The Winner Takes It All

You’ve been on tenterhooks, haven’t you? “Is she back? Did she make it? Was she eaten alive by rabid reindeer?” Yes, yes and no.

I have returned, I just haven’t gotten any better at updating my blog. I’m slowly getting back into the routine of daily life after 2.5 weeks of being home. Not slowly, that’s not right. Hit the ground running, more like it.

G had an ear infection when I returned, so that meant a trip to the GP and some antibiotics. My wrist was in a splint for 2 weeks due to an Arctic Dog Sledding Challenge-related injury. No GP visit as no time, just self medicated with wine, Neurofen and a splint from the local pharmacy. Who needs a stinkin’ doctor? Mother, heal thyself.

March is birthday month in these parts and I’ve had half a dozen toddler birthday parties already and more to come. All my friends keep having babies, too, so I’m keeping the local toy/book/card shops in business.

My lovely sister Amy arrived the week I returned and we spent the best part of ten days shopping. Griffin had some spectacular melt downs (see Ear Infection, above) in designer shops across London. Amy also cooked and baked and changed poopy nappies. She can come back any time.

I continue to fundraise with coffee mornings and portrait sessions. I baked a birthday cake for a friend, but alas I undercooked it and it was a bit of a mess. Bless her, she still gave me a tenner for my trouble. Out of the two hobbies, baking will probably not be paying the bills any time soon.

SO in short, I have been BUSY, OK? Sheesh. Get off my back.

But you don’t want to know about the mundane details of my life post-sledding. So, I shall craft you a little tale about my Very Cold Adventure. In a minute. Promise. Be right back. Just have to let the dog out. For now, I leave you with this:

The Final Countdown

It appears my dreams of Internet domination are truly dashed. I mean, 2 posts in 3 months does not a blogger make. Nor will it get me on any must-read lists. And a book deal? Fuhgeddaboudit. It is most unlikely that Jennifer Aniston will be playing me in the movie version of my life.

December was like tightrope walking. January was like spinning plates. And February has been like stuffing 20 clowns into a VW Beetle. Should you not get the heavy-handed metaphors, it’s been like a circus round these parts. A sleep-deprived circus. A David Lynch version of a circus with angry toddlers dwarves. Remember that part in Willy Wonka on the chocolate river when…sorry, you get it now, don’t you?

It’s now only about 5 days until I leave for Sweden and yet I still feel like I’m only considering the trip, like I haven’t decided if I’m going yet. I’m in denial mode and it probably won’t hit me until  I get in the taxi Friday morning.

Part of the denial is about leaving G. I’ve never left him for a night, let alone a whole week, so I’m feeling rather anxious about that. I know he will be fine, have lots of fun with Daddy, blah blah blah. But I still can’t help thinking he may feel abandoned. And will he know I’m coming back? I feel a bit sick when I think about it.

I’m more confident about the trip itself after last week’s briefing. It looks like a lot of fun, and I’m sure the week will go very quickly. I only hope I have enough opportunity to take some good photos. I really want to do the trip justice.

Sponsorship continues to drip feed in, and I’m really stunned at how many people have come out of the woodwork to donate. A few people from Ed’s work have sponsored me, and I’ve never even met them! It’s amazing, really.

The recipe book has done really well and I’m down to my last dozen or so copies. Feedback has been great so I’m really pleased about that, too.

I have a few more baby portrait orders coming in, too, which will keep me busy when I return. I was hoping that a local gallery might give me an exhibition, but as yet they haven’t gotten back to me. I’ll be chasing them this week, as I think some of the nature shots will be commercial enough to sell prints.

So where does that leave me? Excited, anxious, hopeful (of more sponsorship, hint hint).

I’m not sure if I’ll be able to update here or tweet or FB, but I will certainly try. Otherwise, I guess I’ll see you on the other side!

It’s Just Like Starting Over

Hello? Is this thing on?

So, um, how was your November? Mine was good thanks.

And now on to December. I have been busy, I’ve been a bit lazy and a lot tired. So not much has changed. We’ve had sickness and sleep issues and all kinds of excuses for not doing stuff.

