back in the saddle again

Well, it's been a week, I have access to the kitchen, and look where we are:

This is an amazing amount of space for me compared to what I had.

Look at my lovely long, clear work surface.

And my sexy under-the-cupboard lights.

And here is where Mark can put his crap when he comes in, so no more tripping over shoes and rucksacks.  Oh joy is mine.

He really has done an incredible amount of work in just seven days.  Taking down a whole wall, securing a supporting beam in its place, bricking up a doorway, plastering to cover all the yuck bits and both sides of the bricked up door, putting in new worktops and cupboards, installing lights, installing the cooker hood, and on and on.... I'm very proud of him and the way he applies himself. 

The less said about this end, the better tee hee.

There but for the Grace of God

I would like to share a couple of things with you which I chanced upon today, both of which moved me to free-flowing tears for very similar reasons.

The first was an email from Samaritans Purse about Operation Christmas Child, for which I have made up two shoeboxes of gifts/other items every year.  I stopped to read the story of some of the children who receive these shoeboxes and felt quite overwhelmed by the thought that for some kids, this was the only gift they would receive at Christmas.  For some kids, living in poverty, this represents the only toys they will have throughout their entire childhood.  And the fact that someone somewhere has bothered to put some things into a box for them seems to really be a thing of wonder for them.  Never again will I moan about the financial cost of putting these boxes together, I will be glad to do it.  In fact, I intend to do four boxes next Christmas instead of the normal two, and I will fund the cost somehow. 

The second thing was disturbing, and squeezed at my heart. 

This link was on a blog, and once I read it, and got a little concept and persepective on this lady's life, I felt lost for words.  Then this link completes a heartbreaking tale.  Don't read it unless you are prepared to cry.  I post it because I personally want the reminder on my blog that I am living the dream.  It wouldn't hurt me once in a while to stop and fucking appreciate it. 

!

another day another dollar

Wall down day 4.  Still dust, dirt and teeth-gnashing stress every time you want anything to eat or drink, but galloping along well - nothing much exciting to look at, but big steps in such a short time.

The ceiling supports came down this morning following installation of a new supporting beam.  That tardis in the middle is my fridge freezer btw. 

This is the sort of view that nightmares are made of:

Gave me a bit of a start in the small hours as I stumbled down the hallway for a wee.  Actually, I had a view from a hotel window once which was not unlike this......

For the crochet square swap,  (the very title of which caused Oliver much merriment and giggling) is up and a-running and here are my squares thus far:

The third one was a bugger I can tell you, and required assistance in the early stages. (thank you Kim). 

Finally got XBox live working - what a bloody hassle that turned out to be.  I'm sure it should be an easy process, and it's just me, but there was much swearing and fits of rage over that little debacle.  Also bought Just Dance 3 on Kinect - it's fabbo. I am still unbeaten, though Lordy knows how.  I am obviously just really good at hiding my worst errors and hitting the pertinent points at the right time, because, according to Oliver, I look more like I am 'having a fit' than auditioning for Pineapple Studios. In my minds eye I am a lithe and supple creature in slinky black with funky moves, but for the sake of reality, just picture the polar opposite.  And I ache all over.  Wonder if you can get a refund if you don't resemble Arlene Phillips after two days.

It reminds me of a time in the distant past that I popped into Tesco after a netball match one evening, all tight leggings, trainers and ponytail, bouncing along all skippy and fame-like, then I caught sight of myself in a full length mirror.  Blimey, the audibly shocked intake of breath had assistants running from all corners of the store to see what was wrong with the midget fat-arse in aisle 3. (yep, that was me, that was). 

Dirty Monday

I knew there would be disruption, I knew there would be dust.  Bugger me, there has been both in the last 24 hours.  I have come to realise that anything involving a kitchen is a nightmare.  I think even doing the bathroom and having to face the prospect of a piss in a bucket would be preferable to having no access to the kitchen sink or fridge.  I kid you not.  The kitchen is my domain and I feel cut adrift. 

But - stop the whining - here we are on day two and look how good the boy is doing:

Don't know how long I can keep fobbing the family off with fish and chips and pizza though.  I started work last night in my new (ultra busy) role.  I could feel myself glazing over at 8pm, and at 9pm we had a staff meeting.  9pm!!!!! I was thinking of going to bed at that point......

Anyhoo, at least there is one big fan of my crochet cushion.

Laters.

