Decisons

 

I’ve never been good at making decisions. Sometimes I find myself agonising over the simplest of things.  Deciding what to have on a sandwich becomes this epic debate in my mind, fraught with fear and self-doubt. Should I have tuna or cheese and tomato? Perhaps a good old-fashioned curried egg and lettuce would suffice? Then again, there is left-over chicken in the fridge!  There are just too many choices!

Plus, what if it my sandwich filling choice just doesn’t delight my taste buds on that particular day? I’ve already consumed the calories! What a disaster! See? I knew I would choose the wrong thing! 

This probably explains why cheese and tomato sandwiches were my staple diet for many years. It eliminated the decision making progress to opt for the same thing time after time. If I really wanted to be totally wild and crazy I might mix it up by having toasted cheese and tomato. I’ve always been cutting edge.

This cutting edge tendency is probably apparent in my choice of attire. Boring, bland and predominantly black sums it up. Therefore, the amount of time I spend ruminating and pondering over what to wear is patently ridiculous. Who cares what I wear?  As long as I’m covered and clean that’s all that matters.

This doesn’t stop me from wasting an inordinate amount of time fussing over my outfit. It seems that I must be under some sort of grand illusion that I’m a celebrity about to be hounded by the paparazzi each time I leave the house. It’s as if I’m making the important choice of whether to wear the Prada or Gucci instead of the Best & Less or Big W. Often, I mix it  up and team Big W garments with Best & Less ones because, you know, that cutting edge thing again. And do you know what? Except for all the times I’ve been mistaken for Nicole Kidman*, this hounding by the paparazzi hasn’t happened yet! 

Don’t even get me started on grocery shopping. It’s the stuff of nightmares for a scatterbrain like me. So many aisles, so many decisions! I do take lists but still get confused once I’m in the supermarket and all those rows upon rows of choices are around me. Suddenly, things appear in my trolley that weren’t on the list. Of course they are always organic kale and herbal tea, not chocolate or cakies.  No way.

I mean, do you know how long I’d spend agonising over whether to get the Maltesers or Mars Bars? It just seems easier to get both. Ahem. Except that these days I’m on Weight Witches, so I just walk very fast past the confectionary aisle. Then I get to the check out and there they are, right in front me. Sigh. Life can be cruel sometimes.

Anyway, I spend so much time agonising over these mundane decisions it may have prevented me from making any reckless, life-changing decisions that I’ve come to regret. I’ve never taken illegal drugs, gambled away my life savings or robbed a bank.

Yes, there is an infamous mullet-perm in my past but a) it was the 80s, and b) it’s provided ample entertainment as fodder for this blog. So let’s give it another whirl.

I should regret this hairs style- but I won't. I know
you're laughing. You're welcome.

There is one mild regret lurking in my past. Rewind back to around 1992 or 1993. By this time I had ditched the mullet-perm for an attractive poodle perm. Like I said, I’ve always been cutting edge and classy. I was in my early 20s  and working at the State Library. Somehow, on my meagre pay I had managed to save a sizeable chunk of money. I was able to do this because I lived with my parents and didn’t have a car or a social life. This totally confirms my cutting edge status. Shut up.

In the back of my mind I had some hazy idea that I was saving the money to eventually buy a car or go overseas. There were two problems with this grand plan; a) I didn’t have a drivers’ license, and b) I didn’t have any friends to drag overseas with me. The idea of taking off on my own never occurred to me. I was still a tragic Mummy’s girl and ridiculously shy.

Luckily however, around this time I ended up joining Rootaract. Uh, I mean, Rotaract and thusly acquired something resembling a social life. Consequently, I met Mickey Blue Eyes.  My parents were in the process of planning a trip overseas to the UK. It crossed my mind that I had the cash to go with them. I quickly dismissed this thought as absurd. After all, mature, worldly, hip 22 year-old Mummy’s girls who lived at home and proudly owned an entire collection of Carpenters albums didn’t go overseas with their parents!  This would totally tarnish my now legendary cutting edge persona!

Case in point: The Carpenters were totally retro-cool in 1993! There was even an alternative tribute album recorded in their honour! This confirmed that I was ahead of the game and cooler than anyone gave me credit for. To my 22 year old mind I couldn’t risk the damage to my ultra-cool character. It would just be sad and pathetic to go away with my parents. Besides I would have to be parted from Mickey Blue Eyes for a whole month! We were still at that stage where we actually missed each other if we weren’t together every day.

