This week, after recently, being lovingly yet undeniably reprimanded by certain people, via Ivy, I made a concerted effort on the healthy/clean living front. I'm not saying that it was easy, but it was more a case of mind over matter.
Wednesday, I went with a few others to visit a potential employer, it was actually a different branch, of the place that I left in October. The visit was very disappointing. Very little information and little hope.
I did however get a couple of emails the following day, from friends Mr O and Mr P, asking why I hadn't stopped by to visit them... on my visit. Truth was, we were herded around a different floor and with security, I couldn't have got to either of their floors anyway. It was nice to be missed though.
Thursday, I had a wobble. I'm surrounded by people doing so well, and then, there's me. I know that sounds like I have a touch of the green eyed monsters, but I am extremely happy for them all and I would not wish for them, anything else. I just feel useless and pointless at the moment, and a bit of a failure. Plus, I'm hormonal, which probably isn't helping.
I'm no longer dizzy from the blood pressure meds. I need to get an ECG and blood tests this week. With the building closing, work will officially declare me,"at risk" on September 2nd. I need to start applying for jobs immediately, need to continue keeping an eye on blood pressure but meds seem to be working... mostly. Need to end relationship. Blah blah blah.
I volunteered for overtime on Sunday, there has been an overtime ban for months and I thought this would pay for my new passport. By lunchtime I'd had a text to say that those in on Saturday had completed all the work so I wasn't needed on Sunday, no overtime = no passport. Such is my luck.
I keep getting knocked over and keep getting back up. I'm starting to think that I should take the hint and just stay down. What do you think?
Friday, 28 June 2013
Saturday, 22 June 2013
Josh Groban
About 10 years ago, I "discovered" Josh Groban. Not literally of course, I should add that I think it's David Foster who has those honours, still, I certainly happened upon the voice and that music around 10 years ago. I had no idea that the voice was coming out of a 22 year old though. I quickly shared my discovery with some of my sister's and my cousin, and that musical combination helped us through some tough times.
Mr G has performed in the UK on a number of occasions but it was always either in London or in small venues and getting tickets proved impossible.
About 8 weeks ago, J text me in work; "Josh Groban in Manchester, in June, what do you think?"
"Tickets would probably be expensive and we wouldn't get any, anyway."
J: "That's what I thought you'd say, we're in AA12 & 13, June 17th!"
I couldn't believe it.
All the way to the venue, including stopping off en route for something to eat, every few sentences were punctuated with, "I can't believe we're going to see him."
J, who is something of an expert at getting great seats at this kind of thing, was a bit disappointed with the AA's, but we both agreed that we would stand in the car park to hear him sing and AA's were just fine.
The seats were actually great, we were in the stalls, I'd guess about half way back. I think there was a 12 piece band, no opening act, at 8.30pm, Mr G appeared on stage, strode on, no fuss, no fireworks, straight into the first number.
I instantly had tears in my eyes, not only was this voice, one of the most beautiful I had ever heard, but it was powerful, sweet, expressive and actually sounded more amazing live than on any album. It's the first time I've heard any artist sound better live. I didn't know that was possible.
I thought we must be about an hour in but we were 90 minutes into the show and about to say goodnight and then have an encore with; "You Raise Me Up."
J and I sang all the way home. Even today, still can't quite believe that we got to see him. Incidentally, as well as appearing very down to earth, a bit of a goofball and a great drummer, he seems totally oblivious to just how amazing he is.
Mr G has performed in the UK on a number of occasions but it was always either in London or in small venues and getting tickets proved impossible.
About 8 weeks ago, J text me in work; "Josh Groban in Manchester, in June, what do you think?"
"Tickets would probably be expensive and we wouldn't get any, anyway."
J: "That's what I thought you'd say, we're in AA12 & 13, June 17th!"
I couldn't believe it.
All the way to the venue, including stopping off en route for something to eat, every few sentences were punctuated with, "I can't believe we're going to see him."
J, who is something of an expert at getting great seats at this kind of thing, was a bit disappointed with the AA's, but we both agreed that we would stand in the car park to hear him sing and AA's were just fine.
