A Blast from the Past

I was going through some files on my computer this evening and I came across this little gem, written some years ago. It made me laugh. Thought you might like a giggle too.

I have a secret. I want to be a writer. Not just any writer, but one of those humourous British types.

The only problem is, I’m not British. Nor do I think I’m particularly humourous. Funny word to look at, humourous. Humourous. Humourous. I’ve been reading too much about permaculture gardening. It reminds me of hummus. Oh, or is that the dip stuff? Never mind, I don’t think it really matters.

Anyway, I have decided to muse about the daily grind that is my life - because I can, and if no one ever wants to read it that’s fine. My kids will read it one day and realise they were right all along. Their mother really was a loony.

They think these unkind thoughts about me, because I am into what is commonly called “New Age” stuff. You know, spirituality, meditation and all the associated loony things that go along with it. I am also a homemaker (I don’t profess to be a particularly good one, but I do try when I remember). I love to sew too. Not clothes or anything. Quilts and bags, and cushions and all those sweet things that go into making a house a home. I think maybe because my childhood was kind of disjointed (sorry Mum), I crave that perfect family life. Mom, Dad and two wholesome, well-behaved children.

My reality is somewhat different. I have three children. The eldest has never met her father, and I haven’t seen him since she was one. The other two are from a ten year relationship (we might go into that a bit later), and I have recently come out of a 6 year relationship with an alcoholic. Don’t ask, it’s a long story.

Most of the time I’m an optimist. A woman who used to be my neighbour told me sometimes I have negative thoughts. I’m aware of that, but really, I quite enjoy the occasional wallow in self-pity. I usually get over it within 24 hours. Mainly because it takes too much energy to feel sorry for myself for too long. I think I’m essentially lazy. I would love to be self- sufficient, and I plan to get things done, but then the computer beckons, or someone calls or drops in, and it all goes out the window. I have so many organisational websites saved into my favourites, you wouldn’t believe. I like to think they motivate me - and they do. Until I get off the computer. I have a sneaking suspicion I’m not the only one with this problem, otherwise there wouldn’t be so many
sites dedicated to ridding the world of clutter, one closet at a time.

I have two best friends, and a few others not so close. The ridiculous thing is, they haven’t met each other yet. I must get around to that, I think they would get on famously. Linda and Dianne. Both very practical, hard-working women, who have suffered through some awful stuff, and emerged out the other side, stronger and wiser for it. Without becoming bitter and twisted, which amazes me sometimes. We are all blonde. Scary. Di and I are Cancerians and Linda is a Pisces. All water signs and all emotional. But only if it’s warranted. I love them both to bits. They are my support, and I am theirs.

So I have introduced myself, albeit superficially. Nice to meet you. As we travel along this road, you will learn more about who I am and what makes me tick. It seems supremely obnoxious to me, to think that my life is so damned interesting that anyone would want to read about it, but there you go.

I’m going to be as obnoxious as I like. It’s my blog.

I'd still like to be a writer of some description but maybe not a humourous British type (am currently dabbling in chick porn, otherwise known as erotic literature!). My children are still convinced I'm a lunatic and I am still currently single (I did update that part by the way, as I didn't really think you needed to know just how silly my previous relationship was).

My best friends are still the same and still damn wonderful people. I still spend far too much time on the computer with all the really cool kids - that's you guys :)

The more things change the more they stay the same it seems...