keris stainton

I've learned...

That in order to work out which is vertical and which is horizontal, I have to picture a horizon and extrapolate from there.

Love After Love

I read this on Andrea's blog and I love it

Love after Love

The time will come
When, with elation,
You will greet yourself arriving
At your own door, in your own mirror,
And each will smile at the other’s welcome,

And say, sit here, Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
To itself, to the stranger who has loved you

All your life, whom you ignored
For another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

The photographs, the desperate notes,
Peel your image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

~ Derek Walcott ~

Joey Fatone's Freestyle

This is totally freakin' amazing:

I love him.

Think like a dog

Just saw this on Swissmiss and it made me laugh. Or should that be larf?

Hooray, hooray!

We're on our holidays! Me, about to drink cocktail, just out of shot.

I've put up some timed posts for the next few days - I didn't wanna leave you hangin'!

Have fun. :)

Singin' in the Rain

Is it piddling it down where you are too? Thanks to this weather, Harry can now say, "A rainy day!" and he sounds kind of excited about it. On Wednesday I took him to the dentist* and we ran, laughing through the puddles. It was such good fun. As we were running (and laughing) I was thinking, "This is something I should remember" but I can't guarantee I would remember it, which is why I'm blogging about it. :)

This morning, at the bus stop, I sang "I can sing a rainbow", "Raindrops are falling on my head" and, finally, "Singin' in the rain" for Harry. It was fun too. This is one of the things I love about having kids, how it can give you a whole new perspective on things that you either took for granted or that would previously have been nothing but a pain in the bum.

* Okay so the dentist asked Harry to open his mouth and he did for a split second. "I need to count your teeth," she said. "Does he have all his teeth?" she asked me. "I don't know. I think so. I don't know how many he's supposed to have." The hygienist drove Harry's train into his mouth and he opened it briefly. "He's got all the bottom ones," she said.

After a bit more wrangling, he opened it briefly again. "And the top ones," the dentist said. "Okay, that's fine." And that was it. I hope I don't have to pay for that, I was thinking as I left the room, but it turns out it's free til he's 18. Woo-hoo! Of course, as we ran back to the car, Harry opened his mouth and said, "Aaaaaah!" at length.

I'm rich! Rich!

My old job had an employee share scheme into which I paid about a tenner a month in the hopes that when the shares increased I would be rich! Rich! And that day has finally arrived.

Today I received a dividend cheque. For 10p. 10p.

Doesn't it cost businesses more than 10p to actually pay a cheque - not even counting the postage?

10p. Whatever will I spend it on?

Crackers

Monday I picked Harry up from preschool and, on the way home, it started to rain. We popped into the shop to shelter and bought some Tuc crackers. Further on the way we stopped under a tree and ate some crackers. Then we went home.

I went upstairs to the loo (and, yes, okay, to quickly check my emails) and when I came downstairs this is what I found. The cheeky chimp.

Part of my new, improved routine is to eat my lunch in front of one episode of Will & Grace while Harry says, "CBeebies?" and I say, "No." "CBeebies?" "No." "CBeebies?" "No."

On Monday, he came over and did it all himself: "CBeebies? No. CBeebies? No. CBeebies? No." And then do you remember his trick of stealing what I'm eating and running away so I have to chase him and get it back? Well, he did that by himself too. He grabbed part of my lunch (yes, Tuc crackers), took a few steps and then said, in a voice that was obviously supposed to be me: "No! Middy's!"

It was very funny, bless him.

Look! A book meme!

I was going to do this meme when Ms Mac did it a while ago, but then I forgot. I was only reminded when Diane did it. And since Diane added a question, I've added one too. 

What have you just read?

Five Things I Can't Live Without by Holly Shumas. Loved it.

What are you reading now?

Monkey Star by Brenda Scott Royce and I've also started Forever Amber to check if I like it enough to take on holiday.

Do you have any idea what you’ll read when you’re done with that?

