Vanilla just pointed out that it's practically two weeks since my last post. How did that happen? Alright July's been a manic round of end-of-year ceremonies, productions, sponsored walks, Masses, leaver's celebrations and discos but is it really over already? By the time my final assignment was due I was so far behind because of aforementioned schedule and the whole getting-a-job-thing that I had to batten down the hatches and turn off my blogging head to catch up and write my final piece. Aside from scrabulous (Thanks to Vanilla, Aerin, Ello and Precie for always having a game on the go with me), I've tried to keep my internetting to a minimum. It's been hard. But I submitted on time! All done!
And - deflate! I wasn't in the mood for anything for 5 days. I have been zoned out, lying around, daydreaming and generally calming down. A couple of days ago I started to write some notes (by hand) on The Project and slowly I've been getting my brain back into a more manageable gear. (I can't do full tilt without blowing a gasket - I'm more of a tortoise than a hare!). So I'm back on track and I'll be checking around the net to see how you folks have been doing in the last couple of weeks. I look forward to catching up.
Wednesday, 30 July 2008
Thursday, 17 July 2008
Me!
So this is me - complete with new haircut and hair that looks like it grew right of head just like that!
If I'm looking a bit smug it's because I just got news that I've landed a dream job in a Primary school. I will be, from September, a Individual Needs Assistant in the most gorgeous little village school ever, working with a little boy who has some communications difficulties. I'm absolutely delighted.
I'd be doing a Happy Dance if it wasn't for the fact that I fell down a hole a half hour ago and sprained my ankle. It's dangerous work - walking a doggie!
If I'm looking a bit smug it's because I just got news that I've landed a dream job in a Primary school. I will be, from September, a Individual Needs Assistant in the most gorgeous little village school ever, working with a little boy who has some communications difficulties. I'm absolutely delighted.
I'd be doing a Happy Dance if it wasn't for the fact that I fell down a hole a half hour ago and sprained my ankle. It's dangerous work - walking a doggie!
Wednesday, 16 July 2008
Hair Today…
You know I'm not easily offended. Mostly I think people who say mean things made a mistake, used a wrong word or aren't especially good at expressing themselves. Sometimes someone being insensitive is more about you being over-sensitive. I'm a benefit-of-the-doubt kinda person. I try to hear what people mean rather than what they say.
But, then occasionally you hear something that you know you should ignore but it just rubs that raw insecure little bit in your psyche and BAM! you're obsessing before you know it.
An elderly woman (84) I was talking to on Sunday asked me if Small Son was my grandchild.
Oh. My. Good. Golly. Gosh!
I'm 41! And although technically, when I had him at age 36, I suppose I was old enough to be a Granny, I'm still young enough to bear children. If I wanted to. Which I don't. But if I did, I could. Now I realise that there are a lot of real Grandmothers out there who will be miffed at my outrage but I can't help it. If someone thinks you're a Granny - what they're really saying is that you look old enough to be one.
It's my hair see. I'm blighted by my Celtic genes. We don't seem to able to hang on to our pigmentation. Hence we freckle instead of tan and we go grey very young in life. (Not all Celts do this - but a higher proportion than other ethnic groups). I found my first grey hair when I was 14 around the same time as I hit puberty. Ah the irony of that really socks it to me!
By the time I was 23 I'd started to colour my hair. I only had a minor sprinkling at that time - but enough for people to notice and make comments. The I had Big Son aged 28 and suddenly I had a streak. Aged 30 I had Daughter and the whiteness spread even further. I tried going blonde for a while but I just didn't recognise the pasty-faced individual with the yellow hair looking back at me from the mirror. After a year or two I went back to my more natural looking reddy-brown. When, at age 36, Small Son came along, it was as though the last of the melanin reserves were wiped out and I resigned myself to colouring my hair every three weeks until my chronological age caught up with my hair age and I'm finally able to ditch it. Yes every three weeks. Because even though I have no colour in my hair - it is very thick and tremendously fast-growing.
At the weekend it was looking particularly bad. Since moving here I haven't had a haircut. It takes me ages to find a hairdresser that'll be able to handle my bonce. It's not an easy head to tame. So I put it off - and off - and off, until I looked like I was wearing a haystack wig instead of having hair. With white roots.
It really was an awful mess. But to think someone thought I was a Granny. Geez Louise - something had to be done.
So I found a hairdresser, took the plunge and had it all chopped off. Tonight I fill in the blanks and return it to a natural-looking auburn. My next door neighbour saw it first and she kindly told me that it looked great - apparently it took years off me! (The pit of my tummy ached at the thought that years needed to be taken off me). But I cheered up. I went to get Small Son from Pre-school.
