My First LDS Singles Event

A bumpy re-entry to the singles world but an adventure none the less.

So, now that I am officially single again I could start going to the Mormon singles events… wasn’t allowed before because it would have been a married woman in the dating scene which is FORBIDDEN (yep, capital letters).

I went to a Singles event and bumped in to a female acquaintance from when we were teens.  She said “I recognised you from your smile”, how nice is that?!  We became acquainted again, it was lovely having someone to chat with and sit with, she is very lovely.  She has the etiquette of an angel and I was so pleased she was there.

HOWEVER, single people sometimes become gross.  Gender non specific.  The men and the women!  They may have spent too much time by themselves to worry about being polite and then it becomes a hard habit to break when suddenly in company.

They can at the dinner table and when chatting be burpy, sniffy, snorty, snargly froggy sniffs, belchy, cannot eat food in polite company-y without slumping, shovelling, lip smacking, mouth open eating and scooping.

If I ever get like that, please groupon me an etiquette class! Breathing and being human is fine, clearing your throat is fine, having the snuffles is fine, just some of these folks have been in their own company far too long and forgotten how to sit in polite or impolite company!  It was an eye opener.  I was shocked.  I have a relaxed etiquette style and wasn’t expecting silver service but I was shocked.

That being said, next time I might skip the lunch and go straight for the fireside as I learned much and enjoyed getting to know my fellow in the same boat shipmates.  I wouldn’t let table etiquette put me off attending again but next time I will feel more prepared for what I may encounter.  Wish me luck!

Alluring fine figure of a woman

So I have a week without the munchkin as she goes camping for a week with the other Young Women from the church youth group and other youth groups in this area.  Historically I have scheduled this annual week, my only week) to the rafters and been out dancing and seeing buddies or working on huge projects around the house.  One year I took a few days to decorate Missy’s room.  Another year it took me two days to dig out all the trash from her room.  Swings and roundabouts.  Other years I have done gardening or garage projects or donated time to a valuable cause or two.

This year, her room is tidy and just needs a bit of a go round with the vacuum cleaner.  It is decorated already.  I have two blinds to install, one on the stairwell and one in the spare room so that the neighbours don’t continually get a shock as I am not particularly careful about being robed in our own home and sometimes nosey people cop an eyeful.

But this time I am tired.  I am also superbly alluring as in the past couple of weeks I have broken out in blisters all along my legs and now on my eyes.  So the probability of dating is off the cards right now until this calms down.

Either I have used a product which doesn’t agree with me – there are a couple of candidates – or I need to nap, lots.  I’m going to go with the napping option I think.  I have Netflix, takeaway menu’s, healthy fridge food and the ability to mimic a sloth when required.  I think I’m set.

Apart from now I’m thinking about that grout in the bathroom and how I don’t like it and how I have time to sort it out now.  And the garden needs mowing.  The hedges need taking down a few feet in the back garden, the shed # 2 needs a weathertight roof.  And the floor in the living room could do with a sand and varnish.  And the hallway needs painting, and the ironing needs to be put away, and I need to do some paperwork.  And I could do with getting all the tools back to the shed.  And I haven’t investigated the loft yet apart from sticking my head up there and saying “Huh, that looks pretty full”, and I have to go over some quotes for driveway stuff.

Otherwise though, I think I will get a bit of a nap schedule going.  Hopefully.

 

 

Somewhere between here and infinity

If all your peace of mind is gone, and is replaced by hypothetical money worries, you need to speak with your friends.

Don’t you love friends who talk you down from the emotional ledge?  (The correct answer is yes, yes we do love those friends).  I’ve been using much of my spare time to ponder next steps now that we are in the privileged position of being in credit for the first time in almost ever, and for the first time since becoming a fully fledged adult taking care of adult responsibilities.  For clarity, it’s not much in credit but there is a plus sign not minus on the ol’ bank account and that’s a good enough start for me.

