Friday, 20 November 2009
Thursday, 19 November 2009
The question: changed, manic or abducted by aliens?
I'm trying to decide if Dr Phil has some evil voodoo power over me, or if I've inadvertently contracted manic superpowers somewhere. I wonder what the council of Hasselt put in the water. Here's the freaky thing:
I finally get it. The whole housework thing. It's happening all around me. On Monday, some change came over me, and this is Wednesday night and the kitchen and the living room are both tidy and sanitary. Most of the laundry is done. And (and!) while I have some people coming around to the house tomorrow, this was not for their benefit. Hardly anything got stuffed behind something else. Reorganising was done, as was cleaning under things. Babes helped, as did the kids, but honestly? This was my doing.
And I'm sitting here, wondering what just happened. Maybe aliens have abducted me and put me in my place. I don't want me back. They can keep me.
I'm so happy to see all the clear shiny surfaces and the clean TV screen. I'm thinking of finally putting some pictures up tomorrow (we've only lived here for four and a half years). I'm considering painting the cupboard and stencilling it, for fuck's sake. I feel inspired to keep going in the rest of the house. I need buckets, and cloths! I feel like washing the windows and I only did that last year. If this is what fully functional humans feel like, I want to be one of them all the time.
Surely this can't only be the result of one measly thing Dr Phil said? (I still think he's creepy.) Let's look at the other possible contributing factors:
Do you think it's possible that I've changed fundamentally? Babes said he's never seen such a change in me, when I asked him if he thought this was another one of my phases. Perhaps I've really twigged. I'd like that so much, because I've always wanted a fully functioning household. Maybe all along it was as simple as believing I could do it, and then making the first move.
I finally get it. The whole housework thing. It's happening all around me. On Monday, some change came over me, and this is Wednesday night and the kitchen and the living room are both tidy and sanitary. Most of the laundry is done. And (and!) while I have some people coming around to the house tomorrow, this was not for their benefit. Hardly anything got stuffed behind something else. Reorganising was done, as was cleaning under things. Babes helped, as did the kids, but honestly? This was my doing.
And I'm sitting here, wondering what just happened. Maybe aliens have abducted me and put me in my place. I don't want me back. They can keep me.
I'm so happy to see all the clear shiny surfaces and the clean TV screen. I'm thinking of finally putting some pictures up tomorrow (we've only lived here for four and a half years). I'm considering painting the cupboard and stencilling it, for fuck's sake. I feel inspired to keep going in the rest of the house. I need buckets, and cloths! I feel like washing the windows and I only did that last year. If this is what fully functional humans feel like, I want to be one of them all the time.
Surely this can't only be the result of one measly thing Dr Phil said? (I still think he's creepy.) Let's look at the other possible contributing factors:
- I've just been away for a few days, so I'm all refreshed.
- Jack and Babes are sick, so I've pretty much been housebound, giving me lots of time to tidy.
- Marie's growing up, so I don't need to spend as much time stopping her putting everything she finds in her mouth.
- I have been feeling very inspired lately by Maggie May. She is teaching me about the consolation of beauty. Her blog is about life and love and many tribulations, but through it all she manages to make time and room for beauty. She made me see again how necessary beauty is in life.
I feel stupid for forgetting it, because I used to know, and I am surrounded by people who show me by example every day. It's been right in front of my nose the whole time - An, my sister, lives and breathes beauty and yet I did not understand why for a while. And Ms. Moon and Michelle, of course. And so many more of you bloggers of beauty (my apologies for not naming all of you).
It's especially silly as I've been rediscovering the consolation of beautiful words and sentences in the last months.
Do you think it's possible that I've changed fundamentally? Babes said he's never seen such a change in me, when I asked him if he thought this was another one of my phases. Perhaps I've really twigged. I'd like that so much, because I've always wanted a fully functioning household. Maybe all along it was as simple as believing I could do it, and then making the first move.
Wednesday, 18 November 2009
My library - Part II
I'm still organising my library. I think I will probably be kept busy with it for another few weeks. Because I'm freaky and anal, and because I love books, and because I can. It's a harmless hobby, really, if you compare it to torturing small livestock. I don't actually own that many books, but there are many reasons why it's going to take me a long time.
First comes the categorising. Fiction is separated from non-fiction, prose from poetry, self-help from economics, dictionaries from grammars. Then comes the alphabetising, with a subsorting by publication date (for books by the same author). Non-fiction gets moved around a million times. Categories get separated and put back together. Mindfulness: with self-help, psychology, philosophy? Not so sure. Can baby books have their own section or do they go with health? What goes in the "other" category?
