Let’s begin with a bit of silliness – just to get things started on the right foot (or the back foot in this case!).
You Are Cayenne Pepper
You are very over the top and a bit overwhelming.
You have a fiery personality, and you can give anyone a good jolt.
You can easily take things up a couple notches, no matter what crowd you’re running with.
Well, yes. Quite.
Moving swiftly on.
I thought it’s about time I did a quick catch up on things happening chez moi. Well, firstly, my daughter did indeed get her sock monkey in time for her birthday. She has shown him scant attention (preferring her train and her wooden farm for some reason) but we have hopes of coaxing her to love him. Eventually.
Here he is in all his monkey glory:
Secondly, I have been very slack with my meditation and my writers work. The meditation room is now full of my many, many (many) books – all packed and sadly unread while they await transportation to the new hoosie sometime at the end of next month. The house feels sadly empty without our bulging, overburdened (I know how they feel) bookshelves spreading wanton knowledge all over our living area and tempting us away from the idiot box.
It’s true, I had been slack before it got full ‘o’ books but I haven’t felt like dragging my sorry, very tired, arse out of bed at 5am for some reason. I can’t think why – unless it’s just that I don’t get to bed much before the witching hour most nights and my little willow-the-whisp seems to enjoy a nightly waking still. Grump. Still, in the new house I will have no special room for meditation and that means I have to utilise some other area of the house for these needs. And needs they are. I do need to do it. Otherwise I’m just a grumpy old cuss with no hope of reform.
However, to redeem myself slightly (in my own eyes at least), I have been tackling the multi-headed beast that is weight loss in a more constructive fashion of late. I have asked hubble to give me two months off the baby making in order to attempt some semblance of weight loss and to ensure that I don’t simply look fat when I’m pregnant. (As opposed to now where I look pregnant and am simply fat – and yes, someone did ask). So – every day for 35 minutes I am to be found sweating crimsonly into the TV as I huff and puff and lug my chubby-ness around on an aerobics step with Jillian Michaels (of Biggest Loser fame) and Susan Powter of 1990’s fitness fame. Susan is as mad as a hatter and a platinum blonde dreadlocked and tattoed lesbian, but her workouts do the trick. I just stick to that stuff and leave the rest alone.
Can I say with hand on heart that its completely horrendous. It’s so hard and it takes me every ounce of my self-esteem and willpower to make myself do it. And it makes me angry. Am I alone in this? I get mad when I exercise. I am not a natural when it comes to exercise – which is strange when you consider that I spent most of my early childhood and adolescence being a dancer. Still, I promised the hubble. And this is the thing – I can not do it for myself but for him, I’ll do anything. I don’t want to let him down. I’m not sure what that says about me but its easier to promise something to him than to promise it to myself. Nothing sweet has passed my lips in 12 days (save for a little honey) and I have worked out for 11 of those days. I’m allowed one day off per week. Plus, on top of the hideous aerobics I’m also doing 30-45 minutes of either stretching, pilates or yoga. Mainly the first two as my poorly shoulder makes it difficult to do the yoga – no upper body strength anyway! I think I may be one of those women that swings violently from one thing to another. Ah well. Better to swing than to remain stagnant.
So – here I sit with my liquorice legs (a new and delicious tea from T2 – not a personal comment) and wonder what next. I have oodles of packing to do and only a month to do it in. Geez that’s come around quickly. I am looking forward to happily nesting in my own wee hoosie and so soon but there is a Yikes! amount of stuff to do yet. And the bulk of it will be left to me as hubble is in the first month of his new job and cannot take any time off. Deep joy. Ah well, tis but a small price to pay for the wonders of home ownership and, more importantly, own gardenship. I am currently plotting in all senses of the word.
Anyway, I have tarried too long here. It takes up too much of my free time and there is sunshine to be enjoyed and books to be read and tea to be drunk. I shall leave thee now but shall be back hence and when thou least expecteth it.