Everything is Figureoutable

 Hello Lovelies! 

Every year on New Year's Day I like to do a little cutting and pasting to set intentions for the upcoming year. I obsessively hoard any free magazines I can pick up throughout the year and then use them to cut out letters, words and quotations that speak to me. Spiderman used to say that I would have been excellent at kidnapping because I had enough magazines to write dozens of ransom notes.

I saw a book at work with the title EVERYTHING IS FIGUREOUTABLE and I thought "That is what I want my motto to be this year." There are several things that are just really difficult and I don't know how to do them or who to ask to get help and they involve paperwork and filling out forms (UGH) and so the motto "I may not know, but I can figure it out" has already stopped my heart racing 

I thought it might be interesting to have a look over the course of a few blog posts at what I am hoping to achieve this year. Perhaps these are things you want to do as well. Perhaps we can help one another and be accountable to each other to help us live happier, healthier, less anxious lives in 2023.

Here is my Vision Board for the year.  I will pick a few things to talk about each time in no particular order. 

1. STOP AVOIDING ADMIN

As I said I have some outstanding (in the not done sense not the terrific sense) paperwork that must be completed. It took me ages to figure out how to fill out the forms to apply for my mother's Life Insurance claim and while I filled out the papers once and sent them in, something went wrong but I can't know for sure what went wrong without another phone call which I refuse to do because the last call cost be £85. They won't tell me exactly what was left out of the envelope, they just sent a reminder of everything that should have been included leaving me to play Sherlock Holmes and deduce where the problem was.  I have an idea what went wrong/what should have been sent but was not and so I am trying again. 

Admin is not my strong suit. Too many words on a page, being forced to write in ALL CAPS inside tiny prison cell boxes makes my heart race and stomach churn. Spiderman was much more calm than me when it came to filling out forms, but as he is no longer here on this earth, it falls to me to figure it out. By repeating the mantra YOU CAN DO THIS over and over I think I have figured out what to do.  But I have had the forms printed for a week and I just kept ignoring them on the table because I couldn't face filling them out again. Today is my day off and so I plan to devote several hours to reading every form aloud just to be sure I haven't forgotten anything.

Also, when I was trying to figure out how to deal with my mother's Life Insurance I discovered to my horror that I was meant to be filing US income tax for the last NINETEEN YEARS. I don't think I have to pay anything as I make below the threshold but I should have been filing. However, the IRS must know that lots of Expats don't know this because they have a whole page dedicated to Whoops! I didn't know, but now I do, what do I do now? But again, though I know about the website, I have been too afraid to look at what I have to do. American taxes aren't due until April 15th, so the plan is get the Life Insurance done this month and hopefully by next month I should have a cheque which can cover any potential slap-on-the-wrist late fees I may have incurred. Then by March I can look at filing my back US taxes. 

2. QUICK TIDY

   Peeps, I am drowning in clutter. I have always been a bit of a Messy Bessy, but since Spiderman shuffled off this mortal coil I find it harder to put things away. I am TIRED and often just drop things on the first available surface and collapse when I get home. However, this is what happens--it becomes like a terrifying game of The Floor Is Lava or a crazy obstacle course where I might break my neck if I fell down the stairs. This photo was taken on January 2nd and is the worst that it has ever been. Something needs to change.

One of my problems is procrastinating on things that seem insurmountable. The bigger they grow, the more I avoid dealing with them and the more I avoid dealing with them the bigger they grow. And I get looped in anxiety and I can't do anything but feel stressed about not dealing with it. (See above) I read about the "Pomodoro Method" which is basically set a timer and work your butt off until it goes ding. They suggest you buy one of those kitchen timers shaped like a tomato  that go TICK TICK TICK like a deathwatch beetle but I find that ticking like the axe swinging lower and lower in Poe's The Pit and the Pendulum so I just use my phone. I set the timer for 15 minutes, put on a Spotify playlist and work like the dickens until my friendly alarm sound calls out (my alarm is King George's song from Hamilton "Da da dat da, dat da da da da ya da") 

And you know what? It works. Even a 15 minute blitz helps to tackle clutter and if I start getting up early (I will be dealing with sleep and waking in my next post) then I can do 15 minutes in the morning and maybe 15 minutes in the evening. At night when I have been on my feet all day and am exhausted it is harder to do, but I discovered that I can do things like unload the clean dishes from the dish drain or sweep and mop the kitchen floor in the exact amount of time it takes to reheat a bowl of soup on the hob. 

