Maybe the answer is a suntan (spray on of course)

This photo has been making the rounds all over facebook. 

(French Model - Tara Lynn)

My initial reaction:  What a beautiful woman. 

My second reaction:  hmmm pretty much what my bod would look like in that position, other than the fact I have pasty white skin and my legs are smaller. 

My third reaction:  Why can I look at her and think she is beautiful but if it were me in the photo I'd be tearing it apart.

A lot of heavy ladies will look at this photo and wish that they could look like this naked...

I don't know how many times I will receive a compliment from someone telling me how good I look in a certain top, or skirt and my initial response is to say I think it makes me look fat.  I don't know why I do this.  I'm not fat; I'm slightly overweight and I'm in pretty great shape... so I wonder just what my problem is.  (ok, don't answer that, it could take forever.)

I continuously find myself comparing my body size to other women and it's exhausting.  I don't think I'm alone in this and I have to ask the question:

Why aren't we ever really content with the way we look (unless of course, we are slightly drunk on wine)?

One day I tell myself that I'm happy, healthy and at peace with myself and how I look and there is so much more to life than fitting into a size 8, yet the next day I'm beating myself up again. Let me tell you, it's rough being in an abusive relationship with myself. 

There are so many females out there who are slender, yet have no muscle tone or real strength.  They are what my sister refers to as skinny-fat.  I think it is much more important to follow a healthy diet and exercise than it is to be a certain size or shape, be that slender or curvy.  I know I will never let myself go to the point where I become hugely overweight or obese because no matter how many excuses people make, it is just not healthy.  The pressure that you exert on your knees, back and heart speak for themselves.  After she lost a 100 lbs I can remember my friend saying that she never realized how bad she felt when she was heavy.  She thought she'd felt pretty ok until she dropped the weight and realized how much better she could feel.  

And I'm sorry, no curvy woman could ever admit to me that it isn't an amazing feeling when you fit into a size that is smaller than you normally wear.  Or when you try a dress on that clings in all the right places and looks great, without the use of spanks.  It's an awesome feeling. Or even better, when you can lift that 50lb sack of dog food by yourself.

I also know it works the opposite way for underweight women too - many women who are skinny stress about body image, boob size, etc. It's not just the heavy girls who do this.  I just happen to be on the other side of the spectrum, so that's the angle I'm coming from.

The photo above was accompanied by some blurb about whales and mermaids and then goes on to talk about how wonderful wales are and lists a bunch of reasons why one should wish be a whale rather than a mermaid.  Sorry, I just think this is a shield to hide behind.  The slogan was meant for a fitness campaign, not personal attributes that relate to your nature.

That slogan is not the best slogan in the world, not by a long shot. It's pretty terrible actually.  And Tara Lynn is no whale.  Yet I'd be lying if I said I'd rather have her body then Jennifer Aniston's.  So yeah... I'd rather  look like a mermaid over a whale even though mermaids are mythical and wales are awesome.

Lily Feet

I've just started reading a book titled 'Snow Flower and the Secret Fan' by Lisa See.  It's the gripping story of a young Chinese girl and how her feet, if bound properly, could change the life of her family.

My impatience at what exactly this procedure involves sought me to search it out online, especially after reading that the arch of the foot is broken to achieve the appropriate size foot.   What I discovered disturbed me. 

"Binding the feet involved breaking the arch of the foot, which ultimately left a crevice approximately 5 cm (2 in) deep, which was considered most desirable. It took approximately two years for this process to achieve the desired effect; preferably a foot that measured 7–9 cm (3–3 ¹⁄₂ in) from toe to heel".  Not only were the arches of feet broken, but so were the toes, over and over again, before being folded underneath the foot and tightly bound.

You can read it yourself, here.

To say I am horrified and appalled at this is an understatement.  I thought female circumcision, which is still practiced in some parts of the world was bad enough.  I've always known that the Chinese used to bind women's feet, as it was considered attractive and graceful, however I had no idea the extreme measures that were taken to make the feet so small.  How absolutely awful.  At least this ridiculous, abusive tradition has ceased. 

Below is a picture of 'lily feet'.  I'm sorry, I try to be open-minded when it comes to the traditions of other races and cultures, realizing that what constitutes beauty to one, may constitute ugliness and shame to others, however this is just shocking and takes the expression 'going one step too far' (no pun intended) to a whole new level. Again, I'm sorry but I just don't understand how this could be considered beautiful:

It's unnatural and wrong, on so many levels, even wrapped up in pretty, silken slippers. 

Of Ghouls and Pimps

This weekend we took advantage of the beautiful weather and decided to do do a re-run of the sirloin beef wrapped in a dishtowel in the fire pit with Robert and Dawn.

It was just as gorgeous as the first time and if you have access to a fire pit I highly recommend it. Beef has never tasted so flavourful… ever. If you want to try it out, check out this post: (If any of you tried it over the summer I’m curious to see how you found the experience.) To celebrate the end of summer (especially with such an unexpected treat with the weather) we opened a bottle of Tattinger and toasted great friendships and sunshine. Naturally, we wrapped up the evening with a dip in the hot tub.

Although the weather is deferring any thought of winter boots and fall accessories, I have been thinking a lot about this upcoming Halloween. A few years ago when I was in Nova Scotia, I’d bought some decorations from Pumpkin Village as I’d intended to have a party that never came to fruition. I brought the subject of a party up on Saturday night, wondering if Robert and Dawn would be keen. I of course would want people to dress in costume, after all, what’s the point of a Halloween Party if no one dresses up? That’s where all the fun is… well besides the cocktails. All three were delighted when I said that the people in Canada dress in a variety of costume, not just horror/zombie themed, which makes the choice of costume much easier. At this, Cameron, who is 14, decided that this party was a must as it will be his opportunity to dress as a pimp; Huggy Bear to be exact. You’d have to know this kid for yourself to realise how out of character this is. Yet isn’t that what Halloween is all about; an opportunity to be someone else for an evening. So although we haven’t decided 100% if we will proceed, it’s looking very likely. Think of all the ghouls dancing around the fire pit eh?

