit day. I'd have walked out last night, was in the mood for it. I'd rather plan a big Fuck Off complete with bridge burning and everything but that's not me, no matter how much I'll fantasize the point.

Just now I'll scream, dance and cook. tonight is mystery meat stew. I bought a pack of mixed game which included unknown quantities of pheasant, grouse and venison. Stewing with brown rice, peppers, onions and dark spices. I'm sure I chucked in other stuff too. That's me and cooking, just throw it in.

ramble ramble.

Thursday, February 14, 2008

Pinched

Roxy stole this MeMe so I thought it only right I should pinch it too as this is a day for pinching, heehee honhon!

How long have you been together? 13 years, dun dun duuuuun!
How long did you date? Well, there's wasn't a lot of actual dating as extended vacations in each other's country.
How old is he? 35.
Who eats more? I do, but I eat healthier too. Until recently most of his cuisine came in a plastic wrapper.
Who said ‘I love you’ first? I don't remember, but I think it was me.
Who is taller? He is by an inch.
Who is smarter? We're both smart in very different areas. It's something we complement on each other a lot where one thinks of something the other didn't.
Who does the laundry? I do. I trust no one with the chemicals.
Who does the dishes? I do, and I hate it. But it is my job.
Who sleeps on the right side of the bed? I did until four years ago and the call of night time feeding caused me to stub my toes on the bed too many times. The left side is closer to the door.
Who pays the bills? He pays most of them, but we split the bills.
Who mows the lawn? I do, but only because he hates it when the mower hits a pile of cat shit and splats it everywhere. As a mother, shit isn't much of an issue to me. He turns green and whines. Made worse as we don't have any pets.
Who cooks dinner? I do. It's easy and gives me solitude in the kitchen.
Who is more stubborn? Again, that would be me.
Who kissed who first? I'm sure it was me, I'm far more assertive in that area.
Who asked who out? There was no dating, he came to America for a six week vacation but stayed with me (and my parents) the whole time. He fell in love with all of us.
Who proposed? I think the conversation went along the lines of we could save a lot of money by getting married so we could date without the international airfare.
Who is more sensitive? I think he is. I'm sure he'd point the finger at me.
Who has more friends? He does, but he was born here.
Who has more siblings? We are both one of three. He's the oldest, I'm the youngest. This has recently cause friction because we have very different views on how to deal with the kids when they argue. As an eldest, he thinks the youngest picks the fight, as the youngest I think the older child is the instigator...and should know better. We're both fighting on behalf our inner child who was mistreated or misunderstood by our siblings and parents. The kids often solve their problems before we get around to helping them out.

Now, I want to add some questions to this one...

Who makes the financial decisions? On big things, like our mortgage, we decide together, but I tend to organise. I'll do leg work, compare prices and rates and all he does is sign his name. That's trust.
Do you have a joint bank account? No. We keep separate accounts. He can spend his money on what he wants, I spend my money on what I want and we talk to each other about big purchases where our money needs put together. Most couples don't do this, but it works for us. We always discuss purchases that are for the family, home or over £100.
Who does the shopping? I do. Mostly. He did buy his own jeans recently which was great!
Are you equals? Not perfectly, but we strive for equality. I have a hang up about not being in a full time career, and he reminds me that keeping the home and raising our kids is a full time job. Isn't he great!
What is your ideal night together? Movie, dinner and hours free to walk around the city, take in the sights and relax. That freedom to be together without worry about the kids is all we want. If we have that, everything else will fall into place.

NOW!

Maja sent me a jokemail that left me a big question...

taken from joke email
Taken from joke e-mail

My question is: What's up with her trousers? Where did she get trousers that come away at the top, but leave a full pant leg? I know this shouldn't have bothered me, but it was the first thing (after the whole "Holy shit - seks on a bridge top?!") I noticed. Any photoshop experts out there able to decipher this?