When I was working toward bringing credit agreements down to a zero balance, there was a definite goal, a specific figure had to be reached for that to be successful, there was a stopping point.  While the task was immensely difficult, the actual ability to quantify the required outcome was simple.  Keep paying for stuff until there is no more to pay.  Reducing to a nought.  Simple to keep straight, eh.  If there was more than a nought on the balance of the credit agreement, I wasn’t there yet and had to keep going.  Simple.

What has had me vexed is the next step.  The next baby step.  It has kept my mind occupied while I pondered, cogitated, and strategized.

Now that the little number is increasing there is no ceiling, no natural end goal.  Numbers go up to infinity plus one as any clued up 8 year old will tell you.  It vexes me because there is no way to know how much is enough.  How much will we need to have set aside to get by in the next month, year, few years, decade, until retirement or until the end of my natural life.  There is no figure.  It will always be too little.  It will always be more than we had.

With no natural end result my mind has been in a spin.  It has in actuality been quite a little more difficult than dealing with paying down credit.  At least if we had almost nothing we knew what we could do with our little porridge pot.  At least if the money ran out we knew or at least hoped that we had food storage and petrol in the car and the bills were paid.  Although awfully difficult, there were specifics and I am a lady who loves specifics.  I need to know the end from the beginning and if I don’t then all merry emotional hell breaks loose.  Uncertainty does not sit well with me, never has, likely never will.

So, all merry emotional hell has been breaking loose as a consequence of feeling somewhat untethered.  Which is ridiculous.  How can success make a person uneasy?  It’s daft.  I felt like a fool.  I’d met a target, a stretch target as we like to say at work, and yet I was managing feelings larger than before I started.

Anyway, with a sky’s the limit, no end in sight, don’t know how much is enough mind-set I wasn’t feeling very settled.  Until in walks a buddy called Sinead, who herself was hot on the heels of a friend called Mel.

When I was in a tailspin and worrying out loud “what if the roof falls off?”, Mel had quizzically looked at me and said “you have house insurance”.  I slapped my forehead, of course I have insurance, of course if there is a disaster at the home not of my doing and that I cannot fix myself I can rest well knowing we are covered.  It soothed my troubled heart.  That worked for a few days.

Then I went on to fretting on the topic of “how much is enough to have set aside and when do I need to have it by?” because bills have due dates, don’t you know!  I was and still am in a due date mentality.

After confiding in Sinead in the corridor at Church between classes (sorry, missus!) who had only congratulated us on getting to where we were, she came up with the plan of having an account with a specific goal or figure in mind, like £500 for example, and when that is achieved, that is full.  I’ll have done it, it would be completed.  Then open another goal with a slightly increased figure in mind, work toward that and when that reaches the pre-determined figure, I’ve succeeded in that too, and it is done.  Then do it again and so on.  Effectively, we cannot determine the future but we can set goals and work toward them and tick them off when they are completed.  Is this making any sense?  Add a finite factor to an infinite problem.

It had the immediate impact of settling my troubled heart.  How simple.  How insightful of her to realise I wasn’t faux-probleming and that this really was a big deal to my family.  To both these ladies I doff my hat and say thank you in writing as well as in person.  Complex worries had simple solutions, these ladies comprehended the worries and helped by suggesting ways through.  How beautifully hearted of them.  Aren’t they lovely?

I was told a few years ago that someone perceived me to be a Solution Oriented Optimist.  Someone who could see the genuine problem, review, decide, act and stay positive when possible and even stay positive when highly improbable but never deluded.  Their opinion of my was a surprise because I knew what went round in my head at pace to get to the Solution they saw in front of them.  I think this experience over the past couple of weeks has fallen in to this category, without my friends I couldn’t see the solution.  They helped me peep through the fog of worry.  A fog which was of my own making but real to me none the less.  A solution has been formatted and we are making great headway.  Thanks for listening while I got this out of my head and on to electronic paper so to speak.

Writing a book via Email.

How could I help her remember her roots and learn from others experiences? I decided to write a book just for her.

