Monday, 14 August 2017

Ideal Meal


 Greetings!

Here I am again. Back to talk about one of my favourite topics: FOOD!

So what is my ideal meal, you ask? 

These days, my ideal meal would have to be almost anything I don't have to cook. It's frightfully rude how I am expected to do so every single night. HMPH.





But since I like to eat every day, I do get on with it and manage to produce something vaguely edible. They're not necessarily 'ideal' or 'favourite' meals, but they're good enough. 

My actual favourites would have to be anything cooked by my mum. Especially her roasts and desserts, including her infamous apple pie.

Other than that, I do enjoy a good lobster mornay. However, I never cook it, because I'm quite terrible at making things like mornay sauce. Consequently I haven't had this delicacy in YEARS.

I find such meals are best enjoyed with a good bottle of wine. Also; dessert afterwards. There's always room for dessert! 




There I am, above. enjoying some lobster mornay with a glass of wine. It was such a long time ago I do not remember where this photo was taken. I suspect in was way back in the grand and glorious pre-children days. It seems like a parallel universe now. We actually went on nice relaxing holidays and ate at lovely restaurants that didn't serve chicken nuggets. Those were the days. Sigh.

Of course, I couldn't get through this post without mentioning my beloved cakies. They may not be considered a meal exactly, but as I mentioned above, there's always room for dessert.

On the other hand, if I want to have cake for breakfast, why not? Yep, I am literally one of those disgusting people who could seriously eat cake for breakfast. No surprise that I struggle with my weight and cholesterol levels. Oops. 

I mean, I don't eat cake for breakfast. Well, most of the time I don't...  But I could.  Well, what is the difference between having cake or pancakes or waffles? They're all so so bad and so so GOOD. If you know what I mean. 

So there you are. Just a short and sweet serving from me, because my brain seems to not be working and I can't get the words right. 

Conclusion:  My ideal meal would involve a roast or lobster mornay and cakies. When you say that all together in one sentence, it confirms what I already suspected: I am gross and disgusting. 

Over and out. 

What about you?

Are you gross and disgusting?


Uh I mean, what is your ideal meal? 

Monday, 7 August 2017

About Being The Baby (With Bonus Dilly Dallying)

Hello again, dear and delightful people. Okay, person. There must be at least one person reading out there. I hope...

 And I can say you're delightful because you're inside the computer. This makes it SO much easier. I don't even have to get dressed, although I am. Badly. See? Easier all round. I can wear awful clothes and your eyeballs are spared that atrocity. 

Anyway, on with the show. Or the blog post. You know what I mean... 

This popped up in my Facebook memories this morning:




It made me realise that I am quite fond of a bit of dilly dallying. I do it here all the time, popping in and out at my fancy.  Nothing wrong with that, right?

But I'm here now, so let's get on with it. I'm wondering if my propensity towards dilly dallying has anything to do with my birth order? I was the baby of the family. I have one older brother.

The first thing I discover when I google birth order is, the stereo-type for the 'baby' of the family is being a free spirit, a risk taker and charming. Well yes, I am quite charming in my own way. Aren't I?

But as for the other two - forgeddaboutit! I am definitely not a risk taker, at any rate.

Meanwhile, I did go on to have three children of my own, despite being a hard core introvert. Hmmmm, maybe I AM a risk taker? 

Anyway, what I was going to say was,  I didn't really think 'middle child syndrome' was  a thing until I had three children.  All I am going to tactfully say is, my middle child and my youngest have an interesting relationship. It could certainly be described as love/hate at times. It can be quite difficult and complicated to navigate as a parent. 

I remember watching The Brady Bunch as a kid. It was always Jan and Peter, the middle siblings, who seemed to be having a permanent identity crisis.  The Brady Bunch is a totally credible, realistic and cutting edge show to use as a reference. Or something. Okay, maybe not. But I just like to bring up a random daggy pop culture reference, because that's how I roll. Deal with it. 

Incidentally, my 'baby', aka Mr 8, is off on his first ever overnight camp tonight. I did find myself becoming considerably more anxious about this fact than I remember being for the other two. Are we inclined to be more over protective towards the youngest child? On the other hand, there is also the theory that by the time you get to number three you're much more... ahem...relaxed...





Thinking about it, I guess it would have been interesting for me had my parents decided to have more children. That would have made me the middle child.  Evidently my mum was firm in her decision to only have two children, so I stayed the 'baby'. To this day I am still a mummy's (and daddy's) girl. I am not sure how much of this is due to my birth order or my personality. I've always been shy, quiet and introverted. And, as it turned out, autistic. But I didn't know about the latter growing up.

Oh! Random segue: I suddenly recalled a funny incident when we brought my second born son home from the hospital. His brother, then Mr 3, suggested to me that we could put him in the bin and the garbage truck would come and get him! So there was definitely a bit of jealousy going on at the beginning. They're good buddies now, thankfully.

And I think that is all I have to say about birth order. The conclusion: I have no idea. But this 'baby' still likes dilly dallying. I'm off to do so right now. 