3.FRAMILY

I do love a portmanteau word. Framily is made up of FRIENDS who are FAMILY. I am so blessed that I have such a good support network on this side of the pond. So many US friends were worried about me over these last few years lamenting that I had no FAMILY in the UK. But that is OK because I have FRAMILY. The Amazing Spiderman was my everything--my person that I did everything with. These days, I have different friends who do different things with me. I have friends who like the cinema or going to art classes or mooching around charity shops or going to plays or comic book conventions or museums. I used to do all of those things with Spiderman, but now I get to do them with lots of different people. Is it the same? No, not without him. But I still get to do them and it is very good. So this year I want to spend more time with my FRAMILY.

That's all for today. But in a day or two I will look at some other ways that I hope to be better in the new year. Maybe these are things you struggle with too. I hope it helps. 

Grief is the price we pay for love

Yesterday was eighteen years since my dad died. How is that even possible?

For years I suffered terrible from an anniversary grief that would punch me in the solar plexus and squeeze me until I couldn’t breathe and leave me gasping and crying. Then I went through years of anniversary grief where I would just shut down and hibernate until the day had passed. But now, sometimes the day approaches and I don’t even know it is coming until I look at my diary or check the calendar to write down an appointment. Is this good? Is this bad? Am I healing or am I forgetting?

When you lose someone that you love

Are they really lost?

You know where they are:

In an urn

In the earth

In your heart

Can you go on?

Or do you shut down?

Sometimes one and other times the other

Sometimes I miss him so much and the grief is so palpable that

I can’t breathe

I can’t think

I can’t move

I can only cry

But sometimes, whole days pass by

Without a tear or a maudlin thought

When suddenly I realise

I feel

Strange

Confused

Lost

Am I losing him?

Have I forgotten?

And then I look at myself in the mirror

And see his face

Our impossibly low foreheads and strange eyes

One near-sighted

One far-sighted

Both dimmed through too much reading

I think of my brain

That remembers and recalls

Details all

Every fact able to be quoted when needed

I look at my heart

And know I am brave

Brave like he was brave

I stand up

And am counted

I stand up

For what matters

For WHO matters

I got that from him

And so

I know

I am not alone

He is not gone

Or forgotten

He

Is with me

Always

I love you GLT

The Amazing Backwards Rossetti

Well friends....Rossetti has moulted.

Other spiders do a lot of preparation before hand to let you know a moult is coming.

But not Rossetti.

Other spiders stop eating and seem almost fearful of food so that you have to awkwardly fish a live cricket out of their tank because it is scaring your sweetums.

But not Rossetti.

Other spiders do "spider yoga" for several days where they stretch up against the glass to loosen their carapace.

But not Rossetti.

Other spiders lay a web mat down so they have a soft place to moult. When you see that happening you know they will "do their thang" in a couple of hours.

But not Rossetti.

Other spiders moult on a regular schedule at three months, then six months, then once a year when they reach adulthood.

But not Rossetti.

To be fair, some of that one is her species. She is a Chilean Rose and they don't always follow the once a year schedule.

It's been over three years since her last moult.

And we have no idea how old she is as she is a rescue and she hasn't followed the moulting schedule which helps you to determine the age of a spider.

We just woke up today and she had done it. Just like that. Boom.

Rossetti is our special needs spider.

She seems a bit dyspraxic (like dyslexic only with coordination and movement). As she is stalking her prey (and if you have ever seen a spider hunt, they really stalk like lions) she creeps toward the cricket and then.......pounces in the wrong direction!

Every time.

She also really hates plastic trees.

I mean *really* hates. I didn't even know spiders could have emotions like this. But hers are strong ones.

We put a small plastic tree in her tank. She worked for days to wrap it up in spider silk which pulled all the sticky-out branches flat. then she bulldozed the tree, carried to her hidey (which was like a hollowed out log) and spent two days shoving the tree under the log and then buried the ends of the tree in substrate so she didn't have to look at them. Not like she could really look at them because despite having eight eyes, tarantulas are virtually blind and rely on other senses like touch to get around.

But you know what I mean.

And for the last two years she has had a bit of web hanging off her butt like toilet paper on the bottom of your shoe.

Um...excuse me...you've got something...right there. No other side.....

But we love our little bundle of contradictions.

Well done Rossetti.

The Sad Story With The Happy Ending

Once upon a time, in a land far away there lived a man and a woman. They lived in a funny house that was pink on the outside and much bigger than it appeared on the inside. They called it the TARDIS house.

They lived in that big house, just the two of them for many years. The lady, who was a teacher, spent all day with small children. They were not able to have children of their own so she spent her days being mother to the munchkins in her class. Her life was good. Sometimes she was sad, but all she had to do was look into the face of her 30 bright-eyed first graders and she was happy again.