I email myself things I want to tell my daughter when she is grown… things I wish i’d known about how the world works. I have the intent of compiling a book for her for when she heads to University.  Hopefully she’ll take a few moments to browse the pages and be able to incorporate some of the things shared.

There is so much I wish I had known and stumbled upon this idea a few years ago. Not wanting my daughter to fall into the same trap of starting from scratch I came up with a way to pass down the things I learned through graduating from the school of hard knocks.  Things on budgeting, careers, prioritisation, staying very close to friends and paying particular attention to the quality of your girls who are friends, making time for oneself, becoming subject matter experts in things which she is passionate over and which are useful to the wider community, health, how much I love how she can work a room, how much I love how she notices the people who need someone to talk to, some memories of her before she can remember, how I found moving beyond my own wants and needs led to a happier life, a reminder of her childhood dreams and aspirations, some photos of her early artwork and some comments perhaps about her to me over the years from our nearests and dearests.

Whether she loves it or not, it has been a delight to compile over the years.  Emailing myself little memories or thoughts on the hoof, from anywhere in the world using my phone, helped me to gather a wide repository of items to share.  Even reading back over early entries at this point in time shows me how quickly we forget the little things which make a life.  There are entries on subjects and events which until prompted I had completely forgotten even though I was the author.

I have noticed that when I stop and notice the good things in life, I am more prone to continue noticing the good things.  This has been a blessing to my life as it helped me focus on someone other than myself and helped me look for the good.  There is a sense of enrichment.  It also fortifies me against the moments which chip away at happiness.  It is like the id says “this rubbish thing may well be happening, but look at this vast array of successes” as it throws its arms wide over all the collected moments.

So, as much as this has been for Missy to peruse at her convenience at some later date, it has become a talisman of goodness in my own life, right here and right now.  I am pleased I started and pleased that I didn’t think to myself “ah, she’s already 10 years old, it is too late”.  Transpired I remembered much of her little years when she was 10, and as we start to focus on adulthood there are things for which I want her to be positively aware.  It wasn’t too late.

 

The House # 3 – what happened next

We had the key to the house, Missy had 3 days booked at a residential course in Cambridge, we had the shock realisation that the rental house wasn’t packed as much as is required to move home.

Elbow grease.  That’s what was required from this point forth.  That, and money.  Lots and lots of money.  My purse is now filled with receipts from DIY stores.

So, the teen seemed to be emotionally stopped on packing her room.  That’s all that was required of her apart from picking up after herself.  She had to pack her room.  I saw dozens of rubbish bags exiting her little sanctuary but didn’t see many boxes making it to the move me pile.  What should have taken half a day ended up taking more than two weeks.  Whenever I go in her room it is a cause of contention.  We end up arguing so I tried to leave her to it.  In the end I found myself standing on the landing tersely pointing out that she was not fulfilling her end of the bargain, I was highly disappointed in her and she needed to pull her finger out or argument or not I would go in and sort the situation.  “But I’m deciding what to keep and what to throw”, “Decide Faster!!!”.

I dropped Missy at Cambridge, and then collected her and took the day to look around that beautiful city with her and my cousin Noele.  We had an amazing day.  The course was more than everything she’d ever dreamed of.  We needed some together time.

The house with the key needed emptying.  Debris everywhere, cupboards still full and unable to receive our personal effects.  So, every night after work and every morning before work, there I was emptying the house into my car to be taken to the recycling centre.  Walls needed scrubbing, floors needed scrubbing, every single surface needed scrubbing.

Every time I moved something in the house I found more mould.  Rather than being able to proceed, I would have to stop, strip the wall, apply mould remedy, wait, scrub, reapply, rewash, repaper, before I could get on with what I had intended to do before moving the item.  It was rather disheartening and time consuming.

I bought trade paint.  I thought “Tradesmen, they know what they’re doing, I’ll buy their paint” but it transpires that tradespeople do not buy trade paint because it is fit for very little.  What should have taken 2 coats took upwards of 4.

