The perfect list

I'm not getting it right. By right I mean I do not have the perfect anything. I want to be one of those women that just get it right. I want the perfect demure black outfit, tucked away at the back of a perfect made to measure wardrobe. The dress that smashes at a funeral. I'd also like the black lace veil but probably pushing it with the whole combo. Now let's see, well a two pice little "outfit" would work too. Fitted pencil skirt and tailored jacket. But that's just it. the little part. I also need the body to hang the clothes off.

Just to fill the one reader that actually reads this blog in, I have not ditched the junk as promised in my ever hopeful and far too optimistic blurb. The truth is I am worse than ever. I suspiciously stop at several different sweet shops after my work day to feed my sugar addiction. This often means I am driving miles out of my way to ensure I rotate the shops. It goes a little something like this. I walk in and it's usually a grubby farmer/shopkeeper type standing behind the counter. He eyes me up. He knows I am up to no good. I ramble some nonsense "lovely day or will it ever stop raining" while scanning the shop for the biggest bar of chocolate.

Back to the list, I also want the perfect interview attire. Crisp shirt, perhaps in colour to show my personality. If I was truthful, it would have to be psychedelic swirls with glitter bombs exploding as I walk, but I know I'd have no chance of landing the job. Interviews are such acts. Just come to work and see me in action, I'd land any job then. Maybe wide legged trouser suit and glasses. Ah yes, they inform the viewer that yes, I am smart. I can read the back of the cereal box while multitasking like super Mum. What am I saying? No, I never feed Tarquin cereal. I activate some beans or that and add homemade yoghurt that I churned from hand organic of course. Scrap that, I now have no children and am simply professional women an I invest in the job only.

Gave up the alcohol replaced with chocolate?

I must be the only person to look and feel worse after giving up alcohol. It's three months now and I feel like a dust bin. Probably due to eating complete rubbish. I did not give up coffee, I somehow managed to increase my consumption of the "good stuff" (only real coffee will do, max strength of course). I digress, this is simply not the plan.

I am waking each morning with a headache akin to very mild hangover. Do not approach me at the 3pm slide into coma levels of energy for the evening of couch surfing. I say surfing but flicking the remote is even too strenuous. I seriously sometimes leave the station on as I am too lazy to reach for remote.

I had wanted to boast to ye lovely people about how amazing my life is now. I had visions of early morning runs, hair like a film starlet. Eating rainbow coloured goodness, and no m and m's don't count.

Darkness in the morning and utter Baltic Burren cold stopped me in my tracks literally. Gone are the morning walks, moving even. Of course I could access the gym at 7am like a very organised person, but as organisation has not yet kicked in, I am finding it as achievable as locating The Holy Grail in my back garden. That is probably more doable considering I married an archaeologist. He probably knows exactly where it is but will not say as he is a self confessed atheist. Probably views it as "the cup" like any other drinking device.

So I will do the whole buying the right 2018 diary. You know the one, the perfect one that will make me organised. I could not figure out that whole bullet journal thing. Looks incredible but I was too lazy and distracted to learn the rules. Good job I wholeheartedly believe that come the stroke of midnight on New Years eve I magically transform into that version of me where anything is possible. Am I that naïve folks? Yes, Yes I am.

Christmas madness

It is fast approaching Christmas. The time of year when you scramble to the shops to buy people stuff. More stuff. Do we not have enough things? I think that we should just get a small token of our gratitude and affection for the people in our lives. Even at that, it is impossible to buy for all the people that have touched your life. As the year hurtles towards it's end at breakneck speed let's take a minute to slow it down. 

What a year it has been. So much has changed for me. My work took up an unbelievable amount of energy and commitment. I'm focussing on wrapping up some projects I have on the go. I'm going to do a year end review. What worked, what can be improved on? Let's get this all in perspective? December is just a month. The last of this year. There is nothing to say that it can not be a relaxed time of contemplation and appreciation.

I for one am ending the year in slow down mode. I will not put myself through the chaos and tail chasing that was my usually Christmas norm. Count me out for the expected social engagements. Count me in for evenings by the fire and some serious Ugg wearing  (indoors of course!). Gathering the good and energising to begin 2018 with clarity and positivity and a healthy bank balance. 

Toxic people

I have given up drama. In fact, I bought a phone cover that read "no more drama lama" so I like to think of this as my new mantra. I always want to help people, to be that listening ear. I have found that a couple of people take advantage of this and it is a one way street with them debiting the account and me depositing the bank of relationship giving. I had a heart breaking interaction yesterday with a person that holds a lot of resentment towards me. I feel I can not mend the obvious tears in the fabric of this friendship.

I can not be responsible for someone else's feelings. I do however, wish to be accountable for my actions. I try to say I am sorry when I do wrong. Much like children in kindergarten saying sorry is a big part of life. That and getting a blanket at 3pm and going for a lie down. Wouldn't that be nice? It should be office policy. Drinking warm hot chocolate and snuggling away life's worries should be mandatory.

