Hi Crabcakes, no dragging my Chesterfield anywhere, thank you very much. That image was taken from Anthropologie as the image of mine as per the Gumtree listing disappeared as soon as I agreed a price with the seller. The feet on mine are probably not as spiffy as the Anthro version, but thinking about it, it wouldn't be too hard to add spiffy feet if one was that way inclined. I'm very, very excited about getting it on Saturday although I shan't be on the pick up team I'll be at home herding small children so that husband and his friend can play at being removal/delivery men.
I patchworked like an absolute mofo today. I was the Samuel L Jackson of stitching. I have caught up with where I was before the great unpick plus an additional six hexagons have been added into the mix. I began the restoration job last night and am just finishing it up now, having started at 6.30am, with very few breaks through the day (my wrists are sorer than a teenage boy's).
B: yoghurt, walnuts, cashews, coffee
L: chicken, waldorf salad, tuna w/mayo, apple
D: small portion of lamb green curry, apple, walnuts
So, I still need to cut back on quantity, but quality is improving. No exercise except sewing. Also, important to note, day at home and no alcohol yesterday or today. A corner might just have been turned here and not a moment too soon as thighs and belly are noticeably larger than once they were. *Sigh* such is life.
B: two eggs scrambled in butter, bowl of chicken broth (homemade), coffee
L: tuna mayo with celery and cucumber
D: pork chop, carrots, spinach, two pineapple rings, three apple slices, handful of nuts
Patchwork and mourning for the loss of faith in our marriage continues apace. Even when it's good it's fragile and on the verge of fracturing (the marriage, the patchwork is surprisingly robust). I did this thing. Or, rather, I pointed out the elephant in the room and now all we can do is stare at it.
In other news, yay, Obama!
Last edited by badgergirl; 11-07-2012 at 01:00 AM. Reason: extra dinner
I did vote Obama four years ago (can you tell I am Independent?), and don't hate the guy at all, but am in the dumps that my man didn't make it. This county voted Romney by a decent margin. But for good news - the county citizens voted to renew the operating levy for Third's special-needs school, so it stays open! BIGGEST YAY!
I got a charge out of listening to German radio stations cover the election last night - there is nothing like listening to a foreign news service describe the US to their respective listeners. Love doing that with BBC, too.
My favourite news sources are The Guardian and the BBC World Service/Radio 4 (accessed via internet radio, here), though I also read The Telegraph (UK, rabid rightwing) the Daily Mail (ditto, but downmarket), The Age (Aussie rag) and The New Yorker. But even if my news sources weren't left-leaning (and The Guardian definitely is) instinctively, I'm somewhere to the left of Lenin. If I need to lodge a protest vote (as I did last time I voted - in Camden, a Labour stronghold) I'll vote lunatic fringe leftie rather than move to the centre/right. Call me an idealist, but healthcare should be free at the point of delivery, the state should protect and support those in need and taxes should work to redistribute wealth and, more importantly, access to opportunity so that society is fairer and more homogenous in terms of social mobility (which creates social cohesion). I love the US. Love it. Would dearly, dearly love to live in either the Pacific Northwest or New England. I adore America, but the disparity between the haves and have nots is horrific. To be white and educated is to be privileged and I can see that in just about every social interaction that I have at home and abroad. I would like to see that change in my lifetime. Also, Romney's attitudes to women and their medical needs? I cannot believe that we are still having these discussions.
Clearly, not my country, not my vote. However, I think for the world (and I say this as someone who finds the kill list morally repugnant) Obama was the better option.
Meanwhile, back in Blighty, one of my favourite columnists says it better than I ever could (my emphasis) - that's why she earns money for her writing and I don't:
Slavery presents an interesting contrast. As tortuous as the route was to ending it, once society had coalesced around this idea that nobody could belong to anybody else, the matter was settled. This doesn't mean it never happens – in fact cases come up surprisingly often – but at least we don't have to have the argument again about whether or not it's wrong. There was a single, simple moral precept at the core of it – that all people are born free – and once that was established, people stopped saying "what's this going to do for business?", and "but all the slave owners will just move to Switzerland!". They simply adjusted to a new reality.