What about you?

What is your birth order? Do you think it effects your personality?


Are you a middle child? Or a dilly dallyer? 


Have I asked enough pointless questions? Should I throw in one more? 


Someone make me stop asking questions...





Monday, 24 July 2017

I Can't Live Without...


Hey. It's me. Yep, I'm still here. 

I haven't felt like checking in here recently. To be honest, I'm struggling yet again with the wobbles and I don't want to bore everyone with it. Nothing dramatic has happened. It just sneaks up on me now again, because it's pesky like that. Anyway, as I said...it's frightfully tedious...yawwwwn.... 

Oh yeah, and it's also been confirmed via a blood test that I am indeed menopausal. So I guess it's understandable that my moods might be a bit all over the place. Sigh. 

I am doing all the things I need to do to get some equilibrium back. Seeing a shrink, exercise, medication. Blah blah blah... But it all takes time.  And I will get there eventually. So I might pop in and out of this space if and when I feel like it. I'm just trying to not give myself too many things to think about at the moment. 




So in order to keep it simple, here's a quick and to the point list of the things I cannot live without: 

1. Oxygen.
2. Water.
3. Food.
4. CAKIES!
5. Chocolate.
6. Tea.
7. Books.
8. Music.
9. Peace and quiet/solitude.
10. Oh yeah, my family are pretty great, too. 
11. Exercise. 
12. Writing. 

Yep, I'm doing my usual Captain Obvious with numbers 1, 2 and 3. Or perhaps it's the 'literal interpretation' thing that us ASD folk are supposed to be known for...

Also, technically numbers 4 and 5 fall into the same category as number 3, but whatever.  I COULD live without 4 and 5, but I don't want to! I basically have the maturity of a three year old. I want my cake/chocolate and I want it NOW.  

And as far as number 11 and 12 go, I am definitely inclined to be lazy and avoid those things.  But when I DO do them, I really do feel better. So they are staying on my list.  And that is final. 

Okay, I'm done here for now. 

What about you? 

What can't you live without? 


Monday, 3 July 2017

Taking Stock - July Edition



Making: A mess. I'm so skilled at this. It's a gift, I tell you! 

Cooking: My signature dish. It's called: Whatever's In The Fridge. Or my other gourmet creation, imaginatively titled: Eat It And Shut Up. 

Drinking: Waaaaaaaay too much tea. A little coffee and wine. And some water. Boiled, with a teabag and a dash of skim milk added... Okay, more tea. What can I tell you. It's a terrible addiction. 

Reading: I just finished reading a so-called romantic suspense novel. It was shit. Is it just me or does there seem to be this cliche in thrillers where the killer always turns out to be the 'quiet/shy/introvert/awkward type? Shits me to tears. Most of us quiet folk can't handle any confrontation or raise our voices let alone kill some one. Lift your game, thriller authors!  

Trawling: Drawers and washing baskets looking for that most elusive of things known to humankind: matching socks. WHERE do all the odd socks go? Related: my feet are FREEZING. 

Wanting: A cure for cancer. Also; anxiety. A magic diet pill, a jumbo sized bottle of wine with a funnel, warm feet (see above), a good lie down, a kick up the bum and approximately seven million dollars in crisp one hundred dollar bills. Not to much to ask, is it? 

Looking: For inventive ways to stay warm. And sane. Any suggestions?

Deciding: Whether to have yet another cup of tea. Pfffft. The decision (meaning the actual cup of tea...) was already made. 

Wishing: That all the good and groovy folk didn't have to suffer while ass holes walk around unscathed.

Enjoying: Reading, cups of tea, cuddles with Mr 8, snuggling in bed with the electric blanket on a frosty winter's evening. You know, all the simple little pleasures in life.

Waiting: Tragically, I am often waiting for pesky old anxiety to pass. But it ALWAYS does. That is the key thing to remember. 

Liking: The fact that I seem to be getting into regular exercise again... But I'm almost too scared to say it, because every time I publicly announce these things I fail spectacularly. So I had better shut up.  Shhhhh, don't tell anyone! 

Wondering: Why it is so incredibly difficult for me to warm my feet in winter. Everyone always tells me it's 'easy' to get warm in winter. Meanwhile, my feet are blocks of ice.  With thick socks and ugg boots on sitting in front of a heater. Gah.

Loving: That's it's school holidays. Sleep-ins FTW! I'm sure this will change very quickly by the week's end.

Pondering: This and that. 

Listening: To the hum of the heater and a car in the distance.

Considering: Things that I am not going to announce here because... Well, see: Liking. Nuff said. 

Buying: Lots of groceries and food. Does winter make everyone want to eat and eat and EAT ALL THE HOT FOOD? Yep, me too. Same as every other season, really. 

Watching: I began watching reruns of Mad About You, just for something mindless to do while I'm folding washing. Anyway, there was episode the other day when it was NYE in 1996. And I suddenly realised, that is TWENTY-ONE years ago! Jebeez, I feel ancient. 

