tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3129811945450411032024-02-08T13:39:32.410+00:00Defrosting the freezer and other Wifely dutiesWifelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15263045052950650396noreply@blogger.comBlogger38125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-312981194545041103.post-7721260907056814802012-06-22T15:03:00.000+01:002012-06-22T15:03:40.780+01:00Baby on board - who gets the seat?I had an appointment in Holles St today and got the bus in. Mine is one of the first stops on the route, so it was almost empty when I got on. I took the single seat immediately behind the stairs, the one in front of but not part of the priority seating. The priority seats are doubles directly behind the one I was in, one on either side of the aisle. The bus filled pretty quickly (wet morning) and 4/5 stops before mine, an older man got on, probably his early 70s. I had a quick look around and there were a couple of seats right at the back, and a good few young, able bodied people sitting, including 2 in the priority seating behind me. Anyway, I was listening to my radio with my headphones in, but the man bore down on me, saying something (I'm not sure what, I couldnt' hear him) but clearly wanted me to get up to let him sit down. I probably would have offered him my seat anyway since no-one else looked to be moving, but I obviously wasn't levering my enormous bump out of the seat fast enough and he was getting very annoyed with me :o( I also have a lot of pelvic pain which makes me slower moving, and I know there's no way he would have known that, but he wasn't at all happy that I didn't leap out of his way. Another man who was standing pointed out a seat to me further down the bus, but it would have been too awkward for me to get to it and get up into the high seat so I just stood for the last few stops. I have no idea if the older man even noticed I'm pregnant, but I do have a fairly significant bump, and I think I look more like the 8+ months I am than that I've spent those last 8 months eating pies!<br />
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A friend of mine told me a while back that in London, women often wear baby on board stickers on public transport - probably more for other people to avoid bumping and jostling them than for anyone to be so gallant as to offer a seat, but I'm starting to think they could be useful here too, if only so we Preggie Peggys could avoid arguments with older curmudgeons...Wifelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15263045052950650396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-312981194545041103.post-28028276279801169932012-03-10T23:16:00.000+00:002012-03-10T23:16:29.727+00:00MorishnessBiscuits are good. I can and do eat them all day. But yesterday I managed to restrain myself long enough not to finish the whole packet of all butter white choc chunk M&S cookies. How great am I?? I am in the process of finishing them now though. And I feel sick. I'm sure another biscuit will make it better...
It's ridiculous, I have no will-power. I was planning to go to bed more than an hour ago, but here I am watching last week's episodes of the Colbert Report. I can't be blamed for that though, the man's a genuis. Oh, and he's just said he's a chocaholic too! While the hubbie was away last week, instead of going to bed at a reasonable hour each night I sat in bed reading until stupid o'clock. And it's not like I could have a nice long lie-in any day, my junior alarm clock goes off at 8.15 every morning - you could set your watch by her - when we had to do battle over the dreaded nappy change. Thank God for YouTube and Charlie and Lola. My Beautiful Girl seems to have it sussed though. She's amazing, whatever she's having, she eats til she's had enough and then she stops. I don't know where she got it from, but I'm glad she has it. There are some days she'll eat 3 breakfasts and then nothing for the rest of the day, I think she's part Hobbit in that way. At least I guess I can blame my expanding waistline on the bump and not the biscuits.Wifelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15263045052950650396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-312981194545041103.post-60060955208330233672012-02-17T20:52:00.000+00:002012-02-17T20:52:39.778+00:00The missing "S"...and the missing postsWell, it turns out I'm not good at New Year or new quarter resolutions and I've been a very bad blogger. But, in my defence it's been a very busy 11 months. After finally settling my Beautiful Girl into the creche it turned out I wasn't very happy at work. Nothing interesting - just fed up of a job I'd done for too long with few prospects for going much further. So I decided the skills I'd developed wrangling supposed professionals in the previous 5 years could be put to better use in one of two ways: 1) herding cats or 2) setting up my own business and having more time at home with a munchkin. Thus I became my own boss and more at home Mum. <br />
