Saturday, 31 October 2009

Pumpkins v turnips

Boy One was moaning about the huge effort it was taking to scrape the goopy stuff out of his pumpkin.
"You're lucky you've got pumpkins," said I. "In my day we had turnips and that was a horrible job - it took ages and the turnip stank. The whole job made your arms ache."
I could see he was skeptical. "And another thing," I was on a roll. "It wasn't trick or treating then, it was guising. We had to make our own costumes too - you couldn't just nip down to ASDA and spend a tenner turning yourself into a Clone Warrior or whatever."
Actually, we didn't make the costumes, mum did. I remember Boy One's first fancy dress do at nursery. I sat up late creating a pirate outfit from old pyjamas. It had a matching sword fashioned from tinfoil, 'embellished' with the best the button box had to offer. He couldn't have cared less, but I was very proud. Another rite of passage.
Then when we got there having oh aargh Jim Ladded all the way, I saw all the other kids. Perfect mini Disney heroes, immaculate princesses and a minature Village People parade of the emergency services. The other parents admired the shop-bought outfits, then they got to me. A collective "oh" and the bright smiling look you might give while chatting to your Big Issue sales person. Pah.

An organisational stretch

At the risk of sounding like those magazines that Viz used to take the mickey out of, I've had a good idea.
You know those annoying red rubber bands the postie leaves all over the front path? I've started picking them up and using them to keep Boy Three's small outfits together.
Hey Presto - recycling, tidying up and drawer organising all in one!
PS The added bonus is that the rolled up and rubber-banded outfits no longer look like I didn't bother ironing them. Result.

Click management

Remember when click-click used to be the sound of knitting needles? No. Me neither. I've always hated that kind of thing, never had the patience for it.
Nonetheless, the latest clicking chorus is a fairly new feature only really heard in the last decade or so. But it's getting louder and I'm not sure how to stop it.
After a couple of days away from my computer (ok I have a BlackBerry, but that doesn't really count), I sat down to catch up.
I check my emails - both addresses, see how my ebay sales are going, have a look at the blog, zip onto Facebook and plough through everything RSS has delivered.
An hour has passed, I need another coffee and the baby has woken up.
I like to know what's going on, see the latest ideas and generally keep in touch, but it's getting out of hand.
Please could someone invent a gadget that only delivers the ten most important clicky things and then locks shut until I've done enough other stuff.

Thursday, 29 October 2009

mummy power

It's been a while since I was on the blog regularly. I've been busy.
I've gained a baby and another stone, lost a brother and my mind (not necessarily in that order) and, then, found my mind again only it was all shrivelled up and covered with fluff from the months down the back of the sofa.
Over the last couple of weeks my work-avoidance meanderings have found me in the fairly one-sided company of the Mummy Bloggers. Thank you, ladies.
Now I'd like to join in
I've dithered about specialising in what I write, keeping the more personal stuff back and tying to find a USP. Then I thought: "B0llocks. It's fun. I've missed it and I want to write about whatever grabs me."
So here I am.

Saturday, 24 October 2009

As thin as a ...?

In my house the answer is 'sausage', apparently.
The Panther of News and I this week celebrated our third anniversary. Hurrah!
To mark the occasion I gave him a thing of wonder that is a Wii Fit.
Boys One and Two were quite excited by this news. And I was very pleased to hear Boy One pondering that he might use it to improve his fitness.
Less so though at the reply from his brother: "What for? You don't need to do exercise you're as thin as a sausage already"
Hmmm. I think I need to address issues of what constitutes fitness and why sausages aren't necessarily the best measure of health.

Thursday, 8 October 2009

The Rainy Day

The Rainy Day
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust more dead leaves fall,.
And the day is dark and dreary.
My life is cold and dark and dreary.
It rains and the wind is never weary.
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering past.
And youth's fond hopes fall thick in the blast.
And my life is dark and dreary.
Be still, sad heart and cease repining
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining
Thy fate is the common fate of all
Into each life some rain must fall
Some days must be dark and dreary.
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