Have I told you all lately that I Love You? Well, I do. And not just because it's Valentines Day, but everyday. I'm so happy I started a blog and met you all. I hope you have a fabulous day.

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Flying Rainbow

xacti

Russia Loves Me

Apparently attractive twenty-something women find me zee Hotness. Well, they also think I'm a man. This is my second direct from Russia "I would like to meet you" e-mail - and it includes a photo!


Hello!!!

My name is Galeeva Julia.

I to look a structure at a site. You to interest me as the man. To me to want it is more to know about you. Now it is very difficult to find the person whom to begin the present friend. Not speaking about the man to go a life together. And consequently I have decided to write to you the letter. It is a little to write about itself.

To me of 29 years, single. As To love sports, I do not smoke. My friends speak about me that I very interesting person and they very much like to communicate with me. To not know what to write about itself. If to you to become interesting, you to write to me the letter. I to answer you it is more about myself. Please write me to: xitowek@ramblerspamspam.ru, there I can show more photo from mine a life and tell about myself.

I shall wait very much your answer.

Bye bye.

Galeeva Julia - Russian Spammer

Two in two weeks, From Russia With Love, indeed.



Aaaaaaaaaand delete.

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

Spring is coming!

I have these in my front garden/strip of dead plants and dirt and rocks (salt water kills everything, no point replanting until April) and aren't they cute! It's a gorgeous day today, started off cold and foggy but yowza - sweet just now.

Crocuses
Spring crocus

The other bits of green are the grape hyacinths and narcissus which will be out in about three weeks. I have pictures from every year I've lived here of the narcissus with snow on top of them; so I know winter isn't over just yet. I'm just gloating over today. Flowers, sunshine and soft breezes make me happy.

more at my flickr page

Monday, February 11, 2008

Random Bollocks Sandwiched Around An SBD

I hate feeling blue. It's been a blue weekend. Actually, it's been a blue week and for no reason. Nothing's happened to set it off and to be honest it came a surprise to me. One day I was feeling fine and then the next thing I know I'm teary and mean to myself. Every rude thing the kids say because kids are rude, to each other and their mothers, we all know this, regardless of how great they are. I've always had this mean voice in my head and I went through some counseling to learn how to challenge it and fight with it. The internal dialogues get lengthy sometimes between the "You Can't. You Won't. Never will." and my replies of "Sure I can, I will If I Want To, Never Means As Nothing As Always." The mean voice lives in extremes. It's favourite words are never and always. You're never going to be a success, You always quit, You're never going to pretty enough, smart enough blah blah blah - it gets rather tiring.

Work is awful and I've finally had enough. I have a few more payments before my credit card is cleared and then I'm quitting. It's just unbearable. I used to really like the job, but the new manager has turned everyone into a miserable pile of boot-faced murk and I'm not hanging around the bad mojo anymore. Life's too short to endure someone else's bad mojo. I never planned on a career in this place, so the shop politics, and no matter how small or easy the job, there's always politics if more than one person works there, are tedious. I'm an empathetic type, and I can feel the tension every time I start my shift and I hate it. so I'm leaving. That on top of the blues - and I'm certain the two have a symbiotic relationship now - makes me feel like ass.

I can't even run just now. I stepped off the curb funny one day (Looking behind me to check for traffic, never saw the uneven pothole, and practicing my dirty puppet show didn't help either,) and It's been sore ever since. So I'm speed walking instead. It hurts even more, but in a different way - speedwalking/race walking uses a lot more muscles than running does. After just a week of it, fast waddling down the road with my 10kg backpack on my calves are sore, my feet are sore and my ankles are sore - but it's muscle pain, not tendon or strain pain. I'm a bit keen on this because I've always had Popeye calves, weak ankles and feet. I'm also quite proud that I can manage a 5-5.5mph pace (Ok, 5.5 for about 10 seconds, but it counts). I also get the same post-running hot face and weird spontaneous heat flashes throughout the day. Or could it be premenopause? I doubt it, but you know what that voice is like "You're getting old before your time, menopause now, middle age spread, crow's feet and then just watch everything dissolve into sagging, lumpy, crepey plumpness." Really, the voice is horrid. Anyways, racewalking: looks dumb, but fucking rocks. And yes, I always think about that episode of Malcolm In the Middle...