I’m already seeking out punch recipes and thinking of costumes that Andy and I could wear.

A few years back we attended a Halloween Party and as I was getting ready, Alex asked if I intended on winning best costume. It hadn’t really entered my mind, but win I did.

Here is a picture of me and my pal Sharon dressed for the occasion:

If any of you have any great Halloween punch recipes I’d love it if you could share them (alcoholic of course – other than two teens, this will be an adult themed party).

And you can bet we will be calling in at the Champagne Bar in St. Pancras...

How could I forget to mention in my previous post that Andy has booked us tickets on the Eurostar to Paris in November.   

I've wanted to return to this city alone with my husband since we visited it in spring six years ago (I can't believe it's been that long) with my extended family...

I always thought Paris in the spring would be best but something tells me that pre-Christmas Paris will be just as beautiful... imagine all the Christmas lighting and shop windows, coffee in the riverside cafe's and wine-fueled dinners in cozy bistros.  Hmmmmm oui, si'l vous plait... 

When I think of this my feelings sway towards elation.  Not that I want to think about Christmas just yet, especially in 29 degree heat, however I do like the thought of Paris at anytime...

The sunny side of life

I’m smiling today for a variety of reasons:

• The sun is shining and it’s 29 degrees out. Yes, it’s a work day and the start beginning of Autumn... we've been waiting for this type of weather all summer.  It's a few months late, buy better late than never and maybe we are appreciating it a little bit more because it's so unexpected.

• My friend and work colleague just used her daughter’s trade card to get me a bunch of bargain’s at the salon wholesaler's, including Rusk Hairspray for £1.50 marked down. I can’t wait to wash my hair tonight with my Rusk Shampoo. I seem to be off Bed Head these days.

• Andy is home on a four day weekend. We are trying to decide if we want to go to Norfolk on Saturday for the night or just take advantage of the great weather and chill at home. Either way works for me.

Content is how I'm feeling... I like it.

Waterfalls and Rain

Getting away for a few days last week was exactly what was needed;  my brother was just as taken with the natural beauty that is found in nearly every direction of the Lake District as we are.  It never gets old.

I thought I'd never been to Ullswater before, however last year when my cousin was here Andy took us for a drive through the North Lakes and we stopped briefly for a walk through the woods, to a beautiful waterfall.  Because it had been raining and I hadn't been driving, I didn't realize that this was the same walk I had picked out for John and I to do.  Isn't it odd how sunshine makes something look completely different?

Last year, due to the rain our walk was only about 1/2 hour,  just to the falls and back.  Last Thursday John and I went up to the Aira Force Falls (Andy had to work) but then continued onwards for a further 3 1/4 hours. 

It was a fantastic hike, the sun was shining and Molly was in her element. 

Aira Force Falls

Above the falls...

John and our Molly

The changes in scenery were amazing:

I love this one of my girl:

Only a small section of Ullswater Lake:

On Friday we visited the town of Keswick and browsed around the quaint shops while we waited to see if the rain would cease.  After a pub lunch we decided to go for it and head out for a hike, thinking the worst of the rain was over.  It wasn't.  It only got worse.  However it wasn't cold and it was the kind of heavy rain that actually feels quite peaceful, so we hiked around the lake enjoying the solitude a rainfall like this brings. Although we cut it short, it was still a good walk.

We didn't get many pictures from this hike as I didn't want to ruin my camera...

My handsome hiking companions:

I like this one... we actually look like seasoned hikers here.  (Amazing what the right clothes can achieve eh?) 

The stones in the lake have engravings on them... beautiful.



We packed up on Saturday morning and came home as the weather didn't get any better. 

I'm already looking forward to the next trip to the Lakes.  Something tells me it won't be long.

No strikes but we've had a ball just the same

Just thought I'd give you a quick update:

There will be no strike action for the flight attendants of Air Canada.  This means my brother will be leaving on Saturday morning as regularly scheduled.  Mom rang last night to let us know and I was touched by John's response when he said 'I'm not sure if I'm disappointed or relieved'. 

My emotions are mixed because I had mentally prepared for his departure prior to finding out that he might not be going Saturday and therefore started to feel a little bit of excitement that I might actually have him with me for longer.  Greedy I know... but sometimes it's ok to feel like that right?

The next few days are going to pass by much too quickly, for certain.

Tonight John and I are going to Robert and Dawn's for homemade Thai Red Curry with shrimp, followed by the most scrumptious chocolate mousse I have ever eaten.  Seriously, Robert could market this stuff and make a ton of money.  John might not want to leave after Robert tempts him with this bit of heaven in a ramekin.  I think it's more than possible we might partake in a little wine/beer drinking as well.  One never knows... ok, who am I kidding?  I reckon I will have a slight hangover for work tomorrow.  

Tomorrow evening we are having dinner with Beryl, one last trip to the carvery so John can indulge in the British tradition of Beef and Yorkshire Pudding.  (Although he has become rather fond of the the new staple British meal - Indian curry.  I can't believe my brother is now a major fan of Fish Shashlik).