Of course, 20 or so years later I’m wondering why this was even an issue. I see the  man all day, every day. Every. Single. Day. What was I thinking? A  month was a blip in the ocean in the scheme of things.

And the sad truth of the matter is, I would have enjoyed going overseas with my parents much more than going on some Contiki tour with a bunch of raucous, drunken twenty-somethings. Sad, but true.

So I guess what I’m saying is, if I could rewind back to 1993 I would have gone overseas with my parents. But it’s all good, because we’re currently in the process of obtaining our passports so I’m sure we’ll get there eventually. Except now we’ll have three lovely children to tag along just to make it extra special. This should be tremendous fun. I mean what could be worse: going overseas with your middle-aged parents when you’re young or waiting until you’re middle-aged and going with children? This is a totally rhetorical question, just in case you were trying to figure out the correct answer.

Oh well, I suppose I had better leave it there and go and decide what to have for lunch. After all, it could take a while.

 

Linking up for I Must Confess.

 *OK, so I've never been mistaken for Nicole Kidman. But it could still happen! HMPH!

What decision would you change if you could?

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Secrets Of The Heart

You might notice that the title of today's post sounds suitably melodramatic, just like the title of a Danielle Steele novel.  Once again it is time to reveal some more of my deep, dark secrets.  By now, my regular readers will be aware that I am an extremely brooding and mysterious individual.



Complex, multi-layered, intriguing and something of an enigma. Like many quiet people, hidden depths lurk beneath my tranquil exterior.
 

Therefore, my revelation is bound to come as a severe shock. Make sure you are sitting down.



I’m meant to reveal something I’ve never revealed to anyone before. There is a slight issue with this. You see, the thing is… And here comes my dramatic bombshell…



Imagine some ominous and dramatic music....

I’m actually rather boring.

I know! Shocking, right?!!
 

What you see is pretty much what you get with me. A quiet, boring, cake-eating Carpenters fanatic, who happens to have a husband and a few sprogs. That's it. But there must something I could reveal.

I suppose I could reveal that I sometimes read on the toilet. Well, let me clarify this. I sometimes take a book with me into the toilet just in case. I never actually sit there inhaling my own stench while I merrily read away. That would just be WRONG. Just in case of what, I’m not entirely sure. But let’s face it, you’re probably reading this on your phone while you’re on the can, so don’t judge me!



Admit it. You take your phone into the toilet! At least I’ve never done THAT. So ner.



I could reveal what a hideous slob and failure of a domestic goddess I am, replete with photos of my slovenly abode. But I’ll spare you.
  
I could reveal that I sometimes fantasise about telling people to fuck off despite my outward placid exterior. But I won’t reveal who those people are. I’ve never actually done it. Yet.


I could reveal that I scratch and pick my ears. But that's just gross and you don't need to know that. Oops.

I could reveal that every time I am making progress with Weight Witches and have a good loss, this seems to be my cue to self sabotage and stray off track. But it's probably what I deserve for posting smug updates on Facebook. No more smug updates from me. You're welcome!



I could reveal that I am STILL on green P-plates. I didn't get my license until I was well into my 30's, and I've just been too lazy  and haven't bothered going through the final testing to get off my P-plates.



I could reveal that previous to getting my license I walked everywhere or caught public transport. Now that I drive I've become one of those wankers who can't bear the thought of stepping onto a train or bus. *Shudders*. Additionally, I seem to have forgotten an important point that my Weight Witches leader pointed out: we all have one of the least expensive pieces of exercise equipment; a front door. Open it and walk out!
 

Interestingly, this ability to drive coincided with becoming somewhat pudgy. OK, that's not very interesting information, or very surprising. But I shared it anyway. What's the point of having a blog if you can't over share!



I could reveal my little shopping expedition the other week, when I lost my parking ticket. Frantic searching and re-tracing my steps through the shopping centre ensued as a replacement ticket would cost $35. When I returned sheepishly to the ticket station empty handed, the person on duty gave me a replacement ticket for free. Kindness isn't totally extinct, after all.



OH! This is a good one: I could reveal that I failed HSC English. Spectacularly.  I'm sure this is totally shocking. I mean, this blog would certainly never give any indication of that. Shut up.
 