Hoping: That my upcoming mammogram in August will be all clear again for the second year. Fingers, toes, legs, arms, eyeballs crossed! 

Marvelling: At how time flies, and at my beautiful family.

Cringing: At the thought of having my tits crushed again. I can deal with the pain, but waiting for the results is very anxiety-provoking. 

Needing: See: Wanting. They're not just wants, they're NEEDS, I tell you!


Questioning: Life, The Universe and Everything. Also; what can I eat next?

Smelling:  My dinner. Pie, mash and peas. Total comfort food. I don't even care. It was GOOD. 


Wearing: I am certainly NOT wearing my pyjamas. Nope. No way. Oh shut up, it's COLD! 

Noticing: That my unpleasant little 'friend' (aka anxiety) has snuck up on me again. 

Knowing: The unpleasant 'friend' will be shown the door very soon. 

Thinking: About what book to read next.

Admiring: Anyone who is battling anxiety. You're a bloody legend. 





Getting: Cold. Fat. Old. I won't be cold forever, though. Shame about the other two...


Bookmarking: Nothing!

Disliking: That all the good and groovy people suffer. See:Wishing

Opening: Books. I still love a good old-fashioned paper book.

Closing: Drawers and cupboards so I can't see the mess and my epic failure to embrace the Konmari method. 


Feeling: At the moment, I feel kinda neutral and even. I like that. Wish I could bottle certain feelings and banish others for good. 

Hearing: Hang on, didn't I already answer this?

Celebrating: We have several birthdays coming up. Mr 15 becomes Mr 16 (yikes!) in 7 days, then it's my Mum's birthday on the 26th. And in August, it's Mickey Blue Eyes's turn. Yay! CAKE! 


Pretending: That I'm a mature, sensible adult. Yeah, nobody's fooled, least of all me. 

Embracing: Electric blankets, track suit pants and fleecy pyjamas as day wear. I have drawn the line at wearing them to go shopping, though it's tempting... Especially because nothing much fits me right now. Oops. 


Done! That's my stock-taking for the month of July!


What are you celebrating in the month of July? 

Saturday, 1 July 2017

Magical Moments

There are certain magical moments in life you wish you could capture and bottle forever. Then, when you're in other less magical moments you could open that bottle up and sprinkle some of that magical fairy dust stuff.





Thinking about it, there are probably several such moments for me. The one that immediately comes to mind is the day I found out I was pregnant with Mr (almost) 16. Words cannot describe the sheer joy.

I've blogged about it a little before here.

After five years of trying to conceive, I was certain that it would never happen. That was a crazy happy ecstatic and joyous feeling. Unbelievably awesome. You rarely have such moments of absolute elation in life.

When I finally understood that I was, in fact, pregnant, I was laughing and crying at the same time. It was unbridled and I couldn't control it. They were tears of pure joy. 

It certainly makes me all warm and fuzzy remembering that moment. Imagine, just imagine, being able to capture it forever. I don't have any photos of that particular day. I can't even remember if I have the ultrasound scans, though I must have them somewhere. The feeling of that day is something I've never forgotten.

I  always joke how it was better than winning the lottery, but at the same time. I've never actually won the lotto, so I would like to arrange that. You know, just so I can know for sure!



But you know what? There are other magical moments. But I don't distinctly remember them. They were unmemorable and ordinary. I felt neither panicked nor euphoric. There was nothing special or remarkable about them in any way. Just ordinary moments in an ordinary day. Forgettable for their very ordinariness. Do you know what I mean? Those even moments of equilibrium. I really wish I could bottle those. I could take them out as a balm when I'm anxious, stressed or worried. When I feel despondent, dejected, dreary and just plain in the doldrums, there would be my trusty bottle of equilibrium.

There are certain other feelings and/or moments that I can recall. Such as:

  • The buzz of endorphins that kick in after exercising.

  • Taking off and touching down in a plane for the first time when I went overseas to Holland with my parents in 1981.

  • The time Mickey Blue Eyes, the boys and I went to Magnetic Island. It was SO spectacularly beautiful that you could imagine you were literally in paradise. 

  • The feeling of freedom when you left school on the last day of term as a child (a slightly different feeling as a parent!). 

  • Hearing Carpenters music for the first time. 

  • Driving off for the first time by myself. Especially because I was a very late starter here. Never thought it would ever happen! 

  • Belly laughs with my boys

  • Moments in my boys development and growing up. First words and steps etc. (I do have some photos of these times to remember. So that's something).


I'm sure I could think of many more magical moments, but I'll wait and see. I'm hoping there's more to come, even without the bottle of magical moments fairy dust. In the meantime, I'll just take balanced and ordinary old equilibrium. And maybe a lottery ticket or two...

Linking up for Friday Reflections with the prompt:

Write about a moment in life you wish you could freeze and preserve. 

What about you?

What moment do you wish you could bottle and capture forever? .

Tuesday, 27 June 2017

Something About Selfies

For some one who can be terribly self absorbed, I am certainly not into the whole selfie phenomenon. I suspect it's partly because I'm shy and an introvert, but mainly I'm just a lazy technophobe with a dodgy old phone. I have no idea how to disguise double chins and add filters. Shrugs.