I've taken Friday off so John and I can have the day together.  We will be heading uptown in order to enjoy one last Nero's Latte before a bit of last minute shopping (I'm sending all my Christmas presents home with him, how organized am I?) before heading home to walk Molly and get ready for one last night at the Harvest Moon with friends and family. 

As mentioned, I think the next few days are going to pass in a blur before we send him back to Nova Scotia.

Most of what I'm talking about today could go in any direction...

I have said this before and I'm saying it again:  it’s probably not a good idea for me to post when I’m on, or for that matter, post that I am even on in the first place; or better yet I should refrain from posting anything at all.   If you don’t understand my meaning when I say ‘on’ then  you are probably not a female and aren't you the lucky one.

Today I feel like I could quite happily rip someone’s head off while alternately laughing and crying into the cavern left by that space. Ugly I know. But ugly is how I am feeling today. Well… at least right now. This could change in an hour or so, or even a minute. 

Anyway I thought I'd give you a rundown on what’s been making my head spin in various directions over the last few days:

I was elated yesterday to hear that this man won the award for outstanding supporting actor, in a drama:

Peter Dinklage, Game of Thrones

Not only is this program my absolute favourite at the moment, his portrayal of Tyrion Lannister is fantastic. Check it out if you don’t believe me. I’ve loved this actor from the moment I first saw him in The Station Agent, back in 2003.

John and I wrapped up the prequel, Spartacus - God’s of the Arena last night. 6/6 shows in one evening. Terrible I know, but we wanted to watch it together as we had watched Blood and Sand prior to his European tour. I was saddened to hear Andy Whitfield, who played Spartacus, died a few weeks ago after a long battle with cancer. He was absolutely beautiful. When I first started Blood and Sand I wasn’t sure if it would be my thing, yet I was drawn in.  Despite the obscene, over the top violence, there is so much that appeals to me about the show, besides all the sex and nudity (full frontal… and not just the women.) And I’m not even sorry or ashamed to admit that I like it. I’m not sure how I will feel when the third season is launched with a new actor.

In other news, Air Canada flight attendants are likely going on strike this week. I’m not sure how I feel about this as I have been so fortunate to have my brother here with me for as long as I have. It will be hard to say goodbye on Saturday morning, if all goes to plan. And I can't help but hope for one more week.  He has been such a comfort to have around, especially in light of recent events (also as Andy is away from Monday-Friday.) It also doesn’t hurt that John takes Molly for a long walk every day, and helps with the housework. Who wouldn’t appreciate not having to rush out with the dog or pull clothes in off the line after a day at work. However if the strike does go ahead, it’s not certain when he could fly out and I know how that feels as I was in Nova Scotia during the volcano eruptions last year. As chilled as he is, and as much as I’d be happy to keep him, not knowing when you are leaving can be frustrating even when you are in the comfort of your relation’s home. Besides I know my mom and his friends want him back :)

Although my husband has never said a word and has seemed to enjoy having my brother around, I think he is looking forward to having me to himself again. I understand that feeling too, because for seven years I didn’t often get a weekend with him alone; it’s just not possible when he has three children, one of whom lived with us.

Andy and I are looking to clear out at Christmas. I know he wants a rest, and he deserves a rest.  We don’t want to be here this Christmas as something tells us it will be less than idyllic. I can't lie and say I wouldn't be thrilled to spend Christmas with my family. I haven’t done so since 2005 and Andy has never celebrated a Christmas in Nova Scotia, however the cost is high and I don’t think it’s the rest my husband is thinking of. So… this leaves us trying to figure out what to do. The Canary Islands seems to be the only option for somewhere warm within our price range and I’m frankly not keen; the islands appear to be something similar to a tropical Blackpool… not mine, or Andy’s idea of a relaxing holiday.

We don’t ski, so a chalet in France or Austria really doesn’t make a lot of sense, however tempting.

A posh hotel or cottage in the picturesque countryside would suit me fine, but again I’m not sure.... if you have any suggestions, I'm definitely open to them.

Some Days...

I consume more than one diet coke. Other days, I don’t drink any.

I don’t drink wine, even though I really, really want to…

I think about running away with just Molly for company. But then I think I would miss my husband and his hugs so he would probably have to come too ;)

I go from being really mad at myself for carrying a few extra pounds and not being motivated enough to get rid of them, to thinking of the time I spend at the gym in comparison to a lot of other people which re-affirms that my physical health isn’t all that bad.

I wish I could be at Mersey River, floating in a canoe on the lake with a Ricker’s Red.

Or wish that I was hiking through the Lake District, enjoying the serenity of the hills and lakes as I look forward to a pub meal washed down with a pint of stout, while Molly sits at my feet.

But wait, that wish is going to be a reality because tomorrow I’m taking my brother away to see what all the fuss is about… and I think he might just get it.

Getting away for a few days to one of my favourite locations ever, where Andy can join us in the evenings and all day on Friday (he is lucky enough to be working in Penrith) is just what we need. The company has approved a flat in Carlisle for him to stay in during his months away so although we won’t get the cozy cottage experience, we will get to stay longer because accommodation fees are not an issue and I like that just a lot.

Andy and I are actually figuring we are likely going to be spending more weekends than not up there... but who could blame us really.

Where you invest your love, you invest your life... (Awake My Soul)

Lately I have been reading a number of blogs wherein my friends say that they wish they could be open and honest with their posts regarding current family issues, however as some subjects are of a delicate nature, they have to refrain, especially when the blog is open to a number of family readers. One friend has actually given up one blog to begin another that I don’t believe she is sharing with family.

