Climate Change

Last week in work I got a surprise text from Bernard to say he had booked a holiday cottage in County Clare for the Easter weekend (aaaah!).  A short family break away - bliss!  Unfortunately, this happy news seemed to coincide with the abrupt change in our weather.  What happened to global warming?  Why couldn't we have a bit of that?  No, in Ireland it's all about climate change.  Irish weather used to be cold and wet.  Now, thanks to climate 'change', it's colder and wetter, with added snow.  Snowing? In Ireland??  For Easter break???  It's beyond a joke.  And, despite it snowing for the second day in a row, it's still not sticking.  Kids are off school, it's been snowing pretty consistently, and yet there's not enough to make a freaking snowball.  However, there is just enough to ensure that the kids are holed up indoors, noses glued to the windows, driving.their.parents.mad.

But there's a swimming pool in Clare to keep the kids happy, and a fridge to keep the wine cold, which in turn keeps Mommy very happy.  Just as long as we get there....

Reunited

Well the kids are home and happily reunited with their playstation / less favoured animals that were carefully, and with much guilt, selected to remain home to await Ava's return (as it was she took Dog, Unicorn, Snowy Leopard, Auntie Elepant, Kaloo, Fluffy Ears, and Bear, along with some 'things to play with'. But there's only so much room in the car). They've each said they missed me. Of course I said I missed them too but I actually believe they meant it.  :-)

Jack is continuing to learn things the hard way.. He said he always thought I 'was just born harsh'  but he now realises there is someone 'even more devilish' than me and that Grandma is definitely 'hardcore'! Apparently I trained at the hands of a master.

Rock and Roll

What a great night!  Rushed home from work yesterday, grabbed a sandwich, and then dropped the kids to Grandma's before getting home again to change. Our friend Dave collected us and off we went into town, checked in (The Morgan Hotel - very posh!) and were down having drinks in the bar in olympic time. We may be old but we can move fairly fast when there's alcohol to be had! Dave's wife Orla met us in the bar for a drink, and we had time for a quick bite to eat before heading to the gig....  

We had seated tickets and I was relieved to see that I was conveniently placed close to both the bar and the toilets - important priorities.  I looked around the crowd and couldn't see any psychedelic, off the shoulder jumpers with stonewashed jeans. What I did see was a group of forty somethings with glasses, cardigans, and bald spots starting to form at the top of a lot of heads.  And then the party started... and by 'party' I mean music because people were complaining and calling over the attendants whenever someone stood up out of their seat!!  So there was very loud singing and very polite clapping   :-)    Eventually, the curmudgeon was ignored and people did stand and start to wave their hands in the air....  La la la la la la LA la lalalalalalala, walk on by, la la la ....  But after each song, people would sit back into their seats before thinking it over and deciding whether or not to stand up again for the next song.  But they didn't just 'sit down', most people actually looked down behind  them, as if to ensure the seat was still there, before sort of lowering themselves slowly back onto the seat.  This was not a nimble crowd.

Fortunately, Jim Kerr and Simple Minds were in flying form.  The lighting was brilliant, the sound was fantastic, and of course the music is simply great.  At the end of the show, the polite crowd stood up and patiently waited their turn to exit their row of seats. There was no immature chanting or demands for more - it was approaching midnight after all.

Back to the hotel for a nightcap (mojito, anyone?) before heading up to our respective rooms.  How delightful the slumber when it is not interrupted by children's voices at 6 am...  Then breakfast in bed...  Standing in reception when checking out, I watched as snow flakes fell onto Dublin's cobble streets - it was like a picture from a fairy tale... Then home.

I'll be leaving to get the kids shortly - funny how they seem so much funnier, and loving, and sweet when they're somewhere else.  But at the moment, I'm sitting here on my couch, snuggled in my sweatshirt, looking out at the snow, with a big mug of hot tea in my  hand.  Yep, I am so rock and roll.

A Simple Minded Fact

I was talking to someone the other day about my forthcoming night out to see Simple Minds (can you tell how excited I am?!).  I was going on and on about Jim Kerr, and the band, and that they're planning to play for 2 hour and 50 mins (!!) and how I couldn't pick a favourite song, when I paused for a breath and happened to look at her face.  She didn't have a clue what I was going on about.  She admitted she didn't know Simple Minds so I proceeded to actually (attempt) to sing some of the songs.  She interrupted this embarrassing interlude by saying she 'might have heard about them somewhere'.  (ouch!!) 