One day, a little girl came into their lives. She was one of the lady’s favourite students and she needed a home. She lived with the man and the woman for a year and it was a good year. The lady was a mother. The little girl had parents who loved her. They were hoping to adopt the little girl and give her the forever home she deserved.

But it was not to be.

For reasons too complicated to explain, the adoption could not go through and the little girl had to be sent back to live with her family.

The lady was devastated. The man was sad. The little girl was heartbroken.

The lady lost touch with the little girl and never knew what had happened to her. Was she happy? Were they treating her well? Was she loved? Did she remember the man and woman who had loved her so much?

The woman was so sad inside that she tucked away her sadness and rarely spoke about her daughter. It hurt too much to remember.  It was too complicated to explain how it all fell apart, but she thought of her daughter every day. She prayed that she was OK and that she would remember the lady with love.

Years went by and the man and woman decided to leave their past behind and move far, far away. The sailed the ocean to their new home and made a life for themselves on distant shores.

But still, sometimes, the woman was woken up at night with thoughts of her little girl. “Does she hate me because we had to give her back?” she wondered. “Does she know that it was not our choice?”

              

Recently, the little girl (who was all grown up) found the lady and they are a family again. They never forgot each other. They never stopped loving each other.

Through the miracle of modern technology, they “skype” and talk to each other and try to make sense of the past and catch up on the missing years.

The woman cries when she thinks of all the birthdays and milestones she missed. She cries when she hears the life that her daughter had-- which is not the life that she (or any child) deserves. She cries when she thinks of the life they could have given her. She laughs when she sees her grandbabies.

                                 

Yes…the woman went from childless to mother and grandmother all in one go.

It is overwhelming, but wonderful.

It does not matter what is the colour of their skin, but what is in their heart.

It does not matter if they are blood kin or not. Family is who loves you and supports you unconditionally.

They are a family.

I love you my baby girl, Monjae.

Welcome home. 

Keeping Mum

Hello my lovelies! It has been simply ages since i wrote for the blog. This was due to the fact that we have had company for the last 2 weeks.

There's nothing like company coming  to make you spring clean your house.

 In autumn.

I guess I missed doing it in spring. But company is always the incentive to put away all the stacks of papers and books and dust in places I don't dust very often.

As evidenced by the helpful little clean spots i found when I picked up knickknacks to dust them that shows they have sat there so long dust has formed AROUND them.

Yeah, we have *way* too many knickknacks.

But the house was tidy and then....drum-roll please (rat a tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat tat)

MY FOLKS ARRIVED!!!

My mum Becky and my soon-to-be step-dad Carl came over from Louisiana for a visit. They flew into Bristol (remember our lovely trip to Blissful Bristol?) and had a few days there and then took the train to Carmarthen. 

They took the wrong train, not the one they told me they were taking, and so we had a bit of Comedy of Errors looking for each other for several hours. 

I can laugh about it now. 

But we had a most excellent week. The perfect balance of staying in and hanging out to going out and doing stuff. 

I am afraid i have no pictures to show you at this point because *someone* not saying who (coughcoughMum) forgot to load all the photos from her Smartphone onto my laptop before they departed. 

Yeah, both my folks have a Smartphone. In their 70's. We've only just gotten around to getting our first mobile phone two years ago and it definitely NOT a Smartphone. 

It's sad when your parents are cooler and more hip than you are. 

But, in my defence, Smartphones need a whole lotta charging. My little crap Nokia lasts for a week before it needs a charge so i guess there are some advantages to having a Dumbphone. 

Stuff we did:

We went to the monthly vegan lunch at the Waverley cafe. 

We had a nice meal --a sort of continuous feast--with our friend Priya out at the home of our friends Kathryn and Peter. We ate and laughed and talked about our favourite John Wayne films and got home that evening and were too full for dinner. 

We did manage a wafer thin mint (for all my Python fans out there) in the form of homemade chocolate pudding.

There's *always* room for pudding. 

We also spent a day at the Botanic Garden of Wales. 

Have I ever mentioned that an episode of Doctor Who was filmed there????

We pottered around the shops and the indoor market near the historic clocktower.


We went to a concert at the Lyric Theatre  to hear a Celtic Bluegrass band called We Banjo 3. 

Despite the fact that they actually only have 2 banjos and 4 band members (where does that 3 come from???) a good time was had by all. The music was toe-tapping, hand-clapping good and that fiddle player plays so fast that it looks like his hands might burst into flames. Here they are singing a song where he exchanges the fiddle for the bodhran drum and also sets it on fire.

