Been dieting for the last week, not happy with it, all I want to do is eat a cow. For some reason eating soup and fruit is not the same as burger and chips. I do however desire the body of a super model, or at least a super model who has let herself go a little! The diet therefore is a necessity. Unfortunately I am a person who eats when worried and upset, and with the last two days, I am back off the waggon (the food waggon that is).
A phone call on Monday made me realise just how important our friends are. No matter how many times you see a person, how close a friendship you have, I would never have dreamt of a friend in danger. I would always and will always strive to help all of my friends, and I wish I could help him now. My thoughts are with you.
On a lighter note, we had a meeting with Nathaniel's specialist. Which came as good timing as he has just started having panic attacks! Panic attacks, he's only 4, who has ever heard of a 4 year old boy having panic attacks?! Well apparently the specialist had, in fact they're common for children with autism. I never knew that. I also never knew that children with autism have a lower tolerance for pain, that would have been nice to know a little sooner!
Now don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining about my life. I love my husband, I love my three boys. We are as disfunctional as they come, but we like it that way. Sometimes however, as I don't really drink, food is the only answer to a little stress and worry. So, today I have been very happily stuffing my face with chicken paella. And, because I'm feeling friendly, I will share my yummy recipe with anyone who is bored enough to read my blog. Enjoy!
Big pot of happy inducing paella.
3-4 Big chicken boobies.
2 onions.
2 peppers (orange & red. Avoid the green, they're too bitter and not good for cheer up food).
Garlic bulb, fresh not the wimpy dried stuff.
Big manly handful of mixed veg.
2-3 Big manly handfuls of paella rice.
Family sized jug of chicken stock.
Big dash of soy sauce.
Tin of drained chopped tomatoes, for some reason they are more tomatoey than the real thing.
Desired amount of Parmesan cheese. In my case, a whole block of the yummy stuff!
Simmer it all together in an industrial sized wok and you will be in calorie heaven. If you are in dire need of cheering up, home made garlic bread makes a nice comfort blanket.
Now just to invent a recipe for pudding!
Tuesday, 22 February 2011
Monday, 21 February 2011
Writing and understanding the art of grunts.
I want to be a writer. True, I'm not very good at it, I don't particually have the most comical of personalities, but it's the only thing I enjoy that I have a chance of doing. so, what does a person do to become a writer? They enroll at university of course! Not long ago I got my acceptance letter from the grand and convenient university of Cumbria, all I need do is pass my access course and I'm in! Happy times, I've been working hard, gaining merits and even a distinction.
However, a thought came to me like a bolt of lightning.....Maybe I should read (as in properly read) the course outline, you know, the course I've already applied for and been accepted.....the one that costs £3650 a year....the one that I originally glanced at and thought "ooh English and creative writing, that'll do". Yeh.... Maybe I should have looked first!
Now, bearing in mind I left school at 14, have no GCSE's to speak of and have rolled from one hobby to another in hopes of finding something I can do at home, you would think I would have more brains than to enroll on an academic university course more or less blindly. The course is set out in a hoard of investigative assignments, assessment by peers and lots and lots of creative work to in the end create a portfolio, full of poetry, short stories and articles.... Mmmm, not sure about that. The only writing I've done is my book (which still needs polishing) a story which I didn't continue with, and a host of short stories and ideas. No poetry and no articles! I only write fantasy fiction! Safe to say, I need to brush up on study and get some creativity flowing!
Maybe if I bring in cake to every class, they may just feel sorry for me and love me through the art of cake!
Anyway, lets move on to the whinging about the house. More viewers cancelling at last minute, more days spent cleaning. Never mind though, still in the mood for a damn big drunken doo... May have to give the house a good send off when we finally do sell it!
From my title you may be wondering what the hell is "the art of grunts"?
Christian, now almost fourteen, is at the teenager stage and, as when you have a baby, you recognise the different cries, I think I have now perfected the understanding of the teenage grunt language.
A deep grumble with a semi tone higher at the end = Frustrated, go away.