The seats were actually great, we were in the stalls, I'd guess about half way back. I think there was a 12 piece band, no opening act, at 8.30pm, Mr G appeared on stage, strode on, no fuss, no fireworks, straight into the first number.
I instantly had tears in my eyes, not only was this voice, one of the most beautiful I had ever heard, but it was powerful, sweet, expressive and actually sounded more amazing live than on any album. It's the first time I've heard any artist sound better live. I didn't know that was possible.
I thought we must be about an hour in but we were 90 minutes into the show and about to say goodnight and then have an encore with; "You Raise Me Up."
J and I sang all the way home. Even today, still can't quite believe that we got to see him. Incidentally, as well as appearing very down to earth, a bit of a goofball and a great drummer, he seems totally oblivious to just how amazing he is.
Ivy
I have to preface this by reminding you that I am not a total, physic junkie. There are many charlatans out there but I have been lucky enough to happen upon two, in the world, that are the real deal. Just so happens that my latest encounters with both, have occurred in a very short period of time.
Ivy is a very tall, very slim woman with long grey hair. She's the kind that speaks to those that have left this world and are now, somewhere else. I saw Ivy two or three times after my Mum passed away and it was like having a conversation with my Mum, for the entire session. Ivy mentioned things that only Mum and I knew, and she was a great comfort.
Fast forward six or seven years and J and I were discussing Ivy recently and decided that we were well overdue for a reading. J said she'd phone to make an appointment and in the past, we've always had to wait about six months and so J decided she would phone, just as soon as she remembered.
So a few days later, J is standing in line at the bank and as she faced the glass in front of her, she saw the image of Ivy reflected back at her, J turned around and Ivy promptly said "Hi!" A bemused J responded with; "You won't believe this but I have a note in my kitchen to phone you." "You should," replied Ivy.
And so today, J and I see Ivy. I'm half looking forward to it and half dreading it. If my Mum does come through, (incidentally, massive influx of white feathers recently, not to mention the dreams about her and my unplugged Sat Nav turning itself on in the middle of the night this week,) then I don't know if she'll be happy to chat or will happily tell me off. It's been so long now, I'm not expecting my Mum to come through, but would be happy if she did, even if it was to scold me.
I spent an hour with Ivy. My Mum was there from the get-go, as was my brother-in-law who, due to the 40+ year age difference, was the closest thing I had to a Dad growing up, plus, possibly my Dad, Jack, nothing was said to verify this completely, other than, "your Dad..." and I still have a healthy dose of scepticism within me, just to keep me grounded on this particular subject. I've no doubt about my Mum and my brother-in-law though. Comforting to know that they are watching, trying to pull strings and continue to care from where they are.
My Mother was extremely non-judgemental about some of my choices at present, particularly about my love life, which was a huge shocker, but did add that she would not be this way if she was still with me, which made me laugh, if she hadn't have said that, I would have doubted it was her, "if it makes you happy then go for it," was not my Mother's motto in life.
In short, my relationship, while it's a perfect match, for reasons out of our control, it will never go anywhere permanent. We both had soft spots for each other as teenagers and had we got together then, we would have had a great life and had children together, but it wasn't to be. I will find another job and I seriously need to take better care of myself. There was no mistake that on this final fact, I was being seriously told off. Weird that my Mother has been gone for almost 10 years and she can still put the fear of God in me.
It's what I needed actually, I've tried giving myself a good talking to, and it hasn't worked, after some blunt but caring words, I feel ready to make some changes.
I'm sad about the relationship but I always knew it would have to end eventually and it won't be easy making the other changes we spoke about either. Talking, mostly listening to Ivy was like sitting in front of a mirror and having my life and my faults and my mess, reflected back at me. A warts-and-all documentary played back to me. I feel like I've taken a look at my life through other people's eyes, they are people that love me but with love, comes truth.
Apparently, one of my main problems is that I don't talk to anyone about problems, well, such is life, if you're alone, then you're alone.
No happy endings here, just a lot of hard work, and changes to be made. What do I know? That even the most "black and white" people in the world, gain perspective and only emit love from over there, totally, non-judgemental love.
I cried myself to sleep last night but it was all just confirmation hitting home, confirmation of what I already knew. I think I need to have some recuperation time, time to pick myself up, time to acknowledge that everything is not "fine" (my favourite and most utilised word,) then I need to move on. So, pause, lick wounds, gain strength, go forward, with head held high.
