Might as well be my inaugural blog........oh....and I made some cool stuff!

I don't even want to look at the date of the last blog I wrote - I think it was last June.  I could bore you with all of my lame excuses (for the 3 of you that read this) as to why I haven't written in so long.  So far I've come up with:

1.  I've been really crazy busy at work.
2. I've had writer's block.
3. My dog ate my computer (she's been such a pig lately that this one isn't that far out there).
4. My future self came back and told me that something that I would write in the last 6 months would cause parts of the world to implode and therefore NOT writing would really be saving the world.
5. I lost the ability to type the letter "A" and nobody would get nthing tht I cme up with.
6. It's not you, it's me.....

Instead of dragging these very obviously real possibilities out on the webbernet I've decided to show you what Maddie and I did today instead.  (No pig dogs were harmed in the writing of this blog).

We made Crayons.  Okay so we did not actually make crayons, but we did melt down her supply of nubs to make some pretty funky NEW crayons.  The project chewed up a good couple of hours of what would have otherwise been an afternoon of whining, siging and f*&ing Peppa Pig.

Maddie has a box of old crayons that is HUGE.  I hate old crayons so I buy her a new box about once a month.  Add that to all of the free crayons that she scores and.....needless to say we have loads. 

The crayon box is the bane of my existence.  Her favorite thing to do is dump it on the living room floor so she can see all of her options.  The nubs get ground into the carpet, their teeny tiny bits of paper peppering the landscape in a fashion that could only be described as crayon mass murder sight.

I have often thought of just throwing them away, but it seems a bit wasteful.  I've thought of donating them to her playgroup, but who has time or mental capacity to remember to actually load the box into the car and bring it to playgroup?  Sadly, not I.

So today, in a fit of rage and boredom I decided that the crayons needed a new lease on life (one not encased in paper).

We started by soaking the crayons in water to get the paper off.  I filled our kitchen sink in warm water and we 'husked' the crayons one by one. 

When they were de-papered we separated them by color and shade into different bowls (yes I am borderline OC a fact that Maddie will just have to get used to in me and in the genes that I have undoubtably handed down to her). 

Then we found a small baking tray that my mom sent us last valentines day with little heart shapes.  We broke up the crayons and filled the tray.

The tray went into the oven at about 325 F.  We checked every 5 minutes until the crayons had melted. 

Took them out and popped the tray in the fridge. 


When they were cold they popped out of the mold.  And VOILA - new crayons.

We got a bit crazy after the first 2 batches of hearts and decided to move on to bigger and badder crayon combos (I seriously had so many crayons to use up).

I took a larger muffin tin and loaded the crayons into paper muffin cups.  For these we mixed our colors with wild abandon and made some crayons that looked like Reeces Peanutbutter cups would if you had ever taken a hit of acid (I never have so I am really going on testimony for this one). 

Maddie had a great time sorting out shades and blending different colors.  I got to throw away every last scrap of crayon paper that was left in the house and the dog was left bewildered yet intrigued by the scent coming out of the oven.  All in all - a good day!

Kittyn

'Maddie-ness' The Art of Being 3.5

Yesterday Maddie wanted to go outside into the back garden to show me the butterfly feeder that she had made at the Minster School.  I had just come home from a long day at the gym and she was very excited to show me her creation.  I had to stop her though, from going outside because:

1. The back garden has not been mowed and has prickers (and dog poo if I'm being honest) everywhere
2. She was not wearing shoes
3. It is August and we have had a wasp invasion
4. She was stung by a wasp 4 days ago
5. Again with the not wearing shoes thing

She asked me why she couldn't go outside and I explained that I didn't want her to go out in her bare feet.

Maddie:  What is bare feet?
Me:  That is when you aren't wearing shoes.
Maddie:  Why?
Me:  That is the word for it.
Maddie:  Why can't we go out in bare feet?
Me:  Because you might step on something.
Maddie:  Like what?
Me:  Well, as wasp for one.
Maddie:  That would sting.
Me:  Yes.
Maddie:  Or...I could step on something slimy?
Me:  Yes.
Maddie:  Or something prickly?
Me:  Yes
Maddie Or something pooey?
Me:  Certainly, yes.
Maddie:  Or a dead body?
Me:  Where do you think we live?
Maddie:  Bardney!
Me:  Yes......why would there be dead bodies in our back garden?
Maddie:  I don't know........do you?
Me:  Not a clue.....but honey there are no dead bodies in our back garden.
Maddie:  But there might be wasps.
Me:  Yes.
Maddie:  So there might be dead bodies....
Me:  Well presented...

Note to readers:  At the last check we have NO dead bodies in the back garden that we are aware of.  There are the dead shells of about 2 dozen wasps that have met their demise with a can of Raid, but no dead bodies other than that.  We will (on Maddie's request) be keeping a close eye on the possibility of dead bodies in the back garden and will keep you informed if any turn up.