A deep grumble with a semi tone lower at the end = Angry, I want to hit you.
A monotone grumble = Can't be arsed answering your question.
Quick sharp grunt = I can't get my own way, so I will see if I can get away with grunting at you.
Grunt that turns into a loud growl = Brothers are in his room.
I will have to study this new language further and look into copywrite. Or maybe not, that would mean hanging round teenagers!
However, a thought came to me like a bolt of lightning.....Maybe I should read (as in properly read) the course outline, you know, the course I've already applied for and been accepted.....the one that costs £3650 a year....the one that I originally glanced at and thought "ooh English and creative writing, that'll do". Yeh.... Maybe I should have looked first!
Now, bearing in mind I left school at 14, have no GCSE's to speak of and have rolled from one hobby to another in hopes of finding something I can do at home, you would think I would have more brains than to enroll on an academic university course more or less blindly. The course is set out in a hoard of investigative assignments, assessment by peers and lots and lots of creative work to in the end create a portfolio, full of poetry, short stories and articles.... Mmmm, not sure about that. The only writing I've done is my book (which still needs polishing) a story which I didn't continue with, and a host of short stories and ideas. No poetry and no articles! I only write fantasy fiction! Safe to say, I need to brush up on study and get some creativity flowing!
Maybe if I bring in cake to every class, they may just feel sorry for me and love me through the art of cake!
Anyway, lets move on to the whinging about the house. More viewers cancelling at last minute, more days spent cleaning. Never mind though, still in the mood for a damn big drunken doo... May have to give the house a good send off when we finally do sell it!
From my title you may be wondering what the hell is "the art of grunts"?
Christian, now almost fourteen, is at the teenager stage and, as when you have a baby, you recognise the different cries, I think I have now perfected the understanding of the teenage grunt language.
A deep grumble with a semi tone higher at the end = Frustrated, go away.
A deep grumble with a semi tone lower at the end = Angry, I want to hit you.
A monotone grumble = Can't be arsed answering your question.
Quick sharp grunt = I can't get my own way, so I will see if I can get away with grunting at you.
Grunt that turns into a loud growl = Brothers are in his room.
I will have to study this new language further and look into copywrite. Or maybe not, that would mean hanging round teenagers!
Sunday, 13 February 2011
As it's Valentines, lets reminisce.
It was January 29th, 2005. My best friend Charlotte was holding a house warming party, so me being me, had to turn up early in my attempt to take over the organising. What a lovely house she had found, a little terraced cutie that was fast becoming occupied by dozens of half cut friends, postmen and acquaintances. As a newly single lady, Charlotte had (unknowing to me) told a fellow postie that I would be there, so glad she didn't tell me this fact until afterwards! Turned out, I never did talk to that bloke!
The party was swinging. Drinks flowing, snacks squelching into the carpet and conversations shouting across the room. I somehow had been cornered by a 'lofty' bloke and was being bombarded by historical facts; when like a whirlwind, the door opened and two guys flew in, straight through the living room and into the kitchen, I didn't even get to see their faces!
I continued to talk to the room when I saw this young looking blond bloke laid out in the middle of the room, tummy showing as he laid back, looking nervously relaxed and wearing the worst pair of brown shoes ever created, not talking to a soul. Me being me, had to drag him in to the conversation. Turned out he was a fellow workmate of Charlotte's and not talkative at all! But, as luck would have it, we found a common ground, he loved the same music as me (being into rock indie, not many people do) and within half an hour he somehow ended up sat right next to me and we forgot everyone else in the room (including the lofty history bloke).
The night went on and conversation was unending. When some one (no idea who) announced we were going into town, and safe to say we weren't happy. However it wasn't my party, so off we went. My poor new postie friend, he didn't like being out at all! The entire night out was filled with comments of "I'm going home".
Safe to say, he stayed and lasted to the end of the night, most of it spent standing in a corner alone talking. We walked back up to Charlotte's house and I gave a running astronomy lesson all the way (I was rather hammered by this time).