Ivy is a very tall, very slim woman with long grey hair. She's the kind that speaks to those that have left this world and are now, somewhere else. I saw Ivy two or three times after my Mum passed away and it was like having a conversation with my Mum, for the entire session. Ivy mentioned things that only Mum and I knew, and she was a great comfort.
Fast forward six or seven years and J and I were discussing Ivy recently and decided that we were well overdue for a reading. J said she'd phone to make an appointment and in the past, we've always had to wait about six months and so J decided she would phone, just as soon as she remembered.
So a few days later, J is standing in line at the bank and as she faced the glass in front of her, she saw the image of Ivy reflected back at her, J turned around and Ivy promptly said "Hi!" A bemused J responded with; "You won't believe this but I have a note in my kitchen to phone you." "You should," replied Ivy.
And so today, J and I see Ivy. I'm half looking forward to it and half dreading it. If my Mum does come through, (incidentally, massive influx of white feathers recently, not to mention the dreams about her and my unplugged Sat Nav turning itself on in the middle of the night this week,) then I don't know if she'll be happy to chat or will happily tell me off. It's been so long now, I'm not expecting my Mum to come through, but would be happy if she did, even if it was to scold me.
I spent an hour with Ivy. My Mum was there from the get-go, as was my brother-in-law who, due to the 40+ year age difference, was the closest thing I had to a Dad growing up, plus, possibly my Dad, Jack, nothing was said to verify this completely, other than, "your Dad..." and I still have a healthy dose of scepticism within me, just to keep me grounded on this particular subject. I've no doubt about my Mum and my brother-in-law though. Comforting to know that they are watching, trying to pull strings and continue to care from where they are.
My Mother was extremely non-judgemental about some of my choices at present, particularly about my love life, which was a huge shocker, but did add that she would not be this way if she was still with me, which made me laugh, if she hadn't have said that, I would have doubted it was her, "if it makes you happy then go for it," was not my Mother's motto in life.
In short, my relationship, while it's a perfect match, for reasons out of our control, it will never go anywhere permanent. We both had soft spots for each other as teenagers and had we got together then, we would have had a great life and had children together, but it wasn't to be. I will find another job and I seriously need to take better care of myself. There was no mistake that on this final fact, I was being seriously told off. Weird that my Mother has been gone for almost 10 years and she can still put the fear of God in me.
It's what I needed actually, I've tried giving myself a good talking to, and it hasn't worked, after some blunt but caring words, I feel ready to make some changes.
I'm sad about the relationship but I always knew it would have to end eventually and it won't be easy making the other changes we spoke about either. Talking, mostly listening to Ivy was like sitting in front of a mirror and having my life and my faults and my mess, reflected back at me. A warts-and-all documentary played back to me. I feel like I've taken a look at my life through other people's eyes, they are people that love me but with love, comes truth.
Apparently, one of my main problems is that I don't talk to anyone about problems, well, such is life, if you're alone, then you're alone.
No happy endings here, just a lot of hard work, and changes to be made. What do I know? That even the most "black and white" people in the world, gain perspective and only emit love from over there, totally, non-judgemental love.
I cried myself to sleep last night but it was all just confirmation hitting home, confirmation of what I already knew. I think I need to have some recuperation time, time to pick myself up, time to acknowledge that everything is not "fine" (my favourite and most utilised word,) then I need to move on. So, pause, lick wounds, gain strength, go forward, with head held high.
Friday, 14 June 2013
1% Risk
So you know that I failed my last 24 hour blood pressure test, and I plea bargained with my parole officer, (doctor, she's very nice really,) to give me one last chance, in a few months time, when life would hopefully be less stressful? That was January, so rewind to a few weeks ago in May and I rocked up to the surgery to give it a whirl one more time. It was over a Friday/Saturday. I took the day off work to be extra calm, (you're supposed to have a "normal" day but I didn't want to take the chance.) I wasn't sure my plan had worked. I didn't check every 30 minute reading, but the ones that I did check, were high.