I could reveal that I have this weird stimming habit of rocking, but I may  have already revealed this before. Can't remember. Fortunately, I never do this in public or my children might pretend not to know me.  Come to think of it, they already do. They want me to bugger off as soon as we arrive at the school gates. Weird. I'm not embarrassing. Am I?


On that note, I better stop embarrassing myself and end it here.


Linking up for I Must Confess.


What hidden secrets can you reveal?

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Soggy Sandwiches And Other Sagas

As usual I've been busy, busy, busy! Especially this week with the Oscars happening. I'm sure you spotted me on the red carpet. No? You just weren't looking hard enough. OF COURSE I was there! I dashed over on my private jet. Yes, I took my Dinner Fairy with me! Duh! OK you got me, I made that up.
 
As a matter of fact, I believe I would rather gauge my eyeballs out than attend this grandiose affair. It's much easier to sit at home in my leggings and t-shirt and wistfully survey all those glossy genetically blessed and surgically enhanced stars. I haven't seen one single movie that was nominated so I have no opinion about who should have won, I just watch it for the frocks. Anyway, the Oscars are like SO four days ago, so who even cares anymore?

Let's move on to more interesting topics. ME! Shut up. I'm fascinating. For instance, this week has involved packing school lunches, grocery shopping, exercising, doing crossword puzzles and listlessly flicking through TV stations.

Oh yeah, I did start a TAFE course. I've already learnt one VERY IMPORTANT thing:

Packed lunches SUCK.

No wonder I constantly fish out soggy sandwiches from the boys school bags. Bleurrrrrrgggghhhhhh.

Yes folks, it's always about the food with me. I'm still attending Weight Witches but haven't quite got my broom stick yet. Shut up.

So why I am doing a computer course when I'm already a technological GENIUS?  Well, it gets me out of the house. That's something. And maybe, just maybe I might end up getting one of those things that people do. Um....ah....oh dear... I can't even say the word. A..j..j..jo.....

Nope. Can't say it. But it has three letters. Starts with a J. Rhymes with 'cob'. Shudders. I haven't had one of those since....

Never mind.

One of my TAFE teachers was most encouraging, saying that she had another lady in one of her class who'd been out of the workforce for 14 years and ended up getting a job as a result of doing the course. So you never know.

But now that I've splashed all the details of my Weight Witches and TAFE all over this utterly fascinating blog you can be sure to be entertained by my EPIC FAILS.  As soon I make a public statement that I'm going to do something I'll fail. Yay me. So just pretend you didn't read this when you spot me a year from now corpulent and  unemployable. Thanks for that.

Anyway, it's all good. It's not like I'm going to end up destitute and homeless if it doesn't work out. So I figure I may as well give it a go. If it's not meant to be I've still got my Sugar Daddy, aka Mickey Blue Eyes. A much older*, wealthy**man to keep me in the this glamorous and lavish lifestyle to which  I've become accustomed.

Case in point: yesterday we finally got a plumber to fix our leaky taps, toilet and shower! Mr 10 nearly burst with excitement and pure joy at being able to do something as simple as turn a tap on and off with minimal effort. Last week involved a visit from the electrician to fix our dodgy power points which were full of ants. Guess what?

Now we can do something really avant garde:  PLUG THINGS IN! AND THEY WORK! See? I told you it was grand around here! Why on Earth would I want one of those things that start with a J anyway?

Our WiFi was also resurrected yesterday. It's been down and out as there was work being done in our street for this NBN thingamajig.  The boys reacted as if we'd won the lottery yesterday when they arrived home from school.

This Saturday is the return of the phenomenon known as Schlepping To Soccer At Stupid O' Clock. As you can see, my life is always action packed and exciting!

Anyway, must dash. Have to go and do something else that's super riveting and totally out there: Make a sandwich for lunch. At least  it won't be soggy this time. 


* He's over 50. He can get pensioners insurance. Snorts.
** Bahahahaha! He thinks he's wealthy!

Linking up for The Lounge.

Tell me, how do you stop sandwiches from going soggy?

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The Middle Muddled Riddle

Welcome to another glorious Monday! Don't you just love that feeling when you wake up on this most revered of days and the sun is flooding the room with it's mellow rays? Birds are chirruping an enchanting tune outside your window. Your eyes sparkle with uncontained enthusiasm as you fling back the bed covers bursting with joy and energy, ready to start another week?

