I need a nice cup of tea....

My mind hurts.

Not my brain, or my head, those are fine. (relatively speaking)

But my actual mind.

You see, I don't do a whole lot of thinking.
And if I do, it's usually thinking inside my comfort zone. I think about politics, kids' lunches, sex, whether it's going to rain, the importance of micro-financing, sex, grocery shopping, zombies, serial killers, food and sex.

Just average stuff.

But for the last few days, I have been having to THINK. And LEARN. And APPLY. And I have installed a website.

No, not another blog. An actual, for real website.
OK, I downloaded the (free) software, but I had to upload files to my database, and modify files, and run install.php files, and delete other files, and then input settings, and then install a customised theme, and tweak that so my forum ran smoothly.

And I did it! with help from SMF, and a gorgeous fella from Westnet. I made a papercrafting forum, JellyBean Scrappers.

YAY, ME!! and now my mind hurts and I really really want to not think at all for a few days.

But I did it. Me. Look out, Bill Gates. Here I come.

Miss Marple is a bad influence

Yesterday, for lunch, I had chicken and cucumber sandwiches, and some elderflower cordial. I felt like Miss Marple.

Today, I've woken up creaking and groaning, everything hurts, my eyes ache, and I can't decide if I'm getting the flu or just old.

Conclusion : DO NOT DRINK ELDERFLOWER CORDIAL, JUST IN CASE.

(although it IS surprisingly good)

damn it to the depths of hell

This is me, trying to squint my way through those bloody be-damned Captcha things.

(image nabbed from here)

I've had that mongrel thing turned off for ever, and I constantly forget to check my spam for days, even weeks at a time, and there's usually only one or two in there.

PLEASE won't you consider turning it off? think of the children crows' feet.

in which I reveal how shallow I am

Linking up with Maxabella Loves....

I am grateful for THINGS.
I mean, like ... STUFF. Objects. Of luxury.

I'm grateful for my huge enormous king-sized bed, my flat pillow that looks more like a fat pillowcase, my crisp cotton sheets, my woollen doona, my beautiful white pin-tucked doona cover, and the 6 pillows and 7 cushions that Fabio calls fripperies and I call essential for my well-being.

I'm grateful for coffee in my Freo mug, and I don't care that most of the country mocks them, they are My Boys and I love that damn cup. I will love the Big Silver One more when we win it.

I'm grateful for head lice lotion. You got kids, you know why.

I'm grateful for my beautiful Dr Who bracelet that I wrote about a couple of posts down, not because it helps save kittens or fund cancer research or fight domestic abuse, but it's pretty and fun and I love Dr Who.

I'm grateful for books, and reading them snuggled in bed with a cup of coffee in my Freo mug, and not scratching, and listening to the soft chingle of my charms when I turn the page.

And my glasses. VERY grateful for my glasses.

I'm sorry I'm sorry

*taking a deep breath*

Edens' Fresh Horses Brigade tonight is a stunner. (they all have been)

Edens' post -- What else should I be? all apologies.

Took my breath away, seriously.

Because -- I reckon I've used about 98% of those at some point, or at least thought them.

Seems I was born sorry. I apologise for everything. It drives my husband crazy.

I scrunch myself down when I have to brush past people, to take up less room. I say sorry when someone steps on my foot. I stop peeing in a public toilet so I don't bother the person in the next cubicle.

I have even said sorry for saying sorry so goddamn much!

I used to think I was a serial apologist, but since my husband pointed it out, I see women doing this every day.
We were crossing a busy street last week, and a very pregnant lady who was maybe 10 feet away from my husband DUCKED and said "Sorry!" to him. For what? crossing the street? taking up so much room with her tummy?

It's weird. Why do we do this?

Men don't apologise. They walk where they want, take the last cake, fart and scratch and pee as loudly as they like.

Why do so many of us feel like we have to say sorry all the time? is it ingrained into women by society? is it some kind of get-along-at-all-costs community-building thing? is it a lack of self-confidence?

Tell me what you think.

what dads teach the kids

I was just trying to rant my 10 year old into bed.
"WHAT did Dad tell you before he left???" I asked.
He sighed.
"Obey Mum." he said.
Then ...
"OH! and, women are funny cattle."

the teakettle post

You know that sound a kettle makes when it's boiling? the high-pitched whistling that drills a hole through your head?

Yep, that's the sound I'm making right now, EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

..... because LOOK what just arrived at my house (on my arm)

A little white box, carefully packed in a padded bag, carefully packed into a post box.

with TISSUE PAPER

and inside...

SO BEAUTIFULLY PRESENTED that the packaging was in itself a gift....

.... my gorgeous 10th Companion Bracelet from the lovely Miss Jennie.
(apologies for the wrinkly old arm, I have another but it's just as bad)

Jennies' listing says
"Do you long to travel through space and time. Do you listen for the whine of the TARDIS' engines, just in case the Oncoming Storm is headed your way? Are you convinced you would have been the Tenth Doctor's perfect companion? If so, then this is the bracelet you've been waiting for!