I have always been forthright when I write my posts, perhaps too much so on the odd occasion; however there are some subjects that I have to refrain from for just this reason. When I first relocated to England, I found myself frustrated and angry and often wrote about my feelings regarding my husband’s former relationship and how difficult everything didn’t need to be. However I deleted those posts as a) I didn’t want to be that person, and b) I had no idea who was reading my blog…

Eight years on, I’m glad I did this because I know for a fact the kids know about this blog, as do their mother. For a long time I debated giving it up and starting another one that they didn’t have access to, or at least opening it to invited readers only. It’s no secret that Andy’s ex and I are not friends (that ship sailed a few years back despite my attempts to be amiable for the sake of the kids). I think most of my fellow readers would also agree that it’s not always ideal when your step-kids (or kids) have access to one’s most serious thoughts. This blog after all, has always been a form of therapy to me; so far, it’s kept me off the happy pills. Andy has asked me to not give up on this blog as it’s been a major player in my life for well over eight years, and why should I change it? I don’t write nasty paragraphs about anybody I know personally and if the kids don’t like the fact that I sometimes groan about how frustrating it can be raising another woman’s child, then guess what? They don’t have to read it. On the odd occasion when I have mentioned a particularly trying moment I’m experiencing in relation to the kids, it’s based on my perception of how it’s making me feel at any given time. I don’t share personal details because my posts are not primarily about them, they are about me and how I may or may not be handling a given situation.

This year has been one of the hardest yet in relation to dealing with familial issues. It’s had me re-evaluating my relationship with Andy’s kids and although I’m not willing to share what exactly has been going on, it’s fair enough to say that yet again another relationship has broken down, causing me to accept the fact that after putting my heart and soul into assisting Andy raise his children, I’m now taking a back seat. Please don’t think for a moment that it means I don’t love them any less. Love can’t be turned off like a faucet, however fortunate or not this may be.

Parenting is a thankless job at times, raising teenagers is hard enough but add a broken family into the mix and it becomes that much harder. I think perhaps I took the wrong road all those years ago. My heart bled for Andy’s children who had so much to contend with and I often put myself second, as so many ‘mothers’ do. I think a cool, hands-off approach would have served me better, even though it goes against the grain of my nature. However it would have saved me a lot of hassle and heart-ache. My sister-in-law probably had the right idea all along when it came to step-parenting.

Don’t get me wrong, although the past eight years have been filled with a lot of unnecessary BS, there have been a number of good times, more good times than bad and Andy and I still remain strong and united. However I have done a lot of thinking over the last week and I’ve decided that I’m finished with all the drama and that I’m going to live my life with my husband and no more looking back. What’s happened has happened and I’m not even going to bother to try and fix it… I’ve been there/done that and I’m finished with that role… the kids are all out of the house now, mostly grown. They have a mum and dad (as well as extended family members/friends) that they can turn to should they need it.

Sorry, but this well has run dry.

Temper, Temper

I was looking for some inspiration today in terms of an interesting blog post and as my sister is participating in a type of question and answer session inspired over at plinky.com, I thought I’d follow suit (at least for today). The question that I chose to answer is:

What's the best way to blow off steam when you're angry?

This question caught my attention for a variety of reasons, namely because this past weekend I found myself very, very angry. I’m not going to say who I was angry at or why, but my anger manifested itself in a way it hasn’t in a very long time… I banged the kitchen wall hard with my right fist (side on), whilst simultaneously hitting it open-palmed with my right hand. I know this because my right wrist still hurts and my hand print is still on the wall.

I’ve always thought people who punched walls were stupid and I still do. You aren’t hurting anyone but yourself and what is gained really? But then, if I really think about it, it’s probably a much lesser form of ‘self-harm’ (well depending on how hard you actually hit the wall). And most people who self harm do so to give themselves a form of ‘release’.

I hit the wall once when I was a teenager, after a fight with my dad and I haven’t ever done it since; until this weekend. I think I was trying really hard to not let my tears win out, which is usually what happens when I’m angry. No matter, the tears still won out in the end, so what was the point? No one was there to witness my crazy behaviour; thankfully my brother was upstairs working out, however Connor did arrive at the house just as I was drying my tears, whilst trying to carry on making an Oreo Cheesecake to eat after the stifado that I was preparing for a dinner party that evening. Poor Connor didn’t hang around in the kitchen for long as he knew he was already in my ‘not impressed with you’ book and besides, it’s been a tough few months due to a few issues we’ve been having to deal with in relation to his brother so I think he knew leaving me to it was the best way to proceed. Poor mite, he wasn’t even around long enough that day to enjoy a piece of the cheesecake… which was gone by the next day. It would seem as if my husband and brother enjoyed it just a bit too much.

So to answer the question, this is what I normally try to do to assuage my anger (besides cry):

Exercise (lots and lots of exercise – shame I wasn’t angrier more often eh?)

Talk it out with someone who isn’t a cause of the anger, although sometimes I just prefer to be alone for awhile to sort through issues on my own. I will often talk to the person (if my anger is directed at an actual person) I’m angry with once I’ve calmed myself down. I believe words said in a temper are often ones we want to swallow as soon as they’ve left our mouths.

Listen to loud, angry music. One of my favourites is ‘I Hope You Die’ by the Bloodhound Gang. Sad, yet true, it is so therapeutic to me when I’m riled. The fact that it has swear words really helps.

Rumpelstiltskin, Pocahontas and Me

I’m sure I heard it mentioned somewhere recently that fairy tales are going to become more modified; softer and sweeter. This made me pause for thought… hasn’t this already been done numerous times?