As an escape from the voice and to wash away the memory of work, I read both of my Crusie books. I liked them both. First one was The Fred Book, AKA Anyone But You second was What The Lady Wants. Of the two I preferred the second one. The Fred Book was ok and was about...damn I forgot her name, that can't be good. Anyways, she's a divorced, happy alone although lonely woman who recently adopts Fred the Basset/Beagle, and Alex the ER intern who loves his work but gets pressure from all sides of his family to pick a specialty. It's set up that they are a perfect match from the beginning and we get to see them try and figure this out and overcome their own perceived obstacles; hers being that she's too old for him, He thinking he's too common and lowbrow. He tries to prove to her that he can provide her with the life her Ex did, even though she left that guy because he was a highbrow dullard. This is where I found the book let me down - why would anyone think that the way to make a woman happy was to act and become exactly the man she just left? It's nonsense. Her insecurity and fear of letting him see her 40 year old breasts out of the push-up bra rang a lot more true, but Alex's was just dumb. Granted the whole "They refused to listen to each other and thought they each knew best" was fine and I liked both characters and I liked Fred and everything else was fine, but Alex's dip into alcoholism and madness all to prove himself good enough felt off and unnatural to me. What kept me reading were the excellent dialogues. So, an ok book but I'm glad I saved the better book for seconds.

What The Lady Wants was great. It had a Sam spade loving P.I, a mob boss, a psycho cousin, a Niles Crane-like best friend (Although would Niles read Hammett?), a Marilyn Monroe-like Step Mom and a few more very interesting creations. I liked the characters, I liked the plot. It kept me guessing all along. What was Mae up to? What was June up to (Was June supposed to be the confidante? Was that part cut because I thought she'd have a bigger part than she ended up with.)? What was Mitch up to? Why do they all have secret lives? How are these three uncles actually related - I couldn't figure that out. At first I thought they were brothers, but I'm now thinking no way. I was enjoying the book so much though, I turned off the question programme in my head; shut up and read, you can have your say if any loose ends remain: and there weren't. Again in this book I felt the heroine was less developed than the male - but then I argue that point too. I'm a bit messed up about it all - it's an action packed story and I felt attracted to Mitch so didn't really care much about Mae because I knew the HEA would be there so I didn't have to pay as close attention to her and focus on Mitch for the afternoon. This story had a lot more plot with the romance worked in which was more entertaining than The Fred Book which was more romance than plot.

Crusie knows how to make excellent Heroes and I can name most of them that I've read about - but the women? forget it. I can usually give you their description and a few tid bits about them, but on the whole they play the bit part in my romance reading. that doesn't just apply to Crusie though, that's pretty much across the board. (I wonder where "Across the board" came from, I'm frustrated with overused cliches* that don't apply to the statement they're used with. I was reading a review of something, sneakers I think and the guy said "It does what it says on the tin" and it irked me because there's no tin, there's not even instructions - they're sneakers. You put them on and run with them; but this is an aside. Even worse, "It Does Exactly What It Says On The Tin" isn't even a cliche - it's a fucking commercial tagline for Ronseal wood treatment that's been turned into a cliche. Is this where cliches come from? It kind of goes with folks who use movie quotes and have no clue about the movie, like when Simone at work called his Ex a "Bunny-boiler" and I asked him where bunny-boiler came from and he had no clue. I now wonder how many phrases like that I use and have no idea of their origins, and thus begins a search to prevent such ignorance and delve into Clavinism. Have mercy on me. Now, where was I...)