Yeah, me neither. Farking Mondays. Who invented them, anyway? And I don't even go to work. Ahem. Shut up.

This morning we actually woke up stupendously late and then had to dash about like mad things with motors up our bums. It was most amusing. Unless you were us. In which case it was just plain annoying.

Additionally, the weather is dismal and gloomy. Grey clouds are looming with the promise of more rain. But this rain won't cool things down. It will still be hot and humid. Ridiculous. But I shouldn't complain. Except I just did. Oops. At least I'm not in Queensland, where Cyclone Marcia has wreaked her havoc. I hope everyone up there is keeping safe.

Anyway, without further ado, I now announce that the rest of today is officially cancelled. Of course, as usual I have no authority whatsoever to do this, but that has never stopped me before. DETAILS.

Please note that by the time I get around to actually posting this it will no longer be Monday, rendering all of the above obsolete. Except I have discovered that Tuesday mornings are no better. And all weekday mornings. Even Saturday is about to become fraught with early morning soccer for the boys. So frankly, all mornings suck. The end.

And now, moving on to other pressing matters.  Today I am making the monumental confession of my middle name. I know you've spent many hours pondering this, tossing and turning unable to sleep at night without this vital information. I must put you out of your misery. Therefore, I can now announce that my middle name is....

Drum roll, please.....

RAPUNZEL.

Worth waiting for, wasn't it? Quite ridiculous really. Vanessa Rapunzel. Hmmm, it does have a ring to it. I did have really long hair as a child, too. But there's only one problem.

I made that up. It's not really Rapunzel. Had you fooled, didn't I?What? Not for a second? HMPH. You smarty pants.

Fancy a multiple choice quiz? You don't? Too bad, you're getting one anyway!

May I present to you my middle muddled riddle!  OK, technically it's not really a riddle, it's a multiple choice question. But why do you have to be so pedantic? I've been reading WAY too many Dr Suess books with Mr 6, so just humour me, OK?  My middle name is:

a) Esmerelda
b) Jane
c) Anne
d) All of the above
e) None of the above

If you answered with c, then I WISH you were right. I would love to have Anne with an 'e' as my middle name. But alas, my parents didn't choose any of those names. The correct answer is, of course, e. Tricked you!

The suspense is killing you, right? Or you couldn't less, one or the other. If it's the latter, then we're done here. Click away NOW. See how easy that was? Now that we're rid of the riff raff, I can finally make my stunning revelation.

My middle name REALLY is.....

Bring back that drum roll....

FAYE!

With a totally redundant e on the end! Yay for redundant e's!!

This is exactly the same as my Mum's middle name.

But do you want to know something really funny? Like Mickey Blue Eyes' middle name? It's... wait for it...  Raeburn. Snorts. Seriously. It really is. I shouldn't laugh, because it was his grandfather's name or something.

Oh well, who really uses middle names anyway? Only when you fill out forms. In which case you just want something short and simple, so Faye fits that criteria.

And now you will have a blissful nights sleep tonight replete with that fascinating information. You're most welcome.

Stay tuned for the next thrilling update when I reveal something even more earth shattering. As soon as I figure out what it is...

Linking up for I Must Confess.

What's your middle name?

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He Called Her Cookie

For such a long time he had wanted a dog. Not a cat. Not a rabbit. Certainly not a guinea pig. It had to be a dog. And not just any dog.

"I want a golden retriever!" Mr 10 begged with imploring eyes.

A majestic golden retriever, with a glossy coat, melting, mischievous brown eyes and boundless energy. They could play and lollop and frolic and have so much fun! Mr 10's eyes shone with such grand visions.

But there would be poop, I reminded him. LOTS of poop.

"I'll clean it up!" he insisted. 

Mickey Blue Eyes and I looked at each other, nonplussed. We were slowly warming to the idea of a dog. Mr 10 had his heart set on it. But we weren't convinced about a golden retriever.

I'm not really a fan of gigantic horse-like dogs. Or tiny little over grown rat-like yappers. But I do like some dogs.

Wise, warm-hearted dogs who are fiercely loyal and full of character. Like Samantha, the sausage dog we had when I was a child. She was like a human trapped in the body of a bandy-legged, rotund dachshund. She was amazing. I wanted Mr 10 to have a dog like that. A furry best friend.

We scanned the Internet looking for just the perfect pooch. There were many tears of frustration from Mr 10 who wanted it all to happen NOW. The idea of being able to save a dog from death row at the pound appealed to Mick and I.

