They’ve been in the news a bit lately, those zombies. There was a Zombie Walk a couple of weeks ago and Boy dressed as one to attend a Halloween party. But today, I was the zombie: out of bed too early in order to be at work too early so I could do my bit for an urgent job that required all hands on deck. We all looked far too much like zombies, really, and probably sounded a bit that way too. I escaped early because, you know, brains? Mine wasn’t working.
Monthly Archives: October 2011
The former would be Boy, the latter would be me (and perhaps I’m more windburnt than sunburnt). Dr B started on a long cycle but decided he wasn’t enjoying himself – ahem, some people DO enjoy cycling, you know, and he’s usually one of them – so ended up with me at the rowing.
We watched Boy stroke a club quad scull crew to victory in a 3rd grade race. Nice work. His much less experienced school IV crew did well, too, bringing home a second-place in its 3rd grade race against some very strong competition (the winning crew contained a former coach, another of the crews their present coach). It was a good day and it’s always lovely down by the water whether in the wind, rain or sunshine; and yesterday we had all of those.
Because yesterday was the opening of the season, there was a fancy dress rowpast. Boy’s school always participates though we often feel completely outmatched by private schools’ wardrobe departments. We didn’t have such stiff competition yesterday and though we put together a colourful Renaissance/70s VIII, we were no match for Snow White, the Seven Dwarves and The Wicked Queen who came down from a country club for the occasion.
We’ve survived to the weekend and it hasn’t been easy. Today there was rain. Tomorrow there’s meant to be drizzle. Dr B will be cycling. Boy will be rowing. I’ll be taking photos in a semi-official capacity at the rowing. We’ve arrived at the beginning of the rowing season so utterly exhusted and broke that the only way from here has to be up. Keeping boats afloat and wheels turning and all that, but above the water as well as in it.
The difficulties of my lifestyle, if you could call it that, are many. Making bread means either a late night or an early morning, even if the bread machine does the work. Someone has to get it ready and apparently I’m the only one who can do that. Opting for an early night for myself meant an early morning for the bread machine. Trouble is, once I’m awake, going back to sleep for an hour is tricky. Early starts at work compound the problem.
So I’ve taken up the bread, gone back to bed for half an hour (you’d have to call that wasted time as I didn’t sleep but, early night notwithstanding, I was too tired to stay out of bed) then hopped out of bed again to cajole Boy into doing the same so that he could be away on time to get to his 6 o’clock rowing training. I’m awake and I’ve had breakfast and I’m now so tired I could sleep where I’m sitting, except that I need to be out of the house and on my way to the bus stop in about an hour because, horror of horrors, I need to be at work by 8 o’clock today.
I’m reasonably obliging about working extra hours or outside of my usual 9.00 to 5.30 day, but I wasn’t too keen to agree to today’s change of routine. I struggle in the mornings and getting to work by 8 o’clock? Yeah, sure, I spent years in jobs where I used to start work at 7 o’clock and I was rarely late; but times have changed. I told myself that I could certainly manage it for something important like having breakfast with friends, so I could probably do it for work. It’s then just a question of whether I’ll be awake enough to do my job, isn’t it?
I’m not sure if last night’s sewing was a way to kid myself that I really have started doing something about Christmas, or a way of spending time in front of something other than a comptuer. Two lavender bags and half a potholder. Does that count for anything?
I have made some pyramid lavender bags and I have unpicked the hems on some old, old (tattered and torn, stained and worn) corduroy trousers so that I can repurpose them as potholders. I couldn’t believe what a good job I’d done of taking up the hems on the trousers in the first place. Wow, talk about neat!
And I’m getting a cold. A-a-a-choo. Boy has kindly given it to me. A-a-a-choooo.
That’s somewhat by the implications of Boy’s loss of his licence, though he has carefully thought through how to minimise its impact.
But it’s also the wonderful seam on a sleeve that I found in Great Aunt’s scrap bag today when I was searching for fabric to make a Christmas gift. I recognise the sleeve fabric as coming from a dressing gown. It’s a work of art that I’ll keep it handy as an example of a “how to” when I need to fell a seam. Which, given that I’ve just found a good pattern for an easy blouse, might be soon.