I don't really understand the whole get your boobs out on the internet and no make up selfies lauded as 'brave'. I must be extremely brave if that's the case... (Almost) no make up is my normal way of life these days.

Anyway, I've managed to take a few over the last year or two, even when I was going through cancer treatment. My bald noggin scared off one or two people. I lost a couple of 'likes' after posting it. But as the saying goes: it's like the trash took itself out.

Apparently it was National Selfie Day the other day. I didn't even know that was a thing. Thinking about it, my boys appear to not be into selfies either. It would appear we are a very introverted family.

The other thing is, I kind of have resting bitch face. Or something. I don't have much expression even when I feel really happy.

Having said all of that, I suppose I do take in interest in other folks selfies on social media. It's always nice to see someone else's smiling face, but  not so much my own resting bitch face (which will henceforth be known as RBF). 

I know I should take more selfies, it doesn't matter what I look like. Double chins, wrinkles, RBF, the whole shebang. Otherwise my funeral will rock around (hopefully many years from now!) and there will only be ancient photos from years ago available for my kids to remember me. 

My mum actually bought me a selfie stick some time ago and I never used it. Come to think of it, I'm not even sure where I put it. Weird. Hmmmm, where is that thing...

Anyway, a quick perusal of my Facebook photos shows me that my selfies have revolved around the sad saga of my hair. My tresses appear to have had an entire life of their own. See below.



THE TRAGIC TALE OF NESS'S TRESSES IN SELFIES


Me with 'normal' hair a few years ago.


Me when I decided to become a Hare Krishna.
Just kidding! Me during chemo last year.

Me being smokin' hawt in a beanie. Also during
chemo last year.


My Nanna Ness look when my hair started to
grow back. 


And finally...

Me a few weeks ago.


Now you can see why I'm not into selfies. They're all blurry and just ghastly and frightfully horrid and all those other expressions out of Enid Blyton books.

Any tips on how to make them less blurry when you have a crap phone? Plus, how do you hide double chins and add filters? Oh, that's right... I could just google that myself. Oops. Will do. As you were.

What are your thoughts about selfies?

Do you celebrate National Selfie Day?

Monday, 19 June 2017

My First Concert

There have been many times in my life when I have wondered wistfully why I was born in 1971. This meant that only a year later in 1972, I was one year old. Yep, I'm a genius, but we already knew that. You see, 1972 was the one and only time that the Carpenters visited and performed in Australia. Sigh.

I would have LOVED to have been there right in the middle of the mosh pit! Oh okay, there was no mosh pit. I suspect they're overrated anyway. Who wants to waste time with all that when they could have been transfixed by every note and Karen Carpenter behind her drums?

Apparently their concert was broadcast on Channel 7. The black and white footage is floating around on Youtube, so at least there's that.

When ABBA mania hit Australia in 1977, I seemed to be oblivious. This was In spite of my enthusiastic singing into a hair brush pretending to be Agnetha, just like every other six year old Aussie girl. So I never got to see the fab four either. In fact, I don't distinctly remember what my first concert was. I'm a tragic person. 



The luckiest little fan wasn't me.  Sigh. 




My auntie took me to see the stage musical CATS when I was approximately 14 or so, but that's a little different I guess. Around that same time, I was utterly DEVASTATED because The Nolans (in the mood for dancing, anyone?) were performing at Rooty Hill RSL (classy!) and I couldn't go because I was underage. Cutting edge taste in music all the way, as you can see. Of course it's a mystery why, being such a cutting edge rebel and all that, I didn't just sneak out and fake my age to get in. I'm such an enigma.

Ultimately I ended up seeing the following musicals/shows:


  • CATS
  • Anything Goes
  • The Rocky Horror Show
  • Phantom Of The Opera
  • Les Miserables
  • Rasputin
  • Carousel 
My memory is bit patchy about most of the above, to be honest. I mean, it's hard to remember yesterday let alone thirty years ago. Or is that just me?

Additionally I attended the following concerts:

  • Simply Red
  • INXS
  • Midnight Oil
  • Gloria Estefan
  • Michael Buble
  • Barbra Streisand
And a few other Aussie groups...

I suspect that Simply Red was the first one and I ended up seeing them twice, so I guess I like them. I haven't listened to them in YEARS though. Weird. 

Something that strikes me is the price of concert tickets. I often see some lucky Carpenters fans sharing their vintage concert tickets in Facebook fan groups. The prices on them are so ridiculously cheap. Around five bucks fifty or something. Nowadays they're so frightfully expensive. Oh well, just as well I'm not really into mosh pits and the whole scene.

To be perfectly honest I wouldn't say that a typical rock concert is really my thing. Surprising, right? Shut up.  I don't do well with loud noise and crowds due to my sensory issues. However, I would have loved to hear Karen Carpenter's voice in person. And that will never happen. It will be one of my lifelong sorrows. Cue weepy violin music... Or mournful meandering oboes because that's a Carpenters trademark. I love it. Again, I reiterate - shut up. 