Why yes, because I have to plan my holiday reading in advance. I'm taking Karen Bosnak's 20 Times A Lady, which I've wanted to read for ages. Also the Television Without Pity Book (is that okay, Diane? I won't get sand on it, honest!). Probably Forever Amber and three books that both me and David will read. (You see, we're going for nine nights so we need nine books: three for me, three for him and three we can both read. Not that we're anal or anything.)

What’s the worst thing you were ever forced to read?

American Psycho for my degree. I just loathed everything about it. I ended up forcing myself to read about half of it because I just wanted it over with and out of my life.

What’s one book you always recommend to just about anyone?

Asta's Book by Barbara Vine. I don't know anyone who hasn't loved it.

Admit it, sadly the librarians at your library know you on a first name basis, don’t they?

Actually, they do. Or at least one of them does. He's got a daughter Harry's age and he likes to chat. Also, my fines pay his wages.

Is there a book you absolutely love, but for some reason, people never think it sounds interesting, or maybe they read it and don’t like it at all?

Probably Frank Skinner's autobiography. It's one of the best books I've ever read - intelligently written, funny, moving, but, yes, also disgusting (but memorably so). People are wary of celebrity memoirs and loads of people don't like Frank Skinner, but it's such a fabulous book.

Do you read books while you eat?

Yep.

While you bathe?

Yes. The bath's my favourite place to finish a book I'm really enjoying. No distractions there.

While you watch movies or tv?

Sometimes, if something's not holding my attention.

While you listen to music?

No. If there's music on while I'm reading, I don't hear it because I'm involved in the book.

While you’re on the computer?

No. I can't stand reading on screen.

When you were little did other children tease you about your reading habits?

I don't think so. I've always been a bookworm though - I was Librarian at primary school - so, on second thoughts, probably.

What’s the last thing you stayed up half the night reading because it was so good you couldn’t put it down?

Ooh. Well, now that I'm old I can't stay up reading, but the last book I couldn't put down was Neat Vodka by Anna Blundy. I didn't really fancy it, but it was fab.

Have any books made you cry?

The World According to Garp I had to put down because I was crying so much I couldn't focus. My Sister's Keeper had me sobbing in Starbucks. The Power of One, both because it was sad and because I didn't want it to end.

I've decided to tag people because I'm very book nosey. So Claire, Emily, Natalie, Nikki and Helen. (Apologies if you've already done it and I've forgotten.)

I was going to tag Lisa, but then I saw she'd beaten me to it.

Dream houses

This was just the kind of house I was talking about when I discovered the Real Estalker:

Sold by Elizabeth Perkins (who I know best as the snarky best friend in About Last Night, but you probably know from Big or Weeds) to Soleil Moon Frye. Yes, Punky Brewster! This is Punky Brewster's new house. That staircase! That (green) fireplace! That bath! I. Am. Envious. [Source]

Also, Jessica Simpson's new house, but this one for the exterior:

If only I had $5million dollars...

Dying Young?

The other day I was a bit fed up and decided to watch Autumn In New York. No, I don't know why. Possibly just because I had a hankering to see New York on film and that was the first film I came across.

Have you seen it? It's very bad. It stars Winona Ryder (I'd forgotten how good and how utterly beautiful Winona Ryder is) as a 22-year-old who falls in love with 49-year-old Richard Gere (he's not so good). The age difference isn't an issue, but the fact that she's dying of a rare (I think - I wasn't fully paying attention) heart cancer is.

As I was watching, I started thinking about the other films I've seen with young women dying of various diseases: Love Story, Moulin Rouge, Sweet November, Stepmom (okay, she's not so young, but still). And then I wondered if there were any similar films with men. The only one I thought of was Dying Young (with Julia Roberts).

Of course, there's also Just Like Heaven, but that's cancelled out by Ghost.

What's with wanting to kill off the heroines? Is it some sublimated once they fall in love and become sexually active they might as well die thing?