Things That Are Off The List

Following a recent conversation with my best girlfriend (who shall remain nameless for now), I have decided to re-instate things that are off the list.  The original LIST was permanently displayed in marker on my other best friend's (yes you can have more than one) wall.  The original list included Mandy Moore and the Caliph (a drag queen bar) for reasons that I am not going to expand on at this moment.  This list was added to from time to time until the day that his girlfriend made him paint over it before they moved.  The new house was not allowed to have permanent marker on the wall (go figure) so the list was restarted in the garage where it presumably still grows today.  Yesterday, my girlfriend jokingly (?) decided to start a list of her own which included me on it (right after the pool vaccuum) - NICE!    In response here is my list (in no particular order of the off-ness that they are.)

1.  Watermelon
2.  Lucy the dog (you know what you did)
3.  Advertisers
4.  Pollen
5.  Talking iphone apps
6.  Washable kids paint
7.  Porridge (Maddie added this one)
8.  Thunder Flys
9.  Playgroup Committee
10.  HSBC

Happy Thursday - Feel free to add your own Off the List and share!

Planning the Perfect Family Holiday

Earlier in the year Matt and I were talking about vacations and holidays:

1. The only place we go on vacation is the States to see my friends and family (this isn't all bad because we go to Kauai often enough).

2. Matt never gets to choose (okay he was kind of whining about this, but since it was basically true I let it slide).

3. We have not taken a family holiday to a foreign destination in years (I don't count Tenerife as a foreign holiday destination because it is just one giant English pub along an expanse of sand).

Matt decided that he would like to take the family on holiday and that HE would CHOOSE the destination.  My inner control freak was a little bit a lot uncomfortable with allowing him this heady freedom, but the rest of me agreed that it was only fair.  After thinking long and hard (about 2.48 minutes) he informed me that we would go to Italy.

And so we began to plan and in planning got really, really excited.  Think of how great it will be:

1. Sitting at a sidewalk cafe sipping espresso in Rome.

2. Enjoying a langorous 6 course dinner in Tuscany.

3. Marvelling at the ruins of Pompeii.

4. Drinking in all of the sights we could cram into 8 days.

5.Having Maddie to ourselves the whole week and Maddie having us at the same time.

We decided to go in June because if we were to wait until Summer Holidays, the prices just about triple.  The week of the 8th was chosen, tickets were booked and diet was started in anticipation of eating my was down the West Coast of Italy.  Matt convinced me that renting a car would be the best way to go - screw public transportation - let's have the freedom to go where we want, when we want.

me:  "are you sure you will be comfortable driving over there?"

matt: "why not - it shouldn't be much different that driving in Germany or the States"

me: "okay, if you are sure......they have really good trains...."

matt: "stop it"

Car was booked (with trepidation), dog was book (to the kennel a.k.a 'the dog hotel'), hotel in London was booked so that we didn't have to drive to Heathrow the day of our flight.  Next thing to do:  

1. Figure out exactly where we wanted to go.

2. Book some places to stay.

Matt decided that he didn't want to:

1. Know EXACTLY where we would go - he wanted to have a loose game plan and see where the trip took us.

2. Book places to stay as we wouldn't really know where we were staying until we got there.

I convinced him to a least book a hotel in Rome for our first night so that we weren't stuck driving in a strange city during rush hour looking for a hotel.  I made this happen by booking the hotel as 'my treat'.  I found a great place right next to the Vatican and mere walking distance away from more sights than we could possibly take in.  We then decided that it would be prudent to book a room near the airport on our final night as our flight was early-ish and we didn't know how long it would take to get there from the city.

As for the rest of the trip we made our game plan which consisted of spending a night and following day in Rome, driving North through Tuscany and stopping in Florence and Pisa, then cruising back down South to the Amalfi Coast and Pompeii, finally returning to Rome for a final evening.

Done and done - let the holiday begin.  We were so ready for a break and as the weeks got closer our excitement grew.  I love traveling - don't you?

Raced my little heart out

I signed up about a month ago to do the Race for Life here in Lincoln.  It is something that I have wanted to do for a number of years, but have never done because life kept getting in the way of the race.  This year, however, I found myself committed to racing with about 8 other women from my gym (some staff, some members).

I knew from talking to others who have participated that it was going to be a light hearted event (although in support of a very serious cause).  I had seen pictures on the race for life website with women wearing pink wigs, tutus, etc.  I was prepared to dress up for the event by doning a pink tutu although I made the decision to not put it on until I got there and met up with everyone, in case I was the only one looking a bit silly.

How underdressed did I feel when I pulled up to the event and saw the 4,000 women already there dressed like they were going to nightclub on acid.  Wigs, tutus, ballgowns, dayglow fishnets, fairy wings and tiaras.  I slipped my sad little tutu over my shorts and waited for the rest of the gang to arrive.

I had no expectations of the event so when I got there was delighted to find out that that were giving out free body tatoos and pink water to everyone  (a bit like being at Coachella or Burning Man, but with all girls and some running thrown in).