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We've been incredibly lucky and I feel like I've the best of all worlds. I work (usually) 3 days a week, when Beautiful Girl is off having fun in the creche, and I get to be at home or out having fun with her the other days. We've started baking and making and had our first make and do on Valentine's Day to make a card for her Daddy. The older she gets though, the more glad I am of the bit of work, bit of home balance - and I feel an increasing awe for all those women and men who have the patience for planning dinners for a week, endless animal noises, all day energy balls and tantrums. <br />
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But, there will be a decision to be made in a few months when (pg) Junior 2 arrives. He'll (we're not finding out whether he's a he or a she, but I'm sure he's a he!) be here in July I hope, although BG's timekeeping wasn't spectacular so I'm banking on another 42 week pregnancy. <br />
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So, until he arrives and I have constant nappy changing to use as an excuse, I will do my best to be a more frequent blogger and brain dump on a more regular basis. <br />
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Oh, and my "s" key keeps sticking on my keyboard, so excuse the typos!Wifelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15263045052950650396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-312981194545041103.post-82216134229356494462011-03-13T12:39:00.000+00:002011-03-13T12:39:37.614+00:00The Wifeliest of dutiesThe Brig has a headache. He is in bed with his eye mask, ear plugs and a life time supply of paracetamol. He's wrecked; not surprising when he's been such a trooper - yesterday, he got up with Beautiful Girl at 10am and kept her entertained until I got up at shock horror, 1pm. He then got up with her twice last night, once just after he came up to bed and again an hour or so later. I think it's pre-emptive sleep storing as I've warned him that if BG is going to be weaned onto bottles before the end of the month, he's going to have to bite the bullet and get up to her more than once in the night to give her a feed. <br />
<br />
And so I need to be sympathetic, afterall, didn't he give me a lovely break yesterday morning when all that was wrong with me was a tummy bug and cold. So the Wifely sympathy gene must be kicked into high drive and the tenderest of mercies must be applied. <br />
<br />
Well see how long it lasts...Wifelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15263045052950650396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-312981194545041103.post-76155898062556801222011-03-06T18:10:00.000+00:002011-03-06T18:10:40.946+00:00So much for New Year's Resolutions...So I'm going to make it a new quarter resolution, and actually start posting again! <br />
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The last couple of months have been hectic. I went back to work in January, a week after Beautiful Girl started in the creche. Since she started, one or other of us has been sick, unfortunately mainly her. But we are coming out the far side of the viral bombardment - long may it last!Wifelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15263045052950650396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-312981194545041103.post-13443500346830402232010-12-24T19:13:00.000+00:002010-12-24T19:13:25.008+00:00I'm not sure if it's the carols on the tv or seeing Beautiful Girl all snuggled up in her Christmas pjs, but I'm feeling very warm and fuzzy, and counting my very extensive blessings. We are an extremely lucky family. We've had a wonderful 2010, getting married, the arrival of our wonderful daughter, and being able to afford our beautiful home. The Brig's job is secure, and although I don't want to, I have a good job to go back to from my maternity leave. We have a warm and cosy home, a beautiful Christmas tree surrounded by shiny parcels, and food for our table tomorrow. Perhaps most importantly, we have amazing family and friends – my Dad trekked through the snow today to make sure he saw us before Christmas and my Mum and brother will do likewise tomorrow. We will have some friends calling to say hello, and we will welcome some people to our home who are far from their own families. For all they drive me mad, The Brig's family would give anything for us to be sharing this lovely time with them. Instead we will get to have another warm, loving family gathering for New Year's Eve. <br />
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So, I hope Christmas brings you peace and the New Year, joy.Wifelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15263045052950650396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-312981194545041103.post-49950668996386455092010-12-18T22:18:00.001+00:002010-12-18T22:19:08.353+00:00I've been a bad WifelyIn so many ways, but I'll start by acknowledging my lack of presence for the last 6 weeks. I'm going to claim sleep deprivation and the fact that we still don't have a reliable internet connection... The Brig is failing miserably in his primary duty of IT support on this one. <br />