I spent my evening contemplating on how young this colleague of mine is.  Not to have heard of Simple Minds?  One of THE biggest bands of the eighties?  Don't You Forget About Me? All The Things She Said?? Alive and Kicking?!?  Then it hit me - like a bloody bullet to the brain.  She's not young.  I AM OLD.  The look on her face when I was trying to explain about Simple Minds must have been similar to my expression when my mom was talking about Frankie Avalon (Frankie Avawho, right?).   My colleague is 21 years old - which means she was born in 1992.  7 (seven!) years after Simple  Minds released their Once Upon a Time album - which I bought on tape and listened to on my walkman. Are you hyperventilating yet?!?  

Well, Simple Minds might be a bit dated.  And I might be old.  But I am going to rock it out at the Olympia tomorrow night, zimmer frame nearby just in case!  

Shrek Gets A Hair Cut

The Simple Minds concert is on Monday night and, to compensate for not buying a new outfit, I decided to get my hair cut.  Sure, doesn't every woman love being pampered and getting her hair done?  Umm, no.  I always start off thinking I love getting my hair done, and always end up in the car on the way home, fighting back tears, and thinking how I hate it.  And the whole process of getting my hair done follows a very distinctive pattern...

First, you look in the mirror one day and think 'my hair is getting long'.  And then, over a few weeks, the thought progresses from 'I really need a trim' to 'There's no style at all to my hair' to 'It looks like a tangled bush'.  Eventually it gets to the stage that even the kids are suggesting 'You should do something with your hair, Mom.  It looks weird'.  So you book the appointment and the excitement starts to creep in.  I'm getting my hair done, I'll be all  pampered, I'll come out looking great!  

The morning of the appointment arrives and for the first time in ages (since the morning of your last hair appointment actually) your  hair looks A-mah-zing!  Bit of a bounce to it, falls neatly where it should, has a bit of a shine. And you feel great and sexy and confident as you walk into the hair salon.  You sit down and leaf through the magazines thinking that if you look this great now, imagine what you're going to look like afterwards!  Then they sit you down in the chair in front of the mirror to wait for your 'consult'.  

A word about the mirrors in hair salons - they are exactly like the mirrors in changing room cubicles.  Which means, they make you look Horrible!  They add about ten pounds and there is nowhere to hide.  At least in the changing room you can cower privately in the corner as you try on clothes.  You can also choose to ignore the 'big' (pun intended) picture and just focus on whether or not this shade of red suits your arm; how does the collar suit my neck; how does my bum look...  Basically, you look at yourself in separate bits, not as a whole.  But while sitting there in a hair salon's chair staring at your face in a mirror, it's kind of hard to miss your face in the mirror. And by face, of course I mean three chins.   Then along comes the stylist who, naturally, is about 5 foot, blonde, and weighs less than my left hand. So between the unflattering (mean, horrible, nasty) mirror and Thumbelina standing beside me, I'm feeling like Shrek.  

But then the situation takes a turn for the better.  The stylist seems really nice, not at all put off by my huge bulk in the chair, and says 'So, what are we doing today?'... What a lovely word 'we' is...  It instantly evokes a sense of camaraderie, a feeling of togetherness.  I sit up a bit in the chair, a smile beginning to form on my lips, and start to speak... Well, I was thinking of A, B, and C, all the while she is nodding and smiling and looking at my hair - leading me on under false pretences, in other words.  Then she stands up straighter and says 'Okay, I will do X, Y, and Z'..  Wait!!! Why 'I'? What happened to 'We'??   I don't understand.  Did she not hear me properly, or understand what I was saying?  Does she want to try out a new skill?  Or does she think - you are so fat, all I can do to somewhat retain my reputation is x, y, and z....  If that's the case, I wish they would just be honest and say so out loud, and not let me think that I actually have any say in the styling of my hair....  Of course, I nod and smile and agree and die a little inside - every single time.  

When I got home no-one noticed I got my hair cut ... Anyway, the concert should be good fun... maybe I'll wear a hat.

Quitting Cold Turkey

Well, I did it.  Actually, did it.  I deactivated my facebook account.  Going cold turkey.

