Friday, 9 June 2017


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: 


  • 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? 


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:


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? 

Monday, 15 May 2017

Do You Eat Your Feelings?

Hello there, strangers! Yes, it's little 'ole me, back to entertain you after a bit of a break that went on longer than the school holidays. But you get that. Things to do. Places to go. People to see. That sort of thing. Except there wasn't. Unless my family, grocery shopping and scrolling mindlessly through Facebook count. See? I told you. All such important things. Yes, indeed. Such a fascinating and action-packed life I lead.

Anyway, I lied. I'm not so little. Oops. This is likely due to the fact that, in addition to all of the above, I have also been busily eating all of my  feelings. Every single one of them. They all taste suspiciously like cakies. Sadness = cakies.  Happiness = cakies. Boredom = cakies. Joy = cakies. Stressed? Eat a cakie. Relaxing? Best way to do so is with enough sugary carbs to induce a diabetic coma... You get the picture. 

Which segues neatly to this week's Life This Week prompt:

My favourite junk food. 

I bet you can't guess. Drum roll, please...


Haha! Tricked you! 

Chocolate AND cake. What a surprise. With an honourable mention of hot chips. Because who doesn 't love hot chips with chicken salt and/or gravy? Shut up, all you low carb/no carb fanatics. No one wants to hear about it. Just go and eat your salad and be sad. Or smug and energetic and glowing. I'm not jealous AT ALL.

Image credit:

Yep, basically I am addicted to sugar and all carbs. 

Needless to say, my trysts with the dietition are going splendidly well. Using 'splendidly well' in the sense of  are a complete and utter charade.

At my last visit I had managed to lose a whopping one kilo, but heavens knows how many more I have since put on. Sigh.

Don't you just hate people who whinge about being fat while they shovel anything that isn't nailed down into their gobs? Just quietly, people who whinge about being fat while being nothing of the kind are worse. This was also me some years ago. DOH.

It occurs to me that I never had significant issues with food when I when I was younger. Especially when I was still living with my parents. However, these days I am the person who is primarily responsible for everything food related. I have to do the grocery shopping, cook the meals and feed a family. 

This means that it often feels like all I ever think about is food. I don't find this very helpful. It appears that I have no impulse control when it comes to my eating habits. Additionally, I am now the mother of teenage boys. They constantly eat. They also never put on weight. I seem to have some sort of delusion that I'm also a gangly teenage boy, instead of an overweight middle aged woman. 

Yeah, I know. I need a gigantic kick up the you know what. It's quite obvious from what I have told you that I am the one who buys or bakes the cakies (except when my mum does...),  and I don't want to confront my addiction. I'd rather act like a petulant three year old, sulking in the corner because she can't have cake for breakfast. And lunch. And dinner. And snacks...

Plus, most of the stuff that I like to do, such as reading or writing, is quite sedentary. Why couldn't I have been one of these sporty types? 

Oh, well. Enough of my whinging. I'll plod back to the dietitian and see what happens. She also suggested counselling and I was a bit meh about it. I've been backwards and forwards to shrinks and counselors for years and then basically had to figure out I'm autistic myself! But maybe it's not such a bad idea.

It's either that or wiring my jaw shut. Too extreme? 

Of course I could decide to hell with it, who cares what size I am. I certainly could not care less about anyone else's weight or size, so why torture myself? The thing is, though, I've had breast cancer, am on medication for high cholesterol and have a family history of type 2 diabetes. Therefore, keeping my weight within a reasonable range is actually rather important. DAMMIT. 

So I guess my food/weight issues are not going anywhere... Well, except for my waist, thighs etc... Eventually I may have the maturity and emotional intelligence to realise that I can just FEEL my feelings and leave the cakies the hell out of it. Hopefully before I'm around 75 years old and morbidly obese.  More sighs.

But I suspect cakies will always remain my favourite junk food.

What's yours? 

Are you an emotional eater? 

Linking up for Life This Week. 

Saturday, 8 April 2017

Stuff I Do When I Should Do Something Else

Every day I have a to-do list. Well, most days. Okay, some days. Look, I actually prefer the idea of a ta-da list. 

I've mentioned before that I'm very easily distracted. In addition to this helpful trait, I'm also a daydreamer. An off with the pixies space cadet. This means that my lovely little to-do list can be found languishing and lonely while I'm otherwise preoccupied.

The things I do most often when I'm meant to be doing something else:

  • Scroll through Facebook and observe everyone's bright shiny happy highlight reels. No, I'm not jealous AT ALL. Sniff.  
  • Reading. Books, books books and MORE BOOKS. So many books, not enough time! 
  • Daydreaming (see above).
  • Writing or blogging (I do add these things to my to-do list, but for some reason I still feel guilty and like I should be something else that is housework related.) Sigh. 
  • Pole Dancing. It's a passion of mine. In my daydreams. Again - see above. 
  • Watching TV. I don't have Netflix, and I'm not a reality show fan. But lately I've found myself watching programmes about murderers. Or, true crime documentaries. I blame Mickey Blue Eyes. He got me started on this stuff. There is something totally icky about these programmes. I don't feel like any of these psychopaths should be given any air time. We should remember and honour the victims. Yet I still find myself watching them when I should definitely be doing something else. I know, I hate myself.
  •  Over-thinking. Ruminating. Pondering. Mulling things over.  
  •  Obsessing over Karen Carpenter by watching Youtube videos for HOURS. But she was SO CUTE. And talented. 
  • Hang gliding. 
  • Taking a nanna nap. This would appear to confirm that I did indeed make the previous point up. Shut up, I had to make this list interesting somehow! 
  • Making cups of tea.
  • Drinking cups of tea. Once made, they must be drunk. Drank? I should learn proper grammar one of these days... Snorts. 

Well, that was a comprehensive list. I could go on, but it all boils down to what my mother would call 'fiddle fart arseing around'. I'm a fiddle fart arser extraordinaire. It's a gift, people.

Without a doubt, good old Facebook is the biggest time waster for me. I don't even play Candy crush or Farmville, or any of those games, but I can still manage to spend ages scrolling away. Apparently I'm gifted. Or something. Besides, fiddle fart arseing around on Facebook has a certain ring to it. Doesn't it? 

It's a weird and wonderful thing, this here social media, don't you think? At the click of the mouse you can connect with like minded people, access information and endless entertainment. There are so many advantages. But if you're like me, you also need to remind yourself to pull back a bit and engage in the real world. 

Others would argue that the online world IS just as real and valid these days. And I suppose it is, but there needs to be a balance. for some one like me who finds it difficult to switch attention between tasks, it can certainly be problematic.

One strategy would be to set the timer on my phone as a reminder. That way I can limit myself to fifteen or twenty minutes and stop and do something else for a set time as well. I have been implementing this as a strategy. Sort of. Kind of. Sometimes. When I remember. Yes, I am a very bad person. 

Oh, well. I had better stop fiddle fart arseing around. (And, you know, saying 'fiddle fart arseing around...').  I'm sure there's something else I'm supposed to be doing right now. I had better go and do it. If only I could remember what it was...

Linking up for Friday Reflections. 

What's the thing you do most often when you're meant to be doing something else?