Skip to main content

hello again from Dubai

As always, I'm full of good intentions. I fully intended to blog from California but didn't take my laptop (me+2 kids+luggage= travel light) so was reliant upon my using my dad's laptop BUT he's distrustful of cookies so I couldn't use Blogger (he's a vintage 1970's computer boffin with security-fear issues). Sorry, y'all.

Anyway, Fresno was a blast (in a kind of low-key way) and it was great to hook up with my family. I could go on about it, and probably will another time, but for now I'll just say that seeing my kids enjoying the stuff I most enjoyed about Fresno when I was a kid (my doting aunts and uncles, hanging with my cousins, cuddling my Grandpa, digging up the garden and ready access to the overstock of fizzy drinks in the outside refridgerator) sparked a major trip down memory lane. Bitter-sweet.

We're back in Dubai now and sweet Alpha is happy again, despite the noise, mess and general chaos (the secret to a successful marriage: go on holiday without your husband at least once a year). The mosquitos are out in force (10 bites so far and counting), the rising humidity is giving me a 'fro and the Small(er) One has finally started school at the same place as Firstborn.

I am now a home-alone Mama, rattling about the house looking for something to do; think I might have to get me some hobbies. It's wierd - I've spent the past two months looking forward to having both kids in school and a bit of time to myself, and now I have it I don't know what to do with myself.

Guess some people are never satisfied.


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, …