Accordingly, we set off one afternoon to check out the possibilities. Upon entering the pound we were greeting by a cacophony of raucous barking. Menacing mutts the size of Mexico roared their indignation at being behind bars.

Mr 10 and 6 promptly burst into tears. Meanwhile, Mr 13 had wisely waited in the car. He wasn't as keen on the dog idea. Eventually, we were able to coax the boys to have a further look at all the cages. It was very dispiriting. The dogs were all obviously unsuitable. Although I felt awful seeing them all locked up like that, at the same time I would have been fearful of them being let out. 

We returned home with a dejected Mr 10. A few weeks passed. More Internet searching ensued. This led to discovering Sydney Dogs And Cats Home.  One Sunday, Mick took Mr 10 and 6 for a drive there.

A few hours later Mr 10 came bounding into the house.

"Mum, we have a dog!" he was beaming. He led me outside and there she was. A beautiful and gentle fox terrier cross. We're not exactly sure what the 'cross' part is, but we're guessing corgi. She wasn't a puppy, but she was wise, loyal and full of character. He named her Cookie.

It seems like it was meant to be. Now she's part of our family. She's a bit of tart in that she loves everyone and anyone. An extrovert dog in an introvert family. She'd be completely useless as a guard dog. She'd welcome any thieves with a wagging tail and be excited to meet new friends!

She sits at the back door, gazing in with her mournful eyes. Other times, when I walk past, there she is, head tilted, expression quizzical. Yes, dogs DO have expressions.

The funniest thing is her antics in regard to Henrietta, our pet parakeet. Cookie bolts down to Henrietta's aviary in the backyard in her headlong fashion.  Reaching the cage she tenses, ready to pounce. The hairs on her back stand up as she lunges her little fox terrier frame frantically at the cage, eyes never leaving Henrietta.

Henrietta is totally unruffled. She saunters down from her perch to the edge of the cage and proceeds to taunt Madam Cookie.

"Hello!" she chirps, chest proud.  Cookie hurtles higher up to the cage, incensed.

"Hello!" Henrietta keeps mocking her.

It's like watching the cat and mouse shenanigans of Tweety and Sylvester. Hilarious!

Cookie would indeed relish the opportunity to have Henrietta in her clutches.  Funnily enough, she never barks at her. She just keeps lunging at the cage repeatedly. Despite the fact that this pursuit  never pays off, she is quite persistent in her efforts, our little Sylvester,.. I mean, Cookie!

Afterwards she will bound back across the grass to Mr 10 and rest her paws on his legs, tail pulsating. She is happiest in these moments.

She snoozes on the back porch throughout the day, waiting for her beloved boy to return home from school for cuddles and play. They already have an unbreakable bond. I'm glad they have each other. Having a dog was such a comfort to me as a child. I love to think of Mr 10 having that same comfort. 

It's also good finally having another girl in the family, even it is only a dog!

And yes, Mr 10 cleans up her poop. Someone has to and it might as well be him. He has to learn, doesn't he? Ahem. Besides, I've cleaned up enough poop in my time.

Cookie will be a part of our family for many years to come. When she finally goes to doggie heaven we'll most likely adopt again. It's good to have a furry friend.

Linking up for The Lounge.

Do you have any pets?

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YAY!

I have no idea what I'm blogging about and am just rambling because my laptop/internet connection has suddenly decided to work  and I just  need to type while it works. Because it will just decide to shit itself again and it will be another six months before I can post  here and i know I'm not  using proper grammar and punctuation because I'm  in such a raving rush. 

This week has been a week of new beginnings. I started going to a writing group and enrolled for a  TAFE course. It's something about skills for further employment or some such palaver. I think  about  perhaps  attempting to  work in library again but then I never do anything about it, so we'll see. Remains to be seen where I'm going with this  because every time  I think about the dreaded old job interview I feel sick and hysterical and COMPLETELY FREAKED OUT. I haven't been for one since..... Never mind. 

It was a bloody long time ago and it didn't go well. But enough about that. I'm jumping topics and not making sense. 

I wish I didn't have to rush and this is total rubbish. One day I may write an entire sentence that is well thought out, interesting and expressive. This isn't one day. Sorry. Not sorry. Sort of sorry. Oh God. Save me.