The time came when everyone was going home. I was forced to get a taxi when I wanted to walk! But, drunk as I was, called my brother who was walking home with my new postie friend, and asked him to see if the postie liked me! As I said, I was absolutely hammered!
Two days later, we met for lunch. One month later, he moved in. Four months after, he proposed. Three months later, we were married! Today we are still as happy as ever, and have just as much fun as day one. My Chris is a great Dad, a loving husband and the best friend I have ever had.
I love you always Christopher!
The party was swinging. Drinks flowing, snacks squelching into the carpet and conversations shouting across the room. I somehow had been cornered by a 'lofty' bloke and was being bombarded by historical facts; when like a whirlwind, the door opened and two guys flew in, straight through the living room and into the kitchen, I didn't even get to see their faces!
I continued to talk to the room when I saw this young looking blond bloke laid out in the middle of the room, tummy showing as he laid back, looking nervously relaxed and wearing the worst pair of brown shoes ever created, not talking to a soul. Me being me, had to drag him in to the conversation. Turned out he was a fellow workmate of Charlotte's and not talkative at all! But, as luck would have it, we found a common ground, he loved the same music as me (being into rock indie, not many people do) and within half an hour he somehow ended up sat right next to me and we forgot everyone else in the room (including the lofty history bloke).
The night went on and conversation was unending. When some one (no idea who) announced we were going into town, and safe to say we weren't happy. However it wasn't my party, so off we went. My poor new postie friend, he didn't like being out at all! The entire night out was filled with comments of "I'm going home".
Safe to say, he stayed and lasted to the end of the night, most of it spent standing in a corner alone talking. We walked back up to Charlotte's house and I gave a running astronomy lesson all the way (I was rather hammered by this time).
The time came when everyone was going home. I was forced to get a taxi when I wanted to walk! But, drunk as I was, called my brother who was walking home with my new postie friend, and asked him to see if the postie liked me! As I said, I was absolutely hammered!
Two days later, we met for lunch. One month later, he moved in. Four months after, he proposed. Three months later, we were married! Today we are still as happy as ever, and have just as much fun as day one. My Chris is a great Dad, a loving husband and the best friend I have ever had.
I love you always Christopher!
Saturday, 12 February 2011
Wall paper, the 80s and the Batmobile.
So, it's been a week since that innocent phone call "can we come look round your house on Thursday"?
During that time we have decorated three rooms, taken two full car loads to the tip (bear in mind we have a Galaxy, so big car loads), hired and filled an entire room at Big storage, some how crammed all items of clothing into drawers, organised the garage/musical sanctuary, and eventually made the house look somewhat respectable. In completing these tasks we have however neglected college, so are now playing catch up with assignments!
As soon as I realised we had to decorate, sheer dread penetrated my spine. Images of childhood decorating attempts flooded my mind; the paper sticking together, then when you finally untangle it, it slaps you in the face, oozing paste down your cheek and mingling into your hair. Usually in this situation I would call a decorator, but alas, there was no time. So here was me, measuring, cutting and what was this? 'Paste the wall' paper? What an invention! I read it twice before I could believe it, no soggy face slapping paper to cart around the room, I just needed to paste the wall! Fantastic! Christian made it easier by putting some music on for me, which was good for the first two hours, but you can really only listen to Bat out of hell so many times before you become a Cher impersonator and start wiggling your arse to the music on top of the ladder, which if done while hanging paper does not end well. However, two days, three rooms and a growing hatred for hair rock later, the house was decorated. Now just to get it clean!
Thursday came. We spent the morning polishing taps, washing down skirting boards, cleaning carpets and over all sprucing. The house was shiny, beautiful and in fact looked nothing like our house whatsoever. We were ready. 4pm the estate agent arrived and we leave the house to walk round the park, happy in the thought that the house looked good, smelled good and was ready to be sold.
We didn't even get to the bottom of the street when the phone rang. "The lady who wants to look round your house is a doctor, and I'm afraid she's just been called out on an emergency". Brilliant! We've just spent a whole week cleaning, decorating, missing college and generally going grey haired....and she's not coming! Given I'm hopeful that she was able to help whomever needed help, but couldn't they have called someone on duty and not my potential house purchaser?
