Water off a ducks back

When did I become so amiable? Is that part of the new me..? Where once I’d have hugged the hurt; carried it on my back so to speak; a bit like a hunchback lol, now I find it really isn’t worth all the drama! 

Yesterday we went to my grandson’s first birthday. One year old; and it’s no mean feat getting him to this age. My daughter and her man are fantastic parents and they both love him madly. Frankly, I can’t wait for number 2 who is due at the start of October.   

But it is difficult  we work (me often on weekends)  they work and they live about 2 hours away; so a four hour round trip. So I only get to see him about once a fortnight.

It was bloody cold here yesterday with bouts of rain weaving in and out and ducking in between to look at the animals and going on the train ride (which was a blog all on its own; fitting in that thing!). After a couple of hours of limping around (with crutch) it was time to go home.

We sang the song, cut the cake and it was time to run free! So finally getting warm in the car I start to thaw out and think I’ll put something up on Facebook to commemorate the occasion. And there was my mistake. My daughter texted me to say ‘WTF?’ 

And I realised that it’s her story to tell. I’m only a Nan. And that’s ok! So I took it down, emailed her my pics and she put one up. All in all, it was a brilliant day!

Hunchback in check. 

WTF? Fish. Why don’t you write about them?

The Squeeze drove me to work today, radio blaring and tapping along in time to some song. I guess that’s nice; I’m sure there are plenty of people here thinking that it goes above and beyond partner material. They would be wrong. It just means for the 10 minutes, (maybe a tad more because I’ve got to sway, steady myself, and grab the crutch out of the car before hobbling away) - so that leaves me with about 15 minutes of his bullshit. 

This morning I decided to make conversation. After all, it’s what we do. When you’re enforced into the close confines of a car you fill the void with idle chit chat; chew the fat so to speak. So I mention the fact that I’ve been writing in my blog again. Not bad after a 2 year enforced hiatus! And I’m proud of myself. Okay I’m not leaping building on a single bound but for me, it may as well be! I never thought I’d be able to write anything again (who am I kidding; I never thought I’d do more than dribble)

So we are driving along, the Squeeze decked out like we are off to the snow rather than down town Geelong on a mild day and pauses to glance at me. Okay! Encouragement!!! (Squeeze style encouragement) so I continue to say that it’s mildly annoying that the Harridan no longer impacts our lives. Let’s face it, she was writing fodder if nothing else and she provided oodles of it! 

So I paused to say “God knows what I’m supposed to write about now!” To which he replies “fish. Why not write about that?”

I hobble out of the car and up the ramp all the while thinking what an idiot he is. Am I going to turn this sarcastic rant into a foodies blog? And fish! I have zip knowledge in how to prepare or cook it! He knows I’m anaphylactic! I’m allergic to all seafood!!!

Love is in the air…

Or it would be if I was feeling in the slightest bit romantic; and that’s something I’ll have to rectify.
 
Upon reflection of those words, I realise sadly that is more like a thing that “we” will have to rectify.  Hmmm, but short of us getting it on night after night in the early days, the Squeeze has never been romantic.  I remember him once pushing me; we were on the dance floor at a wedding.  Jesus, you’d have thought I had the plague! And all because I was trying to dance romantically… Admittedly we were at a wedding and it was towards the end of the night and much champagne had been swilled (by me, not my tea totaling Squeeze) and I’m not a great dancer.
 
But to be honest, I find it all a little weird.  Before my brain went haywire, I used to love sex. I couldn’t get enough of it.  Now, I’m back with a plethora of women (and men too) who can take it or leave it.  Instead of thinking about how it’s going to make me feel, I just think “great! I’ll have to shower again! Which means cleaning the damn thing after!!!” and I haven’t even started on positions and my leg won’t bend or getting cramp.
 
So, maybe not tonight, but one night soon.

The struggles life throws at you

And this is the new me; the one that can’t think of what to damn well write about! I could give a run down on whatever our night looked like last night, but you’d be crying with boredom into your cereal rather than laughing.

Perhaps you would be amused if I gave pictures (of me in my onesie) and the Squeeze cracking a comment along the lines of me being a delicate little flower… Bastard. I’m trying to save the electricity bill which keeps going up (thank God we have solar)  My onesie keeps me warm! But I can’t help but think back 15 years ago, to me swanning about Northcote looking glamorous (and about 10 kilo lighter!) no matter what damn time it was.

I need a new nemesis. Someone who gets my back up…  Who I want; no need to punch.

Since that cow the Harridan won’t give me any fodder; and let’s face it, I don’t even turn the other cheek. I don’t feel a cheek! Nothing would faze me these days! I literally do not feel the need to punch anyone whereas before my brain damage, I had a veritable hit list of creatures that I felt justified (perhaps in my own mind) of whacking!

So… what is a girl to do?  Girl (and I use the term loosely). How is a 60 year old frumpy woman on crutches (I did my knee) supposed to look glamourous!!

Weird; in a strange, brain damaged way!

Ok… I decided this blog has been going for so many years that I may as well keep it going (I started it in 2010 because I couldn’t believe that bitch, the Squeeze’s ex and her demands) but life is relatively normal now… Tedious even.  We haven’t heard from the ‘Harridan’ since the Squeeze has been living here so I can’t even bitch about her.  If nothing else, I guess it’ll improve my typing skills which were abysmal in rehab (I think I typed 10 words a minute) (I spoke like the Harridan wrote text messages the first year “wot u do that for?” :)

I’ve always loved the English language. If I was lost, you could find me someplace with a book in hand… Or at the computer writing one.  I haven’t written in years, nor do I read.  I can’t concentrate, but even if I could, I doubt I could come up with the words to convey what I’m feeling.  Still, it has been about 7 years and I’m going for those famous words ‘move it or lose it’.  Who knows? It may well expand a fraction and move me ever so much closer to the person I was before.

Don’t get me wrong; I was no picnic before my brain damage. But I could type, faster than I could think and all the while, having a conversation with someone and singing at the top of my lungs to something on the radio! So I want that bit back, trouble is I want that back but I don’t want any of the psychotic moments that usually accompany it. I should be able to choose after having this ruin my life… A checkbox or a list of some kind where I can just check of the bits that I want; and don’t want.

Time flies when you are unaware of it…

And just like that (picture finger clicking here) I realise that it has been just over a year since I posted on here; or anywhere really.  It isn’t like I’ve been busy; with Covid still running rampant, I’d assume like everyone else, over the last 2 years I’ve had nothing but time!

Perhaps I had nothing to say… not in those glorious scathing tones of old  that there is the problem. I used to write about Quigs and his old wife with venom; spitting and snarling. Now I don’t see/hear from her (it’s only taken over 10 years…) she doesn’t email orders (and I wouldn’t care if she did because I’m living in ignorant bliss) - and that’s fine with me. I finally grew up (which I point out took 60 years).

I’m no longer that insecure person that figured every guy must have been screwing around on me (let’s face it; 90% of them were…)  I used to have two full time jobs. I was a PM project manager and a PI private investigator and I was bloody good at both of them!

Now, I find I don’t have the brain power to invest in it. I don’t have the time or the space for that crap in my life. I don’t want to have to worry about where he is or what he’s doing. If they want me, they’ll be here. If not, they won’t. I’d have saved myself a shitload of heartache if my brain had of always thought like this!

I guess you could say that I’ve finally grown up. I have a grandbaby born through my daughter named Hunter and one on the way (we don’t muck around down here). It’s raining babies! We have one born through the Squeezes family too; cute muppets, a darling boy named Sonny  

So; I’ve finally grown up. And that is the worst part of growing up and putting my childish toys away! I’m boring!