I know. I am as astounded as you are.
You'll fall off your chair when I admit that I haven't lost half a stone or finished my Christmas shopping either.
At the beginning of the month I fudged a couple of the dates so it looked like I'd blogged every day. I hadn't. Phew. Glad to get that off my concience.
Actually, my subconcious must be a little troubled, because last night I had a vivid dream in which I was sitting at my laptop trying desparately to think of an aspect of my life I hadn't blogged about before the timer ran out and it was too late. I was hit with inspiration when it occured to me that I'd not yet mentioned that my tabloid celebrity husband had just admitted he was an alcoholic and had joined AA, intending to sell the story to Hello! My dream blog readers get to feast, while you guys get the scraps from their table.
Just got in today and went to the Expo.
Here is a photo of some of our free stuff/swag. Met some really great people, and saw really awesome stuff! They had a display of Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland Maquettes. I couldn't photograph them, but they were amazing!!!!
Got to meetup with the girls @ GirlsDrawin'Girls, chatted a little with Damon Bard (whom I think is stalking me, or am I stalking him? We keep running into each other!). Damon Bard is the gentleman who did the maquettes for Coraline. REALLY GREAT STUFF! Go support his work!!!!
There are more photos and people to list, but I'll do that later.
Having a great time in L.A.!!!
XOXO
All Images are Copyright CJM 2009
All Rights Reserved
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So this morning I was doing my usual eat breakfast, read the news and then research stuff for work. Then I stumble upon some interesting information. I find out that someone I used to know very well worked on a game that my husband is currently playing. Not that this is very interesting to other people, but this particular person I was very close to for a very long time. I do admit that I am very happy one of their dreams of working on game music finally came true.
I then started to think about all the other people I used to know, and I began wondering what they were doing. Not just random people but close friends I lost touch with, people I used to go to school with and etc. I guess that is what Myspace and Facebook is for. All my classmates are now scattered all over the world and the internet is slowly bringing us back together. Many people look the same, but are obviously a little more worldly. I can't also help feel a little jealous because well, for example one of my best friends Heather lives across the country and I don't talk to her at all now. Before we use to talk at least every month and see each other once a year. I get a random text a couple weeks ago with a message saying she is now engaged. In shock I text back, "WHAT????" I think back and wonder if she got my text or if she didn't like my response since i haven't heard back from her since. I worry, but I know she can take care of herself.
People do change and move on, but it is nice to know that some of them are still pursuing their dreams and are happy.
It takes about 40 minutes to drive to Sprog's nursery. On a good day with no traffic (ha!) you might zoom there in 20 minutes with a bit of luck and a following wind. On bad days it has taken me as long as an hour and 10 minutes, one way.
There are closer nurseries, but none of the closer ones will let her go part time. By the grand old age of 3 they are expected to go every day or they will fall behind. Dubai schools take academia very seriously. Homework is routine from the age of 3. My friend's 4-year-old arrived home with a stern note explaining that she was not up to scratch in her scissor usage, and a pile of 'cutting' homework to bring her up to speed. Another friend's 3 year old brought home her end of year report which advised she ought to work on her 'standing on one leg, and also hopping skills' over the summer.
So Sprog goes to a lovely nursery with an enormous shaded garden, where they are happy for her to go three mornings a week. In her class of 15 children there is a teacher, a teaching assistant and a nanny (the alternative at closer nurseries and schools are classes of 30 with only 2 teachers.) They do much the same thing as she would be doing at school - letters and numbers and colouring and cutting and painting and sticking. They also do splashing in the paddling pools twice a week, and have a discovery room where they do cooking and science experiments.
I wish it were closer. We are considering moving closer to the nursery if we stay in Dubai.
The biggest problem with the drive is Wilfie. At least Sprog only goes one way, and is happy to read and chat and play guessing games, and is cheerful because she adores nursery so is happy to make the trip. Poor Wilf hates his car seat with a fury. He screams to be put in it. He screams to be stuck in unmoving traffic. He screams when he is briefly released from the dreaded car seat only to be whisked past all the fun nursery toys, instructed to wave goodbye to his beloved big sis, and whisked out again, no you can't play with that, get back into your carseat. Poor lad. And now it's time to pick her up so we'll do it all again.
It got so bad that I employed a babysitter to come to my house and play with Wilfie, take him to the park, give him his breakfast, that sort of thing. Florie is a lovely lady, used to dealing with children, and she lives locally. Wilfie took grave exception to being left with a babysitter. In fact, he decided that the only thing he could possibly hate more than spending nearly four hours a day in the car, is being taken to the park on his bicycle with the lovely Florie. We very quickly reached a point where Florie would arrive and Wilfred would greet her by flinging himself to the floor wailing and writhing in anguish. Wilfred is not an obliging child.