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So, I hope everyone is having a lovely run up to Christmas. I'm starting to get a little panicked so now I have a giant turkey (for 6 people), half a gallon of diet coke, presents for people who may or may not drop by, and half of firebox.com for The Brig. He's impossible to buy for, so I'm stockpiling for his birthday too. I have been very good though and bought and written Christmas cards. They have stamps on them and they will be going in the post box tomorrow...definitely. I'm determined that I won't end up with yet another pile of written cards that never get sent. <br />
<br />
Actually, all this card writing is bringing back memories of sending wedding invitations this time last year. I was frantically sticking card and ribbon to more card and ribbon while The Brig compiled spreadsheet after spreadsheet of guest lists, their addresses and table configurations based on varying response rates. Thank God all that is over...I keep threatening The Brig that if he isn't nice to me I'm going to make him renew our vows next year. That keeps him in line.. :-)Wifelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15263045052950650396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-312981194545041103.post-3539178825165375542010-11-09T01:20:00.000+00:002010-11-09T01:20:50.365+00:00Right brain-y-nessI love to think of myself as a creative person. My current facination is making a meditation stool. I have managed to break my sewing maching, twice, turning a pair of jeans into a skirt. I buy clothes purely so I can move buttons, add ribbons and change their shape and colour. I invest in lovely pieces of fabric and have a collection of buttons that any rag doll would covet. I take notions about colours and painting - rooms, furniture and things that stay still long enough. I have become very enthusiastic about baking, and the weekend was an elasticated waistband of butter, sugar and eggs. I have an idea that I'd like to make curtins for Beautiful Girl's bedroom, but I was on the losing side of an argument with buckram not long enough ago. I love photography and did manage to take one spectacular picture, but in all honesty, it was an accident (I was trying to figure out the settings and I got it wrong). Hell, I started this blog as a way of encouraging the untapped writer buried in my soul. Some days I think I should have left her there, company for the skinny girl who has accepted her fate.<br />
<br />
Along with the bed linen addiction, I get Mary-make-and-do tendencies from my mother. She knits and sews, paints silk and made nearly all of the clothes I wore until I was about 5. I don't know much about things biological, but I presume it's a recessive gene that expresses itself indiscriminatingly because none of my siblings seem to be afflicted as I am. They are all actually creative. My brother can make almost anything you can imagine and fix the things others didn't realise were broken. My sister is brilliant with child's play and carves pumpkins, makes collages and decorates Easter eggs with panache. The youngest of the clan is an artist with a Byron-esque sensibility in his soul. He also makes films. <br />
<br />
So I'm the sensible one, the one who knows how to organise things, where to get things, aranges someone to be there to let the plumber in and, most importantly, knows how to make the gravy for the dinner that she's remembered to put in on time so that we'll eat this evening. I guess that's why I'll be cooking Christmas dinner this year in a freshly painted kitchen and served alongside a home made table centre and Christmas crackers. But at least it'll be on time.<br />
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And while I'm doing that, I'll be thinking about how I can make a new angel for the top of the tree, and what I'll need to make a better Advent wreath, and wouldn't that wall actually look better lilac... <br />
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Isn't it nice that we all have our place in the circle of family...Wifelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15263045052950650396noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-312981194545041103.post-3710320936688449722010-11-04T23:59:00.000+00:002010-11-04T23:59:36.889+00:00Hidey...Boo!Beautiful Girl is having a week of firsts. This week, she has taken her bottle and decided she likes her bath. She has also sat up by herself and tonight has started playing hidey...boo! Right now she's sitting on the couch with The Brig, and she keeps burying her head in a cushion and popping up to us again. She's loving it, giggling like a loon and her face almost split with the smile. She is such a happy little girl, and so much fun...even though I hate that she's growing up so quickly, it's a wonderful to be part of it.Wifelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15263045052950650396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-312981194545041103.post-29574171046280621762010-10-29T01:55:00.002+01:002010-10-29T01:55:54.233+01:00But then it makes it up to meby showing me sites like this... http://www.fictionpress.com/s/1867565/1/Not_Your_Average_Dictionary_Homelife_Edition<br />
<br />