They split everyone into groups of runners, joggers and walkers.  Four of us decided to 'jog' and the rest to walk.  Off we went in the hot sun, 4,000 shades of pink bobbing along the tarmac at RAF Waddington.  About 2 km in I realized:

 "Hey, I didn't eat breakfast this morning....it is 80 degrees with no wind....and I have done a proper race in about 7 years....I feel a bit sick to my stomach and I think my ankle is about to give...."

By the 4th kilometer, not even the bagpipe band and screaming masses were enough to keep me going.  I stopped to walk for a bit.  I felt really shitty and sorry for myself for about 500 meters.  Then I felt really shitty about being such a lame-ass.  I started thinking of my friend Helene, whom I was racing for, as well as all of the other women who have battled and are currently battling cancer.  These women get up every day and live their lives with uncertain futures and the pain and sickness that comes with fighting their own bodies. Those that I know personally have done it with grace and courage and who the hell was I to be whining about a sore ankle and nausea.  I felt shame at even allowing self pity to seep into my brain at that point and instead focused on their strength, which gave me enough strength to run like an olympic sprinter for the final furlong. 

Seriously, remember that scene in The Firm?  The one where Tom Cruise is running like his ass was on fire because the mafia was chasing him?  Well that, my friends, is how I ended my first Race for Life - glorious!!!

(I actually almost elbowed that small child in green to my right to stay ahead of her -

nothing says charity race like showing a 10 year old whose boss!)

As I always do after doing something crazy,exhausting, or physically demeaning - I rewarded myself with a large plate of nachos when I got home.  As I ate them, I thought of my friend Helene and how much she would laugh if she could have seen how funny I looked crossing the finish line in a pink tutu with my hair plastered in sweat and my arms flailing like a monkey. 

I am certainly marking this event in my planner as one to do next year.  I think I may start planning my costume now.

Help Me Decide

Summer Ball time is here and I am trying to decide on a dress.  You may gather from most of the pics that I am loving green this year.  Please leave a comment and tell me which dress you like.  If you don't know me I have a chin length blondish bob and will hopefully be a bit tan as we will be just returning from Italy when I wear it.  Please also note that this ball (although a summer one) is in England.....last year it was so cold and rainy we were calling it the Christmas Ball.  Thanks for your feedback!!!

R.I.P. Selena - Hairdresser Extraodinaire

Okay - so my beloved hairdresser is not really dead - but she may as well be - she has left the scene and left no traces of where or how to find her (why didn't I get her last name)!?!?!

I happened across this gem of a hair artist about 2 years ago just before I opened my gym.  There is a salon in the same complex and I decided that:

1.  I needed to stop coloring my hair myself (it just stopped working right after I had a baby - maybe the hormones???)
2. Making nice with the owner and hairstylists would be good for my buisness.
3. I really needed a good professional cut and re-style after the great post-pregnancy hair loss of 2006 (seriously, there weren't bald patches but it could pull out clumps of hair every morning).

I made an appointment and was booked in with Selena.  Our first date was a bit off-putting at first:

1. She was a bit moody and weird.  She didn't really like to talk and seemed slightly disinterested.
2. She refused to give me an opinion - kept asking me what I wanted and when I waffled she left decisions to me saying "it's your choice." 

I don't know about you but I am clueless about hair.  I need for somebody to tell me what will work.  I do not always agree and usually end up having an opinion if I think it is too extreme, but I found her lack of input frightening.

When I finally described the style I was going for, she cut and colored my hair and IT WAS FABULOUS.  I have never had such a gorgeous cut and color.  Well, there was the one hairdresser in San Diego that I went to once, while back there on vacation from England.  He charged more than some people pay for a mortgage payment and took 5 hours to complete my look (I get shivers thinking about how wonderful my hair looked after he finished).

I stayed with Selena ever since, letting her play with color and texture and style.  Our relationship was still weird - she didn't really like to talk and left me to alot of the decision making, but each and every time I walked out of that salon I felt like I was shooting a hair commercial.

When she left I tried 2 other stylists at the salon and they were - not so good.  Everything I asked for them not to do, they did:

1. Did I ask for twin rat tails streaming down the side of my face?
2. Do I have to pay for the extra strip of color you left on the back of my neck?
3. Oh, please, please straighten my already stick straight and baby fine hair so that it hangs, pasted down my scalp?
4.  Is that a duck tail in the back of my head?
5. Really, mullets are back in style?

They both had an overbearing opinion about everything and my hair left feeling very sad both times.

My 3 inch dark brown roots flecked with platinum (yeah - they are not silver it is blonde) have decided that it is time to move on and find a new stylist.  I have booked an appointment on Thursday with a girl at a very posh salon who is supposed to be 'magic with hair'.  I hope she lives up to her reputation.  If she does the first question that I will ask her is:  "What is your last name?"