I returned the monitor to the surgery on Monday and on Tuesday, the nurse phoned me at work with the results and to put me out of my misery, tests, of any kind, make me anxious. Nurse reels off a string of numbers which I can't write down as I've left my desk to take the call on my mobile and forgot to bring a pen. Long story short, BP was high in the day and normal while I slept, this is a major leap forward as last time, it was high, even while I slept. So... averaged out, nurse thinks I may have just scraped through. "If you don't hear anything from your GP, it's fine!" What a relief.
Two days later, I received a letter from my General Practicioner, asking me to make an appointment to discuss recent investigation. Two weeks after that, I'm seated in my doctor's office and she's smiling at me. "So the appointment is about your blood pressure?" We cut to the chase and she is not happy with the daytime readings and so I'm on meds, that's that, no discussion. Doctor matter-of-factly tells me that I have a 1% risk of heart disease in the next 10 years. All I could think about was a skyscraper sized number "1" right in front of me. I got the feeling that this information was supposed to make me feel better, but it didn't, I need context. For instance, do I have a 1% chance of becoming a nun? Of marrying Ryan Gosling? Of being struck by lightening at the exact moment I was being hit by a bus? I even tried to do the math but mathematics was never my strong point, 1 in 100 people x 10 years...
I've been a little disappointed, worried and dizzy this week, (the dizziness is due to the meds until my body gets used to them.) I had hoped to get this under control naturally but doctor advised that it could be genetic. Jack, my Dad died, I think at 59 with a heart attack, so maybe it is genetic and it's not something that I have created.
Next on the agenda is an ECG in a few weeks, just to make sure that some of the chambers of my heart are not larger than they should be. I'm having very weird dreams and when I go to bed, all I can hear is my heartbeat, and it doesn't sound normal, last night, it sounded too fast followed by long pauses. This is probably all in my head, or at least, in my ear drums.
Millions of people around the world live happily and long, with high blood pressure, I just need a small amount of time to digest the fact that I have it too.
I returned the monitor to the surgery on Monday and on Tuesday, the nurse phoned me at work with the results and to put me out of my misery, tests, of any kind, make me anxious. Nurse reels off a string of numbers which I can't write down as I've left my desk to take the call on my mobile and forgot to bring a pen. Long story short, BP was high in the day and normal while I slept, this is a major leap forward as last time, it was high, even while I slept. So... averaged out, nurse thinks I may have just scraped through. "If you don't hear anything from your GP, it's fine!" What a relief.
Two days later, I received a letter from my General Practicioner, asking me to make an appointment to discuss recent investigation. Two weeks after that, I'm seated in my doctor's office and she's smiling at me. "So the appointment is about your blood pressure?" We cut to the chase and she is not happy with the daytime readings and so I'm on meds, that's that, no discussion. Doctor matter-of-factly tells me that I have a 1% risk of heart disease in the next 10 years. All I could think about was a skyscraper sized number "1" right in front of me. I got the feeling that this information was supposed to make me feel better, but it didn't, I need context. For instance, do I have a 1% chance of becoming a nun? Of marrying Ryan Gosling? Of being struck by lightening at the exact moment I was being hit by a bus? I even tried to do the math but mathematics was never my strong point, 1 in 100 people x 10 years...
I've been a little disappointed, worried and dizzy this week, (the dizziness is due to the meds until my body gets used to them.) I had hoped to get this under control naturally but doctor advised that it could be genetic. Jack, my Dad died, I think at 59 with a heart attack, so maybe it is genetic and it's not something that I have created.
Next on the agenda is an ECG in a few weeks, just to make sure that some of the chambers of my heart are not larger than they should be. I'm having very weird dreams and when I go to bed, all I can hear is my heartbeat, and it doesn't sound normal, last night, it sounded too fast followed by long pauses. This is probably all in my head, or at least, in my ear drums.
Millions of people around the world live happily and long, with high blood pressure, I just need a small amount of time to digest the fact that I have it too.
Sunday, 9 June 2013
Where am I?
This week seemed long for some reason. No particular reason, just another one of those "treading water, waiting for something to happen" weeks. Main news this week, my options to move from the now condemned office, will not become reality until at least September. September? I'm ready to go now, right this second. Still, nothing I can do about it.