Brilliant!Wifelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15263045052950650396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-312981194545041103.post-60796140477751438242010-10-27T22:00:00.000+01:002010-10-27T22:00:48.360+01:00The internet hates me...I love online shopping. The ability to filter the options so I only see black sleeveless tops, or purple wedge sandals, or children's toys suitable for 12-18months, or table sauces and condiments, is wonderful. The ease of picking an item, adding it to a basket and having a nice man bring it to my door, fills me with the joy of all that is wonderful about the internet. I do all my grocery shopping online these days, and I plan to get most of my Christmas shopping done this way too. <br />
<br />
Well, I will if the internet stops hating me. I don't know what I did to make it take agin' me, but it has and it's been going on a while. The first major incident was with a very well known electronics supplier who told me they couldn't deliver my order because the delivery address didn't exist. In my surprise I nearly fell off my chair and through the non-existant second floor of the non-existant building. Thankfully I caught hold of my desk in time to save myself from falling into nothingness. The second time, I had disagreement with another well known company over their failed delivery of a very expensive camera. By the end of that week I had two, one for each eye. You would not believe how hard it was for me to give one of them back. Even people buying me presents online have had difficulty (so I know it's personal). The Brig once tried to buy me a lovely Kenwood Chef and instead was sent a body fat analyser...they obviously knew I'd be using the Kenwood for baking some day! <br />
<br />
So my most recent difficulty is with a very large payment processor. They have frozen my credit card and won't allow me to use it until I send them details of what I had for breakfast two weeks ago last Thursday, and my grandmother's, grandmother's, aunt's maiden name. <br />
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If I didn't know better, I'd think The Brig had had a word to stop me spending the last of my maternity leave pay...Wifelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15263045052950650396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-312981194545041103.post-8552707039434608572010-10-23T21:53:00.000+01:002010-10-23T21:53:58.029+01:00No hope of my clothes ever fitting againI am in awe of those who can bake. My sister and mother in law are very good and my sister in law is a baking demi-goddess (the kind of good that goes on courses about how to make cake decorations) so I have been feeling the pressure to perform. My problem is that I am not sufficiently precise to bake. I understand why it is necessary to make sure the ingredients are exact, but I can't really be bothered to measure everything perfectly. I prefer things like casseroles and stews where I bung in whatever I find in the cupboard and it doesn't really matter. <br />
<br />
But given the new husband, baby and house, and enough counter space to put my lovely stainless steel bowl'd Kenwood Chef, I am being a good little Wifely and learning how to use the crazy oven. The thermostat is all over the shop, so I have to guess by how much to reduce the temperature. Initial efforts suffered a minor flaw, being as they were, inedible. I made a lemon drizzle cake for Beautiful Girl's christening which had a chargrilled exterior with a moist, lemony interior. However, a few pounds of butter and flour later, I managed to produce a cake which was quite tasty even if it needed a butter icing face lift. Thank God for strawberries; they cover a multitude! <br />
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Anyway, today is the jewel in the crown of my baking career. With thanks to Rachel Allen I made a very creditable orange madeira cake (http://www.rachelallen.co.uk/recipes_april09.html#r4), and even more tasty, vanilla melting moments - nom, nom, nom! (I can't find the recipe on any of her sites, so it's below if you want it.) Anyway, if you fancy a change from the vanilla scented glory of the butter icing, they are also yum with the lemon butter icing left over from the christening cake or nutella, and I'm thinking about trying a bit of raspberry jam with the vanilla butter icing. I can see a cholesterol test in my near future... <br />
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<br />
Rachel Allen's Vanilla Melting Moments <br />
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Biscuits:<br />
175g self raising flour<br />
125g cornflour<br />
50g icing sugar<br />
225g butter, cut into pieces<br />
1 teaspoon vanilla extract <br />
<br />
Vanilla Butter Cream:<br />
50g butter, softened<br />
125g icing sugar<br />
½ teaspoon vanilla extract <br />
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Preheat the oven to 160 C/ (325 F) Gas mark 3. Place the flour, cornflour and icing sugar in a food processor and whizz briefly to mix. Add the butter and vanilla and whizz until it comes together (a minute or two, I do it slowly). Roll into 40 small balls the size of a large marble. Place trays on (no need to grease or line) and flatten down a bit with a fork. Bake for 10-15 minutes until still very pale in colour but, slightly firm. Remove carefully and cool on a wire rack. <br />