In case you didn't know my Mum and Carl are soon to be married so we spent some time altering her wedding clothes (at the last minute) and finding a pair of earrings that my grandmother gave to me that I wore at our wedding to give to her so she could wear them at her wedding. Like passing it down through generations (only slightly out of order).

We had a lovely time and they thoughtfully brought us several boxes of that American manna from Heaven (or perhaps manna from the South)  Instant Grits which you cannot get here.

British folks, you don't know what you are missing. It's basically hominy (field corn not grown for human consumption)  soaked in lye and wood ash. Actually, that sounds really disgusting.  Don't think about it too hard. Just eat it.

Lastly, they kindly brought me something I have longed for from my Mum's collection of knicknacks. It is something that I associate with her because it represents history and when she was my teacher for American History she did a cracking unit on President Andrew Jackson. I think she bought this in The Hermitage which was his home. It is a cast iron frog that weighs 5lbs (so bless Carl for carrying it all the way as he is the designated heavy bag carrier) and it says I croak for the Jackson wagon. 

For a long time it was believed to be something used as advertising for Jackson's 19th century presidential campaign, but the Smithsonian now believes it was part of an advertising campaign in the 1880's for a wagon company in Jackson, Michigan.

Well no matter. To me it will always represent my Mum and the way she brought history alive as a teacher.

So thanks.

Thank you for a lovely visit. May you and Carl have a long and happy life together.

 Thank you Brexit (I never thought I would say that) so that the pound fell in value again while they were here so she was able to leave us a bit of pocket money to put towards our 25th wedding anniversary in 2017 where we have big, exciting plans.

Just thankful.

Something to read that's not a book

Oh my days.

I got a parcel in the post yesterday from my Mum. She had hinted to me that there was a wee treat winging it's way to Wales from the US. Her clue was It is something to read that's not a book.

What could it be? She also said that in no uncertain terms that I would love it.

She was right. I opened it on my way to work and laughed out loud the whole way to the shop. Not just a titter, but a loud guffaw like this:

Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!

Admittedly, several people stopped and stared and looked upon me most curiously, but I could not stop myself.

So what was it, you ask? Oh best beloved it was this:

Do I love Doctor Who? Hells yeah. Do I love Mad Libs? A resounding HELLS YEAH!

I had not thought about Mad Libs for years--decades even. They were a huge staple of my childhood. Do you remember Scholastic? If you grew up in the States then you probably got a leaflet full of enticing, reasonably priced books sent home from school on a Friday and if you were lucky you got to bring it back on Monday with some money and order some books. Then came the delicious anticipation of waiting two weeks until the Scholastic box arrived in your classroom and you waiting impatiently for your teacher to find a moment to sort the right books to the right person. Would they manage it by the end of the day or would you have to agonisingly wait the whole night before your new books were put into your hot sweaty hands the following day? They never would give you the new books first thing as they (rightly) knew little sods like me would be sneaking a peek under their desk rather than paying attention to the lesson at hand. You had to wait until right before the bell. It was exquisite agony!

I was always blessed. My parents always, without fail let me order books from the leaflet of dreams any time it was ever sent home. I still have a few books that I ordered as a child such as my copy of Clifford the Big Red Dog which includes my name in a childish pencil scrawl.

When I was teaching in Louisiana we got several leaflets from Scholastic and various other companies which I dutifully sorted out all the $1 books and photocopied them onto one page so my kids could choose good quality books at affordable prices and not be tempted into sadness by books they could not afford. They could pay in instalments if needed. A few pennies here and there, a quarter every once in a while and soon they had the money. I also paid the difference if they were a few pennies short of their goal as I know the value of having books to read that belong to you.

But I digress.

Mad Libs. I ordered one every single time Scholastic had them in the leaflet. Every. Single.Time. I found them hysterical. I loved the randomness of the way they came out--sometimes silly, sometimes hilarious, sometimes dumb, sometimes weird.

I had special, favourite ways of doing certain clues.

A liquid was always pee or nitro glycerine (because bodily functions and blowing stuff up is funny) and a female's name was always Farrah Fawcett (because I was obsessed with Charlie's Angels. C'mon--it was the 70's) and a male's name was always Shaun Cassidy(because I was in lurve with him. Again--it was the 70's--although a few years later I decorated his album cover with a green marker giving him green measles and snot because I was showing my distain for him and all he stood for!) A number when I was alone was always a google because my dad told me it was the biggest number--a 1 followed by 100 zeros. We used to say to each other I love you a google. Other less educated friends used to say I was making it up so I just used to say a billion or a trillion when playing with others to avoid being beat up.