We have had sunshine for most of this week and, hold on to your hats... the windows in work have actually been cracked open. I know, must actually be Summer after all.
I had physio on Thursday, I was so glad to see my physio. It's been eight weeks since my last appointment and I felt like I had seized up, despite the dance cardio efforts. Physio advises me that my muscles had gone into spasm but no permanent set back for leaving it for so long. She loosened everything up and I felt better, instantly.
I went to see my friend Carol on Tuesday evening. Aiming to leave at 6.30, I went to get ready at 6.15, already showered with head blasted dry, I just need to curl eyelashes, apply a lick of mascara and a swoosh of lip balm and I'll be off. I have one eye clamped with the curlers when my phone rings, it takes me four rings to reach the phone.
"Where were you?" It's J, she's on holiday down south somewhere. I explained that I had one eye clamped in eyelash curlers which she thought was hysterical, doesn't everyone do this? Am I not perfectly normal?
After a brief chat, I'm heading for Carol's and 45 minutes later, I'm there. I have a fabulous time, we have so much in common that I joke that we are Universal twins, except that C is three years younger. The latest thing we have in common is that her sister is moving to Wanganui, now then, did we drive through there or was that Rotorua?
Anyway, I get home and of course, I'm wide awake after the drive, it's way past my usual bedtime but I had a really great time. I paid for it the next day, but it was well worth the sleep deprivation.
Next evening, B phones, "I phoned last night, where were you?" I've decided that I should either get out more often or stay in and just don't answer the phone.
We have had sunshine for most of this week and, hold on to your hats... the windows in work have actually been cracked open. I know, must actually be Summer after all.
I had physio on Thursday, I was so glad to see my physio. It's been eight weeks since my last appointment and I felt like I had seized up, despite the dance cardio efforts. Physio advises me that my muscles had gone into spasm but no permanent set back for leaving it for so long. She loosened everything up and I felt better, instantly.
I went to see my friend Carol on Tuesday evening. Aiming to leave at 6.30, I went to get ready at 6.15, already showered with head blasted dry, I just need to curl eyelashes, apply a lick of mascara and a swoosh of lip balm and I'll be off. I have one eye clamped with the curlers when my phone rings, it takes me four rings to reach the phone.
"Where were you?" It's J, she's on holiday down south somewhere. I explained that I had one eye clamped in eyelash curlers which she thought was hysterical, doesn't everyone do this? Am I not perfectly normal?
After a brief chat, I'm heading for Carol's and 45 minutes later, I'm there. I have a fabulous time, we have so much in common that I joke that we are Universal twins, except that C is three years younger. The latest thing we have in common is that her sister is moving to Wanganui, now then, did we drive through there or was that Rotorua?
Anyway, I get home and of course, I'm wide awake after the drive, it's way past my usual bedtime but I had a really great time. I paid for it the next day, but it was well worth the sleep deprivation.
Next evening, B phones, "I phoned last night, where were you?" I've decided that I should either get out more often or stay in and just don't answer the phone.
Off with her Head
Quiet time at Starbucks, the usual coffee was followed by mucho scouting for numerous birthday presents, June is expensive. My hip/back/whatever, and apparently now... knees, have been complaining for days and have kept me awake for most of Friday night and so I decided to boycott all forms of housework or gardening today and do nothing much except write and watch TV... all day.
I had the usual Saturday evening catch up phone call with my cousin L and then poured a glass of wine while I watched 'Gangster Squad' with the scrumptious Ryan Gosling. Actually, it's chock full of great actors, strung together by a great story, I'll be watching this one, again and again.
With wine drunk and film watched, I took enough pain killers to make a baby rhino woozy, and retired to bed. I slept like a log and woke at least, 50% pain free.
So, I'm here, morning after, having my coffee. The sun is shining, it's actually warm. I cardio danced for 12 minutes without realising I'd tipped over the 10 minutes mark without realising, (normally, I'm clock watching from 8 minutes onwards.)
The head is looking good, did I tell you that I had it chopped off? Well, it was getting on my nerves. Just too much hair and so on pay day, last Friday, I headed to Louise for a major overhaul. It's a sort of scruffy bob and it just about stretches to almost my shoulders. It's the shortest I've worn it for years and it feels great, liberating even.