"Hey Honey did you have a good morning?"
"Yes! Yes! Mama you did cutted all you hair."
"I did. Do you like it?"
"Yes! Yes! Now you are a man!"
Good Grief! From granny to a bloke! And it didn't stop there. Daughter said I looked like Anne Robinson. (She of The Weakest Link). Can a girl catch a break?
Then Hubby came home and smiled at me and told me I looked great and it really suited me. I knew there was a reason I love him so much. He's just lovely.
I just saw the beginning of the last post where I claimed "I'm all about the natural - me." Well obviously - I'm more about looking natural and using any ol' fake means to achieve it! I'll put a photo up soon.
But, then occasionally you hear something that you know you should ignore but it just rubs that raw insecure little bit in your psyche and BAM! you're obsessing before you know it.
An elderly woman (84) I was talking to on Sunday asked me if Small Son was my grandchild.
Oh. My. Good. Golly. Gosh!
I'm 41! And although technically, when I had him at age 36, I suppose I was old enough to be a Granny, I'm still young enough to bear children. If I wanted to. Which I don't. But if I did, I could. Now I realise that there are a lot of real Grandmothers out there who will be miffed at my outrage but I can't help it. If someone thinks you're a Granny - what they're really saying is that you look old enough to be one.
It's my hair see. I'm blighted by my Celtic genes. We don't seem to able to hang on to our pigmentation. Hence we freckle instead of tan and we go grey very young in life. (Not all Celts do this - but a higher proportion than other ethnic groups). I found my first grey hair when I was 14 around the same time as I hit puberty. Ah the irony of that really socks it to me!
By the time I was 23 I'd started to colour my hair. I only had a minor sprinkling at that time - but enough for people to notice and make comments. The I had Big Son aged 28 and suddenly I had a streak. Aged 30 I had Daughter and the whiteness spread even further. I tried going blonde for a while but I just didn't recognise the pasty-faced individual with the yellow hair looking back at me from the mirror. After a year or two I went back to my more natural looking reddy-brown. When, at age 36, Small Son came along, it was as though the last of the melanin reserves were wiped out and I resigned myself to colouring my hair every three weeks until my chronological age caught up with my hair age and I'm finally able to ditch it. Yes every three weeks. Because even though I have no colour in my hair - it is very thick and tremendously fast-growing.
At the weekend it was looking particularly bad. Since moving here I haven't had a haircut. It takes me ages to find a hairdresser that'll be able to handle my bonce. It's not an easy head to tame. So I put it off - and off - and off, until I looked like I was wearing a haystack wig instead of having hair. With white roots.
It really was an awful mess. But to think someone thought I was a Granny. Geez Louise - something had to be done.
So I found a hairdresser, took the plunge and had it all chopped off. Tonight I fill in the blanks and return it to a natural-looking auburn. My next door neighbour saw it first and she kindly told me that it looked great - apparently it took years off me! (The pit of my tummy ached at the thought that years needed to be taken off me). But I cheered up. I went to get Small Son from Pre-school.
"Hey Honey did you have a good morning?"
"Yes! Yes! Mama you did cutted all you hair."
"I did. Do you like it?"
"Yes! Yes! Now you are a man!"
Good Grief! From granny to a bloke! And it didn't stop there. Daughter said I looked like Anne Robinson. (She of The Weakest Link). Can a girl catch a break?
Then Hubby came home and smiled at me and told me I looked great and it really suited me. I knew there was a reason I love him so much. He's just lovely.
I just saw the beginning of the last post where I claimed "I'm all about the natural - me." Well obviously - I'm more about looking natural and using any ol' fake means to achieve it! I'll put a photo up soon.
Sunday, 13 July 2008
I Been Purty-fied
I've had a makeover. I've beautified this whittering bird, given it (what I hope is) a more earthy look. I'm all about the natural - me!
And I'm a great big copy-cat.
I was visiting Natalie's blog to listen to her reading from her fabulous Zombie WIP, The Iron Queen (fab, BTW) when I was blown away by how darned pretty her template was. So I got her to spill the beans and I got me one too.
Then I got carried away and put a new photo up and got this silly little accessory thingy to make it all Purty!
I think it's purty. And the nice thing is there were so many when I get bored I can just change it again. Like getting a new hairstyle - only free and I don't have to worry about it going frizzy as soon as I move!
Well this is the sweet-shop of wonder. How many more makeovers will there be……?
And I'm a great big copy-cat.
