Twitter test

I spent a fair amount of time earlier trying to get my blog to automatically post on Twitter. I thought is was being a bit dim, but the Giraffe has just had a look and it all seems to be set up properly.

So this is a test to see if it works.

Fingers crossed!

The Wedding of the Year

In case you didn’t know already TWOTY (The Wedding of the Year) takes place on Sunday. SD and TOW* will (finally) be joined in holy matrimony in the University Chapel. Isn’t that lovely? (Excuse me while I go and throw up somewhere.)

There is much I could say about the upcoming celebrations, but lets just leave it with me saying that I find it odd his second wedding will far outshine his first. And his first wasn’t exactly a low key affair. You’d think he’d have learnt how vacuous and what a waste of money the whole show really is and getting married in a church is rather offensive to religious people if you are not in the slightest bit religious yourselves. But it’s nicer than a registry office, so that’s ok. This sounds like I’m bitter. I’m truly not.

The one thing about the day that I’m struggling with is the fact that Nuggs is going to have this amazing adventure, have so much fun and be adored by everyone there. And I’ll not be part of it. I’ll not be there to see my baby shine. To watch her twirl away the day in her (I’m assured) beautiful dress. To take credit for her excellent (ha!) behaviour and her exemplary manners. To dance with her and muck around and generally be part of what I’m sure will be one of the most memorable days of her life so far. And a day I know she’s going to talk about for a long time to come.

I hate it.

TOW has just sent me a text (the first one ever! – she had to tell me it was her because I’ve never been given her number before) to make sure SD had told me we were “more than welcome to come along to see Nuggs arriving at the church”. Part of me would love to go just to see her, but that part is vastly outweighed by the rest of me screaming “NO”. I can’t begin to imagine how awkward it would be with her and all her family and then Giraffe and I standing there, sticking out like sore thumbs. I don’t think it would be good for Nuggs either. She’d see us there and want us to be part of it all. She’s too young yet to understand why that wouldn’t happen.

I’ve never been one for crowding her, or for being sentimental about things like this. But the older she gets, the more I realise that this is a part of her life I will never be included in. That time with her Dad and TOW is something I’ll never be able to touch. I know it’s not much different to her life at school that I never see, or the time she spends at whatever clubs she goes to. But somehow this is different. This is family life. Family life that wasn’t meant to turn out this way when we decided we were ready to have a baby.

Do I wish he hadn’t done what he did way back then? Absolutely not. I’m glad he did. He could have gone about things in a better way, but if he wasn’t happy in the marriage (neither of us really were) then I’m glad he didn’t stick around. My life has turned out a million times better than it ever could have with him. I’m happier, more secure (emotionally and financially), more loved and a much better person in this life I have now.

It’s one of those inexplicable situations where I simultaneously wish I’d never met him, but am glad I did. Without him there would be no Nuggs. That’s unthinkable (well, most of the time anyway. Maybe not at 6.15 on a Saturday morning…). I also sometimes (quite often) wish he was one of those Dads who leaves and doesn’t ever really look back. Life would be so much more simple. But that would also be very unfair on Nuggs, so I mostly glad he didn’t do that. Instead, we have a situation where he sees her as much as he thinks he can, she doesn’t think she sees enough of him and the Giraffe and I agree with her. It’s far from perfect, but it is what it is and it seems no amount of reasoning from me will make him think he could give her more of his time.

Unless she goes to live with him.

Yes, that’s what SD wants. He wants to give up his job, find a less stressful one with better hours (he’s a chef, better hours don’t exist) and have Nuggs go and live with him and TOW. The man who currently sees his daughter for one day each week (on a day when she’s at school and has an evening club) thinks that is an ideal situation. I don’t imagine he’ll take it through the courts, but if he does he’s up for one hell of a fight.

Oh dear. That wasn’t what this blog was supposed to be about! I appear to have rambled and ranted a little. What this was supposed to be about was me getting teary about Nuggs being off having an amazing day at her father’s wedding and to show you this:

(I have removed the picture, for the sake of not having Nuggs’ face up on t’interweb for all to see. If you would like to see it, just ask me.)