I adored the Grimm Brother Fairy Tales growing up. I was a child who seemed to be drawn to the dark side, I cannot lie. I much preferred the more ‘twisted’ tales told by the Brother’s Grim than those of Disney. Now don’t get me wrong, I can sing Princess Aurora’s ‘I know you’ as well as any eight year old girl who is obsessed with Disney; and although I am drawn to the caustic and woeful, I do adore a good love story. Admittedly these also tend to be of a more serious nature ie. ‘The Bridges of Madison County’ appeals much more than 'You've Got Mail’; Yet I will never seem to veto throwing in a handsome prince, it can’t hurt, however realistic they may or may not be because let’s face it, most young girls have the ability to realize, especially once grown, that Prince Charming is not likely to appear riding out of the mist on a white steed to whisk us away to never-never land. Even Kate Middleton, who did manage to snag herself a real life prince, isn’t living a fairy tale, not really. I mean, sure she has the beautiful home and pretty dresses, yet she has obligations and duties to attend to that I don’t envy. Not one bit.

The Brothers’ Grimm told a much more ‘grim’ story than more current fairy tales or other books written for children, yet despite this they often had an ending that saw stranded lovers reunited, or children freed from the horrible clutches of an old witch; but not before they had to go to hell and back before they had their ‘happy ending’, which to me is much more akin to real life than the softer versions that have been written in more recent years. (And let’s face it, as dark as these stories could sometimes get, they hold no comparison to some of the video games and movies that young children are being exposed to.) Oh, and I musn't forget one of my all time favourite fairy tales, The Princess Bride.  Not a Brother's Grimm story, but a fairy tale all the same, one I only discovered in my early 20's. 

The only aspect that I was (and still am) more drawn to regarding Disney versus the BG, were the princesses and how they were dressed. What little girl doesn’t adore Belle’s beautiful yellow dress? Come on admit it. You wanted that dress as badly as your male counterparts wanted a Luke Skywalker Life Sabre (ok… I wanted one of those too). Yet ironically enough, when I did have the chance to dress as a Disney character, I chose Pocahontas. She was much more my style in the end and much more suited to my personality.

However as much as I enjoyed the romance, accompanying music and fabulous dresses belonging to Aurora and Cinderella, I would still choose Rapunzel and Rumpelstiltskin every time.

What is your favourite fairy tale?

Into September...

I can't believe today is the first of September; that summer is packing up it's bags and getting ready to leave me behind.  Wait a moment.... summer already did that back around the first week in July. 

This summer has been worse than most other typical English summers I have experienced and I shouldn't be sorry to see of the end of August, yet I am.  For although September and October are months I often usually enjoy, I don't like leaving summer behind, no matter how crappy it was.  And boy has it been crappy.  Already there is a chill in the air first thing in the morning, and again by 4:00 pm.  Already the nights are drawing in and I think this is the main factor behind my dislike of the winter months... .the lack of daylight. 

Life always seems so much brighter when the days are longer.  I get more exercise outside, it's not dark when I leave for work, and dark when I get home, I don't have to plan road trips around daylight, because let's face it, when I'm driving I hate to be out on unfamiliar roads in the black of night.  I hate it.  I guess this might lead to an indication that I'm officially old... yet why should this come as a surprise? I hit that mark ages ago, when the hightlight of my Saturday became watching the X-Factor with a bottle of wine and a take-away.  Yet I make no apologies.  I lived it up in my 20's people.  Seriously lived it up, which means I'm ok with the fact that I don't need to be out all weekend long.  Although occasionally Andy and I do enjoy an evening at the local pub, either in the beer garden during summer, or curled up next to the fire in winter, which hopefully indicates that we aren't ready for the geriatric unit just yet. 

September is gearing up to be a good month though, as I have a few vacation days to take here and there (starting tomorrow) and will be journeying out with my brother on a few day trips, as well as to the Lake District in two weeks time.  As of today I have 23 full days left with him and I'm going to relish everyone, as will Molly I'm sure.  I should think it will be a toss up over who is going to miss his company more, me or Molly.

Tomorrow's agenda is a road trip to Nottingham with John, Connor, Dawn and Cameron. One last trip out for the boys before they start school next week.

Let's hope the sun at least pokes it's nose out at least once. 

My February Girls

When I was growing up and even when I was well into my mid twenties, whenever I heard the words 'Jody, we need to talk' I always instantly thought the worst.  What did I do wrong?  Have I said something I shouldn't have?  I know a lot of people take it personally or think they have done something they shouldn't have when the boss seems quiet or moody.  I used to think that too.  As I've grown older I've stopped thinking that way.  At least at work.  If one of my managers walks by and doesn't say anything, or I can tell something is up, I rarely if ever, think it has something to do with me.  Maybe it's because I'm confident, maybe its because I know that the boss has a million other things on her mind to occupy her thoughts than just me. I'm only one minion of many after all.

I'll get straight to my point today as I don't feel like boring you (I know right? Usually it takes me at least six paragraphs to say what I have to say, by which time I've probably lost at least 70% of you). 

So... I get a fair amount of texts and emails, and sometimes comments on this blog.  I look forward to every single one.  Then there is facebook.  I enjoy getting comments on my posts and pictures (who doesn't).  However when I open facebook and see that there is a message via email, prior to seeing who it is from I am momentarily filled with apprehension.  I don't know why and I can't stand that I feel this way.  There is no reason for it.  But then again, I think of all the upheaval that has been chucked my way over the last few years and I can almost convince myself that this is justified... at least a little.  Why only on facebook email?  If you can answer that question I will give you a bottle of my favourite wine.

The best part however, of opening my texts and emails are receiving those from sister and sister-in-law with photos of my two gorgeous nieces (born a year apart).  Nothing makes me smile faster (although my mom's are a close second let me tell you).