All I want is a laptop and an internet connection that work. Is that too much to ask? And time. Lots of lots of time.

Mickey Blue Eyes and I were just having a discussion this evening about people on the internet. We decided that I am a very good lurker. Not just online, but in real life. I lurk around our house. I'm lurking through life. I like to lurk. I could probably put down lurking as a skill on my updated resume. No?

Mickey Blue Eyes is making me a cup of tea. That's interesting information, is it not?

I guess it's back to writing on paper for me. You remember those weird things? Pens? Paper? Swooon. I love writing with pen and paper.

Just to prove how utterly classy I am, here's some further evidence:  I am becoming a KMart fan. Oh well. At least it's a change from Big W and Best & Less. Admittedly not much of a change, but still a change. Sort of. Oh OK, it's still cheap and nasty. But that's what's good about it! I can buy shit. And as long as I don't think about those folk slaving in sweat shops in Bangladesh or China just so I can buy an eight dollar top it's all good. Gulps.

Mickey Blue Eyes is doing the dishes. I knew there was a reason I married this man. One day I will have a gleaming new kitchen with a dishwasher. This isn't one day.

Yesterday I went to my writing group. I actually read some shit out loud in front of people and didn't explode and die.  Who knew?

Today I went out for lunch with my friend Kimmy. Tomorrow I have a counselling appointment and Thursday and Friday I start my course. For this introverted Aspie with a preference for lurking that is FULL ON.

Related: I've been doing some of those personality profiling/testing thingys. You know, because I'm totally self-absorbed and all, and anyway, it's really freaky how accurate they are! I'm an INFP.  

Which obviously stands for Intelligent, Nice, Fabulous Person! Or something....

You know those days when you go out for a really lovely lunch and then come home full, not really caring about whether you have dinner or not.  Right on cue, all three boys: "What's for dinner?"


Similarly, if we go out to an occasion where there is shit tonnes of food served, such as on Christmas Day. You roll back into the car afterwards feeling like you never want to eat EVER AGAIN. Or, you know. at least until tomorrow. Cue all three boys: "I'm hungry!"

One day there will FINALLY be a Dinner Fairy in this house. I mean, I'm sure the boys would look quite cute in fairy costumes. Today isn't one day.

On the weekend two out of three boys signed up for the soccer season again. So now we'll have the joy of schlepping to soccer training several nights a week and waking up early on Saturdays for games again. Yay.

Mr 13 wants to give a new club a try, so he's also signing up very soon. This means I'm going to be super busy between soccer, Tafe, Writing Group and Weight Witches. Yes I know, all you full time working Mums out there, I can hear the violin music too. Sad, is it not?

What else can I tell you? Surely I can make something up? Oh! We started applying for passports! And you know what that means, don't you??!!!

Absolutely nothing!

We'll apply for them and still end up going to Dubbo for our holidays!

One day we will embark on an extravagant, adventurous around the World trip.  London, Paris, New York! THE WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD! It has to happen, people! This isn't one day.

So to round off this completely ridiculous, rambling post, I'll leave you with this quote:

Never do today what you can put off until tomorrow.

Hang on, is that right?  Oh well, whatevs, as Mr 13 would say.

Stay tuned for the next rambling stroll down Nessville Lane!
 

 

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This Is My New Year's Resolution...

Yes, it's me again! I am, indeed, still alive! That's always good news. Speaking of good news, I have SO MUCH to tell you! Obviously, since I haven't checked in here in months and my life is always a hot-bed of intrigue. Well, my bed is frightfully hot presently and I'm intrigued by lots of things. That's the same thing, I'm quite certain.

Anyway, I had better get on with bringing you up to date with all my doings! It's been epic, so you had better grab your beverage of choice and some popcorn and settle in. Or perhaps a nice piece of fresh fruit since it's the beginning of the year and a Monday, so the odds are high that you're on a health kick. We won't say the nasty little D word. The fact that I am on Weight Witches is completely irrelevant. It's not a.... (insert d word) it's a lifestyle! That's the lovely little illusion we tell ourselves as we munch our way through shit tonnes of salad and pay people to humiliate us with weekly weigh ins. Works for me!

But where was I? Oh, that's right I was about to enthral you with all my shenanigans. Yes, ENTHRAL is the correct word. On the other hand, I'm not really sure what shenanigans are, but they sound impressive. So let's get straight to it! Or should I waffle on for another paragraph? Waffle it is! I mean, the whole post is waffle anyway. So on with the waffling!