I was visiting Natalie's blog to listen to her reading from her fabulous Zombie WIP, The Iron Queen (fab, BTW) when I was blown away by how darned pretty her template was. So I got her to spill the beans and I got me one too.
Then I got carried away and put a new photo up and got this silly little accessory thingy to make it all Purty!
I think it's purty. And the nice thing is there were so many when I get bored I can just change it again. Like getting a new hairstyle - only free and I don't have to worry about it going frizzy as soon as I move!
Well this is the sweet-shop of wonder. How many more makeovers will there be……?
Thursday, 10 July 2008
"Running Wind" Short Fiction Contest
photograph by Jason EvansJason is having another contest over at Clarity of Night. Jason's contests are wonderful!! It was his Whispers contest that saw me finally getting out of the writer closet. I'm so grateful to him for that gentle nudge. I have met so many of my online buddies as a direct result.
The way it works is that he gives you one of his own photographs as inspiration (above) and lets you get on with it - within the confines of a 250 word limit. As always, he has wonderful prizes (including an 8 x 10 print of the "Running Wind" photograph inscribed by Jason Evans himself for 1st). The very best thing about a Clarity of Night Contest, though, is the amazing camaraderie of all the participants. Everybody gives lots of encouragement. Everyone's welcome. You don't have to be a blogger or have a website or anything just email your piece to Jason. So if the picture stirs something within and you fancy a shot - why not give it a try. I guarantee you will be welcomed with open arms! Closing date is 11:00 p.m., Wednesday, July 16th (Eastern Time, United States). I will certainly try myself - if I can catch up with all the coursework I'm still so dreadfully behind in.
Finally as of today, all is back to normal. My lovely Hubby is all recovered from his little op (hernia repair - very minor but he wasn't allowed to drive for, like, ages after) and the kiddies have stopped spewing nasty germs about. So it's just me and the Pooch now having a bit of a chill.
It's awfully quiet around here!
Wednesday, 2 July 2008
A Dessert for the 4th of July!
Photograph from www.dc.about.comNo posts for an age then two in a row? What's going on? Well I
See in the US of A Friday is July 4th, Independence Day, a day off work (most importantly), to visit with family and friends, to have barbeques and share food and raising glasses to celebrate the Declaration of Independence from Great Britain in 1776. There will be fireworks and flag-waving and singing of stirring patriotic songs and did I mention, it's a holiday!
So what do you do when you've been invited to a party to a big house on a hill which is going to have a perfect view of the two best, most dazzling fireworks displays in San Diego or wherever? What dish do you bring? That's a dilemma faced by families all over the US. So Barrie had the fantastic idea of asking all her blogging buddies to post a recipe of their favourite salad or dessert and she'd link to them from her blog et violá a magnificent resource for all in such a dilemma to use. Good thinking Barrie!
I'm going for a Jamie Oliver rip-off. At least I think it's one of his. I was served this at a lunch get together, a few years back, of new Mums. The hostess Rachel, told me the recipe but as it's so simple I didn't write it down. The result was I made a terrible mess of it and henceforward it became known as Blueberry Mess. Actually you can use any berries or summer fruit and I worked out how to do it properly now so really it should be called Fruity Fix. However it turns out for you I hope you enjoy it.
Blueberry Mess / Fruity Fix
you will need:
2 X 500g (1lb) bags of Frozen Summer Fruits (or blueberries if preferred)
1 X 500g (approx 1lb) Carton of Greek Yogurt
1 X 500ml (approx 1 pint Double Cream - the think stuff that still pours)
Sugar - I prefer unrefined granulated sugar - the quantity is a matter of taste.
Empty bags of frozen fruit into a large pot and put a few tablespoons of water in the end to prevent sticking and add sugar to stew fruit. Now I just shake the sugar bag over the pot till all the fruit I see has been covered lightly. Berries tend to be sweet (especially blueberries) so don't overdo it. You can always add some later if it's too tart. Turn the heat on to medium (I'm cooking on the stove top/ hob/burner in case I didn't make that clear) and let the fruit gently stew. The water in the frozen fruit will melt (obviously) and the cooking fruit will get quite liquidy, so it's important to reduce the liquor right down so that the fruit is quite thick. If you've been cooking a while and it's not reducing enough then just pour off the excess liquor. Keep it though! It makes a great milkshake flavouring or you can just freeze it to make a popsicle. When it's nice and thick pour the fruit into the bottom of a dish - I use a ceramic lasagne dish for this - and allow to cool, refrigerate if necessary.
