I need to make a blue stripey quilt. That's a painting, not a quilt (via apartment therapy long, long ago).
This wallpaper would look wonderful on the wall at the head of my bed. I think it's from Laura Ashley, who's no where near as prissy as she used to be.
Then there's this, a quilt I've made specifically to sell, but I'm not having much luck so far. Must try harder. Not that I'll mind if I have to hang it on a wall around here, because I'm a bit in love with it. It's raining, so the planned garden blitz isn't going to happen today. Instead I am off to try to excavate enough bare space in Jack's room so I can get ready to paint it. It's going to be black and white, with a few natural timber accents, and (one fine day), a neutral carpet. No other colour allowed, because that's the way he wants it. What colour makes you happy?
It's like this. I don't think I am looking after myself very well. Not well enough. Are you?
As much as I tell myself the numbers don't matter, the simple fact is that I am overweight. I know lots of you don't own scales, don't want to buy into the whole diet fiasco and blah blah blah...but let's face it, the best, easiest measurement is the bathroom scales.
When I bought my wetsuit 4 years ago, I weighed 75 kilos. I know this becos the (terribly charming) shop guy weighed me to help him figure out which one and which size to sell me. I was surprised by what was/is a low number. The wetsuit still fits me and I love it dearly. Never mind the fact that I look bloody awful in it!
I want to weigh less. Largely for the good of my heart, although past experience shows my weight hasn't had much effect on the scary blood pressure numbers, it surely must contribute. Part of my weight gain is about changed medication, but really, I want to get myself under control. Health is my major motivation, but there's no denying I'll look better too if I weigh less. I'm reasonably fit, I swim at least 3 hours a week, and I spend at least another 3 or 4 hours toiling away in my diy madness and making my garden manageable. I'm trying to make myself walk up the steep hill to home more often. Seems to me I need to eat better. Less refined carbs and much less sugar.
Anyway, I don't want to turn this into a weight loss blog, but my theory is that if I make the commitment here, and I report in every weekend, then I will have your support and I'll be motivated because I know you're watching. Easy, right??
I've been delaying posting this cos I want to post a graph recording my progress, but geez, that isn't easy with dear old blogger! So here're the stats. So far so good.
14 November 83.5 kg 7 November 84.2 kg 31 October 85.? kg
I can now count a handful of people I have cared about, who have died, in their forties, of cancer.
They were all parents. One of them wrote in a letter to everyone she had to leave behind, that although she didn't know what happened when you died, she intended to be in her childrens lives forever. It has been my pleasure to talk about some of these people with their children, and to tell them stories about their Mum or their Dad. There's a garden seat at the local school that I cannot walk past without giving it a pat, because I spent a lot of time sitting there one year, first with A, then with J, who both made supreme efforts to be there to pick up their kids at the end of the school day, for as long as they possibly could. Without exception, their children and their partners have, on the whole, thrived. Maybe suffering really does make you stronger.
None of these people were heavy drinkers, they were active, none of them smoked, including the lovely man who died of lung cancer. None of these people were careless of their health as AOF puts it so well. I have decided I must take a little more care with mine. I shall talk about that with you at the weekend.
Meanwhile there are little bloggy tributes moving me to tears all over the place, and Facebook is temporarily unbearable, because last week, the Editter died. I shall remember always her big beautiful heartfelt grin, her knack of making you feel important, and her story telling. I hope my path crosses with that of her gorgeous baby boy as he grows so I can tell him that too, but I have no doubt that he will know how loved she was, and how very much missed. Cesca has a lovely post with great pictures, and so does Martha. Cesca, I'm going to look you up next time I'm in Christchurch.
I have hung a picture of you and your boy above my desk dear Editter, to remind me, life is good and must be appreciated.
So meantime, could the rest of you kindly take care, keep well, okay?
and go tell someone this....(I can't find a good clip of Van the mans version, but this is a goody, though I like it better if I don't have to look at Rod!!)
I need to make a blue stripey quilt. That's a painting, not a quilt (via apartment therapy long, long ago).
This wallpaper would look wonderful on the wall at the head of my bed. I think it's from Laura Ashley, who's no where near as prissy as she used to be.
It's raining, so the planned garden blitz isn't going to happen today. Instead I am off to try to excavate enough bare space in Jack's room so I can get ready to paint it. It's going to be black and white, with a few natural timber accents, and (one fine day), a neutral carpet. No other colour allowed, because that's the way he wants it.
