Yesterday was not a good day

Despite having all my hardware removed, I’ve still got my ovaries in, so hormones – those pesky little critters are still rampantly waging war on my moods. Combine that with a very late night the night before, I didn’t get home until midnight, I was cactus yesterday.

I could have easily stayed in bed and hidden away from the world, instead I hid in my phone and stuffed up my mood even further. When will I learn?

I’ve decided to not look at facebook for a couple of days. I’m not looking at twitter at the moment – sheer red rage at the orange twat-waffle and NRA lobbyists mostly.

My mood has not been helped by leaving a set of hand-over notes that were ignored by the person covering my role while I was away. Instead of having meeting papers in one place for me (brought forward folder) and one place for BossLady, (her daily pack); I found papers, agendas, things to sign and approve, OHS walks – anything and everything, all over the desk and shelves behind me.

When an autographed approval comes back to me, I scan it, save the PDF with the same naming convention in our files, stamp the hard copy with today’s date, update my spreadsheet and send the PDF on it’s way electronically. I then put the hard-copy into my pending tray to file each Friday afternoon when my brain is fried and all I can do is filing and clean my desk.

Never under-estimate the amount of people who want hard-copy bits of paperwork, as well as the same scanned bits of paperwork.

me

I had six days out the office, and its taken me nearly two weeks to find (what I’m hoping is now) everything, which is pretty impressive. Talk about a sense of humour failure. But more importantly, it also made me feel anxious and flustered because before I left the building, if I was asked for anything, I could put my hands on it straight away. Maddening.

This week I’ve been so tired, I looked up ‘How long does jet lag last for?’ It ain’t jet lag, pure and simple. I am an emotionally stuffed piñata. Hubs and I had such a good time away over the weekend, real-life in the week is hard to get back into. I am so far off my normal rhythm, it ain’t funny.

In an effort to combat this, I signed up for a 30 day Pilates challenge at my gym. You can only book into the classes 2 hours before they’re run; so far on day four, I’m yet to get a spot in one.

I can’t get comfy on my chair at work.

My back hurts.

I’m grumpy.

I miss Erika, spending so long thinking about our shenanigans has made me realise that despite the friends I’ve made over here – sometimes you need people around you knew you from before. Before divorce, before breakdown, before Hubs, before Archie. People who know you from days of yore and see you at your core.

Coven

Give me a couple of days to get out my funk, I’ll be ok. Until then, we’re all off again this weekend (we have a house-sitter), we’ll have a good car conversation on our drive up, I’m going for a run, we’re going to hang out with Hanno, drive the wee man’s RC car and watch an Am-Dram panto #HesBehindYou

I read this on Instagram from Andrew Johnson:

Imagine if we treated each new dawn of each new day with the same reverence and joy as we do each new year.

Angie Lynn

Tomorrow we start again. I just need to get through today. As I keep saying to Ian, sometimes you can’t get through more than a minute at a time. But anyone can do anything for a minute.

Bring out your dead (again)

Hubs and I had a new experience today, we both went to the GP together. He’s been off sick with a chest infection since Tuesday last week and was not getting any better. I had to go back for some blood and a CT scan results. I’d booked my appointment late last week after I called the surgery for my results; but when Hubs was still in bed after Peanut and I got back after being out for six hours, I hopped online and made him an appointment at the same time. Best laid plans, he was in and out on-time, I was over half an hour late going in.

This was after waking up late too. Talk about a Monday :)

Hubs first, he’s had a chest x-ray today, and changed antibiotics. He’s also been signed off until Wednesday this week, back to work on Thursday morning. Officially the longest time he’s had off sick since I’ve known him. Proper man flu.

Me, I’ve got no structural issues thank goodness, however when I got my bloods done my white blood cell count was raised and then CT scan (which was the following week) also showed inflammation and congestion. My ears are also crackling, so I’ve still got sinusitis.

Peanut, thankfully is cruising along, no coughs or sniffles, which considering the amount of infections going around this winter is amazing. I’m aware that I’ve just hexed us now.