So excuse me while I go and watch the above Youtube video and pretend it's 1972.  Is there a problem with that? 

What was your first concert? 

Friday, 16 June 2017

Overrated Books

It's never been any secret that books are one of my most favourite things in the whole wide world. As far as I'm concerned, you can never have too many books. Also, it's not hoarding if it's books. Because I say so. And that settles the matter. 

Ever since I was a child I always had a book permanently attached to my hand. Shame it's now often a phone... but that's another story...

Even so, there are certain books that failed to enthral me. It's even more puzzling when they're books or authors that are so beloved and popular. It leaves you wondering if there was something you missed. Is it possible that you read the same book as others? It's a very curious thing. Let me assure you, I am the furthest thing from a reading snob. Read what you like, I say. If it's some sort of  Game Of  Thrones fan fiction, who am I to judge?

I've gone from a passionate love of Enid Blyton (who probably seems unhinged and secretly racist to today's kidlets), to the completely stupid Sweet Valley High series as a teen. Then onto reading Mills and Boon romances, then a tonne of dubious 'chick lit' and implausible thrillers. My main purpose in reading is pure escapism. So there will never be any judgement from me. 

However, there have been a few books I just don't get. Without further ado, here are three books I consider to be overrated:


THE SLAP BY SOME DUDE WITH AN UNPRONOUNCEABLE NAME


Yeah, that dude. How do you pronounce it?

I read it last year because I'd heard good things about it. It sounded like an interesting premise: a group of friends at a suburban barbeque where an adult slaps another person's child. 

To be honest, the only part of the book I enjoyed was the description of the food at the barbeque. Which probably says a lot about me... Ahem...

It seemed to me that every single character in this book was thoroughly unlikable.  Maybe I'm too much of a Pollyanna or something, but I need to feel like I actually like at least one character to care about what happens to them at the end of the novel. 

Another thing that disturbed me was some of sex scenes. In one, a female character fantasises that she's being raped. What the...? I don't have a copy of the novel anymore to quote the scene, but it bothered me. Maybe some women like it rough, and good luck to them, but rape? Really? 

Also, I'm wondering if there is really quite so much drug taking among the Australian middle classes? It seemed like every character was into drugs.  I dunno, I guess I just live in a bubble... In Sydney's western suburbs surrounded by druggies and meth labs... Yet I've never taken an illegal drug in my entire life. Go figure. 

Anyway, I'm sure this Christos dude doesn't care what I think. He's too busy winning literary awards and writing his next best-selling, critically acclaimed masterpiece, while I'm sitting here writing this crappy blog. Sniff. 



WUTHERING HEIGHTS BY EMILY BRONTE






Yes, you read that right. I am really going to call this classic of literature for nearly 200 years overrated.  Confession: I've never actually read the entire novel. I've tried several times during my life and I just couldn't do it. And I LOVE AND WORSHIP the Bronte sisters! Jane Eyre is one my favourite novels of all time. I could read it again and again. But not this. 

I know that Emily Bronte is considered to be some sort of incredible brooding genius; and she probably was. It's not her, it's me. For so many years I figured I had to force myself to read this, because it's such a classic. But you know what? NO. I just can't. Besides, I know what happens at end, anyway.

SPOILER ALERT: Heathcliff and Cathy die and their ghosts wander about the moors and haunt people, and then Kate Bush writes a song about it and dances about in a field or something.... Yeah, that. Overrated. Moving on. 


                            I recommend the Kate Bush song/video NOT the novel. 



ANYTHING BY JODI PICOULT




I thought I'd give this author a go because she is so incredibly popular. She's sold enough novels to fill the Atlantic ocean or the entire cosmos or the Sahara desert or... You get the picture. She's sold a shit tonne of novels. I guess people like her. I don't. The first time I tried to read one of her novels was many years ago. I picked up a novel called The Pact. It was about a suicide pact between two young people. However, I wasn't in a very good head space at the time, due to having lost a baby. Therefore, I decided that reading a book about suicide wasn't a good idea. Fast forward several years and I spotted another Jodi Picoult novel called Plain Truths on a sale table. I figured I'd give her another go.

As I vaguely recall, the plot centred around a hotshot lawyer, who somehow ends up defending an Amish girl, accused of murdering her newborn baby. Look, it was actually a good story, but it just went on and on and ON. By the middle of the novel I'd guessed the ending, anyway. So it just seemed superfluous to have hundreds more pages. I ended up skipping ahead to the ending, and my guess was right. Personally, I wouldn't bother reading any more Jodi Picoult novels, but as I mentioned, she is SO popular and famous. I guess it's just me. Shrugs.

A google search shows me that this novel was made into a TV film in 2004, starring Mariska Hargitay. It might be worth a watch, rather than wasting days or weeks on the plodding novel.
 




So there you have it. Three novels I thought were overrated.  Then of course there is 90 percent of the entire self-help, non-fiction genre...and anything with vampires... and the Fifty Shades series.. but I'll be here forever...  