The equivalent precept, just as simple, is that all people are born equal. Taken to any logical conclusion, this would make it impossible for one person's wages to be 185 times another's (this is the current, depressing ratio between a FTSE 100 chief executive and average earnings, according to the One Society's half-term report on inequality under the coalition: a precis if you're busy – it has increased). It would make it impossible for gross domestic product to grow while the poorest third of households saw their incomes stagnate (this has happened in the United States since the 1970s; in the UK, the "trickle-down" stopped working in 2003).
It's puzzling to me how often we end up arguing for equality on the basis of outcomes – because unequal societies inherently have more problems – rather than principle: that if we were born equal, one person fetching up in adulthood worth 185 times what everybody else is worth makes no sense.
Last edited by badgergirl; 11-08-2012 at 01:46 AM.
I understand. I have seen both sides - right now I have access to any healthcare I want (in addition to that which I need), but it wasn't always that way: I grew up in a government-subsidized apartment, with the government medical card, public schooling, and free lunches at school, and my parents got checks as their cash, and so on. And then I went to live in Germany for 8 years on my own and saw the German (as it was in the mid 1980's to mid 1990's) system of public benefits - and I benefitted from that, too, even while I was a foreign citizen!. So I have actually lived both ends of it.
Now I am facing, slowly, a life of supporting Third, which will make hubby and I think and feel and solve problems in ways yet unknown to us, and I see how the families of adult-severely affected special-needs folks manage (or not) around here.
And I have seen how hubby has worked his ass off to get where he is today, and I remember how my own father (sucking down government benefits all the while) was simply a lazy shit and let my mother do the heavy lifting to move him off benefits because she is a proud woman and while grateful for the needed help, wouldn't take one more cent than necessary (and HE was the American while my mom still has German citizenship).
I have now been involved with two different types of churches, both of which I love dearly: one very, very conservative, and now one very, very lefty. They both have points in their favor.
I don't have problems with the social end of stuff, just the amount and degree and delivery style, and I ruminate much on these issues.
If I am pissed at the offerings at the polls, I vote Libertarian Party.
And I would write more, but is just past the time I should be getting Third up for another school day... so until soon, badger!
B: roast chicken portion, skin on; walnut; coffee
S: champagne (vale for leaving head honcho)
D: roast beef, carrots, sprouts; cheese; 0.6 bottle red wine
A hundred stories told over ten years or just one, told by two, and then three, voices? Today is our wedding anniversary. Ten years.
Here's how we met:
I was an early adopter of internet dating, back when the internet was shiny and new as I wanted to date, not meet sleazy drunks in bars. I went through a few cycles of dating guys met through the site, but one guy's emails made my heart beat faster than any other had and, after a month of emails and hour-long phone calls, I met the animator for the first time. I knew I had to meet him to dispell all of my fevered imaginings about how wonderful he was. His witty, sensitive emails had set an impossibly high standard. Then those long, long phone calls where neither of us had wanted to hang up even though it was one in the morning - we were too busy discussing art or theatre or my work or his...we had lots in common, but also so much of our experiences were new to each other - those phone calls were the animator's voice was soft and his laugh hearty had me thinking impossible thoughts. I had to meet him. We arranged to meet at Angel Station. So that we'd recognise each other I said I'd wear my devil horns (bought for a halloween costume) he said he'd wear antlers. Improbably, I'd imagined that these would be Herne the Hunter-esque; in hindsight, I realise this says more about the workings of my unconscious than I care to admit. In fact the animator was wearing novelty fluffy reindeer horns, bless.
We repaired to a nearby pub and then on to The Old Red Lion pub/theatre to have another drink and see the animator's colleague in an am-dram production. The attraction wasn't instantaneous. I remember looking at him very carefully after the second drink thinking: right then, I'd better work out whether or not I fancy him before I get drunk; but if I don't then I'd better be sure because I'm probably passing up the chance of a lifetime, he's wonderful.