But I’ve finally finished a few projects and I’m on track with others, so I feel a bit less overwhelmed.

I’ve not been to bootcamp in about 3 weeks, though, so I’m really going to feel the hurt when I go next time. I promise not to whine about it. No wait, that’s what blogs are for!

Christmas is upon us and I’ve tried to get festive by putting up the tree and a few decorations. I miss snow at this time of year and find it hard to get into the spirit of it all when it’s just grey and rainy. But I’m really looking forward to spending our first Christmas at home with G. I wonder what he’ll make of all the fuss on Christmas morning.

I hope I’ll have a chance to relax a bit over the holidays. I doubt I’ll be able to take my mind off fundraising for long, however. January brings the bill for trip costs: £2000, to be exact. I’m no where near that target, but I hope to get a lot closer in the next four weeks.

And, duh, duh, duhhhhhhhh! I bring you Real Good Food, my fundraising recipe book.

Pretty cool, eh? As of today, I have nearly 40 copies pre-ordered. I am amazed, stunned and so grateful for my lovely and generous friends. They have really come through for me on this project.

So, what have you been up to?

You say it’s your birthday

Father Time: “Surprise! You’re 35.”

OK, not so surprising since I turned 34 last year on this date. But still, it’s kind of left me feeling quite flat. It always used to annoy me when people said “but I don’t feel 47 [or whatever advanced age].” I would always think, get over it, you’re 47.

But now, I kind of see where these people are coming from. 35 sounds pretty middle-aged. I cling to the widely-held claim that 40 is the new 30. I really do hope so because I can’t afford Botox and my Zimmer frame is on back order.

On a positive note, at breakfast G gave me the sweetest Tiffany charm bracelet which I promptly exchanged. But wait! I was told I could choose a different one as there were a few styles that were on offer. So G and I took a trip to Tiffany this afternoon where he did his royal wave and shouted “bye” to everyone in the shop. They were all clearly impressed. We will practice “ciao” for next time.

I’ve tried to use my birthday to my financial advantage. I’ve been quite cheeky and asked everyone I know to sponsor me £35 in honour of my birthday. I’m so rude. But hey, you don’t get if you don’t ask, right??

Off to dinner tonight but I will try not to drink too much as I hit reality with a bump tomorrow morning. Bootcamp doesn’t wait for the elderly.

 

It’s Friday and I’m in Love

I’ve failed already. NaBloPoMo is NoMo. Daily tasks that don’t involve the basics of G’s need pyramid are often discarded like hole-y socks. So I put my weary head down at night and think “damn it, I forgot to blog.” And then I promptly fall asleep. But although I haven’t kept up blogging everyday, I will try my best to finish out the month. Why? Because I’m a trier! Go team!

I’m having coffee mornings every Thursday this month and yesterday was the first one. I had 10 toddlers and as many adults over to eat cake and trash the joint. Well, that’s not what it said on the invite, but I still haven’t cleaned the crayon drawing off my patio doors. Fun was had by all and I raised £36! I needed a stiff drink afterwards but I think I can call it a success.

And thankfully I had planned a night out with my ladies too so I got the drink I required, in the form of a mediocre bottle of Rioja. Not the whole bottle, mind you. Although it was tempting. It felt really good to get out for an evening and gossip and mange with my friends. They’re a good bunch. And most of them are pregnant, so I’m starting to feel like the thin friend. Which is great for my self confidence. Never mind that most of them are still technically slimmer than me. But give it a few months and they’ll be rolling in the aisles! (Note to my lovely pregnant ladies: you are all goddesses with silky hair and tiny little bumps.)

Lots of activity this weekend with my first photo shoot (I told you about the baby portraits, right?) and a scrummy baby shower tea for my good friend. Oh, and something is happening on Monday, but you’ll have to wait to find out what it might be!

Hup two, three, four

While I’m waiting for the Ocado man to delivery my groceries, I thought I’d open the mailbag.