Now, as an educator, I can really see that they are sneakily educational. I mean--you have to know the parts of speech to fill one out properly.

If after all my rhapsodising you are thinking--what in the world is she talking about--then I will explain. Basically, they take a mundane passage and leave out words. you randomly fill in the missing parts of speech (no peeking!) and read it out and pee your pants laughing.

So you might get something like this:
One of the Doctor's oldest foes are the depraved jaguars known as the Daleks. The Doctor has chased these terrible and curly creatures from the North Pole to Wales.

This Doctor Who themed one is particularly funny with titles like The Ood One Out (geddit?) and Judoon Platoon.

Thanks Mum! This has made me relive my childhood--all the best bits--not the being beaten up by people who couldn't understand my genius bits.

Now all I need is a blue raspberry slushie while I do my Mad Libs and I am transported back to the days of my childhood.

Who needs a TARDIS when you have these?  

  

Mysterious Benefactor

Well, it seems we have a mysterious benefactor. It is a bit like in Charles Dickens' book Great Expectations.  If you have read it then you know that Pip receives money from a mysterious benefactor to allow him to go to London to learn to be a gentleman.  If you haven't read it then it is a bit like this Tom Gauld cartoon:

A few weeks ago my mother was approached at church by this mysterious benefactor (hereafter referred to as MB) who is someone who reads my blog and wanted to send us a little mad money as a treat. 

When I enquired as to who the MB might be, all my Mum would say was that the person wished to remain anonymous but was "an old friend" of ours. 

What does this mean? An old friend could be a longtime friend or an elderly friend--we have certainly had both in our lives. Some of my best friends have been in their 80s. 

Curiouser and curiouser.

MB kindly gave my Mum a cheque for $100 which my Mum kindly had transferred to our bank account which gave us 65 pounds which a perfect amount to help fund a trip we hope to take next month to Skomer Island where the puffins live! You can read about Skomer Island here:

www.welshwildlife.org/skomer-skokholm/skomer/

So thank you MB whoever you are for your generous gift to make our lives better. 

Thanks for helping us to be able to have a bit of fun. 

Fight for your right to (vote for a political) party

Cardiff on Bank Holiday Monday

Well, we did it. We voted this morning in the *pouring* rain. Rain in Wales? Seriously?

/sarcasm/

It was a particularly heavy rain for Wales which seems to often be in permanent drizzle mode.  We got soaked, but it was worth it.

Clearly, lots of people don't think it is. I think in the last general election only 60% of eligible voters turned out. That is 40% of people who could have had their say and didn't. (Just showing off my maths skills and the fact that I know my number bonds to 100) and those were perhaps some of the ones who later were very vocal about their dislike for the current government. I think people only earn the right to bitch about the situation if they have tried to do something about it.

I also feel very strongly that if you *can* vote, then you damn well *should*.  Particularly if you are a woman or a person of colour because our ancestors fought hard to give us this privilege. My mother remembers very clearly the time when African Americans were trying to get to the right to vote in Louisiana. The struggles and humiliations they had to endure to earn a right that was actually theirs. And as for women, the Suffrage movement was a hard victory. Many Suffragettes were jailed and force fed using a tube jammed down their throats and a funnel if they dared go on a hunger strike. They worked hard and endured humiliation and were repeatedly treated as not being clever enough to understand the voting system--only a man could do that. Don't worry your pretty little head about it. Well I for one am glad they did worry because I could not have voted today without their sacrifice. Women in the United States earned the right to vote in 1920, but British women had a harder struggle. Women over the age of 30 who were landowners earned the right to vote in 1918 but all women aged 21 or older regardless of social class did not earn the right  to vote until 1928. We owe them a great thanks.

I have a fond memory of walking with my parents down Twin Bridges Road (you had to walk in the ditch!) to get to Pop Holland Scout Hut so they could vote. I recall we had a special tote bag with the word VOTE in stars and stripes where we carried a picnic lunch. It was a huge adventure and i had just been reading about Susan B Anthony and was all fired up about my future right to vote. I can remember giving an impassioned speech about why voting is so important and my father saying he wished I would come and spark some life into his college students out at LSUA because they were all so disinterested  in politics. I wish he would have actually done it because I would have brought a soap box (well, an apple crate) and just given it my all.

So if you are one of my UK peeps--Go. Vote. Today. If you are one of my US peeps--when your time comes, you know what to do.

Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em

Who has the best Mum in the world?

 

Me! It’s me!

 

Other people may want posh pressies but we want some good old fashioned down home stuff you can’t buy locally.

 

Namely GRITS.

 

I have written about my love for instant GRITS before and this is no exception.