In a mixing bowl pour in the double cream and whip it but be careful! Don't get it too thick. As it's just starting to turn gently add in the greek yogurt. The mixture thickens very quickly and you DON'T want it to end up looking like churned butter. It should be thick and smooth.
Then spread it thickly over the chilled fruit and smooth the top. Then sprinkle a layer of unrefined sugar over the top so that it's covered but only thinly.
If you've got a blow torch this is the fun bit because you set your flame to the top and caramalise the sugar. It's fast and fun. However if you, like me, don't possess one of these fun fire tools you have to use what we, on this side of the pond, call The Grill but I believe you in the US call The Broiler. And that's a bit tricky!!
Set it to it's highest setting and let it heat up. When hot hot hot place the dish underneath for as short a time as possible until the sugar starts to bubble and brown. The thing is you don't want your fruit and cream mixture to cook. As soon as you can remove it from the grill/broiler and put it straight into the fridge to cool down. The heat leaves the dish and the sugar very quickly so there's no need to worry about it heating up your fridge.
It's best made well in advance of eating - the night before is good - and keep it refrigerated. The longer it's kept in the fridge, the better it gets!
And there you have it. Easy-peasey-lemony-squeezy! And it is delicious! And fattening - but yummy!
Good Eating!
And Happy Independence Day!
Tuesday, 1 July 2008
Why Sick Children Should Stay at Home
It's beautiful here in the sunny South East of England. The sky is a clear blue, the temperature is in the high 70's and there's a refreshing breeze blowing. You could be forgiven for thinking it was finally summer.
So why is it that my two younger children have all the appearances of little people who've had Slimer from Ghostbusters crawl up their noses and explode into an ectoplasm nightmare? All I can hear is sniff sniff and uurh. Neither of them want any food and are as miserable as a depressed clown with a drinking problem. The Daughter wasn't so bad this morning. In fact (I will guiltily admit) I thought she was faking it because Small Son got to stay at home yesterday. The great thing about being a stay at home Mum is that you don't have to wrestle with whether to keep your kid at home when they're unwell. I'm a firm believer in not spreading germs around. And also, if you rest up -you'll get better quicker. That said with a cold - it's more a case of keeping yourself hydrated and not doing too much. There's no need to confine yourself to barracks. Just take it easy, is all. T (who's convalescing after a minor operation) and I had planned for a picnic today. We thought a bit of sun and fresh air would do our little snot monsters the world of good so we decided we'd go ahead with it.. After all it's only a runny nose.
So I did a bit of study this morning while Small Son and Daughter filled the living room floor with tissues and by 1pm I'd downed books and pen, T had packed the picnic and we were off. We went to a viewpoint about 20 minutes away where you can see a river snake its way to sea at Cuckmere Haven.
It is stunning. We found a sunny spot, spread out out picnic blanket, T and I unfolded our camping chairs and we set to work spreading out the food.
They weren't having any of it. Small Son ate a tube of fromage frais and had some apple juice. Daughter picked at a piece of bread and wouldn't drink anything. Both her father and I were getting a bit irritated and we pointed out that even if she didn't feel like eating she really must drink some juice. She made that whiny nasal noise that makes me crazy and pushed her bottom lip out. But I was firm
"You need to drink something."
She crawled off in a huff and hid behind my chair saying she was too hot. By the time that T and I had finished our sandwiches and tea (perfect picnic tea - tastes like plastic, out of a thermos flask) it was clear that we had to pack up and go. She'd now developed a headache and needed to go lie down in a cool room. I was now beginning to feel guilty as I watched the colour drain from her face and I packed everything up again.
Small Son, The Pooch and I took the lead. Small Son, too, was fading by this point and said he was very tired. We'd walked up the path toward the car a ways when we met another couple with a dog. They'd arrived at the same time as us and we exchanged a few pleasantries and asked why we were leaving so soon.
"The children are a bit unwell" I explained, "Colds! I thought some fresh air would perk them up, but it's too hot for them."
T and Daughter hadn't caught up and after a few minutes I decided to drop what I was carrying and go back and see what was keeping them. Just as I'd set off I saw them come up the path, Daughter looking like a ghost.
"She's been a bit unwell," said T.
Poor Daughter. We got her back to the car and whanged up the air con to make her more comfy and I drove straight home. Whatever horrid lurgi she has - it's not just a cold!
I was still worried about her being dehydrated when we got home and I suggested she try an fruit-juice ice-lolly (popsicle). The house was nice and cool and I thought she'd feel better. And she did - right after she threw up the blackcurrant flavoured (and therefore deep purple) ice lolly all over the cream living room carpet. Stupid carpet - obviously we didn't lay it (we are not the type of family for whom cream anything is a practical option) - I spend my time warning the kids not to spill things on it.
