Trick or treating was the name of the game tonight. We don’t get many calling here, unlike when we lived in a village. I miss that. Seeing all the kids, most of whom I knew, was generally good too. I say generally........unless you caught them coming round again.......or seeing some of a questionable age.....how old are you now? Seventeen? Bugger off! So, anyway.....back to tonight......I was on door duty tonight and the Good Man was roaming the streets with The Little Man, In search of sweets and chocolate. Both big and little boys were dressed up. And I had a Frankenstein’s monster mask. Which the two little girls, aged about four, and dressed as fairies, did not appreciate. Sorry girls. Have some sweets. Sorry. Next year I’ll bag going out.
Fast forward to a week after trick or treating, to now, and I’m still lounging in bed,
lazy moo. Sort of. I have a love/hate relationship with my bed. I hate that I can’t get in or out without someone helping me. I NEVER would’ve envisioned this life when I was flinging myself around on a trampoline, or when I was riding/falling off of horses. How I am now, was probably natures way of preventing me from killing myself. I got the girls to put their mattresses on the stairs, and get in a sleeping bag, and wheeee down the stairs. I wonder if they remember that?? So yeah, who would’ve seen this life for me?
When I was told I had a rapidly evolving aggressive MS, I didn’t really understand what that meant. It wasn’t explained to me, and as I was still reeling from the diagnosis (in the same meeting ) I didn’t have the wherewithal to question it, what that REALLY meant. I get it now, but then? No. And I had a life to be getting on with.
And I did. For a while anyway. Walking. Driving. Meeting up with friends. Dating (a little bit). Still, anyway, one of my dates became the Mr to my Mrs, and we lived, reasonably happy ever after. Which is the best you can hope for, if you sometimes have views that are opposing forces.....
Being firework night the other night, meant en mass, we wrapped up and headed up the road, to what will be our boys junior school. They put on a pretty spectacular firework display. But the most impressive thing was the way the infants and junior school communicated with each other Re:me. We were met at the school gates, by a lady that lead us round to an area that was marked out for us, where we were off the main pathway, but had a good view (through a tree’s bare branches)but near the hotdog and drinks stand. And then the lady reappeared at the end of the display, to show us the short cut way out.
I hope to be returning to college to do either ceramics again, or sign language. I wish there wasn’t an ‘or’ there, but I can’t afford the moola, or the time,(well I can, but Mr, as my chauffeur cannot). So which will I choose? I miss ceramics, even the messy bits, wearing the clay on my hands, and my face and the scruffy clothing that gets chosen, as if I were decorating. But BSL is a long held dream, The little I know I loved learning and using.
Is that a problem that has earned the name #firstworldproblems?
Fast forward to a week after trick or treating, to now, and I’m still lounging in bed,
lazy moo. Sort of. I have a love/hate relationship with my bed. I hate that I can’t get in or out without someone helping me. I NEVER would’ve envisioned this life when I was flinging myself around on a trampoline, or when I was riding/falling off of horses. How I am now, was probably natures way of preventing me from killing myself. I got the girls to put their mattresses on the stairs, and get in a sleeping bag, and wheeee down the stairs. I wonder if they remember that?? So yeah, who would’ve seen this life for me?
When I was told I had a rapidly evolving aggressive MS, I didn’t really understand what that meant. It wasn’t explained to me, and as I was still reeling from the diagnosis (in the same meeting ) I didn’t have the wherewithal to question it, what that REALLY meant. I get it now, but then? No. And I had a life to be getting on with.
And I did. For a while anyway. Walking. Driving. Meeting up with friends. Dating (a little bit). Still, anyway, one of my dates became the Mr to my Mrs, and we lived, reasonably happy ever after. Which is the best you can hope for, if you sometimes have views that are opposing forces.....
Being firework night the other night, meant en mass, we wrapped up and headed up the road, to what will be our boys junior school. They put on a pretty spectacular firework display. But the most impressive thing was the way the infants and junior school communicated with each other Re:me. We were met at the school gates, by a lady that lead us round to an area that was marked out for us, where we were off the main pathway, but had a good view (through a tree’s bare branches)but near the hotdog and drinks stand. And then the lady reappeared at the end of the display, to show us the short cut way out.
I hope to be returning to college to do either ceramics again, or sign language. I wish there wasn’t an ‘or’ there, but I can’t afford the moola, or the time,(well I can, but Mr, as my chauffeur cannot). So which will I choose? I miss ceramics, even the messy bits, wearing the clay on my hands, and my face and the scruffy clothing that gets chosen, as if I were decorating. But BSL is a long held dream, The little I know I loved learning and using.
Is that a problem that has earned the name #firstworldproblems?
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