In other news, in no particular order:

  • I had an RDO on Friday, took myself off for a float, which was blissful. Then to the Richmond IKEA which was less so, aside from the bunfight it is to get in, the café was really short staffed, only one coffee machine was working and it was chaotic as a result. I should have driven down to the Springvale one, but thought that was crazy as I was already half-way into the city. After getting stuck on Hoddle Street (new and improved and widened, natch) I might as well have…
  • We had our Mothers’ Group ‘we have turned seven’ party yesterday (Sunday). All but one family were there, which was amazing. Instead of presents, we all chipped in for a trip to a massive play centre, and a good time was had by all.
  • I’m back to bullet journaling.
  • Peanut gravely told me that he doesn’t want Ickle Baby Bot bath bombs from Lush any more, he’s too old for them now. We brought Big Blue, Yellow Submarine and an orange one I can’t remember the name of. instead. He walked round the whole store, sniffing and investigating everything.
  • With Hubs in bed, Peanut and I have been to the cinema, zoo, the party and round the shops to give Hubs the time and space to sleep. Like most seven year old boys, if he’s cooped up for too long he gets cranky. It’s been a busy weekend, but we’ve had the best time. I love hanging out with him. We did 5.75km round the zoo, chatting away. He leant over to me in the movie (Incredibles 2) and said ‘I think we ought to get an ice cream Mama’ I agreed with him so we snuck out, snuck back in again and I wiped his face afterwards crying with laughter.

I am going to blog more often, I’ve missed you guys!

The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Runner

Yesterday’s run of 13.5km, or 8 and a wee bit miles was the hardest run I’ve done. Ever. Whatever comes up for me in my running journey, it’s gonna have to go some to beat the two hours I was out and about yesterday morning.

Let’s begin at the beginning. Run the Rock is a well-respected, well-attended run in country Victoria, organised and supported by Sole Motive. A fabulous company that support smaller, quirkier runs; The Harvest Run in the Yarra Valley is one of theirs. Kath and I had a great time with that run last year, (it also persuaded my GP that I had a problem with asthma, the gentlest of slopes defeated me, since then and a medication change, I’ve progressed in leaps and bounds).

Race bib collection opened at 7am, the half-marathon started at 8:15am, my race left at 9:25am. The joining instructions were clear, road closures in place from 7am. I booked a hotel room in nearby Woodend as I was not getting up before 5am to get up and ready to drive an hour so I could get in before the roads closed.

Then things started to unravel. Kath, my running buddy, messaged me on Wednesday, she’d came down with gastro and her daughter started vomiting that night as well. Thursday I checked in on her, she was still in bed, I asked Hubs if he wanted to come up for the night instead. Hubs asked Archie if he wanted to go on an adventure on Saturday morning?

On Friday Kath confirmed she wasn’t going anywhere fast; we threw some things in a bag and all headed to the motel after work, driving in rush-hour traffic, watching the sun set and chatting. We dropped our bags off at the motel and went for out dinner, finding a great pizza place nearby. Archie was ready to eat his arm off, they were flat-chat, by the time we got pizza, Archie was climbing the walls and on the verge of a meltdown. When he blood sugar dips, he’s feral. Just like his mother.

After we’d eaten we headed back to our room for the night, we all had showers, went to bed and got up before the alarm went in the morning. Mainly because Hubs and I had the weirdest, vivid dreams all night long. I can’t say either of us rested really. I got everyone packed back up while the boys had breakfast. It was cold, windy and spitting with rain when we left.

Mount Macedon was hiding behind clouds, the wind was picking up, and I was very grateful for my extra layers as it was a balmy 8c when I got dropped off at the Hanging Rock Racetrack. Due to the winds, the course was changed, we couldn’t Run the Rock any more, on account of low flying rocks. I collected my bib, then sat on a picnic bench, eating my breakfast while wrapped in a picnic blanket and trying to stop my paperwork blowing away.