After Christmas, I came off facebook for awhile, and I was amazed at how much I could accomplish with my time.  Five minutes to spare?   I could fold laundry, sweep the floor, hoover the stairs, hang out a wash, read the next  chapter in my book....  But when on facebook, a quick log in and thirty minutes, an hour, could pass very quickly.  But I hadn't deactivated my account - I wasn't posting, and I wasn't liking or commenting on threads, but I was still logging in the odd time and checking out statuses, seeing what was happening.  Eventually, I got pulled back in.  And when I was back, I was back.  Back to posting on a regular basis and feeling a sense of achievement with every new 'like'.  I was also invited back into my closed groups and I quickly became ensnared once again in the sometimes dysfunctional, sometimes funny, but always honest dramas of other members' secret soap opera lives.  Another group was related to weight loss, and again I was posting about fitness and losing weight, instead of actually getting up off my arse and getting fit and losing weight.

I have so much to do in my house, the least of which is cleaning (which gives an idea of just how much I have to do!!) and yet I found myself today sitting on the couch, for just a second!, to check into facebook.  It was a eureka moment - I had to quit facebook, and leave it cold turkey.  The only way to get my life back was to deactivate my facebook life.

Not A Proper Blog

I am feeling more like myself today, for the first time in nearly a week.  I still have the sore throat and cough, but the tiredness is gone.  I was soooo sleepy all week (very unlike me) and disorientated, not able to focus on anything.  So, in much better form you'll be glad to know!

One of the downsides of not feeling well was that I did no exercise at all this week.  (not sure if I caught a virus or if seeing the half marathon course actually hit me like a lightning bolt).  But you would think the lack of exercise would be off set by the complete lack of appetite.  But this is me we're talking about - I was only sick and not lucky enough to be touched by the miraculous hand of an angel, so my lack of appetite means that of course I ate, but didn't enjoy anything I ate.  I am going to wait until Monday morning to get back out exercising.. Why  not tomorrow?  Because tomorrow is Mother's Day and I expect to have an extra long lie in, followed by some nice treats!  But definitely, Monday morning....

I had a look at the calendar and these are some of my upcoming events:-
2 weeks to Simple Minds gig in the Olympia / night out on the town
10 weeks to Bobby's First Holy Communion
12 weeks to the 10k Mini Marathon
21 weeks to the 13.1m Half Marathon
23 weeks to family holiday in County Clare ..

When I set these dates on my calendar, I envisaged buying new clothes for each one...  I have lost 14 pounds in eight weeks - which is great, but not actually noticeable to anyone but me. I have lost weight off my face but really nowhere else, and I presume it will be awhile before I drop clothes sizes.  Until then shopping will continue to be the depressing nightmare it has been for the last number of years. Hopefully come May though I can buy something pretty for Bobby's big day...  Hopefully.

 When I said to Bernard how happy I was to lose the weight without any actual effort he got a bit annoyed with me.  He feels I have made a  huge effort, especially as I've been getting up and working out before the kids get up out of bed.  But to be honest, after I work out I have about ten minutes during which I can sit in silence, have a cup of tea and read The Journal on line,before the morning mayhem begins.  And it's the thought of that short, quiet interlude that actually propels me up and out of bed in the mornings.  Plus I enjoy the 'me time' I get from the work out.  It gives me a chance to sort things out in my head, projects to be done, plan meals for the week, etc. and  I have so much energy afterwards.  Also, by the time the kids are up and we're in the thick of it all, I've usually forgotten that I've done any exercise at all. :-)

This is the first time I've taken the focus off of food and losing weight.  I plan to get fitter, healthier and yes, of course, I hope weight will come off as a result.  But I have stopped planning my entire life around food.  Usually when I want to lose weight, I cook stir fys and crunch celery sticks, surround myself in rice cakes, and deprive myself of all things nice.  And the result - food is all I can think about!  Then comes the regular weekly weigh in - and regardless of the number, it's the day you Eat!!  Eat, eat, and eat some more - coz you have six more days before the next weigh in....  Over the last few weeks I have not consciously changed my eating patterns, but I have noticed changes.  Smaller portions, feeling full quicker and responding to that by not cleaning the plate, and I don't have the urge to eat in the evenings while watching tv.  I haven't had a chocolate bar in weeks - because I haven't wanted one, despite having my period.  Remarkable!  Plus the early mornings have resulted in an earlier bedtime and I have been sleeping so much better.

Anyway, I'm proud of how I'm feeling.  There is still a long, long way to go but I am getting there.  If this was a proper blog, I would have numbers, and charts, and progress pictures...  But it's embarrassing enough just writing this shit down.  Pictures?!  Actual statistics?  Nope.