the recipe for a perfect Saturday

I woke up grumpy this morning.  I had stayed up too late and it was too early.  Ush was unusually cheerful for that time of day, which made me stubbornly want to remain grouchy.

I begrudgingly went into the kitchen to let Toby out, and when I turned back, Ush wrapped me up in a hug and started swaying back and forth, sashaying me around the kitchen, saying silly things like, “Good morning, honey!”, “Isn’t it a beautiful day?!”, and the mocking-my-grumpiness-clincher: “We should dance every morning!!”

So that was Great Thing number one.

An hour or so later, we, with Toby in tow, headed to Hampstead to visit an old friend of Ush’s who was in from Prague visiting family.  Joe is another example of a peer who’s in a place in his life that is unimaginable to us – namely, he has two kids – a 2 1/2 year old little princess and a 4-month old charmer.

Great Thing number two was watching this sweet little toddler drag a very willing and patient Toby around the garden.

We left them and took the scenic route, through Big Woods, back to our transport home.  Great Thing number three was crossing paths with a rather eccentric lady and her incredibly sweet and soft Whippet named Percy. (Note to self: research Whippets and consider this breed for possible future adoption.)

Upon finishing our walk through the woods, and finding our way out of the maze of a neighbourhood that surrounds them, we stumbled upon Great Thing number four – a French culture market sale going on along Temple Fortune’s high street!   Cheeses, sausages, crepes, sweets, jewelry, handbags, quilts, all-natural soaps, etc.  It was lovely.  Needless to say, we visited an ATM and spent nearly all of what we had withdrawn.

So then, we got home and , are you keeping count?, Great Thing number five is that Toby played with our six-year old neighbour while I mowed the lawn in the sunshine.  It looks great back there now, but unfortunately Toby’s too pooped to go out and enjoy it.

Hopefully the sunshine (which was today’s ultimate Great Thing) will return tomorrow!

(Although perhaps my sickeningly good mood will be under a bit more under control )

Another weekly ritual perhaps?

Flatmate Neighbour Claire rang me last night to invite us for a drink at O’Neill’s, adding, as incentive, that it was karaoke night!

Since we just had our internet connection hooked up the day before, I left Ush with his WoW friends (cough, nerds, cough) and headed over, agreeing to stay for one drink.

Of course, upon arrival, I knew I’d be staying longer. Claire and Kate were nearly through their second bottle of rose, and Craig and Seb were headed up to the bar for another round.

Fast forward a half hour or so, it’s a sufficiently giggly table, and Claire and I were planning our duet. We’d been through the book several times and couldn’t decide on the right song…

Now, to me, karaoke should just be about having fun. Don’t take yourself too seriously. It drives me nuts when girls get up there and solemnly sing “Without You” by Mariah Carey or Whitney Houston’s “I Will Always Love You”.

(Sidenote: Someone did actually do that Whitney song last night, the lyrics to which Claire and I changed to something a bit naughty, mocking a couple on the dance floor – the guy thinking he was gonna score tonight and the girl clearly trying to communicate that he wasn’t. Problem was, the table next to us was comprised of friends of the girl singing, and we incurred the wrath of a girl who was three times the size of Claire who thought we were taking the piss out of her friend. Oops! Thankfully, the issue was dissolved and Claire didn’t get eaten.)

The key to choosing the perfect karaoke song (and the perfect song is of course unique to each individual) is to think of the song that you love to belt out in the shower, when driving, or, in my case, whilst doing the dishes. Basically, the song that you enjoy singing loud and proud, pretending that no one can hear you and not caring if they can!

So, with that criteria in mind, Claire and I agreed we needed something rocky. Bon Jovi sprang to mind – but surprisingly they didn’t have “Living on a Prayer”.

Then I thought of another more recent Bon Jovi song, but couldn’t remember the name of it or even how it went, except for the noise… “zshoom zshoom”..

“You know – the song that goes ‘zshoom zshoom’… it was big around 2002, 2003, around then… ‘zshoom zshoom’…”

I kept saying this over and over, but they didn’t know which one I meant. Craig had a vague idea but couldn’t remember any other bits of it. Claire asked, “Is it the one that goes ‘zshoom zshoom, do dooley doo doo”

It was driving me crazy. Finally, it dawned on me to call Ush.

“Hi Honey, what’s that Bon Jovi song that goes ‘zshoom zshoom’?”
“ ‘It’s My Life’.”

And that, my friends, is how you know you’re made for each other.

Either that or Ush just knows his stuff.

Shortly thereafter, Ush joined us. And not long after that, Claire and I went up on stage and belted out, loud and indeed proud, “It’s My Life” complete with fists punching the air during the ‘zshoom zshoom’s. I’m not gonna lie, folks, it was pretty awesome.

