that was the week that was

cobwebs on this blog again.

i really do want to keep it going but have nothing in particular to say at this time.

i'm just a bit tired.

and a tad weary.

and world weary.

and there are too many disasters in the world going on.

too much to understand there.

worn out.

because i've had a virus or flu for a week or more.

fed up.

used up.

chewed up and spat out.

down but definitely not out.

so i spent this morning that i planned to write on here reading other people's blogs and some of them were so funny/interesting i got caught up and then realized i'd run out of the time that i had set aside to do mine.

so i went back on the bbc world news website because i like to read that every morning and i saw a link that said "10 things" so i thought i'd just pinch that and that will be my blog for the time being.

until i get inspired again.

or feel less blah.

the number 10 thing was that, contrary to popular belief, sloths aren't lazy.

apparently they only sleep for 9.6 hrs per day as compared to the python who sleeps 18 hrs a day. so there.

all along it was the sneaky slithery python who was the laziest and the one to which we should compare those who are the most 'slothful'?

see it just can't be done.

'snakeful' just doesn't have the same ring.

'pythonful' also. not working.

the number 9 to 1 things were, i have just now realized, too boring to include.

so i jumped to another link which talked about the most hated celebrities. keeping in mind this is the UK so you will know heather mills but might not know kerry katona.

well anyway, nobody likes them.

all i know about kerry katona is that she is in every hello or OK mag from the uk that i ever saw. and i couldn't figure out why.

they don't like amy winehouse either.

or victoria beckham.

i'm kind of glad that they don't like vicky becks because she annoys me and is the epitome of shallow to me who likes to think of myself as being above her. so there.

and the other disliked celebs i can't remember.

and something else.

some canadian woman is going to marry princess anne's son.

he's 11th in line to the throne so she has converted from catholicism to his religion...? royal pain in the arse? to protect his ability to take the throne (!) if 10 royals drop down dead all of a sudden and they should need a new king.

thank god for that.

where on earth would we be if that should happen?

if it did happen and god forbid she was still a catholic then that would mean he wouldn't be able to be king on top of it all.

which if you were him, might kind of suck.

so that's all for now.

sorry about the cobweb pic that's all i could find online that remotely linked to what i was on about.

or not.

odds and sods

didn't have a particular thought but a few things have been running around in my head this week.

one: youngest child has moved into her own apartment last weekend. when i phoned she put me on speaker phone cos she was up a ladder, with a duster! after having just vacuumed and dusted the nooks and crannies of her bedroom.

'not up to your standard yet then?' i enquired with tongue in cheek.

this is the child whose bedroom at home only lacked yellow tape around the perimiter to define it as a crime scene.

my oldest grandson. that would be the 3 year old, came in the other day and paolo nutini was on the c.d. player. he stopped in the doorway momentarily and began to nod his head and sing along to 'rewind'. "i'm not sleeping at night, but i'm going from bar to bar...." quite unselfconsciously and unaware of how surreal a moment that was. wow!

the next in line grandchild, the one that's not yet 2 is a stuntman in the making. in the space of five minutes the other day he had stood on top of a riding toy and balanced like someone who rides horses bareback in the circus. he climbed on the coffee table a few times and scaled the couch and a chair and almost toppled several times. then he decided to demonstrate a stance on top of his red felt 'cars' chair. it was only a few inches off the floor. he toppled and cracked his head on the side of the couch. blood and panic, screams and shock. me and his mom were both overcome by the blood and my only reaction was to cover it with my hand while she ran to get a cold cloth. ??? i kept the pressure on while the blood ran thru my hands onto my white shirt and jacket sleeves. what a state we were in. poor little soul. he didn't need stitches thankfully but i think he's guaranteed to have some before he's 2!! wow, he's a dreamboat tho'.

then there's the little lady of the bunch. she's just so damn cute and sweet and also very bossy. last weekend she had me on a string. she would throw and i would fetch. and she never got sick of it. i picked it up and walked about with it for five minutes until i thought she'd forgotten about it, (it being a shoe, or a hat, or a soother, or another shoe, or a sock) then after i'd slid it back into the wagon without acknowledging anything; bam, there it was again lying on the path behind us as we walked along. but when i picked her up she put two hands on either side of my face and looked right into my eyes. then she leaned her head into my neck. wow!

update on my hair do dilemma. kee told me the other day that her great hairdresser was willing to take me on. she'd even give me a discount for my first visit and was sure she could help me solve my problems with my 'do's'. i was quite ecstatic. then i asked where does your hairdresser work now? because i knew she'd just recently re-located.