 

Mmmmmm GRITS. Four boxes (that’s 48 packets!!!!) of gritty goodness.

 

But she excelled herself as she also sent four (count ‘em four!) bottles of Liquid Smoke.

 

Mmmmmm smoky flavour. Two kinds of smoky flavour--mesquite and hickory. Double yum.

 

We used to buy liquid smoke at Whole Foods in London but we ain’t near London no more baby. We could have ordered it off of Amazon, but as I am still unemployed we are a bit short of cash. So Mum to the rescue again!

 

Liquid smoke is great ingredient for adding that lovely depth of flavour to food. Because Spiderman and I agree, it is not meat we miss but that smoky, salty flavour. Add smoky, salty flavour to food and it ticks all the boxes of taste without anyone having to suffer and die. Same for cheese. What we miss is fatty, salty, creamy. Add those same flavours to a meal and it gives you the mouth-feel of dairy but without having to take someone’s baby away and steal their milk.

 

Win-Win.

 

Thank you Mum for sending us a parcel of delights!  Diolch yn fawr, cariad!

The (day) has come upon me cried……

……the Lady of Cymru.

 

Yesterday was the fifteenth anniversary of the death of my beloved father. Fifteen years since we have made each other laugh or had a serious discussion about world events. Fifteen years since we sat side by side on the sofa watching old westerns or building something outside with his power tools. Fifteen years since we talked about the books we were reading or he was giving me advice. Fifteen years since he thoughtfully bought treats like tiny pumpkins or plastic spider rings for my whole class. He loved those kids because I loved those kids.  Fifteen years since I  held his hand. We were always holding hands.

 

And I almost missed it.

 

I am shocked by the fact that the date came upon me so suddenly. How could I not have felt this milestone coming on? In some ways this is actually a sign of progress. For YEARS after he died, a black fog would strangle my heart and lead me into a sluggish despair for a month starting on the day he entered hospice (March the 17^th) until the day he died. The feeling was one of moving through treacle, in slow motion and with growing sense of dread. The loneliness of missing his was so overwhelming that it coloured my whole life. I could not concentrate or complete projects. I cried easily ands frequently. And then, the day would arrive and on the 15^th of April…it would be gone.

 

Until the next year.

 

Oh yes there were pockets of grief here and there throughout the year. When I saw a box of men’s handkerchiefs on sale in a shop or when I thought of something I would have loved to share with him. A fact. A cartoon. A sunset. But it hit me hardest during the month that he died because he really did take a month. He slowly gave up walking then eating and drinking then speaking and finally breathing.

 

Fifteen years ago yesterday he died in my arms with my Mum holding him on the other side.

 

And somehow I almost didn’t remember.

 

We woke up like a normal day. We had a bit of a cuddle and then got dressed and leisurely went to the shops, came home for lunch and ran a few more errands. Spiderman is still on Easter holidays and so didn’t need to be at work last night and so he surfed the net while I wrote my pen pal  and about 3:15 we decided to take a walk. We had a lovely brisk walk in the rather warm spring air for about an hour and a half and then toddled home. I sat down to check my blog feed and saw my friend Karen had had a birthday. Something inside me went DING! and I suddenly realised it was the 14^th.

 

It was just like the poem by Tennyson:

 

Out flew the web and floated wide

The mirror crack’d from side to side.

“The curse has come upon me!” cried

The Lady of Shalott.   

 

I was shocked and stunned that I had somehow not realised. Then strangely relieved that I didn’t spend a month of my life in mental agony.

 

I have been thinking of him so much lately as we have a General Election coming up--the big one that determines who our next Prime Minister will be. I would love to be talking to him about the candidates. I have just learned the animal rights stance of all the main parties (conservative, as you would expect, is pro-fox hunting and battery cages for pheasants and for enlarging the badger cull even though it is scientifically proven that badgers are NOT spreading bovine TB--factory farming is.) and I would love to be discussing this with him.

 

I would love to be discussing anything with him.

 

I miss him. God, I miss him. But I know he is with me. When I (to quote the Ninja Turtles) “Stand for what [I] believe in and find the strength to do what’s right” I know he is with me. 

 

So last night we ate a vegan version of a favourite meal of his. He was always a big meat and potatoes man (things like chicken fried steak and milk gravy) and then after the advent of delivery pizza he was a pepperoni pizza guy and I often wonder what he would make of my veganism. I think he would be proud that I had strong convictions and I was living them and that I was speaking up for those who have no voice and making the world better through compassion. He would have still been a meat eater, but he would have respected my ideals.