So, with the sun shining, and my new do, 12 mins of dance cardio under my belt and in much less pain than recently, I feel like I can conquer the world.
The future has been looking bleak and worrisome for the past 6 months, but now, things are a changing.
I had the usual Saturday evening catch up phone call with my cousin L and then poured a glass of wine while I watched 'Gangster Squad' with the scrumptious Ryan Gosling. Actually, it's chock full of great actors, strung together by a great story, I'll be watching this one, again and again.
With wine drunk and film watched, I took enough pain killers to make a baby rhino woozy, and retired to bed. I slept like a log and woke at least, 50% pain free.
So, I'm here, morning after, having my coffee. The sun is shining, it's actually warm. I cardio danced for 12 minutes without realising I'd tipped over the 10 minutes mark without realising, (normally, I'm clock watching from 8 minutes onwards.)
The head is looking good, did I tell you that I had it chopped off? Well, it was getting on my nerves. Just too much hair and so on pay day, last Friday, I headed to Louise for a major overhaul. It's a sort of scruffy bob and it just about stretches to almost my shoulders. It's the shortest I've worn it for years and it feels great, liberating even.
So, with the sun shining, and my new do, 12 mins of dance cardio under my belt and in much less pain than recently, I feel like I can conquer the world.
The future has been looking bleak and worrisome for the past 6 months, but now, things are a changing.
Sunday, 2 June 2013
Small Stuff
After a week of not sleeping, or rather, a week of instead of falling straight to sleep as soon as head hits pillow, I lie there for two hours each night, having lengthy debates with myself about the state of my life, before eventually falling to sleep, two hours later. By last night, I worked out that I was missing a solid 8 hours of sleep from just four nights. I'm off work today, and so last night, I had half of a herbal sleeping tablet then I dissolved into my pillow, only to awake 9.5 hours later.
Today is the first day of the year that you can actually feel heat in the sunshine, yes, we actually have sunshine, although it is June tomorrow for heaven's sake, it really is about time. Apparently, this has been the coldest Spring in 50 years. I am so ready for June to arrive.
So you know how they tell you to "don't sweat the small stuff"? Well, I try not to, to a degree, which, coming from a reformed "hot head," (I'm a fire sign, what can I say?) It takes a considerable amount of spirituality and enforced calm, still, after months of ironing my newest pillowcases, the ones were the makers apparently couldn't get the seams to line up which makes ironing them torturous. Well, I couldn't face the fact that these infuriating imperfections, were the best that I had and so after weeks, months of torture, I headed out to a well known department store and purchased some not unreasonably priced, non-iron, white, Oxford pillow cases.
And so, I got home, I washed them and as I stood, ironing the non-iron pillowcases to get the creases out, they looked good, all seams where they should be, I feel calmer already.
Don't sweat the small stuff, but sometimes, it's just easier to buy new pillowcases x
Today is the first day of the year that you can actually feel heat in the sunshine, yes, we actually have sunshine, although it is June tomorrow for heaven's sake, it really is about time. Apparently, this has been the coldest Spring in 50 years. I am so ready for June to arrive.
So you know how they tell you to "don't sweat the small stuff"? Well, I try not to, to a degree, which, coming from a reformed "hot head," (I'm a fire sign, what can I say?) It takes a considerable amount of spirituality and enforced calm, still, after months of ironing my newest pillowcases, the ones were the makers apparently couldn't get the seams to line up which makes ironing them torturous. Well, I couldn't face the fact that these infuriating imperfections, were the best that I had and so after weeks, months of torture, I headed out to a well known department store and purchased some not unreasonably priced, non-iron, white, Oxford pillow cases.
And so, I got home, I washed them and as I stood, ironing the non-iron pillowcases to get the creases out, they looked good, all seams where they should be, I feel calmer already.
Don't sweat the small stuff, but sometimes, it's just easier to buy new pillowcases x
Saturday, 1 June 2013
Working Girl
No, not me but the film. Now you may be a tad too young for this. It came out in 1989, (I think,) and it was a massive hit. I remember getting a bus to the city to see it, that's how long ago it was. I haven't watched it in years but it was on TV recently and it was only then that I recalled what a gem it is.