DAMN! it turns out she has moved to the same salon as another former hairdresser of mine and they work side by side!

i am so screwed.

got my hair did

one of these days i'm going to find me a hairdresser who takes one look at me and says, " boy, do i have the perfect haircut for YOU!"
i have been a hair victim for many years now. i've had more hairdressers than you've had hot dinners. i cannot stay faithful to one because eventually they will do something to my head that i feel is an insult forcing me to move on. trouble is i have now been to so many salons in the city that i am running out of options.
it's not that i'm hard to please exactly it's just that i have very particular needs when it comes to my head.
i don't want a 'do'.
it must look and feel 'natural', yet be expertly cut and styled and be unique to me without making me look too 'different' from the norm.
it must look modern yet not too current.
it's got to be wash and wear and must not require blow styling with brushes and accoutrements every morning. who's got the time? or the talent? let's face it.
are my requests unreasonable i ask?
of course not you say.
oh and let's not forget the colour. the colour must be... well that's a whole other blog.
if i want to go to the same salon twice and change hairdressers then i can only go when the former stylist of choice is on his/her day off. try organizing that one.
if i want to try out a new stylist in a new location then i have to take them at face value. i can't ask for their credentials or give them a photo of the style i want because that will immediately intimidate them or make them defensively say, 'well you can't have THAT style because, a) you don't have enough hair, or b) your have the wrong kind of hair or c) have you ever thought about wearing a wig?
and the recommendations of friends is a killer. you just know that your hair and your friend's hair will never look like they were done by the same stylist. she will have a vidal sassoon, you will have a sweeney todd. that's just life unfortunately.

so the other day i was two weeks into thinking, 'i need a haircut' and 'i don't know where to go'.
i was at the coffee shop before work and was daydreaming about whether i could pull off wearing a jaunty cap these days and not have to worry about my hair anymore when a campy guy in line 'mimicked' my english accent as i ordered my morning glory muffin and coffee.
"mawning glawry muhffin" he repeated after me in what he perhaps thought was a perfect parody of my geordie accent.
it was quite awful actually.
but i laughed politely because i'd just spotted that he was dressed nicely, had great hair and was wearing a belt with a fancy sheath holding scissors.
'my new hairdresser?' i almost squealed.
then i noticed he had tattoos. of the home made variety. on the side of his neck and the back of his head.
i don't mind a good tattoo but this was obviously done in a moment of boredom with pen, ink and a sharp instrument! is this someone i want messing with my head and my fragile psyche i pondered?
i don't think so.
i crossed him off before he even made it to the short list.

so i went to my local mall the other evening and as i have done in the past i looked in the door of the two salons that i have frequented most often. i saw that both salons were occupied by two of my ex-stylists so of course i couldn't possibly go in there.
you can NEVER go to another stylist when your former stylist is on duty.
they will sneer at you thru the mirror as they hiss in a pretence of being interested ' so-o-o how did the operation/holiday/birth/death/new job turn out?" making you squirm uncomfortably under the eye of the 'new' stylist who now realizes you are a serial-client.
an unfaithful client who jumps ship.
someone not to be taken seriously at all.
how low can you possibly go?

i carried on down the mall and seeing a few stylists lolling about looking bored near the front of the last salon in the mall which i had never before entered, i ventured bravely in.
virgin territory.
a clean slate.
i explained to the receptionist that my stylist had recently retired due to having children and that i was left in a state of limbo.
(you HAVE to lie about these things. the worst thing you can do is let your new stylist think that you are someone who doesn't have the ability to hang on to a good hairdresser. then they just KNOW you are not worth their trouble and that they have carte blance to do virtually what they want to your head.)
i spotted a girl with stylish dress, great hair and figure and fabulous plum coloured fingernails and a beautiful sleeve tattoo, definitely not home made.
i made eye contact. alas she had a customer coming in so they recommended michelle.
michelle was leaning on the counter with a vacant yet friendly expression.
she was dressed in a modern style with a shop-bought tattoo on her arm and a dramatic pink streak going across her red hair.
so far so good.
michelle came up with a cape and asked me what i wanted.
i explained, in great detail. lest there be a court case later then no one could say i didn't make my wishes known from the outset.
michelle washed my hair.
no soap in the eyes, no water down the neck and no sudden shocks of temperature changes.
things were off to a good start.
michelle took me to her chair.
michelle's station was dirty. brushes lying abandoned with matted 'hair' on them.
hair products uncapped and uncorked and ugh, hair of several different colours and textures lying on the floor beneath my chair.
i.e. from more than one previous victim/client.
her potted plant was dry and dusty.
her photos of her dog were dog eared (!) and stained.
michelle asked me how long had i been 'down' from england? and wasn't it neat that i hadn't lost my accent.
and was it true that it rained all the time in england and she'd never been 'up' there but would love to go one day.
go now, i was thinking.
uneasy feelings of deja vu began to stir.
i didn't want to make small talk because i needed to concentrate on the job in hand. if you don't watch every comb/scissor maneuver then you're going to miss something very important.
michelle didn't seem confident about handling scissors and holding hair at the same time.
she lifted a hank then peered then snipped then peered again.
i was beginning to sweat.
'how long have you been working here?" i tentatively enquired in a pretence at small talk.
"since march."michelle replied confidently.
"oh that's nice and how long have you been a stylist? i asked in as friendly and interested a manner as i could muster.
"oh since october." michelle replied making eye contact thru the mirror and smiling serenely.
'but i swept floors for the first few months." she added by way of a disclaimer.
my instinct told me to rip off the cape and run for my life but she'd got my head in her hands. literally.
so i sat.
and sweated.
i've blanked out the rest of it.

