It’s ALL good

My philosophy on luck is well publicised. I believe that to a large degree you make your own. I’m not religious, I don’t have a well established idea of karma or in fact of any greater power at all. But I do believe that in order to make the world go around, you need to do the best that you can by other people. And in return, you deserve their best.

But even taking all of that into account, it can’t be denied that we all experience luck, whether good or bad, in some form, sometimes. It occurred to me this morning that I seem to have way more than my fair share. We don’t celebrate Thanksgiving in this country, which seems a bit sad to me. It is the one holiday that still seems completely relevant. So I’ve been thinking on the things that I’m thankful for.

I was born into a tight, supportive family. I live in a country where we don’t have regular catastrophic natural disasters. We don’t have war or political unrest. We aren’t a terrorist target (that we know of). Our weather is mild and our standard of living is great.

I was born with both legs and to date I have managed to keep them. I suffer no physical disability and have never had any mental health issues. Even my seizures are easily controlled with medication.

I am as fit as I’ve ever been and I’ve always maintained a relatively good level of health. I have never had to worry about money and I have the financial means to do what I want within reason. I have more friends than I can count and the people that I love, love me back.

I have a job that challenges me, I run my own company which is becoming successful faster than I imagined it would and with very little effort, I own an amazing home, I have a happy marriage to a man who treats me with respect.

Bloody hell. This is just getting ridiculous. I think I’ve made my point.

I’m happy to be alive. 

Hunting down the miniature pony

There is this $%*&#! at work that I am thinking about tripping down the stairs. It would be entertaining because she wears a lot of inappropriate clothing. Head to toe animal print spandex and the like. Actually, perhaps it would be more entertaining to hunt her down.

She is a secretary. Well, an ‘executive assistant’.  She is one of those people that behaves like she runs the company, when in fact she weilds about as much power as a miniature pony. While I am aware that I am possibly behaving like as much of a bitch as I’m accusing her of being, this anger is not without provocation.

3 or 4 times a year the company that I work for holds Communication Meetings, where the GM drones for half an hour about sales and figures, and then everyone gets stuck into pizza and beer. They are notoriously boring, but we are obliged to go. On Monday we received an email from the wild animal announcing that the meeting was yesterday. Two days notice. I replied to her email, politely and civilly, explaining that I could very rarely make a meeting outside of work hours with less than a weeks notice and that I suspected there would be many other people in the same position.

Rather than replying to me she formally complained to my manager’s manager! I don’t know what grounds she complained on, because I sure as hell didn’t do anything wrong. What is it with some people?

Interestingly, she seems to have had it in for me ever since she asked me what diet pills I was taking and I laughed at her. I thought she was joking. Apparently not. She then spread a rumour around the company that I was importing them.

I am probably reacting rather strongly to a very small deal. I suppose it has something to do with my general dislike for people that don’t man up and confront a situation, but instead choose to try and cause trouble where it just isn’t necessary. I feel a lot better now that I’ve childishly called her names and put her down. That doesn’t mean that she’s off the hook though.

Let the hunt begin.

Well dressed dogs

I have this thing about animal clothes. There is something inherently cruel about putting clothes on animals and then laughing at them, but holy hell is it hilarious. I’m not sure how people come up with some of the animal outfits you can get, or why they would want to, for that matter, but boy is it brilliant.

It is well known that I’m not a dog person. I’m not going to start in on that. I would concede to getting a dog if it was small enough to wear outfits though. (And if it didn’t smell, so realistically it’s never going to happen.) I’ve actually considered putting them on the cats, but Shaun has vetoed it. We used to live with my best friend a few years back. He has a cat called Sid that used to show off at parties. It was my plan to secretly dress him up one day while we were all just sitting around watching TV and then when he came out I was going to say “Hey Sid, there’s no need to dress up on our account.” It was one of those plans which never actually came to fruition though.

I have friends that have two dogs. They both have long coats so are not the perfect kind of dressing up dog, but they suffice. Their dogs have lots of outfits. They also have matching bling. I wouldn’t be doing that to my dress up dog. It’d only be wearing little hoodies and things. I wouldn’t want it getting laughed at. Anyway, last night we were around at the house of the friends with two dogs and one of them (the dogs, not the people) came out in a bikini.

What the hell was it thinking? It’s not summer yet.


Some crazy, crazy things are happening here and it’s not even a full moon. (Not that I’m one of those people that thinks things go weird when there are full moons, or the wind comes from a certain direction, or whatever…)

I first became aware of the weirdness last night while I was watching the news. Apparently there is some sort of terrorism organisation that has set up camp in the middle of the country. That may not seem strange in some countries, but it most certainly is here. People were arrested after police raids yesterday which uncovered paramilitary gear, including weaponry. I thought it was some sort of April Fools Joke which took a while to execute. But no. It’s true. Apparently they set off a napalm bomb in the middle of the Urewera ranges. Holy hell. That scares the bejeezus out of me (what the hell is bejeezus anyway?). On a slightly more entertaining note, they claim to be peace activists. Someone ought to tell them that they have their wires crossed.

I wish I could say that the weirdness stopped there, but no. I was driving back from Youthline later last night to discover that the council have installed traffic lights at the end of my motorway off ramp. What the hell? That’s outrageous! Not only has there never been any kind of traffic congestion there in the 15 years that I’ve been driving that route, but now the traffic is going to queue up down the ramp, conceivably causing all sorts of strife! And it doesn’t stop there either. Oooooh no. There is another set of lights just around the corner! Don’t they realise they are going to add at least 30 seconds to my trip home?