Calm before the storm

My cushion is finished, and I am still a little dubious about it, but the faint glow of satisfaction that appeared with a finished project under my belt is still wafting around.

Tomorrow this wall is coming down:

It is the connecting wall between the kitchen and the dining room (which was the living room up until just before Christmas). 

Kitchen side:

There will be a lot of dust and bad temper flying around.  But I suppose at least the dust can be dealt with by a slap around with a damp cloth.  But the end result will be oh so worth it.  I will have the open kitchen/diner I have always yearned for.  When Oliver is at the table 'doing stuff' I will not have to leave the room to do 'kitchen stuff' - we will have a relaxed, family environment to live in.  Or else.

I got in on the crochet square swap, so watch this space....

Do I like this?

The jury is out.  I think I do, I feel a bit chuffed I can just start a project like this and roll with it.  AND it's done 'properly', none of that usual skim reading and missing bits out that I don't like.  I have not really been a fan of the crochet cushion - it all seems a bit pointless, but I quite like the look of this and I do really enjoy the thrill of the chase with crochet, so I will be finishing this.  I even went out and bought a cushion innard, so it's all looking a bit rosy here at crochetmylife.com. 

Mark remarked that it was 'bloody horrible', which is a teensy bit harsh I feel, but I think his revulsion stems from his fear that he will be seen by his friends in the presence of The Cushion,  and by default the next step will be a Cosy Slipper.  When he came out with this tripe I threw my head back and guffawed.  The thought that one of his friends should suddenly appear, at the living room door unannounced at gone 10pm and mock The Cushion just made me lol.  Quite literally. 

An update on the HE schedule - well, I am stunned to report that in terms of sometimes grating, sometimes gliding - boy, we are a-gliding.  Things are really Getting. Done.  Oliver is upbeat and keen, and it's gone on for over a week.  Unheard of, and a joy to behold.  We have tons more time available somehow by just following a light timetable, and learning together is an absolute treat when it's like this. 

Got a meeting at work today, to discuss a back to work role/shift pattern.  I am positive about this, although a little suspicious that I am being fobbed off.  It's the fact that I know they are breathing a sigh of relief that the 'problem' of me will be temporarily dealt with which grates on me - because I think they think I don't know.  Well I do.  So there. 

In my suddenly free oodles of time I have first thing in the morning, I have been blog-hopping and ooh, what joys I have discovered.  I came across this pattern for a little felt scottie dog, which appeals to my sense of rustic crafty easy-make desires.  I think Oliver will like this too. 

And this blog has a swap!!! I do love a good swap.  Best of all, this has a real point to it as you will end up with the makings of a unique blanket, assembly only required! (it's a crochet square swap if you can't be arsed to follow the link!)  I have emailed the host(ess?) and await her reply with bated breath.

I am very keen on this monthly make for 2012 too, and although we have passed the halfway mark in January, I reckon I can count my cushion in this month, as it will be finished in time.  Still mulling this one over. 

If ever a wiz of a wiz there was.....

My friends, it has finally happened, I can't believe it.  Last night, against all the odds let me tell you, I won a game of scrabble. 

Yes, I know, it was a complete surprise to me too.  Things started off well, I opened with 'lately' and 'sagely', netting me pretty good scores, but then Mark laid down 'partings', using all of his seven letters and getting a 50 point bonus into the bargain.  I have to say I exercised some restraint in not reaching across the table and throttling him with my bare hands.  My prospects in finishing the game in a not filthy mood were starting to look a little bleak.  However - I rallied, and after what felt like many hours later, hunched tensely over a scrabble board - I sulkily slapped down 'wiz', using the last of my letters.  I strongly suspected it was not a valid word.  Even I believed 'wiz' should have an extra 'h' and 'z' in it.  But - lo!  It is a variation of 'whizz'!!!!  Me and the Oxford Dic are now friends again, and with the extra tiles Mark had left taken off of his score and added on to mine - I secured victory by a mere 5 points.  Oh there were scenes of jubilation, a national holiday was declared, and I had a splitting headache.  The tension is just too much for me.

And there is still the worrying issue of my recent spell of bad loser behaviour.  I literally got sent away to 'calm down' the other night after a shameful tantrum over Cluedo. And that was in front of Oliver!  I am such a bad parent sometimes.  I am deeply ashamed of that little episode.

