Handing out the email address

I have finally plucked up the courage to hand out an email address, it’s the only way of pursuing some of these male leads and having a chance to keep a record.

Plus I have had to step a little deeper into the dating world and give out a bit more information than I have so far. I have also decided after receiving lots of mail that a few of these men seem quite nice and I have enjoyed chatting with them albeit informally.

I did not want to use my everyday email address so I registered another for the sole purpose of  on line dating. This I though was a wise move and is proving to be a god send.

So I have my lines of communication open and now I have to decide who I want to talk to in more depth.

I have whittled it down to half a dozen. I obviously cant share their names because that wouldn’t be fair  but there’s a salesman, mechanic, businessman, carer, marine man and football fan.

There have been a few others that were being communicated with but it became abundantly clear that they were seriously into cyber sex and at this point in time it ain’t my cuppa tea. My sexual preferences are just that - mine - and not for discussion.

Nor are the size of my breasts other than to say the photo shows ample thank you very much.

Needless to say although interesting and eye opening as to what some people do want to know, I found it all  too much too soon and blocked them from communicating with me.

They can masturbate with their keyboard over  someone else !

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Time Out

Hi everyone.  Thanks for popping over to say hello.  I’m going off-line for the coming week to sort out some priorities.  (Namely finish off the accounts).  To stop myself getting distracted I have set time aside each day to do the accounts and I don’t want to distract myself with the blog.

So, hope you’re all okay and see you next week.  I’ll then update on everything that’s been happening.

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Away With The Fairies

Off to Sheffield for the weekend, be back on Sunday.  The title refers to my mind, which is in a chaotic turmoil trying to get ready!

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Tears Before Bedtime (And Every Other Time Too!)

The waterworks have been in ‘high mode’ this past week.  Not the down below type of waterworks (I think that’s been discussed enough!), I am in fact referring to crying.

Why now you may ask.

The youngest of my children is currently being inducted into nursery attached to the infant school of one of her brothers.  

We had the first session last week which went remarkably well (it usually does the first time) and of course I sobbed my way out of the school grounds and into the car.  It was only for an hour and a half, but it’s the end of an another era.

She had another session Tuesday for the same length, but this time she had been enthusiastic first thing, then reluctant and as it turned out got upset over a little spillage of a drink.  She has another session tomorrow for the same time again.

My precious little girl is growing up and from Friday this week will be in nursery every day for two and a half hours every morning.  She just seems too small to be in there and unlike with the boys I’ve been at home with her from birth, apart from the temping stint I did earlier this year.

It’s been (and still is) heartbreaking.  I know I was upset with the boys too, it never seems to get any better.  But for some reason there is more emotion attached this time.  I will be moving up the ranks of motherhood to the stage of all the children being at school.

You would think that with 3 children, and the disagreements they have between them, the noise they create etc that I would be thankful for them all being at school.  Not so.

There are days I could quite happily turn round and say buggar school, just to have the time with them. 

Maybe it’s because I know that once they start school, you can’t protect them as much.  And yes I know it’s a good learning ground and they have to get used to standing their ground, but I worry with my daughter that she’s not ready for this rufty tufty jostling.

The good thing is my boys have had all the teachers that are in nursery.  They are all moms too and I know she will thrive under their attention.  I couldn’t choose a better set of people for guiding them through these early years which are so fundamental in gearing them up for school life.

I asked my husband if men get upset too.  His reply was quite matter of fact, in that, he knows it’s inevitable that they start school, so you just have to deal with it.  I wish I could be as matter of fact. 

My only consolation is I know that I am not on my own with these emotions.  I’ve spoken to a few moms who have shared that they feel the same. Such is the journey of parenthood for women!

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Knees Bent, Arms Stretch, Rah, Rah, Rah . . .

And if it was only the Hokey Cokey (is that the right spelling), I was referring to.  I was going to call it ‘They Don’t Like it Up ‘em Mr Mainwaring’ but I’m not sure many people remember Dad’s Army and it’s probably a bit near the knuckle.

Anyway, I don’t normally get initimate on this blog, partly because I don’t want to embarass myself or others, but I feel the need to share tonight.

This past year I have been battling with the old hormones and my monthly cycle has been up and down more than a yo-yo.  In fact at least a yo-yo is pretty consistent. 

