Jenre's Random Thoughts

Hello

You are viewing my personal journal which is full of irrelevant stuff about me, my life and pretty much anything which has happened to strike a chord on any given day.  I only post on this site on an irregular basis.

I have another blog called Well Read where I post daily (except Sundays) book reviews, opinions about books or observations about books.  It's basically a book blog.  Feel free to join me there.

I know I haven't posted here in about a gazillion days, but I just had to find somewhere to put this.

Some of you probably know that I am a church secretary which means that I often recieve churchy spam advertising various events going on in the Diocese.  This one came today:

PET BLESSING

Service of Animal Blessing at 2.30pm
on XXXXX at XXXXXX

Pets and their owners are welcome
Please ensure dogs are on leads and that other pets are in secure baskets or
cages.

Vet in attendance

A retiring collection will be taken for the Blue Cross

Winning pictures in the
Pet Photographic Competition will be on display

Light refreshments afterwards in the parish hall

Erm, what to make of this eh?  Normally I'd be making a joke about "Only in America", but this is happening in Bradford, UK!  I mean, I know the good ole CofE is in decline and needs to think up ways of getting the non churchgoers into church.  But, please, a pet service.  Where you can have your pets blessed.

What is the world coming to?

It's 1.20am and I'm not asleep.  That's the most annoying thing about my life right now.  The second annoying thing is that I'm still going to have to get up at 7am cos it's a school day tomorrow, plus the builders will be here at 8am.

I've done all the stuff you are supposed to do: relax all your muscles; count sheep; relive all your sexual fantasies in your head (or is that just me?) and none of it has worked, so I've resorted to surfing and cocoa.  I'm even somewhat failing in that because I left my glasses by the bed so I'm squinting at the screen - that's my excuse for the typos anyway!

Ah well, at least I'll be tired enough to sleep well tomorrow night!

I've got a bit of time for reading this evening, so I headed upstairs to retrieve my Cybook from the drawer of my bedside table.  As I got upstairs I realised that the kids had left several lights on (again), so I turned them off.  I then went into my bedroom, closed the curtains and came downstairs again.  I spent another 5 minutes pootling about downstairs before thinking 'what was I going to do earlier?'.

Then I remembered the Cybook was still in the drawer of my bedside table.

Is 36 too young to have senior moments?

I wouldn't mind, but I do this ALL THE TIME!!

It's Mothering Sunday here in Britain.  Mine started off pretty well with breakfast in bed and assorted cards and handmade presents.  Then we went to my Mum's for lunch, which was also lovely.

After lunch, youngest son decided that he was going to be his usual giddy kipper self and attempt to leap from the sofa to the armchair.  He missed and banged his arm on the side of the chair.  After some admonishing followed by cuddles and TLC he seemed OK.  Then, about 4 hours later he complained that his arm still hurt.  I decided I didn't want to leave it until tomorrow so headed off to the local Minor Injuries Unit where he was x-rayed and, guess what?  Yep, it's broken (or rather bent, apparently).

So he's pleased as punch because his arm's in a temporary pot and sling (how long will that last I wonder) and he also has a couple of days off school until he gets his pot made permanent on Tuesday afternoon.  And me?  I'm now having to rearrange my life around him until I can get him back to school.

Happy Mother's Day indeed!

I'm feeling much better today, so to celebrate I've been and done some retail therapy. It's not that exciting: Something for my mum for Mother's Day, some presents for eldest daughter's birthday (coming up soon), a new pair of jeans (the holes in my old ones have their own holes) and a new kitchen bin.

Still, I love the rush you get when spending money - as long as you know there's enough in the bank to cover it, of course!

All this shopping has put me in rather a silly mood. I found this whilst scanning the blogs earlier on Rosie's blog. It's a site which tells you what your fairy name would be:


Heh, heh.  It makes me laugh to read this stuff, especailly as 'delicate green wings' wouldn't be enough to raise me off the ground!

I've got some kind of annoying virus which I caught off youngest daughter.  She went down with it a couple of days ago with general listlessness and a high temperature.  She spent all day on Tuesday flopped out on the sofa which is very unusual for her usual lively five year old self.

However, I'm just feeling a bit crap.  I've not got a temperature, I just feel fuzzy headed and tired and sleepy.  I'm not ill enough to take a day off work and laze about in bed, but I am ill enough to feel headachy, bad-tempered and dozy.  How annoying is that?  I just wish Icould have a day or so of proper illness and then be better, rather than a few days of being vaguely ill, but not ill enough to garner sympathy from hub.

Sigh...

I am an unashamed ear-wigger.  Which, if you didn't know, is someone who listens in to other people's conversations.  Standing in the playground is a great place to do this because all the parents have to stand in reasonably close proximity to one another and there are often groups of friends chatting to one another nearby.  You find out all sorts of useless information about people this way.  You have to be fairly unobtrusive and not look like you are listening in.  I find that standing looking away from people and staring into the distance as though deep in thought works best.  As does keeping your face utterly impassive - you can't react or you'll give the game away.