What about you? Have you read any of the above novels? 

Which books do you think are overrated?

Friday, 9 June 2017

Mistakes

Greetings and salutations! Here we are again on another fabulous Friday! Which means it's time for Friday Reflections. 

I have to chosen to write a post for the prompt: write a post about making mistakes.This may be a mistake...  You decide. 




I make lots of little scatter brained mistakes on a daily basis. In fact, I came to the conclusion that I am some sort of hapless doddering Mrs Bean character long ago. Read it about here. It's funny to read about... Well, if I didn't laugh I'd cry...


Now it's time for a random list for no particular reason: 



LIST OF LITTLE MISTAKES I MAKE IN EVERYDAY LIFE





  • Putting the wrong clothes away in the wrong drawers.
  • Leaving the shopping list at home.
  • Forgetting to even write a list.
  • Writing a list, then leaving it at home.
  • Taking the list, but still forgetting to buy essential items written on it. 
  • Getting the dodgy trolley at the supermarket.
  • Choosing the slowest check out. 
  • Forgetting to replace the loo roll (I gather this is generally more of a dude thing, but I'm special...)
  • Buying/borrowing more books before I've read the ones I've got... No wait. This is NEVER a mistake! 
  • Forgetting the pizza that was in the oven... (on the plus side that means I burned a bazillion calories in just half an hour!  BOOM TISH) 
  • Picking up the wrong kind of schnitzels at the supermarket (the ones with corn instead of plain), an act of vile, callous and unforgivable EVIL as far as Mr 8 is concerned. 
  • Forgetting where I put my glasses/keys/phone five minutes ago....


You get the picture. This list could go on and on and ON. 

And that list hasn't even covered other past mistakes, such as my infamous mullet-perm of 1987, and the time I thought wearing shirts that looked like table cloths was attractive.  See below. What was I thinking? 




BIG MISTAKE


However, the biggest mistake I am currently making is this:

Not getting enough exercise. Followed closely by eating too much. OOPS. 

This in turn causes me to a) gain weight, and b) become more prone to anxiety.

This is also after choosing the word MOVE as my  one word for this year. Oh dear. 

So, yesterday I was at the shops and I had a big, wobbly, stupid, batshit crazy panic attack. Not fun. I haven't had one for ages, so it's very disconcerting when that bastard pops up. Well, it can go f#*k itself. I am making myself move again. I've always found exercise is one of the best strategies to combat it. 

As 'Anne' says, tomorrow is always fresh with no mistakes in it.

Or you know, fresh with no CAKES in it.  Since my mistakes often seem to feature baked goods. Ahem.  




Now I am signing off, because I really and truly need to get up and MOVE. 

What mistakes do you make? Do you learn from them?

Friday, 2 June 2017

Ten Reasons I Love Tea

Greetings, Earthlings.  How are we all? Well? Happy it's Friday? Bursting with enthusiasm and joy? All of the above? Nice. I'm not. Sniff. 

Nah, I'm good. Just have a pesky old headache, that's all. Nothing a good cup of coffee and some ibuprofen won't fix. Which segues neatly into today's topic:

TEA! 


I know. I said coffee before, but I like to surprise you with twists and unexpected turns. Since my head is pounding, I'm taking the easy option with the lovely old list-post. Why not? 

Here are ten reasons I love tea:

1. Tea warms me up on a cold winter's day. 
2. Tea never talks. I can sip it in blissful silence. 
3. Tea comes in convenient bags, with or without strings. 




4. Tea is one of the simple pleasures in life which is supposedly good for you, due to its antioxidants or something. I'm far to lazy and headachey to do the proper research. Shut up. 
5. You can drink it in lovely, pretty, dainty cups with saucers and pretend you're a character on Downton Abbey. Just me? 
6. Tea is the perfect companion for CAKE. Unless you prefer coffee. That works, too. 
7. You can have it in a pot or a cup. There is something so comforting about pouring it from the pot into those dainty cups. See above. This time you can pretend you're one of the servants on Downton Abbey, fantasising about spilling the scalding liquid on snooty Lady Mary's frightfully expensive gown. Again, just me? 




8. Cup of tea + good book + rainy day = Perfection, with a capital P. It's the simple things in life, people. 
9. Tea fixes everything. Have you ever noticed how in the middle of a crisis or something emotionally draining, the first thing people do is pop the kettle on for a refreshing brew? Or is that just in those historical saga type novels I read from time to time...? 
10. Tea provides the illusion that I'm much less socially awkward than I am. I'll take my small talk with tea, thanks. At least that way, when I can't think of anything to say, I can sip away. Luckily, I am not prone to spilling hot drinks or this theory could go awry quite easily...

And there you have it.  The ten reasons I love tea. Oh, and I do like the taste of it. That helps, too!

What about you? 

Are you a coffee or tea person? 

Friday, 26 May 2017

Odd Numbers

Welcome to another wondrous blog post from yours truly.  Admit it, it's the highlight of your day every time you delight in my meandering musings. You're welcome!

