Tag Archives: friends

and off she goes

The garments are labelled. The tie is tied. The blazer feels itchy on her neck.

My little one is off to big school, with butterflies in her tummy and her shoulders tensed up to her ears.

Girl2, school uniform

Nobody else from her primary school is going to the same school, but that is not a concern. Thanks to dancing and sport and the miracles of social media (“I’ve got a new friend who’s going to my school tomorrow too”), she knows loads of people. By now she’ll be getting to know her new class, her form teacher and the ways of the new world. By home time she’ll be exhausted but buzzy. A restorative cookie is planned.

Girl1 is almost as excited. She has shared many words of wisdom (“Don’t bring your school bag into the dining room.”, “Do your homework the day you get it.” I’m still smiling at the latter…) but will probably not acknowledge her sister when through the school doors, or on the bus. She doesn’t start back until tomorrow, so made sure to lift Jake up to the window for waving this morning. A dog’s life, indeed.

And so the world moves on, full of fun and learning and friendship. We’d not want it any other way.

12 August 1994

A dry day, a white Rolls Royce and a country church.  A hotel by a lake. Family and friends cleaned up and dolled up. We all had jobs to do.

The Brother had to keep his hair in place, Davy B had to look after Herself. Lorraine was reading, J & S had to carry things, while the Incredible Singing Cousins were out in force. H and Dawnriser had to wear shiny frocks and pose beside me. I got to be the bride.

wedding, 1994, big hat, uncle, aunt, granny, mother, brother, bride
bride, family and hat

 

A lot has changed since then. Herself and Lorraine are gone, as is the Brother’s hair. Others have left us, some are unwell now, others still we hardly see.

Long gone, too, is the marriage that brought us all together. We grew apart, fell apart and lost our way.

20 years on we are not what we might have been. But we re-found our friendship. We managed to remember that we cared about each other, before we lost it all.

A wish for our spouses, children  and all of our families and friends…

 

of dancing, rare disease, and a boy scout

I’m not so good at the ME ‘pacing’ thing. This will come as no surprise to the regular reader. I do all the things I’m not supposed to. I’m usually flat out busy or flat out recovering in bed. I want to do all the things, usually at once. I don’t recommend it, but it seems to be my way.

That means that my brain make up over the last few months has probably been:

35% rare disease events, training, support group, survey, what else can I do, of course I’ll do that

5% wee blind doggy literally bouncing off walls

5% Irish dancing things dress alterations, new dress, competitions, summer trip to France, fundraising, make the sandwiches

50% I can’t remember anything, what did I say I would do, wake me tomorrow, who, me?

5% the rest of life.

(Bloggy buddies, you fit in the final 5%. Not only I have I not been writing here (or anywhere) but I haven’t been able to keep up to date with y’all. I may have read your posts, but not commented. I may not have read anything at all.)

It’s true, for my own sanity I need to address the balance of my mind and my energy. I will, I will, I will.

In other news, Ditzy and I were out last night at a rare disease symposium at one of the universities. We did mingling and chatting and listening to talk about genetics. We may not have understood everything, but such is life. I was asked a question by a young woman who responded to my answer with ‘You don’t really know, do you?’ Harsh, but accurate. She was a biomedical scientist and my grade C in O’level biology from 1981 was no match. I need a crash course in the science bit.

bob chaos

Somehow, together, Ditzy and I attract oddness. Individually we’re sensible people. She’s a retired accountant, a proper grown up, and I’m vague, anxious and a bit mouthy, but together we operate in (create?) a world of chaos. We tried to get into the car park, but the barrier remained closed. Buttons were pressed. Nothing. We wondered if the event had started. More buttons. Still nothing. Ditzy put on her little old lady face and approached the car whose exit we were blocking. She wore the man down until he came to rescue us by pressing a different combination of buttons. Ditzy smiled and simpered and fluttered about, thanking him for rescuing two old ladies (She meant me! We spend so much time together she really thinks I’m her age!)

But what else could the man do- he was an actual scout, in uniform. Toggle and all. He couldn’t ignore distressed white haired women, no matter what age, or the whirlwind of mayhem surrounding them.

 

 

thump, thud, bash

Thud, thump, crash.

That’s the sound of a newly blind dog manoeuvring his way around the house. Head down, he barges on, into walls and doors and chairs.

We talk to him, rattle keys, wave food under his nose and attempt to steer him around furniture.

“Should we move the seats?”

“Where would we sit?”

As the insulin takes effect, we have fewer puddles to clear up. Had we a choice, we’d take the puddles anytime. At least we could clean the floor. We all have a lot of getting used to it to do.

In the meantime, I browse the internet for enlightenment.

from: http://www.halosforpaws.com/our-dog-head-protection-product.html
from: http://www.halosforpaws.com/our-dog-head-protection-product.html
from: http://muffinshalo.weebly.com/photos-and-videos.html
from: http://muffinshalo.weebly.com/photos-and-videos.html

Of course, what our girls really want is a guide dog for Jake, because it would be ‘cute’. Apart from having to take 2 dogs out for walks, lifting what needs lifted and all the other tasks that girls find objectionable…