I apologised to Florie and said that although she had done nothing wrong, and I truly didn't suspect her of beating my child as soon as my back was turned, it wasn't working out. Florie agreed, but casting a doubtful eye around the sty that is my home suggested that she come and work for me as a cleaner instead.
She did, and continues to do so. I love Florie.
Wilfred still hates his trips to and from nursery.
I have arranged a car pool for one of the days so now there are only two nursery days to cope with. We car pool with a rather gentle little boy and his over protective mother. The little boy talks solemnly about cars and trucks and diggers and buses. Sprog is not impressed. I must admit that even I have lost some of my initial enthusiasm for identifying every vehicle we pass. One morning we told scary stories, but the little boy's mother asked us to change the subject as the little boy doesn't care for scary things, so back to DHL vans and bendy buses. Little boy's mother was rather tight lipped on delivering Sprog back to me this afternoon. Apparently they had been playing 'making funny sounds' and the little boy took exception to Sprog copying his funny sound. Sprog evidently took it and ran with it, ending in the little boy wailing in distress, his mother begging her to stop, and Sprog flatly refusing to stop making 'his' noise, all the way home.
I suppose it made a change from Wilfie wailing.
Time for another Holiday Blythe meet!
We're planning on having it on DEC 19th 2009, 11:30-4pm (I think) With Henry's awesome friend hosting @ her event space.
TIB: www.thisisblythe.com/newforum/viewtopic.php?t=102584
FB: www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=167181069218
Please confirm at one of these sites.
Thank you and hope to see you there!
XOXO
-Cat
It is the evening of my girls' night in. Today I have had cancellation after cancellation after cancellation.
Of the 13 people I invited, four are coming.
Of those four...
S can only stay for an hour
C can't arrive until late (and I suspect won't come at all)
P I have already seen at a coffee morning and then a birthday party today.
D will shortly arrive looking lovely and be surprised to learn that she alone makes up 50% of the party for most of the evening.
I feel somewhat deflated.
On my way to the supermarket, some idiot pulled out in front of me causing me to brake quite hard. Well, fairly hard anyway. I spread my arms wide, palms to the ceiling in a grand universal gesture of "what the fuck??!"
The moron driving sort of waved and smiled and continued to creep out.
Cheeky bugger! thought I. And I edged forward towards his car, gesturing with one open palm to indicate that
(a) I thought he was a moron
(b) His crap driving had caused me to come to a complete stop
Again he smiled, even laughed a bit, and I rolled my eyes crossly and shook my head in disbelief and waved again as if to say "well you've gone this far, you might as well get on with it and stop blocking the road, idiot".
And as he drove off, still smiling and waving at my unimpressed glare, I thought "hey, I wonder why that idiot has gont Priya in the back of his car?" and then I thought...
...
...
... with sinking realisation...
...
...
...
"Ooooooh no nononono! Oh god no, that was the absolutely lovely husband of my dear friend J."
I could die.
- Come on you wretched pair!
- I'm not a wretched pear Mummy... I'm a manky mango. And Wilfie is a naughty little pineapple.
Today is my dad's birthday. At 79, he has been through so much and he still has something important to say. If you've met my father, you know that he is a big people person. He isn't biased and has always been the most easy-going, fair, man that anyone would know. He will also talk to anyone. Even if you aren't paying attention, he'll still talk to you!
To continue, my dad is the most fascinating person. Not that I know very many people, but he has so much to say and so much wisdom behind it. People can sense that my dad has experienced so much. To note, when he was young, he went through WWII. He would tell me stories of his family coping and what he did see and hear to survive. As a young boy you can only imagine how this type of experience would affect him. Thankfully it only made him a stronger person for his future family.
He was always there for his family and friends. He would work hard, be home for the holidays and special events, and be readily available to give his advice/support to help people in time of need. I truly began to know who my father was when our house caught on fire in an accident. This fire caused 3rd degree burns on some of his body while he was trying to save us. Immediately, our friends and family came together to support him. I never knew how much people respected my dad till that day. They all had stories to share and how they wouldn't be there right now if it weren't for him.
I am so terribly grateful that such a person raised me. My humor, my sensibilities, and even my artistic ability I would credit to my dad. He taught me math with chewing gum, he showed me how to build giant lantern stars for the holidays, the proper way to write and to draw, to understand others without bias and so much more. If I listed every single thing my father has instilled in me, I would have to write my own autobiography.
What's the first exhibit you visit at the zoo?
You, ya big monkey!