One day, I'm going to write some of what they say down and use it as a basis for a book.

My other favourite past-time is people watching, but this is much more difficult to do.  I don't think I've quite got the hang of it yet as you have to watch people without being seen to be staring - almost impossible.  British people don't like being stared at.

I don't think it's necessarily a bad thing to have an inquisitive nature.

Sometimes it's the smallest, most ridiculous things that make you happy.

One of the first things hub gave me when we moved in with each other was a verruca - he's such a romantic guy!  He had  several verrucas at the time so I suppose it was inevitable really.  Over the years, hub's verrucas have eventually died off, leaving him now verruca free, whereas my one verruca has gone from strength to strength, spreading out into a large rather painful one.

However, yesterday I noticed that my verruca is finally dying.  It's not gone completely, but it's getting there.  After 15 years of trying every verruca treatment available and having to 'attend' to it on a regular occasion, I'm finally (almost) free of the damn thing.

That makes me feel rather happy.  One less hassle in a life chock-full of hassle.

Yippee!!

Every Friday and Saturday night is wine night in my house.  Hub and I pack the kids off to bed, open a bottle of red and settle down in front of the TV to watch the Friday night comedy or a film on Saturdays.  It's become a bit of a ritual which is precious to both of us.  A chance for us to unwind and spend some time together without interruption.  We only drink one bottle between us, which enough to get us a bit giggly and cuddly and means we don't have a hangover the next day. 

Sometimes it's the little things in life which mean the most.

Britain is at a standstill (again) because it has snowed.  No-one is a work because they are skiving unable to get there.  All the schools are shut and everyone is moaning about how the whole transport system comes to a halt whenever there's the hint of a snowflake.

But, it's beautiful here.  The sun is shining and the sky is blue.  It might be freezing cold outside, but I'm toasty warm in my house.  Look at these lovely pictures from my house (be warned, I'm rubbish at taking photos):



This is the view from my bedroom, looking towards Ilkley Moor.



This is the view looking towards Baildon Moor.



This is the back garden.

I'm quite content to sit in the house and look at the snow, just don't ask me to get the sledge out!

I said on my 'Well Read' blog today that I'm turning into a grumpy old woman, despite the fact that I'm only 36.

This is not just being grumpy about books and such like, it's also spilling over into my home-life.  I'd blame it on the 'time of the month' but that's not the case.  I'd blame it on being under stress, but I only work 10 hours a week and I like my job.

So what am I grumpy about?

I was grumpy on Monday because I had to go to an evening meeting that I knew would be tedious.
I was grumpy on Tuesday and had a 'disgreement' with a close friend in the playground even though I'm usually the most laid back person ever, and avoid confrontation wherever possible.
I was grumpy on Wednesday because we had people coming round to our house for another meeting and I wasn't able to escape and they were here until past my bedtime.
I was grumpy today because hub moaned on at me for not getting the correct ingrediants for the chicken stir fry he wanted to make - as well as the general grumpiness I've explained on my book blog.
Goodness knows what tomorrow's grumpiness will entail.

Why am I grumpy?

I'm blaming the diet.  Lack of sugar and fatty foods makes Jenre a grumpy girl!

Hello to anyone visiting from Clare London's LiveJournal blog!

This is my personal blog, but you can also check me out at my 'book' blog "Well Read" by clicking the link on the sidebar.

Thanks for dropping by!

The boiler broke down on Tuesday.  When I phoned up to get someone to come and see to it they first said that they couldn't come out 'til Monday.  When I pointed out that I had 4 kids and no heating or hot water, they went away for a while and then said that they could come on Friday.  I decided not to push my luck and told them that was fine.

It's freezing.

The boiler repair man best have all the parts to fix the boiler tomorrow or I may scream.  The forcast for the weekend is -2C.

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

I'm obsessed with the stat counter on my other blog.  I check it regularly (several times a day) and then wonder about the people who are visiting me.  Some I know, as I have managed to work out from their location who they are, but some are complete mysteries.  I wonder what these people think about my blog, why they don't leave comments, whether I'm doing enough to get them to come back and visit again.

Then there are the people who check my blog on a fairly regular basis and then stop looking.  This makes me panic slightly and think that maybe I've done or said something wrong, something to turn them away so they'll never visit again.  When they do come back, I'm ecstatic and feel in a good mood for the rest of the day.

I worry about the number of page visits falling, whether my readership is growing fast enough, whether I should change my style/format/blog template.

Then I have to tell myself to calm down.  That actually I have a large group of people who have me on their blogroll and they don't visit me on some days because they read the first part of my blog post and aren't interested in the rest.  I should know, I have a fairly hefty blog roll myself and I do the same.

I tell myself to stop looking at stat counter, that it doesn't really matter who is looking at the blog and where they are from, that the important thing is that I'm doing something that I really enjoy, joining in with a community of people who I like and respect.

I'm obsessed though, so I don't think I can stop looking.

