Five good things

I missed last week and hardly realised it.
It's Halloween today but we don't celebrate it so it isn't a what-we-should-be-doing-with-George grieflet. It's the day of the dead tomorrow but it's not part of our cultural reference so we don't think about it. It's an ordinary Sunday here. Later this evening the neighbours (who somehow have the fuse for the intercom in their half of the house) will turn off the doorbells and there will be no trick or treating which is perfectly fine with us.

Anyway, five good things from the past week:


Seeing the lovely blue paint on our bedroom wall and smiling at it. I smiled at a wall.

My Dad smiling, joking and eating at his birthday dinner on the 25th (takeaway Indian food) after what my Mum said had been difficult and grumpy day for him.

Getting absorbed into a good book.

Making a decision.

Sending love.


Please join in: what good things found you last week?





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George

Two years

I don't want to believe it.

My heart is so heavy today that I can hardly carry it's weight.

My poor George.

It's quiet here.

Ray is painting across the road, the plasterer is in the bedroom prepping, landlord Dave has skulked off home with "man flu and broken legs" (his words) after a weekend 80's roller disco, the radio is silent, the tv is off, the computer is muted and it's just too damned quiet.

Normally I crave silence and peace but today I can hear my thoughts in the quiet and I don't much like them.

It's quiet here too... maybe it's time to end this blog?

In order to restore some order in my head (or just stop listening to the idiot in there) I need to turn on some noise.

A cup of raspberry leaf tea with added fresh ginger, honey and a sprinkle of cinnamon, a warm blankie (because naturally, having builders in the house, all the doors and windows are open), a cat or two on my lap, a good book and a documentary about medaeval England playing in the background and I think I have it.

For now.

Five good things

A bit late, perhaps echoing the disorganisation of our home at the moment, but here are my five good things from last week.

A new pair of jeans that fit perfectly and were cheap.

A poppet in pain after a wisdom tooth extraction needing my cuddles and attention.

Bright bright blue skies and leaves on the ground to kick.

An end in sight to our decorating/building work nightmare.

Beautiful lights in the darkness.


Please join in. What good things did you find last week?

Wave of light

I lit the green candle for George, our beautiful, perfect son; I lit the purple candle for the brief, tiny spark of hope that was Little Poppet and I lit the red candle for your babies who are missed with mine.

Fatigue

I'm tired of wishing that the last two years hadn't happened.

Of course I couldn't wish the last two years away because they are years with Ray.

I'm tired of the contradiction.

I'm weary of impossibly wishing for George and Little Poppet and a bit more youth. The wishing takes so much energy and I don't have that much to spare.

This impossible wishing catches in my throat and unleashes a horridly panicky feeling through my chest and stomach. It's over. They are gone.

In six days it will be two years. How impossible is that?


Do I sound miserable?

I'm not.

Not really.

Well maybe a little bit.

Sometimes.

Misery is downright obstructive at the worst of times and bothersome at the best. So I put on my happy face and go about as if everything is normal and force the pretence into reality. Sort of.

I'm not sure there is such a thing as normal anyway.

I'm ok. I can still laugh. I can still get excited.

I just really really really miss the life we should have been living. And I'm still having a hard time getting used to the one we've been handed.

And every so often the façade slips and I'm in trouble if I'm not close to a source of tissues or a sleeve.

(Un) Happy home

We walked for miles on our break; over marshland, on beaches, on shingle, along uneven cobbled streets, down tunnels and up castle towers with spiralling never-ending well-worn steps and all with no problems save a few aches and pains and yet, I turn the corner into our kitchen, reach for the kettle and... OOOWWW!

So here I am lying on the sofa with my twisted swollen knee carefully arranged on a cushion. I could hardly walk on Saturday, on Sunday I could just about hobble and today I have an ungainly limp. Fortunately it's not serious and it's definitely getting better. You know what though; I'm beginning to think this house doesn't like us.

Our bedroom...

Wait, let me show you it's current state:

The colour of the wallpaper and fireplace were NOT of our choosing. Who paints a fireplace lime green!? The holes in the ceiling are for insulation. The bare wall you can see is the original Victorian plastering complete with scorch marks from a fire many years ago.

The rendering on the outside wall of the bedroom needs removing so they won't plaster the inside in case knocking off the outside ruins the inside...

Two weeks is the estimate now.

*Sigh*

Does anyone know of any ritual that I can perform, however bizarre (remember the tampon sacrifice?), or item that I can place to get this house to like us again or do I have to make up my own?

Scenes

 Castle in the rain.

Bunnies near the caravan

One big old ship

Poppet protects me.

Searching for the white cliffs

Birds on a wire.

Finding beauty in unexpected places.

Stormy weather.

I don't think so... (News story)

Pretty colours

Perfect fairytale castle

Perfect autumn warmth

Perfect sunset

Perfectly odd

Strange landscape

Nuclear power station

Beach debris.

I want one of those

Far from everything

I hope you enjoyed my holiday snaps.

Five good things

Being in a different space and finding beauty.

Not caring about the rain.

Sunshine after the rain.

Being handed a sleeve upon which to wipe my nose after a minor breakdown.

Home (even one where we discovered, upon our return, that the bedroom wasn't finished but in fact had created more work. i.e. outside wall render needs replacing - aaargh)

Five good things

We're going away tomorrow
We're going away tomorrow
We're going away tomorrow
We're going away tomorrow
We're going away tomorrow

The cat has toothache

Or something of that ilk.

Poor Lyx and sketch were just left with my Mum and Dad and I feel terrible. Or maybe that should be, poor me I had to leave my Kitteh's with My Mum and Dad and I miss them already.

Lyx has just discovered an issue with her mouth and has been making some weird jaw/tongue movements. She's still eating and drinking so we're not too worried* We think it's a tooth problem so we've left some money with my Mum and instructions for the vet if she doesn't get over it by tomorrow.

It's as if the universe is conspiring to keep us here. It's only a bloody week for goodness sake, give us a break!

It's as if it made Ray's tooth break to keep us here.

It's as if it tried to put not one but two idiots-in-a-car on a collision course with us today to keep us here.


But no. Sod off universe.

My Mum can cope with a vet visit if necessary,

Ray missed the cars using his superhuman lightening reflexes,

His tooth has a temporary filling,

We have good weather vibes (Please, yes?) coming our way and...

we. are. going.


Love to you all, "see" you next week.


*A blatant lie. At least one of us is a worrier; can you guess which one?

Insomnia a deux

*whisper*

wide awake

me too

*sigh*

watcha thinkin about poppet?

Oh all sorts...

*pause*

...the holiday and packing and the weather and the cats and winning the lottery and... George.

*pause*

Yeah... same things more or less...

*hand squeeze*

...and radiators... I'm thinking about the twelve radiators I've just painted.