My lovely lady doctor referred me for more tests which I went for today.  Not that she thinks there is anything sinister, more to put mine and her mind to rest.

So I duly went with my husband today.

Well, and this is the reason for sharing, the things us women have to go through.  The doctor was very pleasant, asked me lots of questions and then it was time for one of those examinations.  I don’t think I need to explain too much about that as I’m sure you will get the picture - after all it was the gynaecology department.

I was lying on the bed waiting for the embarassment of it all, when he declares that he will also check the upper wobbly bits. 

I’m not joking - if his clipboard had said ‘check if they hurt when I squeeze them’, then he got a tick in that box.  I thought he was going to do the usual breast examination but instead just squeezed them.  Well that’s what it felt like.

I mean he didn’t even buy me a meal first!

I told my husband about it afterwards and he put the reasoning in place for me.  He then started to laugh and told me that he had nearly burst out laughing when the doctor got up from his desk to examine me.

Apparently as he stood up the doctor began to undo the belt on his trousers.  He obviously saw my husband looking and quickly explained that he had a piece of equipment (ahem) that was upside down on his belt and was undoing it to put it right.

I know it’s not one of those subjects you usually talk about in public but the indignity we have to suffer as women.  And this is just to rule out things.

Anyway I have to go back for a scan and a hysteroscopy (which sounds delightful) at some point.  But my reasoning is that 20 minutes of indignation is worth far more than not checking these things out.

PS Here is Bill Bailey’s version of the Hokey Cokey

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Getting to know you…………..

The getting to know you process has been quite complicated for me as I have had to rely on my memory which I have to admit is not that fantastic.

If I stick to the email type messages I have a record but the instant messages are not saved and therefore no records! Problem is that there have been many conversations online with many different people and I soon lost track of what I said and to whom.

I had so many responses that I was failing to keep up and was starting to make a mess of it. I should have kept a record from the start but failed to do so. My note taking was appalling and I had emails jotted down all over the place but failed to put corresponding nicknames against them. Nicknames were different to email addresses and different again to their real names. I was in trouble!

To further compound my difficulties I then inadvertently deleted a whole load of messages with valuable information on that were going to salvage the situation.

There was no way out except to send emails on a blind date and very embarrassingly reintroduce myself as the stupid one who lost track and could they give me a quick brief on who’s who!

I rather expected to have spoiled the ‘getting to know you’ process for a few people and was not expecting to hear back from anyone -  which was a shame as a few had sounded nice.

Only time will tell.

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That Supermarket Again

So anyway going back to that supermarket.  When I went to the check-out, the woman that served me had been in a pub a few nights before . . . . . . .

Oh well, the secret’s out, yes I went out AGAIN with sis.  This time we decided to catch a taxi up to another local pub for a couple of drinks.

When we got there we remarked on how busy the pub was and commented on the fact that the ‘no-smoking’ ban didn’t seem to be harming trade.  It was also VERY pleasant not to go home smelling of cigarette smoke.  (This is one of the reasons I could always find an excuse not to go to a pub.)

Anyway, over the tannoy it was announced that it was quiz night.  Aaahhh, so that was the reason why. Sis and I looked at each other and decided to enter ourselves as a team even though there were only two of us.

We picked a table near the questioneers (or whatever you call them) and duly started on the quiz.  We didn’t do too bad considering what knowledge we had between us.

We were slightly heartened when 3 men sat down at the next table as the sports round came up but when we asked them if they knew any of the answers, smiling they looked at their round tummies, and said "do we look like we know anything about sport?"

Oh well, they did try to help us out.

Anyway to cut a long story short we came joint bottom. Hurrah.  We thought there might have been a booby prize for being last but alas our short comings did us no good.

We were really pleased at the result, because to us, if you’re going to fail - do it in style.  We would have been disappointed to have come somewhere in the middle. 

When we got home hubby remarked that some people live for quizzes and only go out with the aim of winning, so not to be down on our result.  (We weren’t!)

So going back to the supermarket.  I asked the woman at the checkout if she had enjoyed the quiz night and I commented on the fact that I’d seen her in there. 

"How did you do?" I asked.  "We came third" she said a little disappointed. She then went on to tell me that her team was thinking of changing their name as they’d had it for some time.