It stars Melanie Griffith and the first thing that struck me was how much she looks like her Mother, Hitchcock muse Tippi Hedren. Secondly, it's packed full of stars whether leading, supporting or bit parts, it's choc full. Names include Sigourney Weaver, (I think she is actually billed at the top but the film rightly belongs to MG,) Harrison Ford, totally forgot he is the male lead, Philip Bosco, (Three Men and a Baby,) Oliver Platt, Joan Cusack, Alec Baldwin, Kevin Spacey, Ricki Lake.
There is one scene were I thought they were spoofing the '80's, then I remembered that it was the 80's, all big, backcombed hair, shoulder pads, as much multicoloured make-up as you could slap on your face and of course, the... going to work in your trainers and changing when you get there trend.
It's a story of good versus evil were you are of course rooting for the underdog. I loved it all over again. Check it out, I guarantee you'll enjoy it. Interesting to note that Ms Griffith was billed third, the stand out star was billed third? Shame on you 20th Century Fox.
It stars Melanie Griffith and the first thing that struck me was how much she looks like her Mother, Hitchcock muse Tippi Hedren. Secondly, it's packed full of stars whether leading, supporting or bit parts, it's choc full. Names include Sigourney Weaver, (I think she is actually billed at the top but the film rightly belongs to MG,) Harrison Ford, totally forgot he is the male lead, Philip Bosco, (Three Men and a Baby,) Oliver Platt, Joan Cusack, Alec Baldwin, Kevin Spacey, Ricki Lake.
There is one scene were I thought they were spoofing the '80's, then I remembered that it was the 80's, all big, backcombed hair, shoulder pads, as much multicoloured make-up as you could slap on your face and of course, the... going to work in your trainers and changing when you get there trend.
It's a story of good versus evil were you are of course rooting for the underdog. I loved it all over again. Check it out, I guarantee you'll enjoy it. Interesting to note that Ms Griffith was billed third, the stand out star was billed third? Shame on you 20th Century Fox.
Woman is a Genius
For years now, I've admired Tracy Anderson, you know the one, the fitness expert, the impossibly good looking, designer of bodies with all of those famous clients? Well, yes, she looks amazing, as do her clients and I've eagerly read and listened to what she had to say over the last few years, her philosophy, her advice. Was she another flash-in-the-pan with a plan that no matter how rigidly you followed, you wouldn't see any more results than if you did nothing?
I bought a TA cardio DVD years ago but while I may have been able to follow along in a class, in my own home, alone and in front of the TV, it was a lost cause
Queue "You tube" and a clip of TA demonstrating some very basic cardio moves. There are a few simple rules to TA cardio, dance like you're performing and not doing a walk through, dance like either you are on stage or alone with no-one watching, whichever works best for you, change moves every 4-8 beats so that you don't build up bulk and if you really can't follow TA, then "free style", which is what I do. I use the term "free-style" very loosely as there currently really isn't any stylish about it, think Bambi, in clogs, on ice. But... with just 10 minutes every night, for the past two weeks and I've already seen a difference, and so have my work pants.
Darn it but that woman knows what she is talking about. I'm clumsy, can't make feet move fast enough at the moment, tripped over own feet a few times but I'm yet to hit the deck. It's fun, it's done within minutes and you sweat. I can only manage 10 minutes each night at present but I'm aiming for at least 20 minutes per night in the not too distant.
I almost gave up on the first attempt. I was only aiming for 5 minutes but 5 minutes of leaping about, in front of a mirror, in your underwear and trainers, almost put me off looking into a mirror, ever again. Still, a couple of weeks in, and there is much less wiggle in the jiggle and pockets of fat which have simply camped out on my body for centuries, well... decades anyway, they have begun, to melt. I hate to say it, but TA... she is a genius. Dance if you dare.
I bought a TA cardio DVD years ago but while I may have been able to follow along in a class, in my own home, alone and in front of the TV, it was a lost cause
Queue "You tube" and a clip of TA demonstrating some very basic cardio moves. There are a few simple rules to TA cardio, dance like you're performing and not doing a walk through, dance like either you are on stage or alone with no-one watching, whichever works best for you, change moves every 4-8 beats so that you don't build up bulk and if you really can't follow TA, then "free style", which is what I do. I use the term "free-style" very loosely as there currently really isn't any stylish about it, think Bambi, in clogs, on ice. But... with just 10 minutes every night, for the past two weeks and I've already seen a difference, and so have my work pants.