Missy had design ideas about her room including stripping the woodchip wallpaper, painting, and adding brick wallpaper as a feature wall.  Apart from me sneakily adding 4 coats of paint to her room while she was in Cambridge, and laying a carpet, she did the rest herself.  It looks great.

So, slowly the house began to change from dirty, mouldy, icky to a place where you could touch the paintwork, run your hand down the bannister, walk through a room and open a cupboard to find emptiness.

The helpers helped, during week 2 mum arrived and stayed over.  We hired gardeners to help tame the wildly overgrown hedge.  We’d cut it down to an appropriate width using heavy duty power tools but needed help topping it off and taking away the cuttings.  The gardeners also helped me to put the fence back up which had been pulled down.  The Mormon missionaries arrived and helped me change the roof of a shed, to re-board and re-tarp so that it was watertight.  I still have remedial work there fixing the back wall, but baby steps.

The skip filled, the cars filled over and over again.  One of the dogs my mum owns, a big floofy German Shepherd, slipped through the gate and took a walk through the neighbourhood causing much excitement among the local residents.  Appliances were delivered.  Things were starting to come together.  Now, to pack the old house and book a removal company.

But one thing at a time.

 

 

Cambridge University for 16 Year Olds

Missy is off for a 3 day residential course at Cambridge University, England tomorrow entitled Women in Science.  

She qualified to attend as 1 of 30 year 11 students which means the children are 15 and 16 years old.  In the acceptance letter the University stated thousands had applied and that they were excited to extend the offer. 

To qualify the candidate had to be female, getting fantastic grades in science, have chosen to study sciences in the next phase of education during A levels for the next two years, have a reference from a senior staff member at school and generally be an all round good egg who’s parent didn’t have the opportunity to attend University themself. 

As with all new experiences there are some small measure of jitters.  I told her it’s just like camp where we think we won’t get along with anyone but end up firm friends.

“Not this time, all these people are nerds”

“I hate to break it to you, Honey, but so are you!  Ha ha”

She jokes that if it goes squiffy she’ll head out on the razz because she’ll obviously be the cool one in the group.

“Honey, I am going out with my girlfriends, I will not collect you”

“No need, I’ll be on the razz, ain’t no stopping this razzzzzz, [insert heavy metal aaaarrrrgrgrg sound]”

She made me hoot laughing. 

Prepping: Water outage

I have a slippery landlord.  Very slippery.  Right now, with a cracked cistern in a 1 bath house and no water he is holding us hostage with the invoice to replace a poorly fitted, old and broken WC before they’ll replace and fix and turn the water back on.

For clarity, we officially have no piped water for sanitation, food prep or drinking.

We are impeccable tenants, we maintain the home, we hire window cleaners, we garden, we take in parcels for the neighbours, we pay the inflated rent on time every time.  In the dictionary where it lists “Model Perfect Tenant” there is a picture of me.

The idea that somebody could hold me hostage for water is shocking and despicable.  I have discovered that it takes  more than 30 litres a day to wash your body and to flush and to get one drink each.  30 LITRES!

What the landlord may or may not have been ready for is water storage.  We’re rationing like crazy but Mormons got the water storage thing going on a strong game.

So, who blinks first?  This is about to get interesting.

 

+++++++++++

5PM UPDATE:  We won!!! (so far, anyway)… without continuing to make a fuss the landlord replaced the equipment and turned the water back on while we were at work.  We discovered the great news upon returning home today.  I could hear the office maintenance guy rolling his eyes on the phone yesterday evening (eye rolling and “whatever” attitude is so loud) but all’s well that ends well and the showers and taps are now operational.  They apparently viewed my video this morning chatting about how the plumber had mentioned the cistern was not attached to the wall correctly and there was too much give and play which caused the crack and leak and were a little easier to deal with once their hostility subsided.  Me to them “In the nicest possible terms, we have no sanitation, could you confirm when we will have access to sanitation please?” was apparently a reason to become terse.  We won!!!