Sit back and prepare to be transfixed with all my entertaining exploits. Be thrilled by my fascinating adventures, riveting escapades and action-packed...um....erm....adventures. Okay, I already said adventures!  So what? HMPH.  But you will see what I mean.

Perch on the edge of your seat as you read with nail-biting anticipation of my numerous trips to  buy groceries, my pointless attempts at housework and my ongoing gig as reluctant nurse to Mickey Blue Eyes. Florence Nightingale, I ain't.  Get your own ice-pack, you lazy bastard. Just because you're on bloody crutches and in a knee brace is no excuse to be idle! Jeez, some people!

Read with undisguised envy of my weekly drop offs to physio-therapy appointments, repeated attempts to visit Medicare over the Christmas period and valiant efforts to convince three rambunctious boys that nobody has ever actually died of terminal boredom as yet. Yes, some folk may have considered flinging themselves in front of an oncoming bus or opening a vein during some particularly tedious times, but Terminal Boredom isn't actually an affliction. Get over it, dudes.

In addition to all of this flurry of activity, I have also made time to participate in an astonishing array of avant garde activities. These include:

• Sleeping
• Eating
• Walking the dog
• Whinging about the heat
• Turning the air conditioner on
• Preparing meals for three ungrateful offspring who do not appreciate my superb culinary skills
• Whinging about the heat some more
• Turning the air conditioner up
• Scrolling down my Facebook feed to see all the shiny, happy people living their shiny, happy lives
• Whinging about the heat some more
• Melting into a puddle
• Drinking gallons of water
• Peeing a billion times a day (see above)
• Staring into space
• Writing shopping lists which I forget when I actually go shopping
• Opening the fridge for the fiftieth time a day only to discover that it contains the same disappointing contents it did the previous forty-nine times I opened it
• Opening the fridge and cupboards five million times a day for three ravenous boys who not only find the contents disappointing in the extreme, but also blame you for this deprivation with unreserved scorn and vitriol. 
• Schlepping out to become insolvent by buying an extraordinary amount of groceries, only to lug them all home, have to put them away, figure out what to cook with them to please a family and your Weight Witchy self.  After which, you receive yet more scorn and vitriol with the added bonus of a shit tonne of washing up as well. Awesome.  
• Repeat the above point every two days, as all food seems to be devoured in this short amount of time. 
• Weep at the at the cost of all those grocery bills

I could go on, but I'm certain I'm making you all jealous. Okay, not really. 

As you may have guessed from all of the above, 2014 for me limped it's way to a lacklustre finish. Which was handy, because it was just in time for 2015 to limp in a similar lackadaisical fashion. But it's all good, because as we all know new years are the time for all that 'new year, new me' bullshit. 'You've just started a 365 page book, write a good one' and all that rah rah stuff.  So I may as well get on board and make a few resolutions. 

Here goes:

1. I resolve to read more! I already have a gazillion books waiting for me, so it seems a shame to just leave them lying around. Done!
2. I resolve to catch up on my sleep debt. I've got a good 14 years of sleep deprivation to catch up on. So it's nanna naps all the way for 2015. An exclamation point there would seem to imply rather more energy than is necessary for napping so I gave it a miss. 
3. I resolve to daydream more! After all, it's just like meditation, right? 
4. I resolve to learn more, this will require online research and web surfing.But it's all the name of self-improvement. Ahem.
5. I resolve to try new foods. After all, chocolate is food, isn't it? There must be so many varieties that I haven't tried yet. Sounds like a plan to me. 
6. I resolve to make new friends. On Facebook. Imaginary friends are so much easier. I don't have to clean the house up for them. So if you want to shoot me a friend request, feel free. 
7. I resolve to catch up with old friends. In person! In fact, I already did on New Year's Eve! So we're good until at least May, I reckon. 
8. I resolve to write more meaningless, random, waffling, ad hok drivel and post it here. You're welcome! 
9. I resolve to keep going to Weight Witches until I'm finally a witch like Samantha. The nose twitching thing doesn't seem to be working as yet. Damn. 
10. And finally, I have some vague hope that 2015 may be the year that I actually get that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Otherwise I resolve to go quietly insane.  Oh wait. Too late....

Happy New Year from a quietly insane woman

What is your New Year's Resolution? 

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