We had “sausage” mushrooms (button mushrooms cooked in sausage-y spices like fennel seed) --adapted from this recipe from the PPK  http://www.theppk.com/2008/10/tempeh-sausage-crumbles/ and mashed potatoes, peas and carrots and lashings of onion gravy. Plus a little bit of leftover Anadama bread to stand in for Texas Toast. 

 

It was very good. He would have liked it.

 

I would love for him to be here to share it. To share everything. So much has happened in our lives since he died. I mean, we have lived in two other countries --England and Wales--since then. We have had so many adventures.

 

So even if the date no longer stabs my heart, I think of you and remember.

 

I remember everything.

 

I love you with all my heart,
Your Chaunkie-Chaunk

Really and truly?

Have you ever read something and thought, "Is this for real?"

Something that seems so dated and backwards--you can't decide if it is a parody or truthful. There was a document roaming the internet a few years back that was supposed to be a Victorian sex manual giving advice to the wife ("Give little, give seldom and above all give grudgingly") which I believe was proven to be a fake. Read the whole text here: http://www.squaredancecd.com/Bride/brides.htm

Recently my Mum sent me this: Advice from a 1949 Singer Sewing Manual.


Is it true? Is it real? I can't be sure. Possibly as it is 1949. What do you think?

What I can say is that the following pictures are REAL. How can I say it with such confidence? Because they happened to me. Yes, when I was in the sixth grade I went to Christian Charm School. To be fair, I was sort of tricked into it. My glamorous aunt invited me to come and spend a week with her in Texas and go to a week long workshop to teach you about hair and make-up. Or so she said. It turned out to be a workshop about hair and make-up and Jesus and how to attract a HUSBAND.

Seriously. I was eleven years old. I didn't want a boyfriend at that age let alone be thinking ahead to a husband. Yuck.....seriously boys still had cooties  for me at this age.

Here are some pages from Emily Hunter's Christian Charm Course.

I failed on the walk gracefully bit as I tended to do a lot of hopping and twirling when I walk. Actually I still hop and twirl quite a bit. I do not glide smoothly as the instructions above told me to. As Spiderman says, "People walk. Daleks glide" and I can safely say I am not a emotionless killing machine from outer space.  And as for the pretty sitting posture--it makes me feet go to sleep.

I think this page says it all. How feminine are you?


I was constantly being told off for laughing too loudly and for boisterous rowdiness. We were encouraged to hide our intellect and mould our opinions to the man in our life because no man wants a wife that is smarter than he is. Because I could not seem to supress any of the above behaviours I was actually told by the pastor in a fatherly voice, "If you continue on in this manner then no man is ever going to marry you."

How did I survive this and grow up to be the relatively normal and sane person you see before you, I hear you cry?

Well...by failing. I actually was the only one in the group who wasn't allowed to graduate. I got a certificate for participation but I wasn't allowed to walk across the stage and shake the pastor's hand. My aunt was mortified but my parents were *so* proud when I told them.

And I am happy to say the pastor was wrong. Spiderman and I just celebrated 26 years since our first date last month.

But how do these antiquated attitudes damage young girls? With all the stress on your outer appearance not inner beauty and hiding your light under a bushel I don't feel it really jives with the Bible's message.

This course is still being taught today--you can buy it on Amazon.

I had liberal parents who taught me to think for myself but what about all those young girls who don't have parents to protect them?

Box of Delights

Imagine my surprise when I tried to open our front door yesterday and there was something blocking it. When the door opens slowly due to weight on the other side my heart does a little pitty-pat flip because I know it means we have a parcel!

I could not imagine who would be sending us stuff, but I quickly ran up stairs and laid it on the table. Searching for the return address, my heart did a little happy dance.

 

It was from my friend and former student Lena and her lovely husband Max and adorable children Fyodor and Pavel. We had a lovely ritual every year of exchanging gifts and making Christmas crackers with the children. Last year my Mum was visiting and Lena, who is so generous and kind, invited my mum and had a little pressie for her as well. It was a lovely family and friends get together that always ended with a warm cup of tea  and some scrumptious Turkish Delight.

You mean to say you have never eaten Turkish Delight? Poor you. I had always wanted to try it ever since Edmond was persuaded to betray his family and friends by the White Witch after she offers him Turkish Delight in CS Lewis’ The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe. Since my first bite it has become a firm favourite and a decadent treat. For those of you who don’t know, it is cube shaped rose and lemon flavoured sweets dusted in copious amounts of icing sugar.   Despite having a jell quality which normally is made by the use of the definitely non-vegan ingredient gelatine (made from boiling the bones and hoofs of animals to get the marrow. Yuck. That’s what you are eating my American peeps when you eat JELL-O) they are completely vegan the gel is made with cornflour (cornstarch). 