The Tenth Doctor's Companion Charm Bracelet is filled to the brim with memories of the Ten's adventures in time and space. The 17 charms are a collection of Tibetan silver and pewter, surrounded by a mixture of glass, AB glass, shell, and crystal beads in shades of cobalt, sky blue, jet black and smoky grey. Since life with the Doctor involves an awful lot of running, I've used a VERY sturdy lobster style clasp.

The charms include:
Hope disk: "Oh, I always live in hope." - The Doctor
Rose: for Rose Tyler
Bad Wolf
Union Jack: To be hung by the lady or gentleman of the house
Key to the TARDIS: a frequent fliers privileged
The Earth : It. Is. Defended.
An odd Ood
Angel Wing: For everyone's favorite monsters, the Weeping Angels
Police Box: Time machine & spacecraft; aka the sports car of time travel.
Stethoscope, which somehow fit into rather small looking pockets
Two Hearts: both of which can break
Red Converse Sneaker: Ten's preferred footwear
Handy Spare Hand
Clockwork Lady
Fob Watch: Also known as the Chameleon Arch, a pocket watch in which the Doctor can store his memories and personality, while becoming temporarily human.
Teacup: Good cuppa tea is just the thing in the case of regeneration.
Bananas, which should always be brought to a party"


EEEEEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

why I blog. More Fresh Horses.

I first started blogging back in .... ohhhhh a long time ago. 2008.

I was living in a horrible place, far away from my sisters, and I kept forgetting who I'd told about that cute thing the kids said and my sisters were getting all up in my face about it.

So I started the blog just so I could keep everyone up to date with mummy milestones and photos.

Somehow I stumbled across a few bloggers who actually wrote, and it was like a light went on. I could CONNECT! with PEOPLE!! who THOUGHT!!! and didn't need their dinner cut up for them!!!!

Let me tell ya, for a lonely woman living in Dreary Town in the desert, the Internet was like manna from Heaven. (Whatever manna is.)

I found Sleepless Nights, and Wanderlust, and Maxabella, and suddenly I had a community at my fingertips.
I had ideas and perspectives presented to me, some of which changed my attitudes. Through those few starter blogs, I found more and more women, some just like me, some very different, all of us living and learning and looking to connect.

On my own blog, I had to consider seriously how I would present myself, what I would talk about and where I would draw the line. I still mess that up from time to time, but I try to keep things as real as possible under some fairly serious constraints. Because of exes and other assorted crap, a lot of what goes on in my life has to stay under the radar. Some of it would hurt others, some of it would probably cause us endless drama.
I came up with my tagline -- the stuff I would tell you over coffee -- and I try to keep that as my guideline. I don't know you very well. If I wouldn't tell you this face-to-face, maybe I shouldn't broadcast it over the net?

Right now, there's a lot going on that involves my kids and step-kids. I can't talk about that here, and for some reason, that keeps me from faffing on about other stuff. I feel blocked. The words I can't say are damming the words I could.

Many, many times I've thought about shutting the blog down. Usually after I read some stellar post by one of my favourites, and I think, FUCK I am NEVER going to be able to write like that.

And always, someone I never knew was there will say, OH! I read your blog every day, and I love it. Don't stop.

I'm stunned and humbled, every time. (also amazed)

I think women are community builders by nature. We support and encourage one another, to build stronger and better places.
I know there's a lot of bitching that goes on elsewhere on the net, but I never see it. I purposefully avoid the sites that promote that behaviour, and try not to get caught up in controversy.
Because I want to see the best in the people I read. I want to hear how they're growing, what they're learning, I want to be stunned by their truth and be cheering for them as they move on.
I want to be inspired and awed and welcomed.

And I get that, every day.

If you want to join this meme, call over to Eden's place, and link up. You'll find some good reading if you follow the comments through, as well.
And here are my latest loves...
Gappy Tales sarcasm served smokin' hot
Writing Without Pay Jayne should be paid. Lots.
Mum On The Run Shar is gorgeous, even if she does make me feel like a complete sloth.

can you waltz on crutches?

I'm not, on the whole, an adventurous sort of a girl.
My ambitions are small ones -- finish Assassins Creed Brotherhood with all the side missions completed, celebrate my 50th wedding anniversary by shagging my husband to a standstill, don't burn the toast....

... but I have harboured a secret passion for many, many years.

I want to dance.

You know, if I could light up the floor like Ginger, I'd be thrilled to bits, but even just to be able to get round the floor with my man and not look like I'm having a fit would be so cool.

SO -- today I took my first private lesson.

And it was gorgeous!! I got totally ballsed up a lot but a couple of times, just for a split second, I WAS DANCING!!! and it felt amazing. Just as I'd always imagined it would feel.
I couldn't stop smiling.

However, *note to self for next week*

right foot back, step to the side, feet together, then LEFT FOOT BACK.

Really. OWIES. But smiling.