I called Kath, people watched, dropped my bag in and like everyone else huddled under the marquees that were threatening to blow away. I warmed up as best I could, but knew until I started running, I was stuffed. After one last wee, we lined up, and trotted off. The wind blew my breath away, it took me 3km to warm up and get under cover of trees so I could run, breathe and feel like I’m enjoying this. Then, frabjous joy, Jac appeared out of nowhere. The pair of us shrieked with joy, ran, hugged and caught up on three years over 3km. We kept each other going, chatting and laughing with each other.

The course had now turned into trail running, which I do not do. I’m so clumsy, I prefer roads, at a pinch – grass, and will put up with footpaths in parks. Jac headed off as I needed to walk down the hills so I didn’t fall arse over tit. A girl has got to know her limitations.

It was now more than spitting. It was rain.

Then hail.

Then the rain started to come in sideways.

Then, despite the road closures, some fuck knuckle decided to move out a sheep transport articulated truck. Right in the middle of the runners. “Fuck you, I’m a truck”.

I was so cross I instagrammed a story, on my already damp phone, which pushed my phone over the edge and it gave up on me and shut down. I’d found my stride by then too, I felt strong and was consistently hitting 7 and a half minute KMs. The truck was the beginning of the end.

Did I mention the rain? And the wind? And that I was now soaked to the skin? With no way of contacting anyone? AND no Hugh Fraser reading me Poirot?

I was well grumpy. There was literally no way out but through. I ran, walked, ran a bit more. Peed behind a tree. Ran a bit. Walked a bit. Swore a lot. Complained to anyone who listened that this ‘was not fun’. Professed undying love to the CFA and volunteers handing out drinks and encouragement.

I got to the end, I didn’t even bother running over the line; I just wanted to find Hubs, Archie and get dry. I did make the lady who was handing out medals laugh, as I lifted my sodden jacket up to show my bib. I went to collect my bag and managed to miss Hubs completely who was waiting with a bath sheet, one of two he’d brought when the weather he and Archie had been in turned in his words ‘Biblical’.

I went to the bathroom, hands purple with cold and tried to wiggle out my wet clothes enough to pee. This was when I nearly started crying, I had stuff in my flipbelt I did not want to drop on the floor, but didn’t have the movement in my fingers to get lycra off. I also had dry clothes in my bag, but couldn’t cope with the thought of changing in a tiny stall with no room to move.

My phone thankfully switched on, I found my family and Hubs wrapped me in the towel. We walked to the car, found another toilet block with bigger stalls and as I was a bit dryer and with a bit more circulation, I got changed.

I can honestly say that buying those towels was up there with him helping me have a shower the day after Archie was born.

There was a coffee waiting for me in the car, another towel that I doubled up and spread over my legs. I put my heating on to 27c and thawed out. When we got home, I had a hot shower and got into bed with the duvet, a blanket and a hot water bottle. I emerged at about 3pm wanting cake.

That was a lot of work for two samples of a pre-workout drink.

Round two of antibiotics…

…and I’ve graduated from a Swallows and Amazons to a Poirot (After the Funeral). Small, but not insignificant progress, as I’ve not been able to hold a train of thought in my head for days on end now.

Chief Brody has been like velcro since I took up residence in the spare room, only leaving my side to keep up with his social networks. Thankfully we’ve not had a mouse brought in this week to feed us.

Hubs and Archie had a birthday party yesterday; at an outdoor adventure golf, not an indoor play centre, as that would have push Hubs over the edge. I took Archie to get the present on Friday afternoon and it nearly broke me. I collected him from school, walking up the hill instead of driving as it’s always chaos – coz that was sensible. We then got stuck in the school traffic for 20 minutes on a 5 minute drive to the plaza. I had to puff up the slope from the car park and as we got into the shops, BossMan called me. I answered as he never rings me unless he needs to.