Now, today I have chosen the topic of odd numbers. This may seem odd. It's meant to! As you know, I always like to be cutting edge. Forever tackling the big issues.  Apparently, there are some folk who simply CANNOT BEAR odd numbers.  You know who you are.  Sorry if this post upsets you. Look away, NOW!

For the rest of you. You're in for a treat. Or something...

This topic got me thinking. As in, over-thinking about pointless important stuff... because that's how I roll. It suddenly dawned on me. I was born on the 15th of January 1971. All odd numbers. Fifteen. One. Seventy-one. Maybe that explains why I'm odd? Cue weird creepy music in the background...




My mother is certain that I wasn't exactly ready to be born on that day. She believes they got her due date wrong. Anyway, she was induced and I reluctantly made my way into this crazy old world on that momentous day. So perhaps I CHOSE the fifteenth... Okay, I'm getting carried away now. I'm not one of these 'everything happens for reason' annoying hippy drippy types. 

There are several people in my family who have birthdays on the 15th of various months. Mine is on the 15th of January. My middle son is the 15th of March. One of my nephews is on the 15th of May and my Dad on the 15th of November. So I've come to the conclusion that only fabulous people are born on the 15th.

I found this interesting quote, allegedly by William Shakespeare.  Quotes on the internet are always legit, right? 



Interesting, because 13 is meant to be unlucky. I also found this article which explains all the complicated biblical reasons for this superstition. I am too much of a heathen to be bothered reading into all that. However, I noticed that there is a theory that if your name has 13 letters you're cursed. Stupidly, I found myself doing the mental calculation. Yep, Vanessa Connor has 13 letters.  Therefore I am thankful for the following facts: a) My full name is Vanessa FAYE Connor, and b) I am NOT superstitious AT ALL. Nope. No way. Gulps. 

Meanwhile, the house we live in is also an odd number. Mickey Blue Eyes was born on the 11th of August 1963. So, kinda sorta odd. We were married on the 11th of November 1995. Again; totally odd. Consequently, I would say that 11 has turned out to be another odd and meaningful number for me.

For the record, when I say odd, I mean quirky, offbeat and TOTALLY AWESOME not straaaaaaange ODD. Us? No way!

In other numerical news, Mickey Blue Eyes is spectacular when it comes to numbers. This is like having some sort of magical powers to me. That, and understanding maps. I'm hopeless. Forgeddaboudit. In fact, I will forget about it. I've forgotten every single useful thing I have ever learned in life. But I'm cute, am I not?

Some people use their 'special' numbers as their lotto numbers. This is what my parents do. And every now again they do win! Teensy amounts like 27 bucks 50.

I don't normally go in for this sort of thing, but I did some lazy googling comprehensive research into Numerology. This is what I discovered about the birth number 15:

With a 15 birth date number (the life path number of a numerology chart), it means the events and circumstances of the person's life tends to relate to home, health, harmony, nurturing, and beliefs.


As an overview, the numerology number 15 represents a composition containing the ideas of:

  • Family
  • Harmony
  • Exploration
  • Curiosity
  • Idealism

I must admit, this does sound somewhat like me, even though my basic conclusion is that numerology is a load of bollocks. Oh well, it's a fun and interesting load of bollocks, not unlike horoscopes

Anyways, I think I am done being odd. Snorts. As if...! 

After all, normal is overrated! 

Do any numbers have special meaning to you?

Do odd numbers bother you? 

Monday, 22 May 2017

How I Learn Best

Good morning, dear people! Today I will be talking about learning. Pacifically, how I learn best. Except I meant 'specifically'. I have learnt that much. I'm so funny!  Humorous type funny. Also, you know, funny...

Anyway, onto the learning thing. Should be a short post. Related: I never learn. Just kidding. I do. Sort of Well, sometimes. For example, the specifically vs pacifically thing. However, I'm asking
the intriguing question: how do I learn best? 

This is because it's today's prompt for  Life This Week. If it were up to me I'm more likely to ask the question: can today be cancelled so we can all go back to bed? No? HMPH. 

I had to think about this, because to be honest I'm not really sure how I learn best. Most likely through reading. But how did I learn to read? 


I was always a  patchy learner. This is due to the fact that I hyper focus on things that interest me and completely tune out if they don't. I'm weird. 

Additionally, I could still manage to bomb in exams. Even in subjects that interest me. It's a gift, people! Apparently, many autistic people are visual thinkers, but I tend to think mostly in language. Maybe a bit of both. 

Unfortunately, I often tuned out when I was at school and missed entire lessons. There was also those occasions when I read a sneaky book under the desk, but we won't talk about that... I can't focus or concentrate for long periods, or focus on more than one thing at a time. 

If I'm given verbal instructions I forget, so having stuff written down or reading something works best for me. My mum taught me to read by sounding the words out. (which answers my earlier question...). I seemed to be a natural reader and speller. When it came to other subjects like maths and science I just tuned out. I simply didn't care. Who knows what goes on in this brain of mine. It's a vacuum up there. 