It reminded me of that awful An Affair to Remember starring Deborah Kerr and Cary Grant. It was one of my mum's favourite films of all time, but I didn't actually watch it until relatively recently and ... well. I wish Mum had still been alive so I could have given her a piece of my mind.

Deborah Kerr's Terry goes on a cruise and meets and falls in love with Cary Grant's Nickie. Pardon? I didn't even notice that she had a man's name and he had a woman's until now. What's that about?

Okay, so she they fall in love, despite the fact that they're both engaged to someone else. They arrange to meet at the Empire State Building, but on the way there she's hit by a car. Why? Because she transgressed and had to be punished!

Of course, he's fine and free to philand again (I know that's not a word, but it should be) should he wish to. (Just in case you think that's far-fetched, these were days when an adulterous kiss couldn't be shown - the camera panned down to their feet and she lifted one foot!)

Anyway, it's possible that there's a rich vein of dying young men movies that I've forgotten (Philadelphia doesn't count because that's the whole point of the film). If you can think of any, let me know.

And can I just also mention the weird similarity of the pictures?

What Mario isn't telling you...*

I nicked this off I Love This World, but it's so great, I had to!

It's taken from the National Library of Medicine's Visual Culture and Public Health exhibit.

* from the episode of Friends where Joey models for a public health poster, which turns out to be for VD.

More stuff I'm loving...

Ages ago, me and D went to see a Scottish comedian named Danny Bhoy. He was fabulous and I fell in love. Last year we got tickets to see him again. The gig was cancelled for a spurious reason and I fell a little bit out of love. I just watched a couple of videos on his website and whaddaya know?! Watch 'Breakfast' and be happy (plus there's stuff on YouTube too).

On my walk through the park after dropping H at preschool (full night's sleep + chocolate croissant for breakfast = back to school for you, my boy!), I listened to a new podcast by Dr Christiane Northrup. It was about the connections between emotional and physical health and it was marvellous, if a little short. I've subscribed and so should you (yes, you!).

You know how much I love Martha Beck. I do, I really do. And reading The Four Day Win is just making me love her more. It's totally doable, full of common sense, and frickin' hilarious.

The walk through the park, mentioned above, is one of my new favourite things. Particularly when it's sunny like last week when these photos were taken or when I can eat blackberries straight off the bush like this morning.

Oh and my new *WISH* list blog! :)

Oh Baby

Harry's much better today. He slept right through the night and seems brighter this morning. He's still got a very husky voice (he can't manage the Pontipine squeaking he enjoys so much), but apart from that he seems fine. Can I just mention how cute it is that he calls the remote control the "doodah" (he got that from me) and has been wandering round saying, "Where doodah? I don't know where doodah gone!" Thanks.

We've just driven David to work and I listened and sang along with one of my few remaining cassettes: Halo James's Witness.

I absolutely love this album. Do you remember them? They did Wanted, Could Have Told You So, Oh Baby...

I love Christian James's voice - he sounds like George Michael in parts - and the songs are great for singing along with. Some of the lyrics are rather, um, interesting ("Touch me on the inside, your love's a tender gun, touch me with your fingers"), but that only makes it more fun.

I actually met Christian James at the airport once when we were waiting for Matt Goss and/or Bros. I had my photo taken with him and I'll upload it if I find it. Then again, I might not since as far as I remember it, I was wearing a white vest top and my boobs were bigger than my head...

We interrupt this blog ...

... to look after Harry who, just one scant week after returning to preschool, has a horrible cough and cold. He's rather sorry for himself, is losing his voice (and after only just finding it too!), not happy to sleep during the day (despite being awake quite a lot in the night) and is generally requiring of my attention.

My days are currently spent mostly sitting in a fort made of the two sofas pushed together, eating fruit toast and watching Curious George on the portable DVD player, which we actually borrowed to take on holiday, but which Harry seems to prefer to the proper telly.

I will just say that the Britney Spears performance on the MTV VMAs (or whatever it's called) was incredibly disturbing. Isn't anyone looking after her? Why did MTV actually let her go on when she was clearly in no position to? She looked like she didn't even know where she was. Very sad.