There are those people who are energy takers. The kind that leave you feeling worse after an encounter. We all know the kind. Time and time again you meet them thinking this time will be different. Ten seconds in and you realise that nope, they will rant at you for the next hour. Only pausing long enough to take a breath and mutter "so how are you anyway?" They don't wait for the answer. They probably wouldn't notice is you did not answer.

So with time being a premium commodity you can not buy or cash in for a refund, I say enough. I say that I care enough about my self, my energy and my time to bid this nonsense adieu. Hello to the energy givers, the kind that leave you refreshed and upbeat. If you encounter such a rare beauty, please do not take advantage of the way they make you feel. Life is about give and take folks.

Up and down

Okay, so something I need to talk about is this feeling of bloody irritation and low level anger. WTF? I thought I was an easy going kinda gal. Since this new life adjustment, I'm suffering a kind of grumbling resentment. It's a bank holiday weekend and I'm playing Mrs. Mop? Now, no one has asked me to morph into this boring Stepford wife but method role playing got the better of me. I dug deep into my psyche and pulled this version of "a wife". A doll like apparatus with movable parts. Legs and arms bend but only slightly. Cooks and cleans and issues Mom like instructions to teenage boy. 

Where is the wild me? The part that can not be tamed? I will not slide into middle age a version of myself. I realise I'm going through some kind of transitory period. I hit upon a particularly good dance album this morning. I say morning but to most of you this is probably the middle of the night. All it took was the sultry tones of a cracking bass line to make me remember. Who says this new life has to void of big old fashioned FUN?

Natural high hey. Worth thinking about. So what do all the other boring health nuts do for kicks? They exercise don't they? They climb mountains and all that shit. Husband would love that. Next time he wants to do Everest I might back a bag. Right, seeing as I quit Croak Patrick a third of the way up squealing "why?" "why?", I doubt going climbing is the right sport for me. Seriously though, little old ladies were passing me out like they had consumed amphetamine at base of "hill". Cue post traumatic stress just at the thought of that horrible memory.

Half of D4 are doing the Dublin city marathon this morning. Another reason to feel like a failure. I tried the couch to 5k about 10 or so times. I give up at week 6. If I stuck it out I could be decked out in lycra feeling very smutten smug. Surfing perhaps? I do live beside the sea. Closest I got to surfing was watching that documentary on surfers in Lahinch. Does that count? I mean I stood beside the surfers, surely that counts for something? 

I'm getting there, wherever there is?

So I'm noticing a tiny improvement in energy levels. I started back at Slimming world two days ago. I've managed to stick to it religiously. Ending on 5 syns yesterday. Used all in one sitting of course. Chocolate rice cake bars, well worth the 5 syns. I actually measured 275mils of low fat milk today. That is kinda shocking as it only amounts to a few cups of coffee. I even halved a sausage in my pursuit of staying within syn allowance. Granted it was filled with black pudding but none the less, I feel a round of applause is in order. Cue clapping and flower throwing.


I logged into my old SW account. Yikes, I am up a stone since my last effort to loose the flab. I'm up almost 2 stone since the wedding. I set a goal to loose 2 stone. Would I be happy then? Probably not. At least my wardrobe would fit again. I have never stuck at a healthy eating plan long enough to find out what my body would settle at. Moderation now being my new concept. I'm an all or nothing kinda girl. So I'm doubting this will stick. But what if it did? What if I succeeded this time and maintained. See a pig flying in a tutu anyone?

So that is alcohol ditched completely. Now, I am sticking to a healthy diet. Wow, who is this girl? Think of all the outfits I can wear. I love cloths. I love dressing to suit my mood. How liberating would it be to wear whatever I wanted? With in reason I guess. I'm sure I would elicit some funny looks in the office next time I arrive in wearing a crown.

The Corpse Bride...

I'm up since half three. I think it was the moonlight that woke me. Oh dear, I love early mornings but will pay for this come the three PM slump. I've to go out for a fine dining experience this evening. They would get more chat out of a corpse at that time of the evening. I suppose I will get by with "mmm", "lovely" and the odd "the food is great". I love early mornings and the quietness afforded before anyone else gets up. Lyric are playing demented music that sounds like the backdrop to a horror movie. I mean I'm pumped up on enough coffee to fuel a power station, I really could do without the manic music. It is causing my imagination to go into overdrive. It's pitch dark out and I live in the middle of nowhere. I also have a big old shed in the yard as the American's say. You know the kind, murderers like to lodge there whilst on the run. It could also be haunted. At least I know what to do in case of emergency. All those films taught me I'm not to go outside. Unless of course the intruder is inside. Then what? I guess I hide in said shed.