Life's Rich Tapestry: October 2007

Monday, October 29, 2007

You can make life balance if you look hard enough

Um yes, I left you with the smell of my pee for a week. You’re welcome.

Things here are…. ‘difficult’. My Dad is getting weaker, Grandad is still in hospital and my Mum, well, she’s pretty much drowning right now, and um, yeah, that’s about the long and short of it, of course there is more too the situation than that, but since my life has consisted of practically nothing more than this shit for months now, I refuse to give it anymore time, so lets move on shall we.

What rocked and what sucked over the weekend.

Sucked

Realising that I now have a Bid TV favourite presenter, plus;
Lowering my standards enough to actually buy something (well, technically two things, but seen as they were on consecutive evenings, both well within the 24 hour mark, I’m counting them as one. Shut up).
A bird shitting on my windscreen the day I ran out of washer water. (Ok, I lie; I ran out of water 3 days previously, but filling it up entails getting my hands oily, which I could not possibly do, duuuue …. toooo …. my stigma flaring up?)
The local shop running out of Fru Flirty Lemon Shots (I think that may be my fault)

Rocked

My brother’s homemade heart shaped birthday cake. (Piss taking material in abundance)
My mum adoring her birthday presents so much that she cried. Or maybe that was the 4 glasses of wine she had or possibly the fact that she is so emotional right now the first four bars of Abide With Me on Songs of Praise puts her into a meltdown.
Bid TV (it’s a love/hate thing)
Charity shops that sell expensive scarves for a quid.
New Dr Martin boots with red laces.
Realizing after nearly a year that my camera not only has Macro, but also SUPER Macro!
A freshly washed, lavender smelling, fluffy guinea pig.
Children’s puzzle books (They are quick, easy and incredibly relaxing in times of reduced brain power)
Not having my evening cigarette (because I’m too tired to be arsed to go outside)
Morphine (because sometimes it serves more than one purpose)

The End

Non cop out material resumes tomorrow.

Stranded

Monday, October 22, 2007

A can squeeze you out an expresso?

I drink roughly 4 cups of coffee a day, along with lots of water, but lately when I pee it smells really strongly of my favourite Kenko blend, (you're welcome, I like to share), what's with that? Why all of a sudden do I smell like a percolators is nestling in my urethra? Why is this a problem when I drink less now than I ever have done? Am I going to die? Can I just pop and get a latte first?

After googling "coffee smelling pee" it appears that I am pregnant. Wowza.

*sniff* *sniff sniff* *sniff* Caramel Macchiato?

Saturday, October 20, 2007

My, what flat noses you have.

So, we didn't win. I can't say it bothers me, in fact tonight was the first time I've ever watched a Rugby match in my life. Normally I would rather be transfixed on Bid tv because I find it fascinating and hilarious at the same time, (am I the only one who finds it entertaining whilst never having the intention of buying anything?), but Dad requested I sit in his bedroom and watch the Rugby with him and whatever a sick Daddy wants, a sick Daddy gets, along with not getting my hair cut because he prefers it long, which means my fringe had grown to a highly annoying length, forcing me to tie it in a pebbles like pony tail behind closed doors, until 10 minutes ago when I hacked at it with the kitchen scissors. So you see, he has me by the proverbials, I even made him a chocolate cake yesterday and let me tell you, I'm not proud of the fact that by the time I'd cut off all the burnt bits it rather resembled a small hexagon, (my very old and battered oven's temperature control is shit, no really, it is!)

As for Rugby, odd sport that, lots of blood, which almost made up for missing Casualty.

I'm getting bored of taking local photos. All Somerset consists of is water and fields with the occasional ruin thrown in, hardly cosmopolitan.

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

Philip and Jade, you made my day.

So whoa, lets stop the world a minute so that I can do a blog post, because sweet Jesus I am getting dizzy with the movement.

Apparently there’s this thing, this machine that like, washes your clothes and stuff, when they are dirty, all by itself, which like means you don’t have to wear them over and over again unwashed, because this machine, which is apparently in my kitchen and has been there all the time and I completely didn't see it under the piles of random crap, being as I’m flying by the seat of my pants lately and am all, get up, leave the house, do things that are essential to do, come back, it is dark, oh look, there’s a bed.. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. So yeah, this machine isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, because my god the cheek of it, apparently you have to like, sort your clothes out first, into piles of colours before you can put them in to be washed and like, fuck that, I no havva time. Nada.