Caz has asked about bootcamp. In fact, it is actually called British Military Fitness. The sessions are run by ex-military chaps and follow the model of military training. Groups are split into three levels: blue = beginners, red = intermediate, green =  bat shit crazy. One guess as to which level I’m in. (And I have to say, I’ve never seen a green, so they must be few and far between. Or, they’re actual military-types who don’t need no stinking instructor to workout with.)

The great thing about this type of workout is that it’s different every time. Sometimes it’s heavy on running and I curse the day I was born. Some days you get more exercises like squats and press ups, mixed in with sprints. Then you get the partner/group series which is basically an exercise in humiliation: relay sprints with press ups and burpees, linked arm sprints, leap frogging (oh yes I did), etc.

I’m still finding it really hard and I keep wondering when it’s going to get easier. Obviously when you go from doing nothing more than walking up to the shops to full on aerobic training, it’s going to be a killer. I guess I just thought that I’d feel fitter, faster. That’s what you get for being 35! Nothing like a grueling workout to make you feel old.

But I know it’s not just my age, since I continue to be lapped by a 65-year-old man every time. I have just one goal at the moment: beat the old man.

 

Money, money, money, money…MONEY!

My fellow crazy person Challenge teammate posted the following info on her blog recently. It will give you a little insight into just how much money it takes to look after all the dogs in care of the Dog’s Trust.

Here are the figures:

£2.50 to feed a dog per week
£10 to feed a dog for a month
£20 cost per dog per day to “house” at the rehoming centre (inc. food, vets fees, heating etc.)

Last year, Dogs Trust cared for 15,162 dogs in 17 re-homing centres. I’m rubbish at maths, but I reckon that’s a lot of wedge.

Com’on people, dig deep!

It’s not funny, how we don’t talk anymore

So I’m crap at this blogging thing. But I’m motivated now! It’s November which means it’s National Blog Posting Month. I’m going to attempt to blog everyday (God help me). Can you even handle it? It’s too exciting, isn’t it?

Last week I managed 3 sessions of bootcamp (hurray)! I was pretty busy this week with a visit from my parents (exhausting) and a fundraising event (exhausting). Consequently, I’m quite tired. Bootcamp attendance suffered as a result (boo), but I was back in the saddle today. Monsoon conditions did nothing for my stamina, but I didn’t feel like I was going to die, and that, my friends, is progress.

Fundraiser, you say? Why yes, I held a little pumpkin painting party for 12 of my Mummy/toddler friends that took in £150. Minus expenses I make that £110. Feels good to add a bit to the pot, especially since individual donations have been scant the last two weeks. But other projects and events are in the calendar and I’ve got eleventy million more baked goods to produce this week.

Got to post this quickly, but don’t worry, there will be more tomorrow!

Tracks of my Tears

Gah.

That’s all I got.

Well, no, not really. But the last week or so has gotten away from me and I wish I had more to say for the time that’s past. Maddening things like software and the bloody Royal Mail are getting me nowhere fast. (Thankfully, I haven’t forgotten the art of the rhyme.)

My third bootcamp session on Sunday nearly killed me. Not sure what came over me, but Internet, I cried. OK, only for a second until I sucked it up, but there was a genuine lip wobble at the very least.

Today was much better. The class went quickly and dare I say it was easier than the last few sessions. I’ll be damned if I’m bringing up the rear in two weeks time. Who knew I was so competitive? Humiliation is a good motivator.

I must admit, however, that enthusiasm is flagging. I’m tired, I suppose. Dog tired. HAH!

Ricki Don’t Lose that Number

I poured myself into that DVF dress and what thanks do I get? None, I say, I say NONE. Ricki didn’t say hello or even look in my general direction. Didn’t she realise I was a finalist? So, I don’t know what she thought of my dress. Damn her and her silky black hair.

I did go home with a raffle prize so it wasn’t a total loss. And there was cava. And bacon. And everything is better with bacon.

No fitness update, I’m afraid, as the most exercise I got today was lifting danishes from plate to lips. But, “ah will think about that anotha day,” as Miss Scarlett says.

Oh, and Ricki? Call me, mkay?