Of heroines I can remember I've usually read their story in a series. like Claire (Clare?) in the Gabaldon books and Sabine in Griffin and Sabine, although having her name in the title of the series helps too, and Lizzie of P&P but I've watched the series and read the book a dozen times so that was bound to sink in. I'm beginning to think, I'm not being a good reader if I don't pay closer attention to all the characters. Tell me, am I alone in this? Am I the only one who goes blank on heroines??

Wow, that was quite a ramble.

*I can't figure out how to get the accent over the e and it bugs me. (Stop sweating the small stuff!!)

Tuesday, February 05, 2008

Pancake Day!

This was dinner. We are acceptably fat.



Recipe:

2 cups of self rising flour
1 tbsp of caster sugar
1 tsp cream of tartar
1/2 tsp of salt
2 tbsp of vanilla extract
add 1.5 cups of soya milk and then add 1/4 cups until batter reaches a slightly thick but pourable, non-lumpy consistency.

That's the basic batter, to which I added lemon and raisins to some, stem ginger and ginger syrup, blueberries and then a savoury batch (minus sugar in the mix) with pepper, cheddar and green onion. Savoury were awesome.

Oh Look!

I was just asking for a new book with heavy sigh and lack of motivation to go find one. Such a minefield, and I'm picky. Well, while I was cleaning out my side of the bed - which is a a two foot square bit of carpet space in front of my bedside table that I heap all of my messiess - I found something. Once the pile of shoes, clothes, bags, boxes, needs-to-be-filed mail and clothes (yes, again. A sign that I own way too many cardigans) reaches the height of the bedside table, I must muck in and clear it all. Upon the clearing ceremony, where I found my belt, an assortment of lost socks - all matching the ones in the lost sock bag, was saddened that I squashed my straw garden hat and a receipt for shoes bought in 2003 (don't know where that came from!) I found two Jennifer Crusie books I bought last year when I was having a "What should I read, Hmmm?" mood and decided to read Crusie because Doug kept reviewing her books. So I found Anyone But You and What The Lady Wants. I also have two PDF books to read that I bought a few weeks ago, and the Death Note mangas are freeing up. Husband is getting panicky about finishing his fourth book, as I only bought four. I told him he can bump (stump? I forget but both sound wrong) for the rest of the series if he likes it so much. Is that mean?

Writing this while the kids watch their morning Scooby Doo episode (one show in the morning only if all morning preparations are completed) and there's an advert for Bratz magazine. I despise Bratz. I hate watching and hearing the adverts. I hate the fact they have a cartoon, movie and now a fucking magazine. Have you seen the advert for the magazine? Where a bunch of twelve year olds dress up, wear make-up and re-enact scenes from The Devil Wears Prada? I couldn't even find it to share but it's awful. I cannot understand how women and men (Mothers! Fathers!) can think these are appropriate toys for wee girls. Stilettos? Halter tops? Skirts so short their underpants show? And is anyone else creeped out by the removable feet? It's objectification in the extreme. It makes me think of those fetish feet. And it's not just about changing shoes, either.

This disgust over women/girls being portrayed as hyper sexual objects in order to make profit started when a great friend (who I wish I still was in contact with) introduced me to Ms. magazine and we used to skip right to the end where they had a feature about advertising from around the world. I also saw Jean Kilbourne's film Killing Us Softly (clip is of Killing Us softly 3), which changed my perceptions forever and made me an advertising sleuth who questions everything. So now, as a mother watching how advertisers target my kids I'm extremely sensitive to the dangerous messages they receive. I'm lucky that Sassy-face seems very tuned-out to it all and thinks it's stupid (Vive Les Tom-Boys), but Shorty is the girliest of girlie-girls and I worry she's being very influenced by Bratz, Barbie and whatever else they throw at her. She is puppies, kittens, barettes and sparklie shoes. So, I guess this was a long winded way of saying: I Fucking Hate Bratz Dolls and I don't want to watch their advertising, cartoons, movies or play with their footless freak slapper dolls, and nor do I want my kids exposed to them. Jean Kilborne doesn't like them either.