So now we have a lovely clean and tidy house. More viewings are booked for next week, so lets see if we can keep it respectable!
This week has also been a week of fun discovery. Friday tea time, just picked Christian up from his after school club and was sat in the ever present and predictable Lancaster traffic. For some reason that only my lovely husband can explain, there were no extra Cd's in the car (apart from Nine inch Nails which is not quite appropriate for children's ears). So after sitting in silence for far too long (being over two minutes in my case) I decided to attempt the radio. What a load of crap! How do people really listen to the repetitive tone deaf crap that is in the charts? I was in middle of having a tantrum with the stereo, when I discovered it. Absolute 80s. A channel dedicated to the 80s. It couldn't be more perfect, I turned it up and yes, Prince's Let's go crazy was playing. I could have cried (by this time I had gone over three minutes without music). It must have looked quite amusing from the outside as I'm sure the car would have been bouncing around with the vigorous dancing Chris and I were embarrassing the boys with. 80s music, it is superior in every way!
Speaking of cars.... Parked up today, off to see Yogi bear (which I won't bother to blog about as I really can't be bothered rehashing that film again, watching it once was enough!) and what parked right across from us..... the batmobile! And who got out? Not bat man, but two Goths looking super cool in their New Rocks and leathers. Of course I had to chat to them, so I wandered over and sparked up a conversation. Turns out, they go to the Whitby Goth weekend every year, and are going to the same one as us this year. What a small world! This is where I got a little jealous however, when the woman informed me that they are not bothering to see the Damned this time as they have seen them countless times before, AND she didn't need to see Wayne Hussey last year as she is already friends with him on Facebook and has met him on countless occasions... Suddenly I lost all warm feelings for this woman! I felt like sticking my tongue out at her, but felt like this wouldn't win the cool contest. So lesson learned, never get in to deep conversations with a long time Goth, as they know all your childhood heroes better than you and let you know it!
Moving forth from this weeks hectic chaos; need to keep on top of the cleaning; need to catch up on college work; need to build myself a Batfink mobile (not that I am competing with the super Goth couple!) and finally better get planning the half term with the boys.
So, who lives in the Pye house this week? 80s hair rock, Goth envy, and shiny appliances. Diversity!
During that time we have decorated three rooms, taken two full car loads to the tip (bear in mind we have a Galaxy, so big car loads), hired and filled an entire room at Big storage, some how crammed all items of clothing into drawers, organised the garage/musical sanctuary, and eventually made the house look somewhat respectable. In completing these tasks we have however neglected college, so are now playing catch up with assignments!
As soon as I realised we had to decorate, sheer dread penetrated my spine. Images of childhood decorating attempts flooded my mind; the paper sticking together, then when you finally untangle it, it slaps you in the face, oozing paste down your cheek and mingling into your hair. Usually in this situation I would call a decorator, but alas, there was no time. So here was me, measuring, cutting and what was this? 'Paste the wall' paper? What an invention! I read it twice before I could believe it, no soggy face slapping paper to cart around the room, I just needed to paste the wall! Fantastic! Christian made it easier by putting some music on for me, which was good for the first two hours, but you can really only listen to Bat out of hell so many times before you become a Cher impersonator and start wiggling your arse to the music on top of the ladder, which if done while hanging paper does not end well. However, two days, three rooms and a growing hatred for hair rock later, the house was decorated. Now just to get it clean!
Thursday came. We spent the morning polishing taps, washing down skirting boards, cleaning carpets and over all sprucing. The house was shiny, beautiful and in fact looked nothing like our house whatsoever. We were ready. 4pm the estate agent arrived and we leave the house to walk round the park, happy in the thought that the house looked good, smelled good and was ready to be sold.
We didn't even get to the bottom of the street when the phone rang. "The lady who wants to look round your house is a doctor, and I'm afraid she's just been called out on an emergency". Brilliant! We've just spent a whole week cleaning, decorating, missing college and generally going grey haired....and she's not coming! Given I'm hopeful that she was able to help whomever needed help, but couldn't they have called someone on duty and not my potential house purchaser?