By now I was feeling faint and sweating like I’d been on a run, (he said later he could hear how stuffed I was in my voice). I explained where I was, that I’d ducked out to get a present with Archie, we talked over the latest crisis at work and he made me laugh till I coughed so we concluded the conversation. I went to get some more cold and flu tablets, Archie and I headed up to K-Mart where he chose what he wanted to give as his present and we got back in the lift to go back to the car. I was leaning against the glass wall, (sheer bliss at it’s coolness) when I got talked to (I always get talked to). “The weather is a bit like that isn’t it?”

I shut the conversation down with ‘I’ve got bronchitis’ leaving the lady making the ‘o’ face like a fish out of water. The man in the lift with us winked at me and grinned. I left a hot and sweaty outline on the glass. I drove home, got Archie a snack and sat on the couch under a blanket as I’d now gone cold while we watched a DVD.

I just felt tired out at home, so I thought I’d be ok ducking out for half an hour. If the traffic hadn’t been so bad, it would have been just that but an hour was too much for me to cope with. Lesson learnt.

On a brighter note, Archie has been ploughing through the original Morph cartoons with Tony Hart on kids youtube. He was a bit non-plussed when I said that my form teacher at high school had gone to art college with Tony Hart, but was more impressed when I told him I’d had a picture in the gallery on the program. I’m trying to get a video of him laughing at Morph, Chas, et al, because it’s a glorious six-year-old giggle of pure joy.

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As Spike Milligan said “I told you I was ill”

We packed up our stuff this morning and headed over to Finley’s hospital, we went in the Main Entrance, I explained we were up from Melbourne and probably needed antibiotics – could I see a doctor please? The receptionist was great, said there was a GP surgery on site, if they couldn’t see me, then I could head over to Emergency. Bit drastic, but needs must.

We went next door to the surgery, again the staff were great, I filled a new patient form in and got squeezed into see one of the GPs. After asking me about smoking and alcohol as I was new on the system and he couldn’t do anything until he completed these, (I didn’t mention the first rule of Book Club), he listened to my chest. We talked through my symptoms > Bronchitis.

I’ve got industrial strength antibiotics, plus steroid tablets, I’m to double my steroid inhaler dose, take an antihistamine, continue on the cold and flu relief and use my ventolin at least twice during the day too. I’m to file the repeat antibiotics if I am still coughing at all after five days but if I’m still running a fever after three I have to go back to my GP. How do you know when you’re running a fever? When your paracetamol runs out, you wilt and have your own personal summer.

To say I’m off my face on medications would be an understatement.

The last time I had this much of a mixture going through me would have been after my c-section! Anyhoo, I’m sounding better already, which I’m sure is just the steroids jollying everything along.

Archie had asked to visit the bees at Beechworth before we’d even come up to NSW. After getting my script filled in Finley, we got a coffee and a snack at Tocumwal. I then Mad-Navd Hubs a most peculiar route to Beechworth – we did a glorious squircle around Tocumwal and saw lots of farmland. Bless him. I’m firmly blaming the drugs and I’m sure we’ll laugh about it soon.

We stopped at the Beechworth Pantry for lunch, Italian polenta stack for me, so stealing that idea. It was like a lasagne, gluten free heaven on a plate. Hubs ordered a Devonshire Tea (what Aussies call a Cream Tea). I got told that they didn’t do Devonshire Teas, but he could have either plain or date scones with cream and jam. I just looked surprised and said ‘Yes please!’ Arch ordered a ham and cheese sandwich and we shared two pots of English Breakfast, with Archie declaring that “Tea was his best drink!” The three of us people watched quite happily and brought some Ploughman’s lunch fixings. Can’t wait for that tomorrow!

We tottered back up the hill to the bees, I nearly needed a lie down when we got there and was seriously eyeing up the chairs outside. However, the microscopes that Archie wanted to look through had gone, the whole shop had been rearranged and we only came out with one pot of honey. Unheard of for us, but the shelves were bare. They’d evidently had a good weekend and were revving up for Christmas.

By now I was wilting good and proper, we got back to the car, Mad-Navd Hubs out of Beechworth, confirmed the route he needed and fell asleep. Which was great, until Archie decided I needed to wake up and shoved me through the headrest. You know those naps where you wake up thinking you’re in a different time-zone, you feel worse than when you went to sleep? That.