when it was over i paid and gave her a tip. (i don't know why but not giving her one would acknowledge failure on both of our parts; hers as a 'stylist' and mine as a 'client.')
i briefly glanced in the mirror as i left and thought i saw a reflection of someone who looked like 'the little dutch girl with a cap of pointed wings'.
when i got home m.o.h. asked what happened to my hair.
'who cut it? ' he wanted to know
'michelle' i answered.
'not going back there then' he said.
'no.' i answered.
'i'll have to find a new stylist'.
in another town i suppose.

diary of a crazy housewife

yesterday we decided to clean out two of the back rooms in the basement. they are under renovation and when one is worked on things get moved to the other one and then they get moved back.

(bored yet?)

anyhoo we have a nice friend who helped by carrying lots of toxic waste (old paint cans) to the dump with m.o.h.

not only did we have our own old paint cans which we brought here with us (?), with horrible colours that i can't believe i ever thought i'd use again, but we also have the old paint cans of the previous homeowners who must have bought two of every colour they used in each room.

every room was a different colour and every one matched the hideous border which wrapped around the top of the wall at ceiling height.

for example in what would become our bedroom there was a border of cats.

cats sitting, cats lying, cats pouncing playfully, cats sleeping, cats looking slyly at me as i slept. i'm not kidding.

thankfully that border came down in one large rrrrriiippp. ooh it felt good.

another border was lighthouses and seaside scenery. quite nautical and quite nauseating too.

in another room was a 'display' of about 6, 12" mirror tiles which were stuck to the wall, in what i assume was an effort at an 'art deco' pattern, with sticky press on things which you need a flamethrower to remove.

and even after you've removed them then sanded the walls, primed and repainted with two coats you can still see their outlines when the sun shines.

but i've digressed.

let us get back downstairs to the basement.

we have a lot of exercise equipment in our basement.

there is a treadmill which cost me a lot of money. right now it is covered in a thick layer of dust from the sanding that went on during the floors being installed and walls being rubbed down.
i have some hand weights. there are a set of one pound weights which are so ridiculously light they couldn't possibly be of any use to anyone. you could drop them on your toes and not feel a thing. my grandsons can lift them with their little fingers.

(you've seen my grandsons. they love to get into stuff! little monkeys.)

then i have a set of 8lb handweights. i can lift them. i can curl them. about twice each. i tried lifting them up and over my head a few times and almost put my back out. so they got shelved.

we have two huge exercise balls. one comes complete with a dvd a book and a foot pump. you lie on the ball and sit up and turn over and stretch etc. and you should end up looking like somebody called kelly brook.

she's pretty gorgeous so i might give that a go. sometime.

not now, because in order to make room we deflated both balls and packed them away.

m.o.h. looked ominously at the treadmill and said, "you NEVER use it. and it's in the way. we move it from room to room and you NEVER use it."

"but i MIGHT". i said. "i WILL."

i promised.

and i believe i meant it.

then i found another box which had some green stretch elastic bands in them.

i'd forgotten about them.

a few years ago i joined a dance class. 2X a week. in my mind i was moving and grooving, in reality i was sweating and tripping over my feet and generally doing everything ass backwards compared to the rest of the class.

"oops sorry, my fault."

i said that a lot as everybody went left and i went right.

but i loved it.

the music was great and each song had its own routine.

aferwards we had our own yoga mats. we lay down on them and did sit ups. well other people did sit ups. it hurt my neck so i just watched that part.

then we got out the green bands. or did we do that before the sit ups? my memory fails.

we did 'stretchy movements' with them and boy did it feel good.

('stretchy movements' is a technical term which i believe is used by fitness buffs everywhere.)

i remembered those movements yesterday as they fell out of the box and my husband stepped back in shock as if they were pythons that had been hiding out in the shadows.