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Keep the same bowl in the processor and whizz the ingredients for the butter cream until they come together. Sandwich the biscuits with the butter cream. Makes 20.Wifelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15263045052950650396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-312981194545041103.post-76148887412688622092010-10-19T02:07:00.000+01:002010-10-19T02:07:16.785+01:00Where's the explorer gone?My internet explorer icon has gone missing. I'm not sure how I go about reporting it. Do I have to wait til I'm sure it's gone at least 24hours? I can't say when it vanished, as I tend to use firefox. I save explorer for when I want to look up something embarrassing (like wedding stuff I'm still interested in, coming on to a year later...I know, I know, a very shameful habit) or shopping for things I don't want The Brig to know I'm looking at (like more shoes, or more shoes, or sometimes even presents for him). Then, y'see, I can delete the browsing history and he's none the wiser, where if I delete the history in firefox, all the saved usernames are gone and I have to try to remember what I called myself for the online grocery shopping, or the newspaper, or my email... My tech support (ahem, The Brig) has had stern words with me in the past about not changing up my usernames and passwords between sites or at regular intervals, so thank God for auto-filling boxes. <br />
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But now I'm in a quandry...if I ask him to find the explorer he's going to want to know why, and I really, really, really want to google Uggs!Wifelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15263045052950650396noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-312981194545041103.post-44455193383296635562010-10-14T22:43:00.000+01:002010-10-14T22:43:32.218+01:00Erm...Every time I makr reference to The General, a little bell tinkles in a far off part of my bain. I thought it was some sort of neural short circuiting, but I've just realised that I've given my lovely husband the same nickname as a notorious criminal... oops! Might have to change that one... Let's go for Brigadier-General, The Brig for short.Wifelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15263045052950650396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-312981194545041103.post-49074973520098778652010-10-14T22:40:00.000+01:002010-10-14T22:40:53.357+01:00Mammy Rites of PassageWell, as of today, I think I have completed all of the Mammy Rites of Passage. In Beautiful Girl's four months she has<br />
1. pee-d on me<br />
2. poo-ed on me<br />
3. farted on me<br />
4. got sick on me<br />
5. kicked me in the boob<br />
6. punched me in the boob<br />
7. suddenly pulled off a breastfeed in public<br />
8. and in front of my Dad<br />
9. and in front of The General's Dad<br />
10. burped in my face<br />
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and today, she got sick into my mouth. <br />
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These are the bits of being a Mammy no-one tells you about, and for good reason.Wifelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15263045052950650396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-312981194545041103.post-62926116571655941892010-10-13T23:10:00.000+01:002010-10-13T23:10:01.281+01:00His name is The General, and...He's a World War Two addict. <br />
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Yes, the tv is back, and with it The History Channel. The nice man from telly land came yesterday and drilled a hole in my wall, put in some wires, gave me a remote control and asked me to hoover up the dust. I can sleep easy now the plasma tv is fulfilling its purpose with a HD connection (I might need new glasses, it doesn't look all that different to me) and we can really believe we are reliving Pearl Harbour. Phew.Wifelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15263045052950650396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-312981194545041103.post-68205828521316899562010-10-10T15:43:00.000+01:002010-10-10T15:43:35.979+01:00Four channel landThere I thought four channel land was a mythical place, far away in time and space, maybe somewhere east of Narnia. But nope, it's here in County Dublin. We finally had the nice telly box man around after waiting “7-10 working days”. Apparently our cables are too old for HD tv, and since that's the only acceptable option, we have to wait for another nice man to come and string wires all over the place...here's hoping it's soon, we're running out of dvds...Wifelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15263045052950650396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-312981194545041103.post-40506212325967294802010-10-01T22:16:00.000+01:002010-10-01T22:16:53.878+01:00The wonder of wiringWe love our new house. We're slowly managing to unpack boxes and find new homes for more stuff than I ever thought two people could possibly own. Mind you, the small one we've brought along for the ride probably has as much to herself as The General and I have collectively. <br />