So now we have a lovely clean and tidy house. More viewings are booked for next week, so lets see if we can keep it respectable!
This week has also been a week of fun discovery. Friday tea time, just picked Christian up from his after school club and was sat in the ever present and predictable Lancaster traffic. For some reason that only my lovely husband can explain, there were no extra Cd's in the car (apart from Nine inch Nails which is not quite appropriate for children's ears). So after sitting in silence for far too long (being over two minutes in my case) I decided to attempt the radio. What a load of crap! How do people really listen to the repetitive tone deaf crap that is in the charts? I was in middle of having a tantrum with the stereo, when I discovered it. Absolute 80s. A channel dedicated to the 80s. It couldn't be more perfect, I turned it up and yes, Prince's Let's go crazy was playing. I could have cried (by this time I had gone over three minutes without music). It must have looked quite amusing from the outside as I'm sure the car would have been bouncing around with the vigorous dancing Chris and I were embarrassing the boys with. 80s music, it is superior in every way!
Speaking of cars.... Parked up today, off to see Yogi bear (which I won't bother to blog about as I really can't be bothered rehashing that film again, watching it once was enough!) and what parked right across from us..... the batmobile! And who got out? Not bat man, but two Goths looking super cool in their New Rocks and leathers. Of course I had to chat to them, so I wandered over and sparked up a conversation. Turns out, they go to the Whitby Goth weekend every year, and are going to the same one as us this year. What a small world! This is where I got a little jealous however, when the woman informed me that they are not bothering to see the Damned this time as they have seen them countless times before, AND she didn't need to see Wayne Hussey last year as she is already friends with him on Facebook and has met him on countless occasions... Suddenly I lost all warm feelings for this woman! I felt like sticking my tongue out at her, but felt like this wouldn't win the cool contest. So lesson learned, never get in to deep conversations with a long time Goth, as they know all your childhood heroes better than you and let you know it!
Moving forth from this weeks hectic chaos; need to keep on top of the cleaning; need to catch up on college work; need to build myself a Batfink mobile (not that I am competing with the super Goth couple!) and finally better get planning the half term with the boys.
So, who lives in the Pye house this week? 80s hair rock, Goth envy, and shiny appliances. Diversity!
Saturday, 5 February 2011
Antics of the Pye house continue! What a week!
The house still looks like a giant bomb made entirely of toys has exploded, leaving every available floor space a new home for one of the many hundreds of Christmas presents! The task of cleaning without breaking an ankle would be a worthy task on the Krypton factor. College work has become an all consuming occupation. I find myself waffling on about adjectives and sociological theories when all I was asked was if I wanted a cuppa!
English assignment back (finally) and happy (more or less) to get a Merit. Was knocked back from a distinction for a silly mistake, but as the E-Mail from University of Cumbria told me (yay) I just need to pass the HE Diploma to get in! So, as from September, providing I can pass the all annoying sociology, I along with my Christopher, will be full time university students! Not quite sure how different that will be from being full time college students, but we will get discount cards, so, happy.
Fun day meeting with Charlotte, Peter and Liz. With the amount of coffee consumed I'm surprised we weren't buzzing round the ceiling! Lots of fun gossiping, concerning Liz's party, Chris' party, getting our feet done at the weird fish nibbling place and overall putting the world to rights. It's amazing how sitting on your backside drinking endless cups of coffee talking rubbish can be more fun than sitting at home working on assignments....
The most difficult day by far was last Thursday. Christian had been bullied by a boy at school and so was understandably refusing to get up and go to school. Bullying! I hate the word, there's nothing worse than being a target for some lonely child who think they can solve all their own problems by hitting you (Yes some pent up feelings there). Took a few hours, but super cuddly Mummy and Daddy saved the day by organising for the boy in question to get a severe telling off by the class teacher. Christian was very impressed that "The teacher raised his voice!". So hopefully lesson learned is, never pick on a child whose parents were once bullied, they won't back down!