For example:

Daisy has been going to the pool with her mum since she was around four months old.  This was taken last month, when she was 5 1/2 months old.  Daisy is now our little mermaid don't you think? 

I can't believe Clara is now a toddler rather than a baby... she is such a clever and gorgeous child who seemingly loves to model the clothes her Aunty Jods sends from the UK ;)  Clara has been wearing sunglasses since she was an infant, which in itself is a major feat (and so cool).  

Don't make me choose

I don’t know if many of you are aware of this, but I have trouble making decisions.

Usually the best way for me to make a decision is to make it very quickly. If I have to spend time pondering, weighing pro’s against cons, I can end up taking a lifetime to make that decision. There are some decisions that would take an eternity for me to make. For instance, if you were to put Sam and Dean Winchester (characters from a television show, a fact which makes this completely bogus, but still a girl can have her silly dreams right?) in front of me and told me to pick one that I could have an amazing night with I honestly don't know if I could do it. (You are probably wondering where my husband would stand on this, but bear in mind, we all have a top five celebrity list and I think even he would know not to interfere with me and the Winchester boys. I wouldn’t dare come between him and Halle Berry) I have spent an inane amount of time daydreaming of both brothers over the last few years. Both of them. Sorry Andy, it’s true. And sorry readers, if the direction of this post is making you uncomfortable; if this is the case I have a whole other selection of enjoyable blogs listed to the right of this page for you to choose from (sorry to give you a decision to make ;) Although be warned, many of my fellow bloggers talk about sex, bowel movements and hair dye for ‘down there’, so I just might be the safer bet.

Where was I? Oh yes, the Winchester boys. If you asked me to choose between those two, I don’t know if I could answer because as soon as my brain starts to say Sam, with his incredible, hard body, I think about Dean’s big gorgeous eyes and those soft full lips and I’m torn up all over again. Perhaps it’s better if I move on from this line of thinking…

Here are a few real (and non juvenile) examples in which I was able to reach a conclusion after little thought…

When Andy asked me if I would move to the UK with him I made my decision without really thinking about it. I just said yes, even though I knew it would be hard to leave my home and family. Looking back, after eight years of trying to manage difficult situations with his ex-wife and kids, I’m not so sure the choice would have been an easy one, yet still I would have said yes. I love him that much.

When I found out my mom had cancer, there was no discussion regarding if I would travel to be there for her, it was when I would travel, and how long I would stay. It was one of the easiest decisions of my life.

If we are at our local pub and the choices for dessert are chocolate brownie with vanilla ice cream versus, well any other dessert, I will always choose the chocolate brownie, hands down. It is that amazing, trust me. I wish every choice in life was as easy.

I seem to have a knack for helping other’s think about the possible outcomes for any troublesome decisions they may be having difficulty reaching. I can be very objective. A few of these people even take my advice… at least those who are over 25 seem to. I’m wasting my breath when it comes to the under 25’s. I suppose the reason behind this is that they have all the answers anyway so they don’t need the help.

Soon I will likely have an opportunity that will require the necessity to make a very big decision and already I’m fretting about possibly having to make a choice that will affect my life... again. Of course I’m being premature and shouldn’t even be thinking of this until I’m actually given a choice. Easier said then done though isn’t it?

Itchy and Scratchy

I know I’ve mentioned previously that our Molly hasn’t been in the best of health these last few weeks. She’s been suffering with a terrible itch and the antihistamines I have been giving her are no longer working.

She started getting a rash and skin abrasions this week which indicated it was time for her to go back to the dreaded vet (I don’t find the Irish Mark appalling in the least, but Molly obviously doesn’t share my opinion). Because Andy had the day off work today he was the one to take her. I imagine that our phone conversation afterward must have sounded no different to the girls in the office than if I’d been talking to my husband about a child. I was firing off questions about what the vet had to say, asking why he thinks it might be an allergy to her food and what side effects the tablets she is now going to have to take for a month will have on her.

I suppose the only positive we can take from this is the boys might finally come to the realization that feeding our dog cookies and other crappy human food is not beneficial, no matter how unkind it seems to refrain from doing so. One thing that is clear though, is that both Andy and I hate seeing our little fur-girl suffer and we will do everything to ensure it stops.

It’s been an added bonus having John around as he takes Molly for a long walk every day while I am at work and that combined with any exercise we give her, should help keep her weight down due to the steroids she is now on.

I think taking her on a nice long hike this weekend will be top of the agenda.

Our poorly girl

I guess you could call it an evolution of food...

This weekend I managed to accomplish a number of tasks that make me want to give myself a lovely reward. Except the only reward I fancy at the moment is a big bowl of Ben and Jerry’s Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice-cream and because I’ve worked hard this last week, that bowl of ice-cream would undo all I’ve been working to achieve.

Despite the fact that Saturday morning found me sluggish and bloated as a result of the wonderful affliction us women are cursed with on a monthly basis, I went to the gym and managed 40 minutes of cardio. Those of you who are females over 35 will understand that this is an achievement in itself.

My mother-in-law had a gathering in her garden on Saturday afternoon and I managed to eat selectively and refrain from alcohol (I had used up my weekly allowance of wine on Friday night, however in light of some news that I have been landed with that I’m not prepared to share at this moment, I deserved those four glasses of wine that I gulped down in the presence of good friends).