I'm trying to convince our resident hoarder (Babes) to let me dispose of some of the books I loath or will never need again. The Da Vinci Code may spontaneously combust in the back garden some time if he doesn't agree. Actually, I may just keep all the crappers and make a separate category for them. You never know when you need a cringeworthy quote for the blog.
Then there's the digitalisation. Even before I'm done sorting, I'm putting all my books online. I have a ♥LibraryThing♥ account. Last year, I paid up for the lifetime membership and of course promptly stopped using it. Now we have been joyfully reunited. I'm too anal about that as well. For example, when my exact book cover is not on there, I scan the book myself and upload it. I have to do that for every third book because I'm rather fussy about this - one slight difference, even in colour, and I go in. That's why I've only done up to the Es of my fiction tonight. Luckily it's the easiest site in the universe to use.
After LibraryThing, I will also export all my books to Goodreads. It's not as nice as LibraryThing to the anal bookcollector (no free choice of book cover, for one thing), but it is more of a social site, and I happen to have some lovely friends on there who will kick my butt if I don't join them on there. (Hi, An!) When it is ready, I may link to this site so we can all be friends over there.
Right - now it's so late it's early again and I need to stop loving my books and go to sleep because I have a sick husband, a sick son and an energetic toddler to look after in the morning. Goodnight all and happy reading!
First comes the categorising. Fiction is separated from non-fiction, prose from poetry, self-help from economics, dictionaries from grammars. Then comes the alphabetising, with a subsorting by publication date (for books by the same author). Non-fiction gets moved around a million times. Categories get separated and put back together. Mindfulness: with self-help, psychology, philosophy? Not so sure. Can baby books have their own section or do they go with health? What goes in the "other" category?
I'm trying to convince our resident hoarder (Babes) to let me dispose of some of the books I loath or will never need again. The Da Vinci Code may spontaneously combust in the back garden some time if he doesn't agree. Actually, I may just keep all the crappers and make a separate category for them. You never know when you need a cringeworthy quote for the blog.
Then there's the digitalisation. Even before I'm done sorting, I'm putting all my books online. I have a ♥LibraryThing♥ account. Last year, I paid up for the lifetime membership and of course promptly stopped using it. Now we have been joyfully reunited. I'm too anal about that as well. For example, when my exact book cover is not on there, I scan the book myself and upload it. I have to do that for every third book because I'm rather fussy about this - one slight difference, even in colour, and I go in. That's why I've only done up to the Es of my fiction tonight. Luckily it's the easiest site in the universe to use.
After LibraryThing, I will also export all my books to Goodreads. It's not as nice as LibraryThing to the anal bookcollector (no free choice of book cover, for one thing), but it is more of a social site, and I happen to have some lovely friends on there who will kick my butt if I don't join them on there. (Hi, An!) When it is ready, I may link to this site so we can all be friends over there.
Right - now it's so late it's early again and I need to stop loving my books and go to sleep because I have a sick husband, a sick son and an energetic toddler to look after in the morning. Goodnight all and happy reading!
Tuesday, 17 November 2009
I can, and I will
On Thursday afternoon I was dozing on my hotel bed and half-listening to Dr Phil. It can't be all sex all of the time, even when you're away. In my defense, it was the afternoon and Belgian TV has nothing on in the afternoon. Except for Dr Phil. I generally think he's quite creepy, but there I was. Dozing. And half-listening.
On the show he had a woman who was scared of everything. I know what that's like, so I dozed a little less and listened a little more, still not opening my eyes. This woman could clean her front room perfectly for visitors, but the rest of her house was a tip. I did open one eye for that bit, because I do love to see other people's mess. She was also a terrible hypochondriac. I get both things. My house is not as bad as hers, but I will admit to a lot of hurried camouflaging going on just before visitors arrive. Also, toilets only ever get cleaned before visitors come. Luckily we are not social outcasts, so the children have not contracted anthrax from the toilet yet. As for the hypochondria, well, you know my ongoing sternum saga.
So I was wondering how Baldy would deal with this, because I often take offense at his judgemental approach, and he can be so paternalistic. So he asked her how come her house was such a mess, while she was perfectly capable of having one room tidy. She answered that she just couldn't do the rest, it was too much. I get that. And then he said "You can't, or you won't?" WTF? Obviously he was being his usual self. In the end, the woman got some free treatment and I dozed some more.
Ever since then, Dr ePhil's question has been going around and around in my head. And then yesterday I finally tidied the bits of the kitchen that never get tidied. In one day. And then I cleaned it. In the same day. And I didn't wash my hands a thousand times while I was cleaning it. I even cleaned the inside of the bin of the mouldy bits. (I did wash my hands after that.) Now I have a glorious plan to keep on top of the housework to start with, and to make some improvements in the long run. Because I can, and I will.