My Sister's Keeper

I wrote about this at Trashionista, expecting a flood of outraged comments, but there hasn't been a single one. I'm outraged though, so I'm bringing it here!

Cameron Diaz has been cast as the mother in the film version of Jodi Picoult's My Sister's Keeper. The mother! Of three teenagers! And it's an incredibly complicated character. I love Cammie, but for lighthearted comedy, not heart-wrenching drama.

Surely someone shares my horror... Anyone? Bueller?

Lookilikeys Part 3: Harry

Passport photos

Yesterday the Guardian Travel section had a feature on what your passport photo says about you. So what do you think?

My first passport. This was taken in 1989. What delightful hair! My skin looks like porcelain, but that was the flash.

Next was 1997. Wow! Where did all that hair go?

I don't know why, but I had to get a new one in 2001. They put a lot more crap on it now. I look very Velma from Scooby Doo, but I like it. 

Housekeeping

No, not in *my* house (don't be silly). Just, you know, stuff I've been meaning to mention and keep forgetting...

1. Thank you so, so much for helping me get to and then beyond the 80% target for New York. It's less than two months away now and I am so excited (and also worried, because I can't remember the last time I walked one mile, never mind 13...).

2. There are still a couple of knittens to go out. I know I said end of August, but my arthritic fingers haven't dealt very well with the changeable weather and there's only so much knittening they can take. They'll be with you soon, though. Honest. Soon.

3. Over on the right there, under that pic of me, you'll find some new links. In the WRITING one you'll find a couple of JPegs and even some PDFs of article's I've written. I'll be updating them periodically. (Get it? Articles? Periodically? Oh, never mind.)

4. There's also something called TODAY'S DANCE which is the song that me and Harry have danced frenetically around the lounge to that day. With the wonder of technology, you can point to it with your mouse, wait for the Snapshot thingie to open up and then actually play the video ... without leaving my blog! Feel free to frug furiously around your own home.

5. And then there's FRIDAY PHOTO, which was going to be my response to a Friday photo challenge from another site, but they've stopped setting them. However, I like it so I'll keep doing it. In future it'll just be whatever photo I'm liking on whatever day I put it up. And I'll probably change it to PHOTO OF THE WEEK or something, if I remember.

While I'm being self-indulgent (although it is my blog - where can I be self-indulgent if not my blog, eh?), here's a Blossom pic I did this very morning. I'm going to colour it in at some point (Ha, get me. Colouring in. I'm 36!) and then I'll upload the coloured one too, assuming I don't make a pig's ear of it.

So that's me. How are you?

Holiday preparations

Sorry, too much to do to write much today. Here's Harry!

He loves his sunglasses...

But he's not too sure about his Trunki...

Actually, he loves his Trunki too. His face was a response to me forcing him to watch Charlie & Lola when he's all about ... well, anything but Charlie & Lola.

I've got him an excellent floaty swimsuit from ebay too, but I haven't tried it on him yet.

Every damn month

Let me walk you through a day earlier this week...

Late morning, I wondered how come I couldn't stop stuffing my face even though I wasn't even remotely hungry.

Late afternoon, I tore David a new one. Granted, he did something pretty crap, but my reaction was out of all proportion.

Even later, I looked in the mirror and decided I couldn't possibly go out looking like such a heifer ...

... so I put on my jeans and couldn't work out why they felt tight. They've just started feeling loose, but suddenly they were tight again. And they looked awful.

Later still, glancing in the mirror on the way out, I realised I looked like a pasty-faced, middle-aged wreck and stopped to put some make-up on, but was surprised to find it didn't really help.

Even later still, running down the stairs I noticed that my boobs felt sore and finally - finally - realisation dawned.

How come after 25 years of this, I still don't recognise the signs?

Hey! Did you notice I managed to write all of that without using the word "period". Oh, nuts.

Actually, since I'm on the subject ...