<br />
So, our house was previously owned by a man keen on DIY. There are some lovely shelves and a light or two in places I wouldn't have thought of, but all in all we thought, happy days. That was until we wondered where the telly in the kitchen was plugged in. And where the pull cord for turning on the electric shower in the ensuite was... hmmm... <br />
<br />
So far we have found the following, lets call them unlikely, connection points: <br />
kitchen tv is plugged in in a cupboard over the fridge; <br />
pull cord for the ensuite shower is in the main bathroom, we have still to find the switch for the electric shower in the main bathroom; <br />
the gas meter is hidden in a wardrobe (?) in the converted garage; <br />
the lights under the kitchen cabinets are turned on by the “oven on” switch, which I suppose means I'll never have to cook in the dark; <br />
there's a second switch that has to be turned on to make the oven work;<br />
there are six light switches in the hall beside the front door, and I have no idea what 3 of them are for;<br />
I managed to turn on a light in the hall on the day we moved in, but haven't been able to find the switch again since.<br />
<br />
I have no doubt our lovely house will continue to unfold her delights in the next few weeks!Wifelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15263045052950650396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-312981194545041103.post-11111392059435816202010-09-26T21:08:00.000+01:002010-09-26T21:08:26.033+01:00House, glorious houseWell, we're in! We finally got our keys on Friday morning, just before the movers arrived at the front door with boxes galore. We were away for the weekend, but we got back in time to order a few sticks of furniture that I've had my eye on for ages. We've also had time to make a dent in some of the unpacking and thankfully found some of my wine glasses...phew. I took a walk up the road earlier to the lovely little wine shop, and I think I made a new friend behind the counter as we discussed the relative merits of dry reisling from the south or sauvignon blanc from the north of New Zealand. My new frugal self may be challenged by a wine shop loyalty card! Anyway, the Mammies are coming tomorrow to help me scrub, and the Dads to put up shelves. Mid-box, I discovered a lovely Jamie Oliver pot which we got as a wedding present, so dinner, which I promised them in payment, will be something from that. <br />
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Our internet connection is still a while away, but the usb thing is holding up, so I'm not completely out of touch with the world. I never forsaw the day though, when The General was sticking a wire coathanger in the back of a 12inch portable telly - not quite the 50inch, HD, flat-screen he was promised! <br />
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More tales of packing box finds to come...Wifelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15263045052950650396noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-312981194545041103.post-84279034916200015452010-09-23T10:48:00.000+01:002010-09-23T10:48:28.882+01:00Moving day?So, we had the movers all set to go this morning, but after a phone call early yesterday morning, we had to postpone. Apparently there's something about the mortgage funds clearing between banks. Anyway, hopefully that will be sorted today, we'll get the keys this evening and we can start hauling boxes tomorrow instead. <br />
<br />
And I'll be one step closer to being back in the land of the internet connection!Wifelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15263045052950650396noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-312981194545041103.post-39449753452942914052010-09-23T10:42:00.000+01:002010-09-23T10:42:53.158+01:00Ear wormsI almost constantly have snippets of songs in my head, this morning's being Paula Abdul and a cartoon cat singing "One step forward (two steps back)". I found out yesteday that these eternal and infernal repetitions are called ear worms. Great name.Wifelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15263045052950650396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-312981194545041103.post-3436646970760031152010-09-21T04:22:00.000+01:002010-09-21T04:22:34.715+01:00The apartment has vomitedAnd it is everywhere. The place looks like it has been visited by a three year old, hopped up on every E number he can find. There's a definite air of getting worse before it gets better, although now The General has begun to help with the packing. His MO for this operation is to take whatever he can see and put it in a box. I'm hanging on for dear life to 2 cups, 2 plates and 2 bowls, and enough cutlery to allow us to eat dinner. I discovered earlier this evening when I turned off the baby monitor that he has put the charging station somewhere in a now sealed box. I hope for the next few weeks Beautiful Girl doesn't need anything when we think she's sleeping. <br />