The stress of this week however, is two, two thousand word assignments and a house viewing. Saturday morning, relaxing with a cuppa, comfy pyjamas on, browsing Facebook as usual when the phone rings. Chris lazes up to the phone and talks with the formal voice that lets you know it is someone official on the phone and not my sister calling for a gab. "Yes Thursday is good for us, see you then." He put the phone down and looked at me with THAT look. "Some one's coming to view the house on Thursday" he said. There is only one response. Shit.
The house is full of toys, Christian and Gabriel's rooms need decorating before a viewing, the kitchen needs painting and the garage looks like a musical car boot sale! How on earth am I supposed to get all this AND two assignments done? So, after jumping off my chair, getting dressed faster than I thought myself capable and burning rubber to B&Q, within five hours I had decorated Christian's bedroom (round of applause here). Given the room still looks like a bomb has hit it (scrap wallpaper bomb that is) and I have legs so achy that they refuse to hold me up, but I can go to bed tonight happy in the thought that I only have two rooms to decorate, two assignments to finish and the rest of the house to get into order... Shit.
So, who lives in a house like this? At the moment, stress does! But we're happy with it.......
The house still looks like a giant bomb made entirely of toys has exploded, leaving every available floor space a new home for one of the many hundreds of Christmas presents! The task of cleaning without breaking an ankle would be a worthy task on the Krypton factor. College work has become an all consuming occupation. I find myself waffling on about adjectives and sociological theories when all I was asked was if I wanted a cuppa!
English assignment back (finally) and happy (more or less) to get a Merit. Was knocked back from a distinction for a silly mistake, but as the E-Mail from University of Cumbria told me (yay) I just need to pass the HE Diploma to get in! So, as from September, providing I can pass the all annoying sociology, I along with my Christopher, will be full time university students! Not quite sure how different that will be from being full time college students, but we will get discount cards, so, happy.
Fun day meeting with Charlotte, Peter and Liz. With the amount of coffee consumed I'm surprised we weren't buzzing round the ceiling! Lots of fun gossiping, concerning Liz's party, Chris' party, getting our feet done at the weird fish nibbling place and overall putting the world to rights. It's amazing how sitting on your backside drinking endless cups of coffee talking rubbish can be more fun than sitting at home working on assignments....
The most difficult day by far was last Thursday. Christian had been bullied by a boy at school and so was understandably refusing to get up and go to school. Bullying! I hate the word, there's nothing worse than being a target for some lonely child who think they can solve all their own problems by hitting you (Yes some pent up feelings there). Took a few hours, but super cuddly Mummy and Daddy saved the day by organising for the boy in question to get a severe telling off by the class teacher. Christian was very impressed that "The teacher raised his voice!". So hopefully lesson learned is, never pick on a child whose parents were once bullied, they won't back down!
The stress of this week however, is two, two thousand word assignments and a house viewing. Saturday morning, relaxing with a cuppa, comfy pyjamas on, browsing Facebook as usual when the phone rings. Chris lazes up to the phone and talks with the formal voice that lets you know it is someone official on the phone and not my sister calling for a gab. "Yes Thursday is good for us, see you then." He put the phone down and looked at me with THAT look. "Some one's coming to view the house on Thursday" he said. There is only one response. Shit.
The house is full of toys, Christian and Gabriel's rooms need decorating before a viewing, the kitchen needs painting and the garage looks like a musical car boot sale! How on earth am I supposed to get all this AND two assignments done? So, after jumping off my chair, getting dressed faster than I thought myself capable and burning rubber to B&Q, within five hours I had decorated Christian's bedroom (round of applause here). Given the room still looks like a bomb has hit it (scrap wallpaper bomb that is) and I have legs so achy that they refuse to hold me up, but I can go to bed tonight happy in the thought that I only have two rooms to decorate, two assignments to finish and the rest of the house to get into order... Shit.
So, who lives in a house like this? At the moment, stress does! But we're happy with it.......
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