But what did make me smile and go all gooey today, was in the bank, at the kiosk, begging the nasty type banky lady for money, when I heard this reeeeally looooud shouty voice, “Um hi, I want £10 please”, which was kind of weird, seen as the voice was an adult one, so being such a nosey cow, I looked over to the next kiosk and saw this guy, who had Down's Syndrome, he was stood with a girl and I was all “Oh ok, now I feel like an arse, Jesus I should be the last person to do such an arsehole thing as to stare at someone different, way to go Jilly” and the cashier could see I was all flustered, so she gave me a smile, “he comes in every week, his Dad puts his pocket money into his account and he comes in for his spends”. I nodded and looked back over to give them a smile, but when the guy caught my eye, he got all over excited and was suddenly literally jumping around and squealing, “this is my girlfriend, we got engaged last week, we love each other really a lot” and he thrust her hand under my nose to look at the ring, (which was completely gorgeous by the way) and they both grinned at me, full of excitement and it was the nicest, warmest thing I’ve seen in so long, they were so fucking happy and I LOVED that they were so fucking happy, so much so in fact that I threw my arms around them congratulating them both with enthusiasm, right there, at the kiosks, in the middle of the bank, in front of a queue of nearly 20-25 people that looked at me like I was mad and I have to tell ya, doing that felt so incredibly damn good I could hardly stand it.

I really do hope it works out for them, that they stay happy together and carry on living life with beaming smiles as if it might end tomorrow, because as much as none of us want to admit it, it just might, for anyone of us and wouldn’t it be so friggin awesome if little experiences, like the one I had today, came along to remind us all of that fact a little more often.

* * * *
Random photo time.

Meeeehhh!

What are you still doing here? Piss off you bastards.

Unless I can eat your clothes, in which case, come closer my pretty.

Sunday, October 14, 2007

Sunday Twilight Zone

How is it possible I can break 2 of my favourite mugs from a 4 set, in one morning, 3 hours apart and then accidentally fall asleep on the floor for 4 hours that afternoon, waking up with drool on the carpet and a bastard of a crick in the neck? Something is telling me I need a holiday y'all!

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Bashful, or maybe just Dopey.

My new neighbours have not completely moved in yet. Although they have been coming over each evening to work on the place, they have yet to spend a night there. According to the old man who lives in our block, they seem like a nice, young, professional couple, which pleases me no end after the amoebas we had to endure at the beginning of the year.

The old man knows they are a nice couple because he has been courteous enough to welcome them warmly, whereas I, the person that shares a staircase and whose front door is a mere three foot from theirs, have avoided them completely.

You may be shocked to know that I am a very shy person around people I don’t know and as much as I want to introduce myself and fall to the floor to passionately kiss their feet thanking them for not being the type to make me want to commit man slaughter, I am really struggling to pluck up the courage to do so. I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve planned to go over there only to balk at the last minute, why is it so hard for me? What’s the worst that can happen? Why do I feel intimidated before I’ve even met somebody? Amongst my friends and family I am known as an extrovert, the gobby one that bounces off the walls in company, yet when faced with a stranger, I turn into a pubescent awkward girl, that finds the floor the most interesting part of the room.

I don’t know, I guess I’ve always been very black and white. One of my nicknames is Toddler, because one minute I am the loudest most animated member of the group and the next you can hardly get a word out of me. I run around at full speed until I hit a brick wall and then BAM I sink to the floor in a heap. I’m also like this with new and existing projects and interests, I’m either obsessed to the extreme, or not interested at all, absolutely no middle ground whatsoever.

So back to the neighbours. I know once I have introduced myself I’ll be fine and within two weeks they will enforce a gagging order to shut me the hell up, but right now I just feel so out of my comfort zone. I need to kick myself up the arse and just do it, I know that’s what I really should do, but damn it, I’m imprisoned by the overwhelming urge to just stand here, bashfully scuffing my shoes against the playground wall. Ah well, I am who I am and I guess at least I’m not planning to attempt baking them some welcome biscuits, because that would cause a major rift never to be mended and possibly that manslaughter charge.

Too shy shy, hush hush eye too eye. (A wowsa blast from the past pop pickers)

Tuesday, October 09, 2007

'Muhna Muhna'

I return, from the mist of devilish hell, which I will not talk about, because NEGATIVE! Also, I refuse to give Satan the satisfaction. But I will say, some people are nasty and have no conscience and behave in a way I can not comprehend, especially at such an inappropriate time, none of which was directed at me, until, (as is the story of my life), I suddenly found myself in the middle of it all, because I can not bear to see people mistreated or upset, especially family members and just can not mind my own business in such circumstances.

Note for 2008; learn to look the other way for the love of god woman.

All is safe now, the drama has brought Dad down a tad, or maybe he is deteriorating again, either one is expected. Mum is crushed, tired, depressed, but still ploughing on with gritted teeth like the amazing women that she is. We will settle down and move on.

The last week has confirmed a sneaky suspicion. When I’m stressed, I buy. Lots. I have learnt to channel this through Eb@y, because if I came within 100 metres of a clothes shop I would turn into Animal from The Muppets, (whom I adore, if it's possibly to fall in love with someone who has a stranger's hand placed permanently up his arse) and spend more than my streets entire annual earnings in one afternoon.

Stress = Shopping and possibly being silly in photoshop.

I had a belt like this as a 10 year old. Old Times.

Snugly and Soft. I NEEDED a pink cardi to go with all my pink tops for the winter. Neeeeeded.

Biker Boots. I love the rock chick look, although I fall short at achieving it.