I don't exactly see how I segued from Jenny Crusie to Bratz dolls but there you go. I wonder what Jenny Crusie thinks about Bratz dolls? Maybe I should ask her?

Sunday, February 03, 2008

I want to move.

I'm ready to leave this town, city, country and head off to pastures new. I only have to get the passports sorted and we can be mobile very quickly. Our house would sell in short time as it's a desirable area and money is stable and I'm just damned well ready to head out.

The only counter to this is that Husband just bought a new car. We took it out on a two year lease (at my insistence) - the shortest lease term available - and Husband loves it. He looooooves it. So I think as we're not likely to take the car with us to Japan, he's going to want to spread his love over the mechanical beast for as long as possible. He bought an Alpha Romeo 156 2.0 sport turbo diesel(2005). He's had breakfast, got dressed and went or a drive. Alone. To play with his new car. And I made him blueberry pancakes, the selfish twat. Anyway, while he's away with his new mistress...

I'll be running later. I have two miles to clock in today. I wonder how long this drive will take. Anyways, running. Will be doing farklets today so I'm road running, as it's a pain to readjust the speed on a treadmill and I just end up nearly falling on my face in a graceless heap. I do one minute full speed, two minute coll down, one minute full until I feel like I'm going to puke. I've never puked. Will I look ridiculous? Probably, to anyone lame enough to think some lady jogging full pelt down the road is ridiculous, and if they do they're just jealous lame-ass losers anyways, so nyah. This will be a cardio heavy, weights light week. Weights will be purely for maintaining tone and will only do two sets of ten. I want to get to three miles running, by saturday, in thirty five minutes.

The hardest part is ignoring the voice in my head that begs me to stop. It whines even when my body isn't tired and just trotting along happy. It's annoying. It tells me I can't, even though I clearly can. By the time my body really does begin to get tired, the voice is relentless. This is the point where I can quit and slow to a walk, or speed up and pound the hell out of the voice until it's left a whimpering, abused mess. I opt for mess more often than quit. I hate a smug negative voice. Now, sometimes it's being honest, but it has cried wolf so much I've learned to ignore it. So when it told me on Monday that the running and reverse crunches were too much, I ignored it. Then I suffered with such a tender abdomen that I could feel waste moving through my colon. That's really freaky. Menstrual cramps set off IBS-like cramps and I walked uncomfortably clenched for a couple days. (I know, TMI, but TMI is truth and people love the truth. Regardless of the fact The Enquirer has such a huge distribution)

I miss soap operas.

I need a book. I got a book that's part of a three book series, by Kelley Armstrong, by chapter three I was left feeling, I've either missed a lot of shit or she should've started this series sooner, but I ended up grabbing the third book and not the first one. So, back to the library I go....OK so I go to Amazon and look to see what the first book is and This Is The First Book! So really, she's started this series with a ton of back story. Why not make it a longer series? I dunno. Now feeling blah. I've had two weeks' vacation and not read a single book. I guess I prefer to stress read, when there's more demand on my time. Give me tons of free time and I become an uninspired blob. This book must be returned tomorrow as someone else is waiting for it. So, just gnr.

I'm waking up to the signs of Spring with a perkiness. Biological clock now happy to wake at 7am. Libido returning, energy returning. I can see the bulbs starting to sprout in the garden and that means narcissus and daffodils are not far away - maybe four weeks. I'm so happy the Rugby Six Nations is on (Rugby players are hot). I'm also happy Husband has been gyming it up and he's getting his energy back, feeling better about himself and healthier and, hooray! His libido is coming back too. Thank Chuck for Spring and Gym. Did you hear me say Hooray?

Drinking a little bit of wine makes me feel very warm and cozy on a cold rainy day. Warm. cozy. wine. Spring. libido. Recipe for disaster. I love Husband's vasectomy. If I were a cat I'd stretch and yawn until my tongue curled and then purr while pawing the softest blanket in the house.