Skip to main content

Projects Projects

Thank you all for your comments about email. I tried yesterday and found instead I just withered away the morning reading -- when I should have been at the computer actually writing. Going to have to try something else....or try harder.

My latest peeve is the mountains of projects I have piling up around me that I am desperate to do: sewing, paper making, craft ideas for Easter. They're just taunting me from my precariously tall pile in the bedroom. Must. Not. Look.

Instead, I have spent the past few days trying to focus intently on work while the The Rabbit is at school and then focus on her when she's home, and wrap some projects into our fun.

Yesterday we made a sculpture garden out of clay — if I could FIND the digital camera I'd shoot a photo. I made the people looking at the sculpture while The Rabbit decided she would be the artist and "work very hard" at making the sculpture. So much fun. I can't believe squishing clay could be this much fun.

This afternoon we're starting our garden. Yes, I know. I live in cement central. But we have a huge window (that The Prince is cringing will be filled with pots by the end of the day) and that's where we're building. I have dirt, herb seeds, strawberry seeds (I know, insane, but I can dream), narcissus bulbs and ubers of starter packs. I can almost smell Spring!


Amanda said…
just do it slowly and take your time. rushing and worrying will only make your frustration worse.

Popular posts from this blog

Apologies for being incommunicado this week and hope none of you out there are too distraught not to be receiving the usual almost-daily MotV missives. The reason for the silence is that I'm up to my neck, metaphorically-speaking, in research papers for my first grad course assessment. This experience has made me realise how rigorously un-academic I am in my thinking. It has also illuminated how reliant I am on red wine in order to get through endless evenings typing furiously on my laptop, not to mention the fueling of increasingly colorful curses that I feel obliged to aim at the University's online library system which consistently refuses to spit out any of the journals I'm desperate for (I refuse to believe this is 100% due to my technical incompetence...)Oh well, if this is the price one has to pay in order to realize a long-cherished dream then it's not all that bad... No one ever said a mid-life career change would be easy. Wish me luck!

Recommended & the Mahiki dance-off

My GFs and I went to Mahiki last night, great fun as usual but made me feel a bit old; it seems that Thursday night is the playground of the just-past-pubescent. Oh well. Good tunes though, so whatever.In between taking over the dancefloor - the youngsters may have youth on their side but frankly that shrinks to insignificance in the face of two decades of clubbing experience - one of my GFs and I got into a conversation about why so many people are full of bull.It appears that many people we come across are content to live their lives in a superficial way, skimming the surface of what life has to offer and equating the ownership of stuff (cars, houses, boats, jewelry, designer clothes) with happiness. They converse in terms of status, strut their possessions as a measure of their own self-worth, take themselves far too seriously, are quick to judge others, easily annoyed, complain a lot about very little and their worries seem to far outweigh their joys. Personally, I think all that…


Following on from the realisation that my lungs are filthy and if I don't give up the smokes soon I face a life of wheezing at best, off I trotted to see the charming Dr T.

Dr T, who's charming by virtue of the fact that he's less jaded than the other doctors in the surgery (in other words, he treats patients as if they're human beings with a right to NHS services rather than annoying fraudsters trying to gain sympathy for imaginary illnesses) promptly put me on potentially habit-forming drugs to get me off the evil weed. Something doesn't feel quite right about this but since I'm so pathetically grateful to have a doctor who's willing to give me more than two seconds of his precious time, I have acquiesced to his demands.

Anyway, this wonder drug is called Champix and promises to have me merrily chucking my smokes in the bin in no time. Or it will if I can get past the possible side effects, the highlights being abnormal dreams, nausea, flatulence, snoring, …