Whilst I was on that fateful drive, I got a text from a friend saying that she had just had her baby. It’s not due for a month, but was born healthy, which is wonderful. The reason I mention it is because she just finished work on Friday and was looking forward to 4 or 5 weeks of relaxation before her life changed forever. Bummer. I raised the idea with Shaun on the weekend. Needless to say, he wasn’t quite as excited about it as I was. He tried to negotiate me down to 4 weeks but I wouldn’t have a bar of it. It’s set in stone. I’ll just have to keep my legs crossed so it doesn’t come early.

I guess I should uncross them for a while first or there’s not going to be a baby to keep in.

The authority

I’ve always been a fairly argumentative person. I was on the debate team at school and it’s fair to say that I like to make sure that I get my point across. Lately though, I have noticed that I’m doing it more than usual. And not always in a good way. OK, pretty much never in a good way. And perhaps it’s not more than usual. Maybe I’ve only just started to notice it.

I’ve become more sensitive to a few of my personality quirks (I choose not to think of them as flaws) of late. I’m not sure if it’s because the world is a whole lot clearer when you’re seeing it out of the eyes of someone that is trying to bring a child into it, or if it was always going to happen when I started slowing down. Someone who’s opinions I respect greatly said to me last week that if you live your life fast, the only things you can really relate to are those that are moving at the same speed. Perhaps now that I’m slowing down I have time to see things for what they actually are.

So anyway, back to the argumentative thing. I have heard myself doing something that I hate hearing other people do. Talking like an authority on something that I nothing more about than what I have read in the papers. Having previously been very close to a situation that was badly misrepresented in the media, and having seen the damage that it can do, I should know better.

A couple of weekends ago when I was down country with my family, we were having lunch and I did nothing but debate every point that every person made. Talk about annoying! I don’t know what had gotten into me. It wasn’t deliberate, I guess I just had an opinion on everything. I’m glad I was just with my family. I would hate to think of the impression I would have made on someone that had met me for the first time!

So this week my personal goal is to reign it in a bit. I always think before I speak, but perhaps I need to think about speaking at all.

Racing hearts.

Yesterday I moved into the next stage of this preparing for pregnancy business. I’ve done the detoxing, I’m living the clean life, I’m eating a perfectly balanced diet, now all that’s left is cutting back my committments and sorting out my exercise.

So I’m working on the exercise. The nutritionist has suggested that I need to cut back on both the frequency and intensity of my workouts. During pregnancy you should apparently exercise so that your heartrate doesn’t exceed 140 bpm. What. The. Hell? That’s not exercise! I might as well take up golf!

So I got myself a heart rate monitor. I sought solace in the fact that my resting HR is 45. I figured that meant I should have a bigger buffer zone than the average person. With great trepidation I wore it to Step yesterday.  It has a little beeping alarm that goes off if I exceed the limit. That went off during the warmup. Great. Not a good start. By the end of the first cardio track my HR was up over 180. It’s fair to say that I tend to exercise pretty well up in the fitness zone. None of this fat burning zone rubbish for me.

So I backed things off a bit. Well, more than a bit actually. There was no jumping, no swinging arms and no leaving the ground. It was more like walking on the spot really. Every time the music cranked up I’d get excited and do a couple of leaps, and that bastard of an alarm would go off. The incessant beeping from the middle of the room was clearly starting to bug some people. I was one of them.

The thing that was freaking me out the most was what was going to happen at boxing. Obviously sparring is out, as is kickboxing, but I was hoping that technique and bagwork might be ok. And I was right. Oh glory day! It was a miracle. Provided I did squats instead of squat jumps, and punched like a normal person, rather than someone possessed by a demon, I was able to keep my heart within the dreaded 120-140. All is not lost.

From what I read (and I’ve been doing a lot), exercise when pregant is hugely beneficial for both mother and baby. I guess it’s just a case of rediscovering your limits. I’ve even decided to take up a yoga class.

What the hell are these hormones doing to me?

High horses.

I have been really affected by one of the comments relating to yesterday’s post. I was initially filled with rage and indignation. I couldn’t believe what I was reading. I responded angrily, although it was a very toned down version of what I felt like saying. I then went away and spent the rest of the night thinking on why it was that I felt so outraged. I still do.

I guess I should say that I don’t mean this to be some sort of attack at the person that made the comment. I accept that by publishing the details of my life on the internet for all to scrutinise, I have forgone my right to expect others not to judge me, but never did I expect such a full on charge from the high horse brigade!

There are two things that are bugging me about this situation. The first is that I am shocked at how badly misread I have been. The commenter painted me as some kind of junkie with OCD who has spent my life paddling to keep my head above water. I wonder whether it is a common misconception borne from the way that I write, or if most of my readers see my dialogue for what it is – a lighthearted insight into the life of someone that simply likes to have fun.

The second is the fact that it felt like a thinly veiled insult directed at my parents and the job that they did with my upbringing. Even if I was one of those people that questioned some of the decisions that my parents made I would be pissed at someone that didn’t know them passing judgement, but as it turns out, I’m not. I have said before that my mother has asked me on occasion if there is anything that I will do differently when I am a parent and that I have told her honestly that I can’t think of something.

I am aware of the consequences of the choices that I have made and I wouldn’t make them differently given the opportunity. I pack as much as I can into my life. It’s such a precious commodity that could be taken away from us at any time, so I want to try everything that it has to offer. My parents equipped me with the intelligence to make those choices, the strength to survive them, and the ability to form a strong support network to help me up when I fall.

So in answer to your question commenter, when you ask if I can honestly say I would want to raise my children the way they did theirs?

Yes. They should be so lucky.