That said, this is the sort of shit I have to put up with:

I shall overcome.  My victory platform:

Saturday Kitchen

Our new 'timetable' kicked off on Monday - and it's working a treat.  Historically, I have worked along the lines of fitting home edding around our needs of the day (generally trips out/shopping and crappy chores etc) but the new improved me has encouraged Oliver into the drafting of a new schedule where he feels Master of his own destiny, and he is up and buzzing. 

In addition, instead of rocking up to the table with NFI of what we are about to embark upon, I am getting out books, pens and 'stuff' and looking on the net the night before to 'prepare'.  Not quite like a proper teacher - but a step in the right direction.  It is making the whole process a lot smoother.  And because we only have two things loaded up each day - it is bitesize and do-able and he gets it.  AND after an hour of working together amicably, he likes a 'break' to play Lego and I get to trundle off with my crochet and watch an uninterrupted episode of The West Wing.  We return later to do more,  not irritated and stressed at each other and with a small glow of achievement under our belts.

Happy days.


The new improved me seems to have more time, and at the weekend I had a go at Hugh F-W's pasties from this book, which I had for Crimbo:

I have never attempted rough puff pastry before, and I can now marvel at it's simplicity.  Hugh's filling was swede and potato, but since we have a glut of squashes, Mark bought this baby up from the depths of the garden to use:

It is a Queensland Blue, and it is beautifully mushy and sweet.  I didn't have carrots (also in the recipe), so I subsituted celery (edging it's way up my list of fave versatile veg).  The result was 4 professional-looking pasties which tasted like someone who knew what they were doing had made them.  Boy did I feel smug.  Even Oliver thought they were lovely.  I didn't bother to correct his assumption that the filling was carrot and potato.  I suspect the mere mention of celery and squash would have coloured his judgement.

Last night Oliver and I were watching the Sport Relief British Bake Off - a hitherto unwatched programme - and I was inspired to reach for my Mary Berry baking bible.  She surely must be at least 150 years old.  Oliver found her name hilarious and spent much of the programme collapsing into hysterical giggles.  I found it funny that he found it funny, so much merriment all round.  If you have never seen this programme, (you probably have - it's just me who lives in la la land), it's pretty cool for explaining the theory of the way ingredients behave if you do this that and the other to them.  Tres informative.  My Mary B book was a present from my brother last birthday, who presented it to me with a demand I cook the traybake on page 186 for his birthday 5 days later.  I did it.  Think I am so keen to court his admiration and approval that I end up hating myself.  Oh families. 

frippery, my arse

Okie dokie.  Have recovered from the fug of gloom which seems to go hand in hand with the end of Christmas and I am feeling pretty positive. 

All the Christmas decs are down, packed away and up in the loft once more.  That helps.  Incidentally, there were heated discussions over the storage of these, in so far as that I insisted on buying a couple (more) plastic boxes and purpose-made bags for the tree and wrapping paper.  The result is that getting it all away was easier, neater and will not be dust-damaged next December.  The other result was that I received the standard lecture on frivolous money wasting fripperies which led on to further, not complimentary opinions on my other non-frugal qualities.  Ya di ya.  This from someone who puts on the central heating rather than put on a jumper.  And I am a hypocrite.  Apparently. 

I am of the opinion that some frippery, providing you are not taking food from the table nor the shirt from your child's back, is quite justified if it makes life a little sweeter.  And I am sick to death of struggling with odd sized cardboard boxes and reams of sellotape.  Every year for about the last ten years I have sworn I will get plastic boxes for the decs.  This was my year.  ha ha.

What else....hmmm.  Well, Oliver sat down and pasted together a timetable of which subjects he wants to tackle on a daily basis, and I am very confident it will be successful.  We are trialling it from Monday, I reckon a month should give us an idea if it will work for us.  Bear in mind each 'subject' will take 15-45 mins TOPS depending on interest levels, this is not beyond him, and personally I believe it will be better to  do both daily things in the morning, and chill out together in the afternoon.  I really want him to understand the concept of work=reward, so if he wants an afternoon/day off, then he has to look at his timetable and adjust accordingly - and in advance of 'time off'.  I will not allow us to drift on this. 

Let's have a crochet update.  I started a ripple blanket (sorry again Kim) at the end of November, and think I have reached the halfway point.  I am really enjoying this, and love the rich colours.  This yarn (Rico baby classic) was purchased to do my 'big blanket' (granny squares), but since that particular WIP stalled suddenly, I am using it to ripple.  I have read on many blogs about yarn being 'lovely to work with' and been very sniffy about this theory, but I have to say that working with a soft yarn is smoother on the senses.  If you know what I mean. 