Sunday morning I jogged laps around the local park, then did fast sprints between a few trees that severely pushed my limitations. Don’t worry I wasn’t alone so I didn’t look as ridiculous as I could have. Although I bet you there was more than one person in that park who wished they shared our motivation (that person is usually me). I do wish we lived closer to Alison and Scott (my sister and brother in law) as working out this way is so rewarding. Maybe one of these days my husband will catch the 'work-out with your wife bug' (that’s a hint Andy).

The weekend stayed reasonably nice and Sunday night we barbecued chicken which we ate with green salad and feta. What has been astounding me these days though is that my brother, who until he embarked on his trip abroad, had a very basic diet and would never, ever try something he didn’t like the look of (his own words). Since he has been staying with us and has travelled in Europe, he has tried a number of foods he normally wouldn’t (i.e. linguine with pesto) and is realizing how much he has been missing out on. John is also acknowledging that healthy food can be delicious, saying that he is now looking forward to trying out a lot of the food our little sister has been cooking on her quest to become the incredibly fit beauty she now is.  I still can’t get used to the fact that not only will he eat salad, but will eat a second helping. I was delighted last night when I showed him the cookbook I credit with my becoming more accomplished in the kitchen and he said it is something that he definitely wants to try his hand at and said he said he might even surprise me with a meal when I get home from work some night.

If my brother does indeed become someone who likes to experiment in the kitchen, it won’t be me alone who can credit this fellow and his book for learning to cook great meals from scratch:

 

Funnily enough, my sister also has this cook book but in Canada it's called Evolution of Food... whatever you call it, it's a definite stepping stone for anyone who wants to do more than warm a pizza up in the oven.

You can't buy it anywhere

This morning I had to drop the Kia off at the dealership as it needed to be recalled for some specialised undercoating that needed to be applied. I wasn’t too bothered about the details, so long as it didn’t cost us any money.


I did pause for a moment as I was handing over the keys, to wonder if I should have tidied the car up a bit more. However this thought was only fleeting, because I had picked up the scattered receipts, wrappers, diet coke cans and lone, day-old banana peel stuffed in the side pocket. What more could they ask? As far as I was concerned they could ignore the scattered gym gear scattered all over the interior.

I love my vehicle I really do, but tidying it and washing it is not high on my agenda; besides my husband does a great job of it and really seems to enjoy it. Well that’s how I choose to look at it anyway. I do know the car would have been sparkling if it had been Andy dropping it off this morning. However I’m glad I didn’t bother because they washed it all the same.

When I was single I did try and look after my car, especially the new ones that I managed to procure in my mid 20’s. I even went so far as to check the tires and keep the oil topped up. I had to; there wasn’t anyone else who was going to look after my car for me. My dad barely looked after his own vehicle so he sure wasn’t going to take the time to sort mine out. I kept on top of servicing and made sure that whatever car I happened to own ran smoothly. I might have washed and vacuumed my car out about twice a year which seemed adequate enough for me. Besides, I did get better as my cars became newer and a bit more flash. Unlike my first car, a beat down little ford escort. The backseat of that looked like a garbage bin; I sometimes even managed to muster up the ability to feign sheepishness when I had to sweep the rubbish from one foot well to another so my friends could squeeze into the back seat.

Thinking of that little ford escort makes me think about my cousin Wayne. He was the one that test drove it for me because it was a standard and I didn’t have a clue how to drive it. I didn’t have a clue how to do a lot of tasks that are required when one becomes a car owner. For instance, I remember one very hot, summer’s day when I had the bright idea that not only would I wash my escort, but give it a good waxing to try and brighten its dull burgundy coat. No one ever told me how to wax a car, and they certainly didn’t tell me that you don’t spread the wax over the whole car, never mind on a day when the sun is out in full force. I tell myself now that I could probably have taken a few minutes to read the instructions that were likely right there on the label; not that I would have, the only labels I read in those days were the ones affixed to clothes and beer bottles.

So when it came time to finally take the wax off I was appalled. That stuff wasn’t moving. No matter how I wet it down or furiously scrubbed it, only a very small bit at a time was coming off. After 30 minutes of continuously scrubbing, only one small area of the hood was clear and not very shiny. I was exhausted. My mother had no answers for me. We didn’t have the internet in those days so I couldn’t use that as a reference, yet I knew there had to be some product I could get my hands on that would make getting the wax off easier. Because I wanted to know what I would need to look for at the store before driving a car that was covered in a grey film to town (humiliating enough), I did what I always did when it came to that car. I called my cousin Wayne, explained what I had done and asked him what I needed to use to get the wax off. I wasn’t best pleased when he started laughing and pointed out that I should never have covered the whole car all at once. I remember replying that I understood my mistake but would he please tell me what I needed to get it off. I was getting pretty fed up with it all. I was relieved when he finally answered that the only thing that was going to get the wax off was Elbow Grease. I then proceeded to ask him if I could buy it at Canadian Tire. Laugh if you must. Wayne sure did. To add injury to insult, he couldn’t come over and share his elbow grease with me as he was working on his own truck. It took me hours and I have never waxed a car since.

I find myself thinking of my cousin frequently today and will probably remind him of this story when I call him later to wish him a happy birthday.

And its christened me with wonder...

Yesterday was a peculiar kind of day. For a start, it was Monday and like the lazy orange ball of fluff otherwise known as Garfield, I don’t like Mondays.

I went to the gym for a much needed work out and forgot to bring socks. Normally I turn around and leave as the thought of bare, sweaty feet encased in trainers is just disgusting. Although I had a half decent work out it wasn’t as beneficial as it could have been due to my being without socks. Should I forget them again (which hasn’t happened in years) I will not be working out.  I have to give credit to my friend and fellow blogger Dawn for doing this on more than one occasion recently. 