Other highlights of the evening included Claire, whilst testing out possible songs, singing in an American accent, the couple who bobbed along as they sang, the guy who only sang choruses and just giggled through verses, White Zinfandel rose, the crowd that gathered during our second performance – “Here Comes the Hotstepper”, the old man who shook our hands “That was a wonderful performance!”, Craig and me dancing like fools outside of McDonald’s, and Claire being dubbed ‘Two Bites’ as she only got two bites of her burger before accidentally dropping it.

soon and very soon

Dear Internet,

 

I miss you.

 

In the big gaping hole in my life which used to be filled with our time together, I have been forced to do other less sparkly things such as organising numerous bags of junk, doing laundry, shopping for things less exciting and more necessary than new clothes and make up, and finding menials tasks with which to occupy myself so that I can avoid aforementioned organising of bags of junk.

 

It’s not as fun as it sounds.

 

Don’t get me wrong, Net (can I call you Net?), I love the recent changes in my life – including our new flat.  But I had forgotten how much I rely on you to help me relax and unwind, not to mention maintain a reasonable level of sanity via communication with family and friends abroad.

 

I can barely remember life before us, my dear friend.  You have enriched my life so.

 

And guess what?  We will be reunited again in just 24 hours!  The lovely folk at Virgin Media are coming round tomorrow to bring you back to me…  I tell ya, Nettie, this makes me so happy, I may or may not shed a tear of pure blissful joy right now in anticipation!

 

See you soon!!!

 

Your pal Stephanie

Moving house = lack of internet access

My life these days revolves around moving and all the joys (and pains in the rear) that come with it!

I love our new place – especially the little details that make it special rather than standard. Things like the archway in the corridor leading to the foyer. The detailing along the top edge of the tile in the bathroom. The tiny little sink in the separate toilet. The neat lighting beneath the cupboards in the kitchen. The massive bay window in our bedroom. The cast iron (wrought iron? What’s the difference?) bracket thingies outside the sliding doors to the garden and outside the kitchen door all ready for me to hang some plants.

Not to mention the fact that its OUR OWN PLACE! Our first marital home. This is a novelty and a gift that has been put off a bit longer for us than for most couples, which makes it all the more special.

So, those are just some of the joys.

The aforementioned rear end pains include trying to figure out where some stuff should go. I know we’ve got space for everything – as this place is a massive upgrade from our last one – I just don’t know where that space is yet. I’ve got most of the main things put away in what I think will be their permanent places (except for the kitchen – I foresee one or two rounds of rearrangement happening after I go grocery shopping tonight). Now I’m just dreading tackling the one or two suitcases and numerous plastic bags full of crap. Not actual crap, of course, as some of it is important. But close enough.

Anyway! I took the day off of work today and am so glad, for the sake of my own mental sanity, that I did! We got a lot done in the flat, not to mention a lot of important errands accomplished.

Posting may be light until we get our phone line and internet all set up, as (shh! Don’t tell!) I’m leaching at the moment.

Better go before I get cut–

I’m just sayin’

Sparing an intro and all the unnecessary back story, I think that religion is crap.

Let’s start with an example.

The term “Christian” has a hundred different meanings. And depending on who you talk to, although I call myself a Christian, I may or may not actually be one.

The data and information compiled on religioustolerance.org uses the term Christian when comparing the belief systems found in Christianity against those of other religions, such as Judaism, Islam, Buddhism, and Hinduism.

The site’s working application of the term refers to Catholics, Mormons, Baptists, Episcopalians, Jehovah’s Witnesses, Methodists, etc. Now – if you grew up in or have been in any relevant way exposed to any one of these churches, you will know that they are all quite different in, I think, pretty significant ways. So how can a Baptist and a Mormon both be a Christian? According to their respective churches’ teachings, they can’t.

I’m veering from my point. Denominations are even more crap, so I’ll just leave that as it is.

Back to my initial statement about religion.

Case in point. Today, someone (who he has known for all of a day) told Ushwin that his wife must not be a Christian since she married a Hindu. (When he texted me this, I told him to tell her that I said, speaking in love, that she ought to take a look at her own faith before judging someone else’s. I thought it’d be a bit counterproductive to say “Eat me.”)

This woman is walking around calling herself a Christian. Further tarnishing a name and reputation that should be based around love and grace, without condition. Instead, people like this woman are the reason that so many people think – “if that’s Christianity, then no thank you.”

Argh, veering again.

My point is – what does Christian mean anyway? What does Hindu mean? There are Hindus that carry the title more out of cultural rather than religious reasons. And there are Hindus that are devout in faith and practice. And the same applies to Islam. Some Muslims feel convicted towards more literal translations of their scripture, and so cover their bodies from all but their families. Others may only wear a head scarf. And need I even give an example of Judaism?! Orthodox Jews wear the little hat while others only go to temple on the holy days.

My basic point (finally!) is that the term ‘religion’ is crap because it is one’s faith that matters. It is not our job to decide the value of one’s beliefs. God is the Judge, so leave it to Him, because only He can see into our hearts.