After the play we went to a noodle bar for dinner and a bottle of wine. Half way through I helped myself to another brimming glass, only to remember my manners and fill his glass to spilling point too. Apparently, it was at this point that the animator decided that yes he really liked me; to this day I don't understand why.
Neither of us wanted the evening to end and a lost minicab driver and the offer of a bottle of vodka conspired to ensure that he came home with me, even though it was a school night. We slept, yes really. Got up the next day, Friday, and went bleary-eyed to our respective offices. We saw each other again on Saturday, then the following Monday. Within two weeks the animator told me he loved me: around 11 at night, while we sat waiting for a tube at Piccadilly Circus, northbound Bakerloo line platform. Within three months we were living together; eighteen months after we first met we were married.
Not quite a whirlwind, but close enough.
I wrote this on the advent of the fifth anniversary of our meeting:
I was sitting in a north London pub opposite you. I gave myself a stern talking to Ė be sure: be sure before you drink any more and certainty becomes proportional to blood-alcohol levels. So, perhaps your recollections of me being stony faced and silent arenít too far from the truth. You see I had already half fallen for you, as silly as I knew that was. I donít talk on the phone easily to people I donít know well, yet we talked for hours. I donít like staying up late on a school night, but I gladly talked to you until the Cinderella hour. I needed to burst my bubble. I needed to wake up from my dream, I told myself. I needed to meet you. So I stared at you intently, weighed every word you said, looked for cracks.
And then? Well, somewhere between the second and third pint I relaxed and decided to just ride the wave. The play we saw was beyond strange and the acting was terrible. Oddly, that helped us make the date a success, I think. And when it was over and neither of us wanted the date to be over so we went for dinner.
Your misstep of choosing a chain restaurant was swiftly followed by mine Ė filling my own wine glass to the brim, remembering my manners (such as they were) and filling yours until the wine spilt. Somehow these mishaps were endearing. In fact, months later, you told me it was then that you were sure about me. I relaxed.
We got a minicab, but the driver had no clue where he was going and in the muddle I realised we were closer to my house than yours and so it was that the evening continued into morning Ė with tumblers full of Black Label Smirnoff that we both had the wisdom to leave undrunk. Wrapped in your arms, I slept fitfully until it was time to head to work.
E-mail followed during the day as I knew it would, never fearing that kissing you goodbye on the Bakerloo line train would be our last kiss. I returned home that evening to discover your silver chain and pendants wrapped around my bedpost. But I had only the faintest idea that your fingers were already entwined around my heart.
We look young in the photos taken just a month or two later on the Isle of Wight. Facing the camera head on we already seem so certain. I know I was. Of course life or fate or whatever you want to call it had some nasty surprises for us. It hasnít been easy, has it? But I wouldnít swap any of it for not having met you.
Hereís to reaching double figures.
And here we are. Eleven years together, ten married and a nearly five-year-old child. On the other side of the world. When I remember those certainties I feel a little like crying for our loss of faith. It's been such a very hard, uphill road. Here's to ten more years. Downhill all the way, please.
A good weekend for family, relationship and my new sideline project, but a bad weekend for primleo eating. I've gone into mini-business making cakes for co-workers and friends. It's minimally profitable, but it does involve a bit of tasting. I'm fasting today to get clean of all the sugary nonsense.
Sofa is in place and has already transformed our family togetherness, albeit I sprawl on the sofa and the husband prefers the remaining armchair and declares my new best friend, Chester Field, to be hard and lumpy. 'Fie!' Say I, 'look at the beauty.' Husband admits that Mr Field is a very handsome specimen.
Hooray for family togetherness.
Annie's Primal Highlights
What Annie Did Next
B: chicken bone broth, coffee
D: small bowl of beef daube (tomato, carrot, onion, garlic, red wine); dried fruit - pear, apricots; stilton
Exercise - not much. Walked for an hour all up.
Cake orders are coming in thick and fast. A surprise!