Still we got home in one piece, the cat has not left my side and either purred at me while swaying in bliss, or yelled at me with joy for the best part of an hour. He’s now lying on my bed, chirping away in his sleep.

We’ve the public holiday for the horse race tomorrow (only in Australia, but on this occasion – THANK GOODNESS!) we have all had showers, bread and milk have been brought, the washing can wait till tomorrow; I’ve only got three pairs of undies and a pair of PJs to wash – hurrah! I’ve been in bed for an hour and don’t care a jot.

See you all on the other side of what is sure to be an interesting night’s sleep! I’ll leave you with this heathen putting his jam on first – tsk!

Heathen!

I’ll think of a title later

We’re away for our annual Berrigan Cup weekend visiting Hanno. It’s one we look forward to all year as we catch-up with family and friend while we’re here. Archie loves his Godfather and enjoys hanging out with him, we love seeing Hanno’s folks and for me it gives me a chance to run on the flat. Bliss.

On Wednesday this week I started struggling to breathe while I ate my lunch, that afternoon I felt pretty ordinary; waking up to a snotty and hot Archie on Thursday we both stayed at home in our PJs and watched DVDs. Friday I was back at work as if I’m going away for the weekend, it ain’t cricket not going in. I still didn’t feel great, but drove to Shepparton after we’d collected Hubs. We had a nice dinner, changed drivers and completed our journey. So far, so normal.

Friday night I slept like a log, but started coughing in the morning. I went into the pharmacy here in town and explained I’d brought a cold up with me, but despite my best efforts, couldn’t shift anything with my cough. I got given a peach flavoured syrup (insert green barf face emoji here) and it started to loosen everything up as promised.

I now sound like an old sailor with a pipe.

It’s Sunday afternoon, I’ve just had a shower after spending all day in bed, I watched Moana and wafted to Bob Ross. While I’ve graduated to the couch, I nearly had to sit down in the shower.

Needless to say, neither one of my two flat long runs I had planned this weekend have come to fruition. Off to try and get a prescription tomorrow, not sure what bit of me is infected, but it’s defeated me this weekend.

I’m arriving on a jet-plane – eventually

This is the email I sent to Wittertainment, but didn’t get read out. It’s an overview of the flight from Melbourne to London that started on 24 March. I’m not going to re-type it, so sorry, (not sorry), for the in-jokes and Witter vernacular…

Dear Captain Kramer and Captain Oveur,

I get to watch your bad selves on the live stream this week, for the first time evs. because as much as I love you and Jason, I ain’t getting up at that time of night in Australia. I’ve been listening to you since Radio 1, and Viggo Mortensen answered a question of mine in an interview.

Thank you for keeping me sane over the past few days. I’d stockpiled some podcasts and redownloaded, (is that is a word??) some old favourites for my trip back to the UK from Melbourne. When it all got too much, your witterings, bickerings, dulcet tones and the rants kept me grounded (hysterical laughter).

On Friday night, my husband, son and I had dinner at Melbourne’s Airplane Station. The boys went home and I checked in to fly to the UK for my brother’s 40th. After a busy week, which included Adele’s concert on the Sunday night, I was shattered and fell asleep straight after take-off. I woke up after ten hours (unheard of) and watched La La Land; the enjoyment of which was somewhat disrupted by rather a lot of cabin announcements.

What happened on the journey is either a farce, or a Monty Python sketch, I’m still working it out what comedy genre it fits into. However, in terms of flight bingo, does this clear the board?