"oh" i gasped. "my stretchy bands!" (more technical fitness buff terminology)

"what the....?" he asked.

i put one in my hands and then put my hands in the air over my head and str-ee-tt-ch-ee-dd.

twice.

by way of demonstration.

this morning i woke up and i feel like i've been on a rack of medieval torture.

it might be a while before i try them again.

:-))

This blog is....

not completely dead.

the last few weeks were just too busy. jenn's visit was great; but short. she's gone back to england again and is once more settling down to her new life.

the two weeks since she left have been difficult. for reasons that are nothing at all to do with her visit, they happened to just coincide with her leaving.

some people write about everything that happens to them no matter how big or how small. i just couldn't write about the last few weeks.

i can only write about how much i love the people in my family. all of them. and how i care very much about what happens to every one of them. that i need them to know i will always be there for them. all of them. i want someone special to know that things happened and that it wasn't their fault. in fact i want two special people to know that. i want to get through the present time and feel that we will all come out stronger and more together. that we learn and we grow and we can change. everyone can change if they face up to what they need to leave behind. it's never too late.

we don't have long on this earth. we need to live our best lives and to be unselfish and to put others first.

"self last!"

help me to remember that.

this is a picture of art garfunkel. i took it a few years ago when i saw him in niagara falls. he was singing "bridge over troubled water". i listen to that song a lot.

i'm glad that people leave comments or send me an email. that feels great.

thanks. :-))))))

Easter Egg Hunt?

Where does a kid go with his chocolate eggs when he wants to have some peace and quiet and hide from the adults after the Easter bunny's visit?

it's practical really when you think about it.

you eat chocolate and then you clean up.

in fact it's time saving AND practical.

my grandsons are very resourceful.

and cheeky,

and a tad sly...... :-)
what a pair of little monkeys.

have you seen my.....??

in the week that our lovely daughter has returned to the nest for a visit our quiet life has been turned upside down.
the phone rings constantly, (it's never for us), bathrooms are always taken over and strange noises are heard when the lights go out and we retire for the night.
apparently this is when the rest of the world comes to life. when they start to make plans and phone each other or drop by for a visit.
she has had quite a few visits from her friends. on the first day after she arrived several of them dropped by to hug and scream and to become reacquainted.
when they left i found a lovely pair of sunglasses on the coffee table. i'm guessing they're designer sunglasses cos these girls have taste and clearly also have money to burn.
one of the girls had to return later because she'd left her lap top....??
the next day was a night out with said friends and they dropped by to get ready.
when they left i found a phone charger.
on the weekend lots of gorgeous young girls dropped by to pre-party before they went out on the town. when they left there was a wake of empty bottles and glasses and a bedroom which looked like the changing room of a major department store; clothes strewn everywhere and bags and coats to be claimed later.
in the morning there were two girls to each bed and two couches with bodies on them.
gradually they thinned out and when i got back from church they'd all gone.
left behind; a pair of track pants and a t shirt.
a shiny black clutch purse with a cell phone, camera and a wallet in it.
a green earth shopping bag,
a large plastic la coste bag,
an unfinished bottle of vodka and two full bottles of beer, the latter in a bag on the front porch,
a pair of boots and a pair of shoes.
when i went to tidy the spare room i saw something sticking out from under the bed--a blue strapless bra.
a girl dropped by to claim the track pants and shirt, but they had been taken by someone else who said she would return them to the owner as she would be the first to see her.
the black clutch purse was returned to the young lady, the same one who'd returned the day or so before because she'd forgotten her lap top.
she lives quite a distance away but she doesn't seem to mind driving back and forwards when she forgets stuff.
one of jenn's friend's called to ask if she'd left her bangles.
i haven't found them.
another friend arrived tonight for a visit. but she had to leave again because she'd left her cell phone on a window ledge somewhere.
there's like a bermuda triangle for the possessions of these chicks.
before jenn left to go to england we did a clear out. i donated unclaimed boots, shoes, hats, tops and pants, shorts, the unmatching tops and bottoms of bikinis and a skirt. all of which had been accumulated over the years and went from living in her dresser to a box in the basement for another year and had even moved house with us about 3 years ago. we still have a large black bag for skis but no-one has ever claimed it.
in the summer a strange man showed up at my door with a bike which he claimed was jenn's. i stared at it until recognition set in.
he said they were cleaning out their garage and found four of them and he was returning them to their rightful owners.
i think he was just sick of taking care of other people's possessions myself.
i asked him if he was missing a ski bag but he wasn't.
he said he'd put the word out.