Poor thing was so worried I'd be cross. I'm talking about drinks and messy food kids - you can't help being sick! It's only a stupid carpet. She's curled up with her duvet and pillow on said carpet now (although far away from messy bit). It's all clean again anyhow. She says she's comfy down there on the floor. The Mr Bump cool pad is going warm on her forehead. She's not even keeping water down.
I wonder what demonic little bug, crept into her system seeing her a bit weakened by the sniffles, and knocked the stuffing out of her. This is why sick kids should stay at home and not try to tough it out at school. One bug leads to another.
I hope it's not too contagious!
So why is it that my two younger children have all the appearances of little people who've had Slimer from Ghostbusters crawl up their noses and explode into an ectoplasm nightmare? All I can hear is sniff sniff and uurh. Neither of them want any food and are as miserable as a depressed clown with a drinking problem. The Daughter wasn't so bad this morning. In fact (I will guiltily admit) I thought she was faking it because Small Son got to stay at home yesterday. The great thing about being a stay at home Mum is that you don't have to wrestle with whether to keep your kid at home when they're unwell. I'm a firm believer in not spreading germs around. And also, if you rest up -you'll get better quicker. That said with a cold - it's more a case of keeping yourself hydrated and not doing too much. There's no need to confine yourself to barracks. Just take it easy, is all. T (who's convalescing after a minor operation) and I had planned for a picnic today. We thought a bit of sun and fresh air would do our little snot monsters the world of good so we decided we'd go ahead with it.. After all it's only a runny nose.
So I did a bit of study this morning while Small Son and Daughter filled the living room floor with tissues and by 1pm I'd downed books and pen, T had packed the picnic and we were off. We went to a viewpoint about 20 minutes away where you can see a river snake its way to sea at Cuckmere Haven.
It is stunning. We found a sunny spot, spread out out picnic blanket, T and I unfolded our camping chairs and we set to work spreading out the food.
They weren't having any of it. Small Son ate a tube of fromage frais and had some apple juice. Daughter picked at a piece of bread and wouldn't drink anything. Both her father and I were getting a bit irritated and we pointed out that even if she didn't feel like eating she really must drink some juice. She made that whiny nasal noise that makes me crazy and pushed her bottom lip out. But I was firm
"You need to drink something."
She crawled off in a huff and hid behind my chair saying she was too hot. By the time that T and I had finished our sandwiches and tea (perfect picnic tea - tastes like plastic, out of a thermos flask) it was clear that we had to pack up and go. She'd now developed a headache and needed to go lie down in a cool room. I was now beginning to feel guilty as I watched the colour drain from her face and I packed everything up again.
Small Son, The Pooch and I took the lead. Small Son, too, was fading by this point and said he was very tired. We'd walked up the path toward the car a ways when we met another couple with a dog. They'd arrived at the same time as us and we exchanged a few pleasantries and asked why we were leaving so soon.
"The children are a bit unwell" I explained, "Colds! I thought some fresh air would perk them up, but it's too hot for them."
T and Daughter hadn't caught up and after a few minutes I decided to drop what I was carrying and go back and see what was keeping them. Just as I'd set off I saw them come up the path, Daughter looking like a ghost.
"She's been a bit unwell," said T.
Poor Daughter. We got her back to the car and whanged up the air con to make her more comfy and I drove straight home. Whatever horrid lurgi she has - it's not just a cold!
I was still worried about her being dehydrated when we got home and I suggested she try an fruit-juice ice-lolly (popsicle). The house was nice and cool and I thought she'd feel better. And she did - right after she threw up the blackcurrant flavoured (and therefore deep purple) ice lolly all over the cream living room carpet. Stupid carpet - obviously we didn't lay it (we are not the type of family for whom cream anything is a practical option) - I spend my time warning the kids not to spill things on it.
Poor thing was so worried I'd be cross. I'm talking about drinks and messy food kids - you can't help being sick! It's only a stupid carpet. She's curled up with her duvet and pillow on said carpet now (although far away from messy bit). It's all clean again anyhow. She says she's comfy down there on the floor. The Mr Bump cool pad is going warm on her forehead. She's not even keeping water down.
I wonder what demonic little bug, crept into her system seeing her a bit weakened by the sniffles, and knocked the stuffing out of her. This is why sick kids should stay at home and not try to tough it out at school. One bug leads to another.
I hope it's not too contagious!
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