My granny stripe which I started in France for Oliver is hanging around the halfway mark too, but temporarily sheved in favour of rippling. 

In the last few days, I have been poking around in this book which I had for Christmas:

I have done a couple of these squares, which I very much like, and then decided I would knock out a few in different colours of the 'middles' of these.  Will post about how that turns out another time.

My Christmas journal is done all bar the shouting.  The A5 folder is not big enough, so it is currently housed in two folders - a very unsatisfactory solution.  I am looking for an A5 lever arch file - seemingly very tricky. Pleased with how that turned out.

Onwards and upwards my friends.

Not my favourite time of the year

Bloody hell, it's chucking it down and blowing a hoolie (hooly, hooley) out there today.  I hate hate hate the end of Christmas as much as I love love love the start of it.  Except I have to face the terror of the future on top of hating the end of Christmas, so it is worser.

No big, unattainable list of do-gooding resolutions this year.  I will engage and invest more in the development of my child, and in my relationship with my husband.  That's it.  And eat better, drink less alcohol and spend less money.  ya di ya.

Incidentally, have chosen my star spangled banner theme to reflect my current squeeze:
The West Wing.  Yeah, yeah, schmaltzy and Goddamn it - sooooooo American, but I lurve it.  God Bless America. 

A quiet, quiet start to the new year - we popped to Teignmouth for a scoot, and then went to my mum and dads in the evening(I really don't know where to put the apostrophe there - I am having a bit of an apostrophe confindence crisis right now, so I'm leaving it out altogether, so there), and my brother (who shares the house) had a new XBox Kinect and the Just Dance 3 game.  It is shit hot.  I was sweating after a couple of routines and it was such a laugh and an enjoyable way to work up a sweat - I am considering it as The Way to a fitter me.  And I beat my brother with a 5-star 10k+  dance (Rihanna Only Girl In The World, no less - get me) which upset him tremendously and has made me feel like a bit of a funky happening babe.  HA!  Still I am secretly sure I more resembled a hippo thundering its way through a pre-mating ritual than a lithe and youthful street dancer.  We were home by 9pm and saw in the new year by watching Big Ben chime midnight on TV and standing outside to take this memorable family snap:

Arms length photography my speciality, obviously. 

Talking of BB chiming, it was accompanied by lots Very Large Fireworks which went on for a Very Long Time.  I'm all for a celebration at appropriate times, but - yeah, there are children starving in the world - and no, I am not a frugal person nor do I work tirelessly for charity and I am as much a hypocrite with the allocation of my cash as the next person but - a lot of dosh was sent in the sky to explode there.  Depressing. 

Cracked open the Scrabble last night to play with Mark.  Now, thing is - Mark is a very clever bloke - but I would have to say I know many more words than him and my spelling (on the whole - give me a break) is pretty sharp.  I have never been able to beat him at Scrabble.  His theory is that it's a male-female thing and to do with spatial awaremess.  Since I don't go for the sexist thing, I am not offended by this thory at all, but am confounded by my constant inability to WIN, so tend to half believe it.  So - last night I tried to look at squeezing in letters to make max points rather than waste my time trying to make words like 'inconsequential' from 7 letters and fitting it onto the board somewhere.  I was winning - right up to the point I tried to put down 'Jain' using the letter 'n' on the end to start the word 'Ni'.  Yeah.  I was challenged.  Not on Jain, because I know what that means (I am terribly clever you know) but on 'Ni', because I didn't have a sodding clue if - a) it was a word at all, b) what the hell it meant, and c) because I must have looked unconvincing and shifty.  I got challenged by a snigger and a splutter and, after some indignant page-turning through the Oxford concise, even I was forced to concede that 'Ni', being the chemical symbol for Nickel and 'only spelt with an initial capital letter' probably wasn't really allowed.  So, I lapsed into a bit of a sulk, which I think it is fair to say, cost me the game.  I lost by 33 points.  I might even start reading the dictionary today for fun.  Victory will be mine.

Today I am going to write out a list of 'subjects' that I would like to cover with Oliver in a 'working week' and I am going to let him allocate them to the days and times he thinks he would like to do them.  The theory being he will flourish being in charge of his own destiny.  Or something like that. 

Keeeeeep dancing.