I read on someone's blog fairly recently (apologies if it was yours, I honestly can't remember - sorry) about someone who was trying to buy tampons and the (female) shop assistant put an Evening Standard down on top of them. When she said she didn't want a Standard, the assistant whispered, "There's a man behind you."

This reminded me of a joke I was told when I was about, I think, 13. You've heard it. A man and woman meet at a bar. The man says, "Your place or mine?" The woman says, "I'm on my menstrual cycle." And the man replies, "That's okay, I'll follow on my moped." I was actually told this by a boy and then went home and told my parents. They both laughed, but then mum took me aside and told me that it was best not to mention periods in front of the male of the species. I was bewildered then and I must admit I'm kind of bewildered now. Why the hell not?

And since I might as well get all period-related blogging over in one fell swoop - my mother-in-law once told me that men are more likely to have nosebleeds than women, because women have "their monthlies." It was one of those occasions where I just ... *mentally bangs head repeatedly on the table*

Beastly

Harry went back to preschool on Monday and this time he's going five mornings a week (last year, he only went three). Usually he spends Tuesdays and Thursdays with Grandma so I can work, but I thought it would ease the transition (for both of us - I've loved spending so much time with him this summer) if he stayed with me each afternoon. It's been working out really well.

I take him to preschool and walk back through the park then have breakfast, do some work, pick him up, run home (literally, we ran the entire way yesterday - with Harry shouting, "Run, Middy! Run!" with the result that last night I could barely walk) and then he's so tired that all he wants to do is watch CBeebies and play with his trains.

Yesterday afternoon it was so lovely that I kept trying to interest him in going outside. "Harry? Do you want to go in the sandpit?" "No. Beebies." "The trampoline?" "No. Beebies." "Oh! How about we go and blow bubbles?" "No. Beebies." I reckoned it was fair enough since when I'm worn out I just want to slob in front of the TV too.

This morning he wasn't at all happy to go. He cried before we left the house, but was his usually cute and happy self all the way there ... until I came to leave. He's incredibly strong and he smacks into me and sticks like a magnet. I literally can't peel him off me. Eventually I set up some trains, said bye, gave him a kiss and left.

But then I looked back and saw his little face crumble. So I went back and got magnetised again. It was so sad. We sat on the floor rocking, with him wailing and me sniffling. Eventually one of the teachers (?) managed to separate him from me and he waved bye at the window looking reasonably happy. And I sniffled my way home.

I stopped at the newsagents to pick up a copy of the latest Practical Parenting - in which I've got an article about reading to children (including you, Cara!) - and spotted this:

How gorgeous is that? I really want it. Except it costs £210. Yowser. (It's from Beasty Bags.)

Britain's Next Top Model finale

At last it's final of Britain's Next Top Model. How long I've waited for this. I'll have my Monday night's nights (argh!) back again. Unless America's Next Top Model starts next week...

The three remaining girls, Rebecca, Lauren and Louise are still in Rio and are sent up Sugar Loaf Mountain in a cable car for a Samba lesson.

Lauren's annoyed because Rebecca and Louise are suddenly getting on well. "Do you two want a torch so you can have a better look up each other's arses," she says ... to the camera, not the the girls. Finally, a bit of restraint. 

Lisa Mail: Being a beach bum isn't as easy as it looks, especially when you're hot under the collar.

A photoshoot on the beach with fit boys, guessed Louise. And she was right.

They all looked great, but Louise looked the best. "Of course she's overweight," said the photographer. "Way overweight." When they judged the photographs, the photographer said she couldn't use any of the full body shots because of her weight issue. Modelling is just nonsense, isn't it? Louise is sexy and womanly. Why shouldn't the photographer have used a full body shot?

Louise was first through and then Lauren, who was shocked that Rebecca was out. I was shocked too since I thought that Rebecca was going to win.

"You haven't seen the last of me," she promised/threatened, before sticking her goodbye note to the door with chewing gum. Classy to the end. 