On the show he had a woman who was scared of everything. I know what that's like, so I dozed a little less and listened a little more, still not opening my eyes. This woman could clean her front room perfectly for visitors, but the rest of her house was a tip. I did open one eye for that bit, because I do love to see other people's mess. She was also a terrible hypochondriac. I get both things. My house is not as bad as hers, but I will admit to a lot of hurried camouflaging going on just before visitors arrive. Also, toilets only ever get cleaned before visitors come. Luckily we are not social outcasts, so the children have not contracted anthrax from the toilet yet. As for the hypochondria, well, you know my ongoing sternum saga.
So I was wondering how Baldy would deal with this, because I often take offense at his judgemental approach, and he can be so paternalistic. So he asked her how come her house was such a mess, while she was perfectly capable of having one room tidy. She answered that she just couldn't do the rest, it was too much. I get that. And then he said "You can't, or you won't?" WTF? Obviously he was being his usual self. In the end, the woman got some free treatment and I dozed some more.
Ever since then, Dr ePhil's question has been going around and around in my head. And then yesterday I finally tidied the bits of the kitchen that never get tidied. In one day. And then I cleaned it. In the same day. And I didn't wash my hands a thousand times while I was cleaning it. I even cleaned the inside of the bin of the mouldy bits. (I did wash my hands after that.) Now I have a glorious plan to keep on top of the housework to start with, and to make some improvements in the long run. Because I can, and I will.
Monday, 16 November 2009
Tourist in my own country
So I'm back! Did you miss me? I missed you lots! I suppose I didn't really give you the chance to miss me much because I had those old posts up. We were away only until yesterday, but I forced myself not to go online today until I'd played with the children, cleaned the kitchen (!) and got some washing done, because I knew I would just get sucked right in. I wasn't wrong - I have 330 posts sitting in my reader, waiting to be read. I may be a while until I catch up.
I composed many many posts in my head during the last week, but today I shall start with some pictures of the towns we went to, because I always like to see pretty foreign places and these may be foreign to you (if not to me).
We went to Brugge (Bruges to the English speaking folk) first for a couple of nights. It is gobsmackingly beautiful. A lot of effort has gone into restoring the place and keeping it authentic. It is rather popular with the tourists, but not so much on a weekday in November.
There are tons of pretty squares and buildings.
It is called "the Venice of the North" because it is full of canals.
This was away from the very centre, where tourists don't go as much:
Our hotel had some parts which date back to the sixteenth century. This is its courtyard:
The last couple of nights we spent in Hasselt. It is less spectacularly beautiful than Brugge, but has excellent shopping and is home to the friendliest people in Flanders. I took far fewer photos, though, because we (obviously) went shopping and that occupied 100% of my thought processes. I did take this picture:
This is a church in the middle of Hasselt which has a carillon. Someone was playing it on Thursday, and they were playing "I will survive". They even did the bit at the end where the song stops completely and starts again. How cool is that?
Right - I'm off to read what you've all been up to.
I composed many many posts in my head during the last week, but today I shall start with some pictures of the towns we went to, because I always like to see pretty foreign places and these may be foreign to you (if not to me).
We went to Brugge (Bruges to the English speaking folk) first for a couple of nights. It is gobsmackingly beautiful. A lot of effort has gone into restoring the place and keeping it authentic. It is rather popular with the tourists, but not so much on a weekday in November.
There are tons of pretty squares and buildings.
It is called "the Venice of the North" because it is full of canals.
This was away from the very centre, where tourists don't go as much:
Our hotel had some parts which date back to the sixteenth century. This is its courtyard:
The last couple of nights we spent in Hasselt. It is less spectacularly beautiful than Brugge, but has excellent shopping and is home to the friendliest people in Flanders. I took far fewer photos, though, because we (obviously) went shopping and that occupied 100% of my thought processes. I did take this picture:
This is a church in the middle of Hasselt which has a carillon. Someone was playing it on Thursday, and they were playing "I will survive". They even did the bit at the end where the song stops completely and starts again. How cool is that?
Right - I'm off to read what you've all been up to.
Friday, 13 November 2009
Blast from the past - Part III
While I'm away I'm recycling some of my favourite older posts. Please enjoy. I'll be back on Monday.
(The following is a slightly edited version of that post. It's only been a few months of daily writing, but I seem to have made some progress on the verb tense front. I could not mix my tenses like that any more. This pleases me muchly.)
Anyways - I went to a local hairdresser and I was told there would be at least a two hour wait. This would not do. I then drove into Antwerp, thinking I'd go to some funky hairdresser and get the best haircut ever. I went to this place I know from a few years ago (when I was still funky and young). I walked in there, and straightaway I got the "up and down" look. I should have turned around and left at this point.