  • Late departure by half an hour.
  • Gate given at Dubai, Captain excitedly explains “It’s very unusual not to be put in a hold pattern at Dubai, but we’re number three in the queue!”
  • “We’re being put in a hold pattern”
  • “The weather at Dubai is terrible, we’ll circle for a while”
  • Two hours later, “We can’t keep circling, we’re running out of fuel, we’re checking our options”
  • Diverted to Muscat in Oman.
  • We circle around Muscat for another hour.
  • We get a bird strike on our way to land in Muscat. They’re also still building the new airplane station. The A380 that we’re on is much bigger than the planes they normally see. The pilot edges us around buildings carefully, construction workers are taking pictures on their phones and watching in awe.
  • On the tarmac in Muscat for three hours, “While we’ve been refuelled; we can’t take off until we know we can land in Dubai, and the weather is too bad.”
  • “Now the weather is heading towards Muscat.”
  • “The crew have run out of hours.”
  • “There’s a replacement crew coming in on a private jet.”
  • “We’ve got to cancel the flight. We’re going to deplane you, put you in hotels overnight, to come back here in the morning.” We all pile off the plane, onto buses to the old terminal. As we’re heading down the stairs, the Captain explains that 30-odd flights had been diverted to Muscat’s airplane station.
  • We get into the terminal, are directed upstairs to the arrivals lounge, then get asked to go back downstairs. We need to complete visa paperwork, to leave the airport, to go to the hotels. One man begins to hands out carbon paper copies to 400+ passengers, we run out of forms.
  • We wait for more forms.
  • We wait for a bit more, as we don’t know where we’re staying so we can’t complete the forms.
  • We have forms.
  • We wait for our stamps at immigration.
  • We wait for a bit more. The staff were great, just completely overwhelmed with the amount of people.
  • We have stamps.
  • We wait for buses.
  • Nearly eight hours after landing at Muscat, I’m put on the last bus.
  • Arrive at the hotel to be met by amazing Manager, who assesses the bedraggled state we’re in “Some of you check in now, some check in later. Lunch is all ready and waiting” (it is nearly 5pm). I’ve not eaten since the last meal serving on the flight, which was about 6am – I’m coeliac – all the snacks on board have gluten in, I could have eaten my arm off.
  • The next morning we get told we’re being collected at 2pm from our hotels to fly out at 5:30pm.
  • A whistle-stop tour of Muscat is arranged through the front desk, including a visit to the Grand Mosque, which was stunning. While we’re out and about, my flight to the UK is confirmed for 9am the following day – I’m being put up in a hotel again in Dubai overnight.
  • 2pm we’re collected in a bus, head back to the airport. All our boarding passes have been printed A-Z by surname, we rattle through collecting them and head to the gate.
  • 4:30pm we start getting on the plane, again being bused out as we’re miles away from the terminal. The Captain has his window open and is hanging out waving and posing for selfies. People are standing on the tarmac taking pictures.
  • 6ish we take off and head back to Dubai.
  • We land and are advised to head to the transit desk to sort out our flight details. There’s 400+ passengers, all waiting for boarding passes, individually printed off with connecting information on. More by luck than judgement, I’m in the right place at the right time and hear London Heathrow being called; my hotel booking is written on my boarding pass.
  • Head up to the hotel in the airport, we’ve all been booked on the same reference number, that the hotel staff have no record of.
  • We wait for a bit more.
  • An hour later, I have a room! My meal voucher is also given to me, it’s now 9pm, I’ve not eaten since lunch. But I have to get a train to another terminal to eat. I’m now in sense of humour failure.
  • I head back to the hotel room, have a shower and fall into bed.
  • Up with my alarm, I collect another meal voucher for breakfast, this time I can walk there.
  • I find the gate for the flight, we’re boarding – yay timing!
  • I go downstairs to wait a bit more in another lounge. I might have another sense of humour failure.
  • On the plane, I put on Singin’ In The Rain [Oi kaan’t stand it], raise a glass to the venerable Debbie Reynolds and suffer uncontrollable AALS and guffaw through my tears.
  • “Is there a doctor on board?” We have a medical emergency on the flight.
  • We get closer to Heathrow, we are told we’re landing without going into the usual holding pattern. We come screaming into Heathrow, to be met by ambulance, a mere seventy-two hours after we left Melbourne.
  • When we get to the baggage hall – you know where this is going already – they’ve lost our bags too.
  • And I’m Not Even Joking.

Tinkerty tonk old fruits. x