Six years ago, Hub and I had a conversation which went something like this:

Me:  I want another baby.
Hub:  What?  Why?  We have two kids already, one of each, why would we want another one?
Me:  I don't feel like I've finished with babies.  I've always wanted 3 kids.
Hub:  But we've nearly finished with nappies, all the kids sleep well at night and eat well.  Do you really want to go back to sleepless nights, endless feeding and so on?
Me:  Yes.

This conversation went on for some time.  Ten months later I gave birth to twins and Hub has never let me forget that the whole thing was my idea in the first place.

So now I've got four kids.  This has made me somewhat of a freak.  When I (eventually, after much prodding) admit to people that I am a mother of four I get a range of reactions from outright horror, to amusement, to amazement.  Everyone though, thinks there is something wrong with me, that somehow having four kids is an outrageous act.

I think it stems from a very middle class British idea of restraint.  I am middle class therefore I should have a maximum of three kids - any more and I have shown a rather vulgar lack of restraint.  In fact all this reaction has rubbed off on me a bit.  I am embarrassed by the number of kids I've got.  I didn't want four children (although I love them all now I have them).  When I'm out with all four of them I keep hoping that the people who look at me in the street think I'm a childminder - but that's not likely since they all look similar thanks to Hub's striking mediterranean looks.

Well, there's nothing I can do now.  It's a case of 'be careful what you wish for' I'm afraid.  Until they all get old enough to do their own thing, I'm going to have to put up with the looks and the comments.  It could be worse, I've got a friend who has 6 kids - now that's vulgar!

I've got seven year's bad luck now because I was a day late taking down the Christmas tree.  One day over 12th Night.

I just didn't have time yesterday or Monday to do it and it seemed just too early on Sunday to take it down, especially since the Christmas tree still looked lovely.

I'm cursed now though.

After spending two hours taking down the Christmas tree; hoovering up pine needles; shifting chairs and tables back to their correct positions; bending down to clear away toys/put 'foot protectors' under the chair casters and reaching up to take down Christmas cards, my back has gone.  I'm in agony.

Ouch, ouch, ouch.

I should have done it on Sunday.

It's freezing cold outside today.  It was -5 as I was walking the kids to school and all the way round my eldest  son (aged 10) was saying 'I'm cold, my face is cold, my feet are cold' etc, etc (he's gearing up to be an early grumpy teenager, I think).

Yes, it was cold, but as I looked around all I could see was the blue sky, the pinky-yellow sunrise, the sparkling frost.  It didn't matter to me that it was cold, just that for the first time in ages it wasn't grey and cloudy and miserable.

I tried pointing that out to eldest son, who just grunted and said 'yeah, but it's still cold'.

When I was a child and forced to eat all those foods I didn't like, I used to tell myself that when I grew up I wouldn't have to eat these foods anymore.  I took some comfort in that fact.

Well, actually I do have to keep eating food I don't like.  I often eat food I don't like eating because I have to be a RESPONSIBLE role model for my kids.

Take new potatoes as an example...

I've never really liked new potatoes.  I find them really bland and I'm put off by their slightly waxy texture.  In fact the only time I really like new potatoes is when they are slathered in salty butter, or in a rich gravy or sauce.  I can't eat them like that though because it wouldn't be healthy.

Each spring, when the weather turns warmer, we stop eating mashed potato and move onto new potatoes.  We eat them at least 3 times a week.  I have to force each and every mouthful down, whilst telling my kids to eat their potatoes up because they are good for them.  Actually, my kids LIKE new potatoes, they look forward to the spring when they can start eating them again.

Anyway, I have now come up with a cunning plan, a way of making sure I don't eat new potatoes as much this year.  I'm going on a DIET!  Yes, a potato-free diet.  The kids and hub can have their new potatoes and I am going to eat brown rice instead as that is much lower in carbohydrates than potato.

Did I mention I don't like brown rice either....?!

Today I'm going to post on my other blog about heroines who forget to eat.  As I was thinking about what to put I was reminded of a friend of mine who has recently lost a lot of weight.  She went down from a (British) size 16 to a size 8.

She looks great, fabulous - and she knows it too.  The thing is, I liked her better when she was a bit plump.

This makes me sound like the worst bitch in the world because she needed to lose the weight as she has a problem with high blood pressure.  She wants to have another baby (her only son is 13) and she has to get her blood pressure down before she can try for the baby.  So I'm really happy for her, I am. 

The only trouble is, she has turned into a bit of a show-off.  Look at me, look at all the fabulous clothes I can wear, look at my now-thin legs.  She has posted up photos on her Facebook page of before and after the weight loss.  She constantly talks about dieting.  She's got all these sharp edges whereas before she was a bit rounded and those sharp edges are just not on her body, but on her personality too.

I liked her when she was a bit cuddly.  When we could chat about our love of food, comiserate each other when our clothes got too tight.  Laugh about bikinis.

Is this just about jealousy?  Possibly.  I envy her lovely slim body and wish mine were like that (not that I could ever be as slim as she is now, after having had twins).  Mostly though, I am mourning the change in our friendship.  They don't warn you about that when you join Weightwatchers.