This is the wedding present that Nuggs is giving to her Dad and TOW. It was all the idea of the Giraffe (who blogged about it over here). Although she did slightly nick the concept from someone else. We’ve spent ages taking photos of Nuggs in various letter shapes in various locations. We (mainly the Giraffe) have put a fair amount of effort into making sure Nuggs is happy with it. From our point of view, it’s not really ‘for’ the Happy Couple. It’s for Nuggs to know in years to come that the three of us did something special and unique to mark the occasion. It has the added bonus of elevating us to the moral high ground, yet again. But that’s just a welcome side effect, not the reason for doing it.

*TOW: The Other Woman. I need a better name for her, since that makes it sound like I’m still bitter and hate her. Again, I truly don’t. Suggestions are welcome, but she’ll be TOW until I find something better.

All Work and No Play Makes Emu a Dull Bird

I’m working from home today. Not something I have the chance to do very often, probably with good reason. You see, I’m inherently lazy, when it comes to my job at least. It’s not that I don’t enjoy it. Most of the time I do. It’s a nice company (or was until we were bought over), the people are (mostly) nice. (I’ll not talk about the colleague with the cats or Annoying Voice Man yet. They can have a whole blog to themselves, one day. I know, you just *can’t* wait, can you?)

Anyway, back to WFH, or procrastinating from home as it shall now be known. I have the obligatory cup of tea and I’m wearing my PJs. That’s how you’re supposed to do it, right? In reality, my jeans were soaked from the walk to drop Nugget at school, and PJs were the easiest thing to put on while they dry, but I’ve never been one to shirk an obvious stereotype. I have stuff to do. I brought a folder of stuff specifically to do, knowing that I would have to make myself do it. It’s nearly 10 am and I haven’t even taken the folder out of the bag. Don’t get me wrong, I have answered emails, I’ve done some work on the weekly spread sheet, but the items on my to-do list remain un-ticked.

I’m trying to figure out why I have such little motivation when I’m not in danger of the boss walking past and seeing me doing nothing. I think the answer is that it really and truly doesn’t matter one jot to pretty much every other human being on this earth if I don’t do it. I’m a one-person department in a company who has no actual idea what I do or how I do it. Sure, if the end results of my work stopped happening, they’d soon want to know, but the hows and whys and wherefores are irrelevant. Or they were, until we were taken over. Now I’m having to fit in with rules and regulations of a much bigger company and abide by their ways of doing things when they have absolutely no bearing on how they were done before or how or my company needs them to be done.

Are you still with me? This wasn’t supposed to be a rant about my job. I really and truly don’t hate it. Yet.

I was thinking about all the different courses my work life could have taken. I’ve tried my hand at several things during my time. My mind wandered to a little workshop we visited when we were on holiday recently. It was owned by a guy who made his living working on commissions of carvings from driftwood. He  has a little hut where you can go and watch him work and take a look at some sketches of previous pieces he has made. There were some little pieces for sale, but that quite obviously wasn’t his main source of income. Here was a guy doing something he loved, at his own pace, using his incredible talent to make (what looked like) a fairly comfortable life for himself.

How amazing must that be? How many of can actually say that the job we do is the one we were born to? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not really a believer in fate. I just think that some people have a wonderful, passionate talent for something that marks out their course in life. Part of me wishes I was one of them. I’ve never had much direction career-wise, which has never really bothered me. But as I drag myself out of bed (on the three mornings a week I have to. Part time rocks!) to get ready for work, I do sometimes wish I’d found that ideal job that never really felt like going to work.

 

Hello

Well now, where to start?

How many new bloggers start with that phrase? I dread to think! I hate to be cliched, so let me try again…

Hello. I imagine if you’re reading this you know me. How else would you happen to stumble across such a fledgeling? I’m not really sure what has prompted me to start blogging, I have no idea if my brain holds anything interesting enough to write about. Or more importantly for you to read about. Let’s hope time will tell and it will be something worth waiting for.

Watch this space… Please?