Yes I have huuuuuge feet and what the hell's happening with my drawers, have they dislocated?

To go with a brown ankle length skirt I have. I NEEDED it, honest!

Would you be disgusted if I told you I'm waiting for 3 more packages and am having a bidding war on the cutest pair of shoes known to mankind? Yes? Ok, I'll keep that bit quiet.

Wednesday, October 03, 2007

Oh, I wish I'd looked after me teeth - Pam Ayres

My brother’s girlfriend Victoria and I are exceedingly excited over a product we recently discovered which could very well cure our twice daily retching woes.

You see we both share an affliction. When brushing our teeth we both feel an overwhelming need to also brush our tongues, vigorously. Not uncommon you may say? Well no, but what is uncommon is the desperate urge to scrub all the way back to our tonsils, this in turn creates much gagging of the highly unattractive variety and also, who looks good with bloodshot eyes? Nobody that’s who.

Can also be ingeniously used as a sticky finger prevention tool. Mmmmm, Milky Way.

So, although a plastic ring on a stick could easily be mistaken as something entirely different than a tongue scraper, (something I am tempted to elaborate on but will resist the urge and if you don’t know what I am referring too, then you are a much cleaner minded person than I am, be thankful), this plastic ring is the implement of our dreams, until Victoria comes to stay that is, because they only sold identical purple ones and I don’t want to spend another second thinking about mix ups, because, gross!

And for all my friends who find my affliction hilarious and maybe OCD related, here is the proof that I am not being obsessive.

So you can eat your words people, along with those little evil bacteria that just jump right back onto your teeth after brushing and WILL MAKE YOU GUMMY BEFORE YOU HIT 50, HA!

That’s really all I have to tell you, which is rather sad and uneventful, but at least I told you with sweet breath and a bacteria free tongue.

Tuesday, October 02, 2007

Best. Advert. Ever.

Monday, October 01, 2007

Out of my current comfort zone

Let's get the shit out of the way on a Monday and then I can go back to escapism blogging tomorrow! Hurray!

I haven't blogged about Dad in a while because, well in all honestly I'm sick of the situation going round in circles in my crowded little head and I find it difficult to see the facts in actual words, but people are asking how things are and I really should make a note for myself, for the future, however painful it is, so I'll take a deep breath and get it over with.

Hmmm, third try to put into words how things are, ok, this could be a rambling mess, but I really don't want to think about it anymore, so I'm just going to spew.

The carcinoid excretes a hormone that imbalances the chemicals in the brain. It can have a similar effect to the behaviour of someone with mild autism or the early stages of dementia. Dad is very distant, he is angry, argumentative, often baiting people for arguments. He has lost his ability to be tactful or sensitive and his sense of humour has alluded him.

He used to be known for his severe sarcasm, but now, even the simplest of jokes puzzle him as if he's just heard a foreign language. He isn't interested in much conversation or contact with his family, preferring to spend hours obsessing over little projects he has started. He isn't in any pain or discomfort, but he does sleep up to 17 hours a day, is a walking skeleton and has large purple patches that now mask his once handsome face.

We know why Dad is this way, we know it's not his fault, it's not any ones fault. It's very hard to explain, but Dad just isn't 'there' much anymore, it isn't depression or a coping mechanism or even a way of trying to make things easier for us. He can still finish a crossword faster than any man I know, but when your father stands in the middle of a room absolutely transfixed at the wall for 20 seconds, with his mouth agape and his eyes glazed over, it's pretty obvious that a combination of the carcinoid and the drugs are affecting some parts of his brain.

He shouted at me today. I asked him how he was doing and he just exploded, he said some things that, although I know he didn't mean, made my heart tear a little. It doesn't matter how often I tell myself that this isn't really my Dad, that the hurtful things he says are a result of the bastard cancer destroying his body, it still hurts to hear them.

These words and the fierce angry facial expressions will always stay with me. It's been five months and often I panic because I can't remember how he was before this all started. Will this be my memory of him? Will these times forever haunt my thoughts?

Three weeks ago we were told he had a 'few' weeks to live. I've quickly learnt that there is no such thing as an accurate prediction. I know when the time does come he will deteriorate very quickly and as before, probably develop pneumonia and it will probably come out of nowhere.

Fake smiling and waiting, watching him dying, fake smiling and waiting, watching in dread.

My mum, I worry so much about my mum, but that's another post and another day.

One thing I've learnt from this experience is this, when talking to people in the same situation as I am right now, I will NEVER say, "at least you had some time with him instead of him dying suddenly", because that statement, although I used to say it myself, has absolutely no founding at all under these circumstances. This isn't "time", there are no pleasant memories made here, this is limbo, this is torture and he doesn't deserve it, none of us do.

My Dad has the most beautifully artistic hands. I managed to get this shot without his knowledge. It's been one I've wanted for weeks and one I'll always cherish. Thank you (you know who you are) for giving me the idea, you were right, I never want to forget those hands.

Life's Rich Tapestry