Light Bladder Leakage

20th June 2017

Picknicking In America by Leanord McCombe for Life.

Comrades! I live! Yea, though my fingers have not been tapping out inanities at this address, still, I have trundled along, the same old middle-aged hot mess that you know (sort of) and adore (right guys? Right?)

Since last updating this space I have driven approximately one million kilometres, cleaned approximately seven metres of ripe compost from the backseat  of the car and grown at least twenty eight new grey hairs - not yet, I hasten to add, in the Bermuda Lady Triangle (bragging).

Also, am giving up on trying to format this blog post. Code is not my friend today. Please just take the weird pauses, stuttering prose and awkward transitions as a little taste of what it’s like to hang with me in real life.

My last post here was at the beginning of last school term - feels so long ago!  I did recover from my meltdown at the letterbox but the year has unfolded with some intensity.  A lot of emotional  life to manage, and then halfway through term we took a sharp left into hospital craziness when Peanut had to have a tendon graft repair to her hand. Serious microsurgery. She touted a ’duckbill’ splint for a few months that she called Bobbi Jo Jefferson, and she stepped up to the challenges and frustrations very well. I’m really proud of her. But it’s an ongoing drama. (Hand therapy tips received with thanks.)

I spent a week in Fiji with some of my ladies for a wedding,  and it was wonderful but, home now, I am re-adjusting to the fact that I can no longer call Housekeeping and Room Service, because I am Housekeeping and Room Service. Also Concierge, Front Desk, Restaurant, Chauffeur, Medical, Psychiatry and Emergency Clean-up (Depts Vomit, Piss, Misc.)

Plans are afoot for our move to France for a year in August. We’ve rented a place in a small medieval town called Sommieres and I am so excited I have light bladder leakage at all times. Much to do though - more on the list than there are hours in the day.

Keith and I are good. Trying to carve out moments to watch House of Cards and rant about Trump to each other in the hallways. We have gathered a massive pile of documents for our French visas - there must be 100 pages of paperwork in all - but we cannot by any means make contact with the consulate. Still, I am trying to find it all a comedy. Ha ha! See the lady smile! See smile not reach the lady’s eyes! See the lady cry and smile! See the French man laugh! See him throw his baguette in the air!

My book is coming along, I got a lot done in Fiji and even though it is still a massive unwieldy beast that I feel will never be finished, it’s forming more shape and structure all the time.

The children are well.  They keep making their stuffed animals sing a song they call ‘It All Revolves  Around The Sausage’ which is disturbing but preferable to their other number ‘I Want To Be Annoying’ (sung in falsetto). Peanut remains obsessed with the Hunger Games.  T-Bone is working on a board game called Warlords and Babies and borrowing lots of library books along the lines of ‘100 Most Disgusting Things In The Universe’.

Pudding is writing a book called Unicorn and Fairy about two best friends who, over eight chapters so far, have been to the shop and bought a computer. It is a rollercoaster of non stop emotion.

I made the mistake of stating an unpopular opinion on a Facebook page for women writers last week and got royally serviced up the jacksie for my troubles. It reminded me that I’m not cut out to be a provocateur, and also that the online world is not that civilised a place, which saddens me. I’ll leave the debate to the feisty youngsters and keep my mouth shut in the corner. However, I am reading lots of lovely books in the bath, the electric blanket has appeared, and hot-chocolate -afternoon-tea season has begun, so winter is going alright by me.

In short, all good in the hood. I hope the same is true for you all out there.

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