 

Anyway, I had been feeling a bit sad about missing our annual get together and cracker making session. I sent them 2 pages of cracker jokes if they wanted to make without me, but I was really missing their company. Then this box appeared! I opened it and inside was a box of delights.

 

Look at that! A box of Turkish Delight! Some matching  posh fairtrade tea (green tea with jasmine and roses!) and some festive, warm socks!!!!! All of which I could really use as our flat is really cold and I have begun to follow Spiderman’s habit of drinking a whole pot of tea to stay warm.

 

I was so excited I didn’t know what to do. There was a temptation to scoff the entire box of Turkish Delight before Spiderman got home from work but then he would have found me lying on the floor in a diabetic coma covered in icing sugar which would have been a bit of a giveaway.

We decided to divide it into 2 containers so we would each get our equal share. This was his idea as he knows I could easily eat them all. He  also knows I would be like Edmond and heartlessly betray my loved ones for a taste of that rose flavoured goodness. Sorry, loved ones. Them's the breaks.

 

What a lovely treat. A real box of delights. I miss you guys. Thank you friends for making my Christmas a little warmer and lot sweeter.

Pen-blwydd Hapus

Pen-blwydd hapus i ti

Pen-blwydd hapus i ti

Pen-blwydd hapus i Spidergrrl

Pen-blwydd hapus i ti

Any idea what those words might mean? Hmmm? Using your newly formed Welsh detective skills can you work out what the song is? Wrth gwrs (of course) you can!

It’s Happy Birthday or rather Birthday Happy as those crazy Welsh like to put their adjectives after the noun. They are not alone in that--I know French does it as well.

It was a wonderful birthday because I have been alive for 45 years and 25 of those have been in the company of Spiderman. As we always put up our Christmas tree on my birthday I get to reminisce about all the good times we have had. We have an ornament for every year we have been married and so each one as it is unwrapped and placed on the tree tells a story. Our  story. This year we chose a goofy looking Welsh dragon with a jingle bell for an arse holding a sign which reads Nadolig Llawen (Merry Christmas).

As I am still unemployed money is in short supply so I wasn’t expecting much but Spiderman came through with a little something to make me smile. He made me a card with Cyw on it. Never heard of Cyw? Clearly you are not a Welsh preschooler. Cyw the chicken is the mascot for a preschool programme on SC4 where they sing lots of jolly songs in Welsh to teach little people (and some big people!) the alphabet and other concepts.

Most of the videos feature this cartoon chicken driving a vehicle and waving in a strange rhythmically way like a metronome with feathers out the window without watching the road. She can drive a safari car and a bus! Is there anything this little chicken can’t do?

Does anyone else find the concept of chicken cooking eggs a bit weird?

We love Cyw and practice waving in profile while singing in Welsh every chance we get.

 He came home from  the extensive and endlessly varied DVD library at the university with a copy of Laurence Olivier in Wuthering Heights which I hadn't seen for years. Larry (as Olivier was known to his friends)  was just as handsome, brooding and charismatic as I remembered but the film really takes liberties with the book (I just read it last year for book club) and only covers about half the plot. Plus it gave it a happy ending! But that's 1939 for you.

He also surprised me with an autographed copy of actor Cary Elwes’ book As You Wish: Inconceivable Tales from the Making of the Princess Bride.

Bendigedig! (brilliant!)

But the main thing the day made me realise is how happy I am. Sure, I will be happier when I find meaningful employment, but when I look at my life--it is pretty amazing. I genuinely have everything I could desire. I am loved by so many people and we have made friends--really good friends--since we arrived. We have a big, supportive vegan community and are able to do more outreach as well as socialisation. One of our new vegan friends owns a shop and commissioned me to make thirty badges to sell that contain positive messages such as LOVE, PEACE and FAITH.

Her generosity meant we had some pocket money for Christmas and I had a chance to be creative again. We have a roof over our heads and a flat which is big and spacious. Yes, it may be cold but that’s why God invented thermals which thanks to my Mum I now have three pairs of thermal leggings which keep me toasty warm. Thanks Mum! We have delicious, nutritious food on our table which is cooked with love and does not cause or contain suffering. We may be eating on a budget, but we have never gone hungry. Lastly, I have the privilege to be married to the most thoughtful man in the world. A man who knows me and loves me so deeply, despite my many enormous flaws, who knows that despite our limited circumstances that I need a treat every now and then and picks just the right one. 

Diolch yn fawr, Cariad.

Dw i’n dy garu di.

(Thank you very much, my love. I love you.)