Tittering, I then said "we came joint last".  She looked at me as if to say "and you’re pleased with that are you?"  without actually saying the words.

Needless to say I don’t think we’ll be getting an invite to join her team.

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Electricity of Another Kind

If you were in our local supermarket the other day you would have heard the following noises.

"Ow" . . . . ., "ow" . . . . . , "ow" . . . . . followed by a smaller voice shouting "OW".  This was repeated several times around the supermarket. 

Was it a clumsy person dropping things on their feet?  Was it the lady at the meat counter? Was it a child being pulled along by his ear?

No, it was me and my daughter.

Having walked to pick up my other children from school I decided to pop in and pick up a few groceries before they came out.  My daughter was in the pushchair and as we walked around collecting our food I kept getting hit by static electricity.

What I hadn’t realised was that as I was being shocked it was running down the metal of the pushchair and zapping my daughter!

It was the most painful shopping experience ever!

I am prone to static electricity, just put me on a bouncy castle in the heat and watch the hair.  But this was horrible.  My daughter wanted to jump out of the pushchair, so it must have hurt. 

I did tell a couple of the staff but they didn’t seem to care much and really what could they do?

Being static does have it’s upsides though.  I’ve found out I have a new party trick.

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Can we be friends…………

I have come to the conclusion there are quite a few genuine men on site that are in truth very lonely and would like to find new friends even if they cannot find a new lover.

Some of these men , I have to admit,  I would never talk to in a million years because they do not instantly appeal to  my visual senses. But having already been rejected myself and found it is not a very pleasant feeling (even if they are super tossers from another world and I wouldn’t piss on them to douse a fire! - oops sorry woman scorned and all that) I decided that I would respond to everyone that approached me even if only to ever soooo gently flick them away .

 I have had what I term ‘finger chats’  (typing not speaking), with at least a dozen men already, of whom only three have appealed to me visually. The others have appealed by their profile and the way they have approached me with the written word. 

One chap was so pleased I actually responded he thanked me and then went into a full explanation for the thanks. He further discussed that he felt the site was more about looks and although he acknowledged that this was acceptable to a degree, he was totally blown away by how both sexes were so shallow.

I have to say his photo was unfortunate and in his next paragraph gave me his phone number and "wanted to meet for coffee and see where we go from there………"

Poor sod smacked of desperation and I have very kindly cooled his heels for the time being. This is probably why those visually judgemental people choose to ignore you to ensure that they do not have to deal with these soul destroying moments.

Interestingly eighty percent of men have given out phone numbers and or email addresses within the second or third message. He was in the 80% .

I have refrained from that because as  yet I have not found one to be email worthy at this stage and  plus I feel secure in my cyberdating world enclosure!

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A Big Fat Plug & Do You Happen to Know Simon Pegg?

Welcome back to Lizzie who is writing a Parallel Universe.  Good to see you. And looking forward to Finding Mr Right progressing.  I’m hooked already. 

I’m feeling in the mood for a Big Fat Plug tonight.  If you hadn’t already noticed on the sidebar of my blog, there is a cover for a book called Pink Champagne and Apple Juice by Anne Brooke.

Having met Anne through MySpace and finding out she was a real life author (wow), I then discovered she had written Pink Champagne and Apple Juice among other novels (wow again).

Because I sometimes put reviews on this blog I offered to read the book and review it.  The full story behind this is on the website of the same name www.pinkchampagneandapplejuice.com but the shortened version is that once I started reading it, I could not put it down.

More than that I think it should be made into a Brit Film.  NO, it must be made into a Brit Film.  It’s got all the ingredients for a good comedy/drama with love and great characters thrown in.  You can visualise the actors who will play the parts.

I was so impressed I asked Anne if I could promote it, hence the website.  Anne not only agreed, but let me have access to the book to sell as a downloadable version on-line.  And we’ve never even met!

I would love Simon Pegg to to do the script for the film version because he is such a good writer and Pink Champagne  is different from the other films he’s been involved with but would also fit in well. 

So . . . . .  if you happen to know Simon please direct him to the site or the Pink Chit Chat link.  Even if your cousins, best friends, aunty’s, neighbours milkman once saw him on his round.  Any lead will do.

And Simon when you find this site, we would like Nick Frost too please!

Just a little request there then! 

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