I am Ian Ziering

Have y'all been watching Dancing With the Stars? I love it so very very much, but it's also (I think) taught me something about myself. Go with me here...

In one of the early episodes Ian (pronounced "Eye-an", don't forget!) "Steve Sanders" Ziering's father came to watch him dance. "What did you think?" Ian asked him, eagerly. "She's very light on her feet," his dad said about Ian's partner, Cheryl. "But what about me, Dad, what did you think of me?" Ian said. And his dad said ... nothing.

I was furious. Why would a parent, faced with a child's (albeit a 43-year-old child) request for approval, deny it? At one point do we stop praising every little tiny thing ("Look at that lovely big poo!") and start withholding praise? And why?

Ian has struggled throughout Dancing With the Stars because he can't relax, enjoy himself, let himself go. He's a great dancer, but he thinks too much and he's too afraid of making a mistake.

Um. Who does that remind me of? This morning I was thinking how I sympathise with Ian because although he wants to take the judges' advice, free up, be like Billy Ray (who can't actually dance, but gives it his all and enjoys himself), he just can't. I'm exactly the same. The reason it took me so long to learn to drive was because I was so afraid of making a mistake and I just couldn't relax. (It didn't stop me making mistakes, incidentally - hence the two failed tests - it just gave me the illusion of control.)

And so as I was thinking about me and Ian, I realised that growing up my dad was just like his. (I've written about it before.)

But could it really be that simple? Am I such a control freak that my baby had to be dragged out of me because I wasn't praised enough as a child?

Incidentally, David said he was with me up to the baby bit, but I know how your thoughts and feelings are represented in your body and I knew the loss of control required in childbirth was going to be hard for me and of course it was.

So what I need is to be less of an Eye-an and more of a *cough* Joey. Joey Fatone may be a big lad, but he is a brilliant dancer and always dances with joy. Look:

The "truth" about Steve Coogan

Yesterday I read an article in the Daily Mail entitled Coogan the Barbarian: The truth about the man blamed for 'leading Owen Wilson to the brink of suicide'.

In case you can't be bothered to read it, the jist of it is that Steve Coogan is a coke-fuelled party animal who shags around. After Owen Wilson started hanging around with him (4 years after, according to the article) he tried to kill himself. So clearly that's Steve Coogan's fault. No, really, it must be ... Courtenay Love said so.

The article is basically made up of conjecture, innuendo and rumour. I left a comment to that effect of the Mail's website yesterday, but, funnily enough, it's been removed.
 
Character assassination of Steve Coogan aside - and, like the Mail, I don't know the man, anything about his relationship with Owen Wilson *or* the reasons for Wilson's suicide attempt - Owen Wilson is 39 years old. No-one is responsible for his life except himself.

I hope he gets the help he needs and I also hope Steve Coogan sues the Mail. God knows, I'm used to the irresponsible twaddle that passes for news in this country, but this particular article really got my goat.

Dogs learn quicker than me

Remember a few months ago I stubbed the little toe on my right foot and it was so painful I thought it was broken, but it wasn't it was just black and blue for about a week and the only shoes I could wear where my now painfully unfashionable Crocs? Well now I've done the very same thing to the little toe of my left foot. Ouch.

It could well have been subconscious self-sabotage since I plan to start running again from Monday. It's not quite as bad this time. I know this because I've got a new daily routine: find a song I love on Music on Demand (on NTL). Shell out 20p for it and dance as if no-one (but Harry) is watching.

Yesterday I chose Take That's Could It Be Magic, which Harry did not enjoy at all. Today it was the turn of Don't Stop Movin' by S Club 7, which even my son couldn't resist, jumping up on the sofa and shaking his nappied bee-hind for all he was worth. Of course, he got fed up before the end, suggested we play trains ("Woo wooh!") and when I said, "Once this song's finished" walked over and turned the TV off. Blimmin' kids.

Harry's longest sentence yet

Harry: "I don't know where Po is."
Mummy: "Where's Po?"
Harry: "I don't know!"

Heh.