I told them I wanted a colour and a cut, and they sat me down. At this point, I asked some advice on which colour and which cut they might think was suitable. The rolled eyes! The "don't you know what you want"s! I even got two "you're not the type of person to want this"es when I mentioned a style I like. (Those really pissed me off.) I was getting a tad crabby by this point. The guy started to put Vaseline around my hairline (prevents my skin from becoming all brown) and got a girl to come with a colour chart.
Then, together, they started badmouthing my old hairdresser (the lovely Toni) who used to work there. I told them I wasn't sure which colour I wanted, and could they maybe advise me on my new hairstyle, and maybe the colour as well. They told me that colour has nothing to do with hairstyle, and they'd just make my hair a chocolate colour if I couldn't be bothered to pick a colour. The girl walked off with a huge speechbubble over her head saying "whatever, old lady" to get the hair colour.
By this time, I was fuming. I told them I'm a customer and I want some advice, so could they please at least be polite. The girl's reply? "The customer may be king, but we are the emperor." (I kid you not.) Now both of them were telling me that something personal must have happened to me before I walked in the shop, and they can't help it if I have personal issues. Yes, seriously. My hair was all brushed out by now, and my head covered in Vaseline, but I just walked out. I told them they should not treat people this way. I don't think they got it.
One good thing that came out of this: not much further into town, I found my lovely old hairdresser Toni, who gave me a great haircut, and never once implied I wasn't cool enough for his shop. I think I know why he left the other one, though.
(Also: While I was getting my hair coloured, the girl from the other shop walked by and laughed at me!)
(The following is a slightly edited version of that post. It's only been a few months of daily writing, but I seem to have made some progress on the verb tense front. I could not mix my tenses like that any more. This pleases me muchly.)
Monday, 8 June 2009
Too sexy for their hair
I've been needing (badly needing) to go to a hairdresser for a while now. Today, I finally got the chance. This, I can tell you, is a treat for many a woman, but it acquires just a little more importance if you don't often get gratuitous pamper-time. And if you are prematurely gray like I am.Anyways - I went to a local hairdresser and I was told there would be at least a two hour wait. This would not do. I then drove into Antwerp, thinking I'd go to some funky hairdresser and get the best haircut ever. I went to this place I know from a few years ago (when I was still funky and young). I walked in there, and straightaway I got the "up and down" look. I should have turned around and left at this point.
I told them I wanted a colour and a cut, and they sat me down. At this point, I asked some advice on which colour and which cut they might think was suitable. The rolled eyes! The "don't you know what you want"s! I even got two "you're not the type of person to want this"es when I mentioned a style I like. (Those really pissed me off.) I was getting a tad crabby by this point. The guy started to put Vaseline around my hairline (prevents my skin from becoming all brown) and got a girl to come with a colour chart.
Then, together, they started badmouthing my old hairdresser (the lovely Toni) who used to work there. I told them I wasn't sure which colour I wanted, and could they maybe advise me on my new hairstyle, and maybe the colour as well. They told me that colour has nothing to do with hairstyle, and they'd just make my hair a chocolate colour if I couldn't be bothered to pick a colour. The girl walked off with a huge speechbubble over her head saying "whatever, old lady" to get the hair colour.
By this time, I was fuming. I told them I'm a customer and I want some advice, so could they please at least be polite. The girl's reply? "The customer may be king, but we are the emperor." (I kid you not.) Now both of them were telling me that something personal must have happened to me before I walked in the shop, and they can't help it if I have personal issues. Yes, seriously. My hair was all brushed out by now, and my head covered in Vaseline, but I just walked out. I told them they should not treat people this way. I don't think they got it.
One good thing that came out of this: not much further into town, I found my lovely old hairdresser Toni, who gave me a great haircut, and never once implied I wasn't cool enough for his shop. I think I know why he left the other one, though.
(Also: While I was getting my hair coloured, the girl from the other shop walked by and laughed at me!)
Thursday, 12 November 2009
Blast from the past - Part II
While I'm away I'm recycling some of my favourite older posts. Please enjoy. I'll be back on Monday.
Internet fever got me good.
Wednesday, 3 June 2009
Internet fever
I wake up in the morning and I find I'm trying to perfect a turn of phrase. In the shower, I'm debating if my dearest internet would be interested at all in what we're about to have for breakfast. (Probably not.) At said breakfast, I internally dare the children to say something funny. When they sit playing quietly on the mat, I wish they were doing something more photogenic. My heart sinks when I find I have NO readers at all. (My hit counter was broken.) I go outside to do some gardening and take my camera, just in case I write about it later. I play with the children and photograph the result. (Must try not to do that too much.) When I go to check my blog, my heart jumps when I find I have a comment! I want to be so witty in the reply, but keep worrying I will be misunderstood and my few readers will never return.Internet fever got me good.
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