Sunday, May 24, 2015

So my daughter is angry that I'm making a cake for her 12th birthday, when she specified that she did not want to celebrate it, and wanted it to be like any other day.

I tried to explain that her dad and I had talked about it and decided that not having a cake was just too awful, so we were going to go ahead and  celebrate because we wanted to. I responded to something she said about the day she was born by telling her how important it was to me - and she said 'and then you messed it up.'

Refusing to have a birthday is really the height of (non-life harming) mother-punishment, isn't it?

Am I making a mistake having the cake? Should a 12 year old be allowed negate their own birthday? She's not (officially) eating solids still, so she feels it's horrible to have a cake she can't eat (but she is eating! She closes the door of the kitchen and munches stuff, then vehemently denies it! Agh!). I don't know. I just don't know. What the fuck to do. 

Friday, May 22, 2015

vote yes day

I had a bit of a panic attack today, that I'd read the voting slips wrong, put the wrong cross on the wrong page etc. I'm still a bit freaked out about it - had a mixture of Irish and English on it, and there were two and even though I double checked and I'm sure I got it right I'm still having that did I leave the iron on?? feeling.

I voted. I had a little meeting with two Italian students (one mine) who want private lessons. They were sweet - they met a month or so ago, and they've moved in together in order to stay here longer. Mad, impetuous things :) I wish them well. I love Italians.

I walked the dog, met a man with a melodious voice, honeyed genteel tones, an extra educated English accent. His voice was quite beautiful. Could a man with such a voice be a psychopath or a bastard? Sad to think he could be. Mellifluous, it was.

Then I got takeaway. The waiters repeatedly came to check that we were all ok as we waited in the Chinese restaurant. Friday evening, busy. We assured the successive solicitous people that were were, indeed, still ok. I said I was more than ok, it was Friday night and someone else was making my dinner. The young guy beside me with tattoos, playing Candy Crush, laughed as if slightly shocked. Then there was me and one middle aged man, and we had a sweet chat about voting - his daughters are of voting age and one is studying politics, so all of them going together was very meaningful. He seemed sweet, and proud, and happy for the day that's in it. I'm glad we had that little chat. I came home and had dinner, and wine and I feel tired and relaxed - as well as worried I left the iron on :)

Oh god, I hope we win. I want there to be rejoicing in the streets. I want there to be laughter and tears of happiness and vindication and dancing and love. I want people to feel safe and celebrated, not shunned and rejected. 

Saturday, May 16, 2015

oh, my son, my son

Telling him about why his granny is worried that a vote for gay marriage will hurt civilisation, and how she grew up in an era where sex and bodies and loving yourself were wrong.

Bodhi: You have to love yourself! Loving yourself is how you learn to love other people.

The wisdom of the darling child.

Then, when he's enthusing further about cream cheese, a minute later -
Me: You love cream cheese. You want to marry it.
Him: No, I just want to lick its surface. 

Friday, May 15, 2015

dreaming dreams that come true

So this morning I dreamed that I was eating some chicken. Or sort of ...tasting/checking it. But it was cheap chicken and tasteless and sort of rubbery.So I decided against it in the end.

But the weird thing is, today there was a talk on in school, but I had too much work to do to go. Still, my nice director said, come grab a sandwich. Mm, I love catered sandwiches, little salady triangles of mayonnaisy goodness. So I did, egg and and coleslaw one, thank you very much. I yoinked them and ran. Bit into the coleslaw, realised by the texture it was actually chicken salad.

It was a strange sensation - it was a little tasteless, chicken-wise, but a nice sandwich. For a minute I wondered if I should just eat it anyway; I'm listless these days. But then I decided I didn't really want to digest any more animal flesh than I can help, so I binned it.

Then I remembered the dream! To dream of chewing on chicken, and then to have it happen! How prophetic/coincidental!

I told Axl, he suggested I start dreaming about lottery numbers. If only. 

Thursday, May 14, 2015

Everything feels ... not good today. I lit into my daughter for giving out to me for being rude. Mostly because I'm deeply stressed as she's decided she's not going to go on the holiday she demanded because it'll be too hot. Then she cried a lot. And I feel like a shitty person, but underneath that I still feel deeply stressed and frustrated and resentful of the position she's putting us and herself in, and the opportunities she's wasting. Fear for the future.

And hormones.  Not a good mix.

And I'm sad about Mary's sad posts.

And slightly dazed from gulping down a drink I thought might help a little. It's just period really. Same old thing.

I dreamed I was sleeping the other day. It was lovely.

Tuesday, May 12, 2015

Potato Salad-off!

Not off as in bad, -off as in competition. Hmm. That may not have been the best idea.

Anyway.

How do you make yours?

I've loved potato salad all my life. My mother's one is a standard American one, I suspect.

Boiled new potatoes. The dressing is mayo and orange or lemon juice (sometimes I put in both for the hell of it). Also salt, pepper, oregano, fresh parsley, paprika, celery seeds. I finely chop celery, olives and pickles and stick them in too. Mix while the potatoes are still hot, so they absorb the dressing.

*Orgasmic potato salad groan*

'Don't make too much', says Axl. Ha! Fool. Little does he understand my capacity for potato salad. 

Monday, May 11, 2015

I think I'm getting my period - I'm so relieved: this would explain why I bought and ate a pint of Ben and Jerry's chocolate icecream with delicious, sandy cookie goo in the middle yesterday. I was feeling quite appalled about it, but now it makes sense.

Then today I got a weird, urgent craving for ... coleslaw. So strong that I actually went and bought a cutely teeny cabbage and came home and chopped it and grated carrot, and made up a slaw and had it on a seeded baguette and it was SO PERFECT. It was just like I wanted it to be. I rarely get to say that in life. Expectation = reality. So... coleslaw made me happy.


Sunday, May 10, 2015

flowers

The buds on my huge tree will be out any day. They're nearly there. I'm excited about watching my Clematis and lobelias flower, even though all I did was put the lobelias in the earth, and plonk the Clematis under the hedge in its pot, and twine a couple tendrils round the fence. Still. It's not dead! It's going to flower again! Perhaps one day it will coat a swathe of the fence with a carpet of its flowers and leaves.

I would love to do a meditation whereby I sat and watched a bud go from closed green pod to fully blooming flower. Somehow, that seems like it would be a worthwhile thing to do. To watch something so magical and natural happening, with complete attention and presence.

Instead of staring at facebook, like.

It's very wet here though, so I can't really see myself achieving that. But I like the idea. 

Saturday, May 9, 2015

avarice

I'm so materialistic. Things make me feel better. Until I look around my cluttered house with Things piled everywhere... and yet nonetheless, and I think it's something to do with it having been my birthday season, I'm longing for the trappings of success at the moment.

I want a car, something that looks nice and doesn't break down. I have to get one, but I also really *want* one. I am longing for a really nice handbag. I've spent the day on ebay, looking at second hand ones I can't even afford, worrying about cheap ones that are no doubt made by people being paid slave wages for slave hours. What's wrong with me? The second hand ones get me around this, and even let me away with guilt free leather, maybe, but I would still like something new and shiny and pretty to represent me. I'd like a laptop to put in it. A new wallet, a large, womanly one, that my paper notes (ha!) fit into without being bent in half. But I have one, that is a good one, it's fine, it's not worn. I don't need it. I'd like a new phone. But a good one, with a good camera. But one not made of war-minerals or by workers who are being killed the carcinogens their job exposes them to so we can have shiny technology.

Look how torn I am. The world is fucked - yet still I care about pretty things, even though I can't afford them. Is it any wonder my ebay trawling isn't soothing me!

I guess I just want a Birthday Present.