These days I'm not involved in any sort of formal learning and I have to admit I struggle big time to be of assistance with my kids homework or assessment tasks. It's very embarrassing and disconcerting.

Occasionally, I have these awful dreams where I'm back at school and/or having to do exams. I always wake up in a panic. I guess the academic world wasn't meant for me. Also, I always knew emphatically that I could never be a teacher. I admire and respect people who are because it's beyond my capabilities. 


Thinking about it, I have come to the conclusion that I'm mostly a slow learner. It's always taken me longer than others to do certain things, such as learning to drive. I was never the type of a person who could pick things up easily and bluff my way through assignments or exams. I had a friend at school who could do that. She would put in minimal effort, often not even turning up for most of the school year and then still come dux almost every year. It was really quite extraordinary. 

Of course I do love to read. So I guess reading is my preferred way of learning. Besides, what I lack in academic ability I make up for by being stupendously GORGEOUS. 




Um, I just compared myself to a dog... But luckily dogs are awesome. All good! 

What about you?

How do you learn best? 

Are you really, really, ridiculously good looking? 

Saturday, 20 May 2017

Messy Nessy

Hello again! I have finally madeit back to another Friday Reflections link up. I'm sure you've been beside yourselves missing me. What's that? You hadn't noticed I was gone? How rude. Sniff. Oh well, I'm back, anyway. I did expect trumpets, streamers and exclamations of joy to mark this momentous occasion. But you're right. A quiet and graceful return to the fold is much classier. Though I can't help thinkng, couldn't you even manage just ONE balloon? Some people.

Enough about that. Let's get on with it.

The prompt I have chosen is this:

 Are you messy or neat? What about your family/people you share your house with? Does it work well?

Here goes...

Have you ever looked around at your surroundings, the place you call home, your sanctuary, your precious abode and beamed with satisfaction and pride? Have you surveyed the gleaming surfaces and pristine rooms while a surge of sheer euphoria engulfed you at the blissful state of Konmari perfection you have created? Yes?

HMPH. Well, good for you. I'm sorry to say, I'm not sure we'd get along. For I am your worst nightmare.




There is no doubt about it. I'm a messy little minx.You can call me Messy Nessy if you want. I've been called worse things.

It's not that I don't TRY. Honestly, I do. No, TRULY!  Sometimes I try SO HARD. And the harder I try the more ridiculous it is.

It's a funny thing about me. Like a lot of things. I seem to be all or nothing. Either I am going batshit crazy and cleaning ALL THE THINGS like a possessed person, or I literally have less than zero interest. It's like trying to motivate myself to dress in a chicken suit and run down the street singing bah bah black  sheep at the tops of my lungs. The idea is absurd, repugnant and I just CAN'T EVEN.

Luckily, Mickey Blue Eyes and I are similar. We're both fairly messy and disorganised. Although, to be fair, he does do all the clothes washing. He washes and hangs it out it, while I have the unenviable task of folding and putting away. This seems to work for us. And we take turns doing the dishes by hand because we don't have a dishwasher. I know! What are we like?

Meanwhile, the boys are fairly typical of most teens/kids. Cleaning is not high on their list of priorities, but they will do it if we insist upon it. The only thing is, I have to admit I struggle to teach them to be something that I am not. How do you teach another person to be neat, tidy and well organised if you're not any of those things yourself? It's a tough one for me.

As I've mentioned before, I struggle with executive functioning due to my ASD. I have this weird dichotomy where my actual preference is for order and cleanliness but I am ABSOLUTELY HOPELESS at being the person who can create it. It's super frustrating and depressing at times. Sigh.

I've tried various techniques. Lists, online sites or apps such as Evernote and Todoist and read a tonne of books. I even attended a de-cluttering workshop which I talked about here.

For the record, I'm not a hoarder. My house doesn't resemble something off an episode of Hoarders: Buried Alive (books don't count!). Tables and lounges can be used for what they are intended for and there is no climbing over things. However, it's just not as neat and tidy as I would like. Sigh.

 After attending the above workshop, I did come to the conclusion that I'm doing reasonably okay for someone who has ASD (officially diagnosed) and ADD (self-diagnosed). So I guess I've kinda sorta made my peace with it. But not really. It does upset me. I often wish I was one of those organised, meticulous people who have towels that match and spotless white furniture and fittings.

It's just not going to happen. Sorry, Mickey Blue Eyes! Sorry, Mum!

On the plus side, there is indisputable evidence that messy people are, in fact, geniuses.
Articles on the internet are concrete evidence, right?As Einstein was alleged to have stated: If a cluttered desk a sign of a cluttered mind, of what, then, is an empty desk a sign?





So there you have it. I'm a messy monster and not a neat freak. Messy Nessy. But I'm also a GENIUS. Though why a genius can't figure out stuff that is basically menial tasks is curious...

HMPH. Details!

Right, I'm off to be all genius-like and, erm...make mess. Or something.

What about you?

Are you a genius/messy monster or a neat freak?