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We have some form of glassware in most of the boxes. I have a peculiar penchant for beautiful wine glasses (and the ambrosia to fill them) and I like to have a matching set...or, I think we counted, 7. And then we have the vases, bought in the vain hope that if I had them he would fill them. (Hmmm, that's a whole nother post.) And the crystal we got as engagement and wedding presents. All of this glass is very carefully wrapped and protected in the dozens of towels we own (a genetic predisposition from my mother's side) and our somewhat less bountiful but equally excessive Egyptian cotton bed linen (that'll be the genes again). <br />
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We have a tower of boxes in the sitting room and another in the bathroom. I fear a particularly full bladder in case there's an undiscovered fault line and I am buried under an avalanche of shoes. And we haven't even started on the wardrobes. I'm trying not to think about all the boxes I have in storage from when I sold my house and moved in with The General 3 years ago. If I haven't thought about it and can't remember what is in a box I packed that long ago, do I either need or want it? I'm terrible at these decisions...thank God the new house has an attic.<br />
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I have promised myself that the next time I move will be to the nursing home, and Beautiful Girl can deal with the tape gun.Wifelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15263045052950650396noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-312981194545041103.post-13654627695538530672010-09-21T00:32:00.000+01:002010-09-21T00:32:08.920+01:00Service interruptus continues...We are still in the apartment without the joy of tv or internet; thank God I have a mobile so don't miss the phone too much. We have been promised the keys of our new house before the end of the week, although The General has just dropped the bombshell that it may take a while for the connection to our media supplier to be up and running. I will try not to be too sad, and will post again when I can!Wifelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15263045052950650396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-312981194545041103.post-7211311319655429292010-09-13T16:18:00.000+01:002010-09-13T16:18:05.730+01:00Get me to the church on timeWell, the church or anywhere else for that matter. Since I had Beautiful Girl, it is impossible for me to be anywhere on time. I used to be chronically early and being on time was almost as bad as being late. Not for anyone else, mind you, I was always the one waiting for them. It was a character flaw instilled by my father who is never late. I was even on time for my wedding. Yes, about a third of our guests (the ones who don't know me so well) arrived after I did. The car pulled up in front of the church at bang on 2pm, and I was walking up the aisle at 2.02pm. The General wasn't surprised. <br />
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So, now that I have Beautiful Girl to manage too, I find it impossible to be on time any more. She always needs a feed, a nappy change or a costume change just as we're walking out the door. Last night she decided to mix things up a bit, and I got the costume change, right after she projectile vomitted all over the only nice outfit I can fit into. So the General and I went out for dinner (our first proper date since she was born) and I was in a, thankfully new, cardi and jeans. <br />
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I find Sunday mornings the hardest. I go to church most Sundays. The congregation I attend is pretty small so the number of services per week is limited to one – 11am Sunday morning. It's a pretty reasonable time and day for religious worship, but because it's the only option, it's important for me to try to leave the house on time. Since three months ago, it doesn't happen. Beautiful Girl always manages to wake up just as I'm about to leave and wants to be fed, watered and changed. It doesn't matter what time she goes to be the night before, or how many times she wakes during the night, on Sunday mornings, she wakes at 10.30, just as I need to walk out the door. We then have a lovely 20 minutes of smiles and giggles while we're changing her nappy and getting her into her Sunday best. She always seems to want a chat while she's feeding too, which makes a usually quick and easy process entertaining but drawn out. <br />
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I may have to get over my fear of waking a sleeping baby one of these days. Either that or go back to being a Catholic and a choice of services over two whole days...Wifelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15263045052950650396noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-312981194545041103.post-12383800628339880282010-09-13T16:13:00.001+01:002010-09-13T16:18:48.675+01:00Exercise hurtsI just needed to remind myself.Wifelyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15263045052950650396noreply@blogger.com0