Darn it but that woman knows what she is talking about. I'm clumsy, can't make feet move fast enough at the moment, tripped over own feet a few times but I'm yet to hit the deck. It's fun, it's done within minutes and you sweat. I can only manage 10 minutes each night at present but I'm aiming for at least 20 minutes per night in the not too distant.
I almost gave up on the first attempt. I was only aiming for 5 minutes but 5 minutes of leaping about, in front of a mirror, in your underwear and trainers, almost put me off looking into a mirror, ever again. Still, a couple of weeks in, and there is much less wiggle in the jiggle and pockets of fat which have simply camped out on my body for centuries, well... decades anyway, they have begun, to melt. I hate to say it, but TA... she is a genius. Dance if you dare.
The Time Travelers Wife
Have you seen it? I watched "The Time Travellers Wife" again today, Eric Bana and Rachel McAdams, are both, brilliant. I've watched this film before but I forgot how wonderful it is. The performances are so subtle and real, it makes a seemingly preposterous subject, 100% believable.
Watching the film again, got me thinking. If I could time travel anywhere, within my life span, just like Eric's character, where would I go to?
Can I cheat? I'm going to bend the rules, as they are my rules after all. I won't interfere, I'll just drop in and observe, I promise.
The first thing I would do? I would strike up a conversation with my Nanna and Grandad. I arrived long after they departed and so there is no way I'd be able to introduce myself, plus, it's against my rules, but I could be just anyone right? And start up a conversation?
You know those photo booth photographs? They come in fours? I have one set, actually, I have 3/4 of a set, of me. I'm guessing that I'm about six years old. I can't help but like this kid. She looks awkward and shy and like she is about to be interrogated, then like someone is urging her to smile, then she just, smiles. I so wish that I could take that kid under my wing and protect her from some of the things that are going to happen.
I think I'd visit myself every now and then, a bit like a Fairy Godmother, to impart crucial pep talks at strategic moments, aged 10, body starts to develop, unknown age, teeth start having a plan of their own, teenage years... hot head, aged 20, too old to call that "puppy fat".
I'd like to listen in to my Mum hearing the news that she was expecting me (and not in the grips of the menopause,) and then sharing that news with the family, the news, did not go down well.
I would try to get back to 25th October 2003. I would get up early and I would not go out that morning.
This is why I love the magic of film and story telling, it ignites the imagination, keeps those brain cells sparking and gives you a great big illuminated sign spelling out; "what if?"
Watching the film again, got me thinking. If I could time travel anywhere, within my life span, just like Eric's character, where would I go to?
Can I cheat? I'm going to bend the rules, as they are my rules after all. I won't interfere, I'll just drop in and observe, I promise.
The first thing I would do? I would strike up a conversation with my Nanna and Grandad. I arrived long after they departed and so there is no way I'd be able to introduce myself, plus, it's against my rules, but I could be just anyone right? And start up a conversation?
You know those photo booth photographs? They come in fours? I have one set, actually, I have 3/4 of a set, of me. I'm guessing that I'm about six years old. I can't help but like this kid. She looks awkward and shy and like she is about to be interrogated, then like someone is urging her to smile, then she just, smiles. I so wish that I could take that kid under my wing and protect her from some of the things that are going to happen.
I think I'd visit myself every now and then, a bit like a Fairy Godmother, to impart crucial pep talks at strategic moments, aged 10, body starts to develop, unknown age, teeth start having a plan of their own, teenage years... hot head, aged 20, too old to call that "puppy fat".
I'd like to listen in to my Mum hearing the news that she was expecting me (and not in the grips of the menopause,) and then sharing that news with the family, the news, did not go down well.
I would try to get back to 25th October 2003. I would get up early and I would not go out that morning.
This is why I love the magic of film and story telling, it ignites the imagination, keeps those brain cells sparking and gives you a great big illuminated sign spelling out; "what if?"
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