And in the meantime, just love your frickin’ neighbour as yourself, even the stupid ones.

Religions are like farts. Yours is good, but everyone else’s stinks.
~Picket Fences

How I spent my weekend

Two and half days spent in Surlingham, southeast of Norwich in the English county of Norfolk.

Also known as two and a half days without my cell phone in my pocket. Without any sort of internet access, or even being near a computer. Also known as bliss.

Staying in a proper country cottage with the perfect mixture of rustic and modern, cozy and spacious. Mealtimes spent around a table that seats 10. Breakfasts with organic cereal and bread that isn’t pre-sliced. Dinner with courses, from skewered vegetables to pavlova with black forest fruits. Champagne.

Afternoons spent in a canoe (or kayak, or rowboat – depending on who you’re talking to). Realising that rowing is oddly more difficult than it was when you were a kid. Deciding to turn aforementioned rowboat into a canoe. A pair of ducks following along behind; clearly mocking. Sibling-y bickering with a good friend over which side of the boat one should be rowing. Laughing so hard you can hardly breathe. Sore biceps the next day from aforementioned rowing.

Taking Toby with us into the pub. Beating aforementioned sibling-like friend at darts. Losing (by default) at darts to Husband. Complete with flashlights and wellies, walking for a half hour to the pub and not being afraid of the dark and unknown. Watching my horse win the Grand National (and, today, collecting my 25quid from the office sweepstakes!). Huge flakes of snow falling for about 15 minutes, and then stopping and being replaced by sunshine.

It was a lovely weekend indeed.

dontcha wish your blog host was hot like mine

Oooooh, WordPress, look at you!  A user friendly facelift! I likes.

(Readers, I believe, will not see a difference… but the new system makes me feel like a little bit less of a doorknob, so that’s always good!)

I don’t want to get fired for blogging about work

My bloggery plan for today was going to be comprised mostly of b****ing about banks and their (lack of) opening hours.

(You see, we need to pay the rest of our annually allotted money into our ISA before the end of the tax year, which would be Saturday, so I went to Nationwide this morning to do just that.  Lucky me, they open at 9am every day except for Thursdays when they open at 9:30. Which is when I have to be at work.  Doh!
I did the stereotypical ‘disgruntled customer’ thing and rolled my eyes, groaned, and stormed off in a huff.  So very uncouth, yes, but I prefer to look at it as being in touch with my normal, healthy emotions.)

Anyway! Instead, today I’m going to madly rant ponder aloud another type of ever disgruntled individual – the one who finds something wrong with everything, who jumps to every conclusion, who immediately places blame everywhere away from him/herself, who will complain to anyone who listens, who brings everyone else down with his/her own negativity and general bad attitude, who lacks the typical level of common sense found in most human beings that allows them to problem solve and therefore adapt to minor changes without viewing them as major non-scalable mountains of adversity.

And I may or may not work with such an individual.

That’s all I’m saying.

I told you so!

My “best friend” Leona has taken America by storm!

I knew she could do it.

the miraculous So-tox

This afternoon, a coworker was raving about something she’d seen this morning on GMTV (Americans: it’s like the British version of “Good Morning America”)…

They showed a clip of a 29-year old woman from Birmingham who was more than 100lbs overweight and was at her wits end as to how to lose the weight.
She was set to try a new product called So-Tox… its composed of new technology from the States that utilises nitro-estrogens and complex plant extracts. The greatest part is you can continue on with your usual diet as the product is “mega-metabolising” – speeding up the metabolic rate so much that it turns starchy foods into energy instead of fat! Oh oh, and it has moisturising properties so that you aren’t left with loads of sagging extra skin!

Lest you thought it was a new diet pill, So-Tox comes in the form of a cream that you rub into your legs before bed at night and then you put on these silver-threaded socks that trigger the plant extracts. After a mere 6 weeks, this girl lost an unbelievable 9 stone (which is 126lbs)!

They warned viewers that, because of the staggering results this product yields, its probably best to consult your doctor before trying it. But its now being sold in all major chemists for around £12.99. (You know, because the Americans are buying and selling the plant extracts in bulk, so the prices can stay low..)

Oh dear.

So! My coworker is telling us all of this, and I, having not seen the video clip, was unsurprisingly dubious.

During my lunchbreak, I went home and Googled “so-tox”.

This is what came up:

(click photo to see the video clip)

Ha!!! She had been royally duped!!!

(To say the truth – I can’t believe she fell for it… That is so obviously a fat suit.)

I won’t mention the icing on the cake when I came back from lunch break and told her about the April Fools joke and she got all huffy and went to the GMTV website and emailed them saying it was a dangerous joke to play because people might’ve been calling their doctors to ask about this new product and thus were tying up the line whilst patients with real, serious concerns were trying to get through. I won’t mention that.

*suppresses giggles*