When I was re-packing my gym bag afterwards, I must have taken my book out and left it laying on the bench because last night as I went to find it before bed it was missing. I was enjoying that book so hopefully when I ring the gym it will be to discover that a kind person has handed it in.

After three weeks of being home every evening, Andy is now going to be based out of Penrith. It’s three hours away but the bonus is that it is near the top of the lakes. That is, England’s beautiful Lake District, a place that I never get tired of exploring so hopefully Andy and I will be able to get in some good hikes over the next 10 months or so.

Andy’s timing for hitting the road was timed appropriately as my brother returned from his trip on Sunday night, which seems a fair trade off. John is tanned, super fit and ready for a rest. His pictures are amazing, especially those of the Italian Dolomite's. He and I spent the evening last night looking through the brilliant photos he’s captured along the way. Andy and I are having a hard time deciding what type of holiday we want next; We waver between a beach, hiking or city break. Unfortunately he can’t get leave until November so a beach holiday is definitely ruled out. I’m hopeful that once my husband bears witness to these amazing mountains he will share in my excitement of possibly planning a trip in the not too distant future, maybe next spring. The fact that we have close friends living in a town nearby is just an added bonus.

I was filled with joy at how my brother also fell in love with Venice. We both spent ages last night pouring over and comparing the pictures we have both captured in this floating city. Andy and I were fortunate enough to have visited Venice on our first wedding anniversary. Although we have lots of other regions to explore, Venice will definitely be a repeat at some point, maybe for another milestone anniversary...

Why not just blame someone else?

I usually try to stay away from sensitive issues on this blog. I try not to give my opinions on politics, religion or many current events that take place around the world. Does it make for a boring site? Maybe not for my friends and family, they probably find it semi-interesting at times; however I figure that for those who don’t know me and stumble upon my site, they pass through without a second glance. I’m 90% positive that the subject matter here isn’t exactly what they were looking for when they might have done a search on Joe Brown or a certain poet. Especially not if the search was for ‘full frontal nudity’ or ‘babes with big knockers’ only to come across one of my (many) posts relating to breasts (although I am a babe with impressive ‘knockers’). However I won’t be posting any nude pictures here, not today, tomorrow or next year. The closest I’ve gotten to revealing any nudity was on one of my breast cancer ‘challenge’ posts more than a few years back (and I’m not linking to that site, if you want to find it go look for it). Speaking of that post, I have to admit that even now, a year later, I still feel the loss of losing all my comments from preceding years due to the fact that I didn’t save my template before changing the design. That blog generated some of the most interesting comments this blog has seen. And since I don’t have a lot of registered followers on my site, and only a few comments, it sucks that I’ve lost all those that have gone before.

It only causes me a modicum of dismay that I don’t have a huge mass of registered followers on my site. I say this because my stat bar tells me that I have a large volume of traffic through this site and although you don’t want to let me know you’ve dropped by, I can still see that you have been here. I know I don’t talk about the most tantalising of subjects, or advertise. Then add to the equation that I’m quite random: I’m not a mommy blogger, or a weight watcher blogger. I don’t have any fantastic talents to share like DIY tips on how to reupholster a couch using only a yard of fabric and a glue stick (although I wish I did). I like to talk about some of my favourite recipes, how I don’t work out enough, the antics we get up to with friends and family, how I’d often rather spend time with my dog before anyone else; sometimes I will even post a few photos. Food and drink usually take a prime position because let’s face it… I love to eat and drink. Too much so, but life can be short so why the hell not?

So getting to back to what I originally sat down to gripe about today:  the riots that have been taking over England. I’m going to try to keep it short yet I’m so angered and appalled by a situation that should never have been allowed to get so out of control. I think that the world a hundred years ago was a world that needed improving. Women needed the right to vote, people had to have safer work environments with more reasonable working hours; children had to have someone listen to them if they were being hurt. I’m all for those changes that eventually happened over time, and many more.

What upsets me is that the world changed, and then changed again, for the worse. When did the criminal start being the victim? When did it become ok for an armed man to wave his gun at the police and not expect to get shot for his decision to do so? It’s somehow the fault of the police and people are crying out for justice for that young man. Sorry, but I think there is something wrong here.

How is it that looters and rioters are allowed to run rampant through our streets, taking what they like no matter who get’s in the way, setting businesses and cars alight, yet when the police use a bit of ‘excessive’ force they are followed with constant criticism by the very people they are trying to protect?

Teachers aren’t allowed to hug their students anymore because of the fear they might be accused of something inappropriate. Neighbours can’t yell at naughty children on the street to behave, let alone march them back to their parents because it has ‘nothing to do with them’, or for fear of retribution. It’s getting to the point where parents have to be extra careful with how they discipline their own children because of what can happen to them if they make one wrong move. Employers are being forced to keep employees on the books who should have been dismissed long ago. The list goes on and on.

Are you aware that some prisons in Britain supply their inmates with play stations and other forms of entertainment? Is that really what tax dollars are paying for? Never mind how it must make the victims feel. Sure, they might be locked up, but they haven’t lost out on many of their human rights… human rights that should have been taken away when they made the decision to hurt another as far as I’m concerned.

No one is held accountable for their actions any more. Good people live in fear of one little misstep because they could be facing a law suit for saying or doing the ‘wrong’ thing. Children are growing up not needing to learn about consequences, because let’s face it for most of them there aren’t any.

I know that many of you are raising your children to have respect (as are Andy and I). I know that many of the changes that have been taking place over the years are beneficial, and right. That it’s not all bad and there are so many moments to cherish in life. Still I can’t help but wonder what kind of world the children of today will inherit.