Sorry bestie Ems again and yes I've been drinking but as the Flems say I really need to get this off my liver!
As you know - I think. My beloved and I are starting the process of adoption and we have hit a brick wall. Here it is. If you life within the EU you cannot adopt from any other EU country or the US. The list of countries you can adopt from consist of all communists states in the world, Russia, Most of South America, and all other dictatorships. Now while I couldn't give a rats arse where my adopted child comes from - it REALLY gets my goat when regulalry on BBC and CNN they report from 1st world countries - Italy being the latest. Where orphanages are full and - get this one. In Italy they have bought back the system where you leave your baby on a revolving tablet outside a convent, monastery turn the wheel and Voila! one unwanted baby delivered into the hands of the gods. Why have they bought this back? Because too many babies are being abandoned in stations, shopping centres etc only to be found too late!!!!!!
The developed world adoptions policy is basically that there aren't enought babies in Europe or the US to go round within their own countries, so you must adopt from further afield.
So here we are; we have both chosen to wait to find the right person to have a family with. Me especially, considering my back record most people would agree with my waiting. We discover the fact that we may have to undergo IVF, if we are lucky. So ws good people we think - lets adopt.
Lets give our love to someone who needs it.
What this simple sentence involves however, puts us at risk of compromising all our other ethics. Firstly the average cost of adoption is 12,500 euros. This process takes 3 years during which time you have to visit the country where the child of your choice is from, at least twice. Sorry about the carbon footprint folks - we were only allowed to love certain children ie; ones you have to use a lot of airmiles to get to. Next dilemma the actual european costs amount to about 750 euros - the rest of the money goes to the country where the child was born - in other words funding some militia that will only continue to produce unwanted children because of drugs, or the childs sex, the radiation fallout in the country, aids etc. Next dilemma 3 years - so basically this child will have been living in an orphanage or with foster parents - already had its life ripped apart by its own parents, then by the institutions, then we come and take it away from all it knows just when its about school starting age. I mean can we really be held responsible for the pshycological repercussions of that. Sorry but to me at this moment in time this no longer smacks of LETS GIVE LOVE TO SOMEONE WHO NEEDS IT. This smacks of a total and utter fuck up.
This is not how adoption should surely be. yes I know Angelina and mancessory are doing their bit, but little miss human rights activist DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOUR MONEY IS GOING? So i guess no more dresses for me for a while and I had better get used to self injecting lab grown cancer giving hormones into my belly.
Why because I have morals.
And Mands - bless ya - I know but I do have an age limit to adopting and no matter how hard you try you are not young enough to be my daughter!
Somebody help me here.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Thursday, April 19, 2007
This Time Its Me... Promise!
Sorry if you've been confused over the last two posts... due to my shocking lack of blogging Bestie Ems in Belgium decided to commandeer the blog and put something - anything - up there for the readers.
A bit of guest blogging if you will.
And hasn't she done a super job. Well, I think so anyway. Its almost like listening to her chat away... something I haven't heard in a very long time, since we don't get to chat anymore... being in different timezones and everything. I miss her a lot. Apart from maybe Bestie P and Bestie Lulu, she is the person who knows all my sordid secrets and loves me despite them!
I seriously need to get some $$$ together and get my ass on a plane to Europe for a visit before I turn 100. Anyone got any frequent flyer points they want to donate to me? Suspect not. Ah well.
Bestie Lulu will also be posting a guest blog at some time in the not too distant future, while yours truly tries desperately to get her head together to think of something interesting/entertaining/insightful/witty to say about the world.
The fact that I have discovered that my blog is now known to several people from my long distant past whom I wish it wasn't known to is one small factor affecting my lack of blogging... the other factor being a total lack of time.
Doing a play at the moment you see. A long play. 3 hours a night, plus time either side for prep. But stupidly I decided I didn't really need to take any time off from my other job, so have been putting in 20 hour days and am really feeling quite rubbish for it. As you would.
Back in my corporate whore days in London (which Ems will attest to because she was alongside me for the majority of them) 20 hour work days were a cinch. Most of the time they were assisted by a 7am sausage bap from the company cafeteria, a quick lunchtime bevvy and curly fries at the Horny & Shallow pub across the road, followed by an order-in dinner and several Pink Lemonade Snapples from Gourmet Schitza or Chili's and a late night cabcharge home to NW3. Too easy. Weekends were spent clubbing or jetting off somewhere in Europe and sleeping more than four or five hours was considered wasteful.
Nowadays, sleeping more than four or five hours is considered a luxury.
A big luxury.
Blogging is getting to be a bit of a luxury too... its just as well my typing speed is still pretty decent otherwise you wouldn't even have had this today!
So, lovely ones, rest assured I haven't forgotten you, I still love you and I will be back. In a very non-Arnie way. In the meantime, please enjoy Ems & Lulu's guest postings. And if you would like to do a guest post yourself, please email me and I will send you the magical password.
xoxoxo
A bit of guest blogging if you will.
And hasn't she done a super job. Well, I think so anyway. Its almost like listening to her chat away... something I haven't heard in a very long time, since we don't get to chat anymore... being in different timezones and everything. I miss her a lot. Apart from maybe Bestie P and Bestie Lulu, she is the person who knows all my sordid secrets and loves me despite them!
I seriously need to get some $$$ together and get my ass on a plane to Europe for a visit before I turn 100. Anyone got any frequent flyer points they want to donate to me? Suspect not. Ah well.
Bestie Lulu will also be posting a guest blog at some time in the not too distant future, while yours truly tries desperately to get her head together to think of something interesting/entertaining/insightful/witty to say about the world.
The fact that I have discovered that my blog is now known to several people from my long distant past whom I wish it wasn't known to is one small factor affecting my lack of blogging... the other factor being a total lack of time.
Doing a play at the moment you see. A long play. 3 hours a night, plus time either side for prep. But stupidly I decided I didn't really need to take any time off from my other job, so have been putting in 20 hour days and am really feeling quite rubbish for it. As you would.
Back in my corporate whore days in London (which Ems will attest to because she was alongside me for the majority of them) 20 hour work days were a cinch. Most of the time they were assisted by a 7am sausage bap from the company cafeteria, a quick lunchtime bevvy and curly fries at the Horny & Shallow pub across the road, followed by an order-in dinner and several Pink Lemonade Snapples from Gourmet Schitza or Chili's and a late night cabcharge home to NW3. Too easy. Weekends were spent clubbing or jetting off somewhere in Europe and sleeping more than four or five hours was considered wasteful.
Nowadays, sleeping more than four or five hours is considered a luxury.
A big luxury.
Blogging is getting to be a bit of a luxury too... its just as well my typing speed is still pretty decent otherwise you wouldn't even have had this today!
So, lovely ones, rest assured I haven't forgotten you, I still love you and I will be back. In a very non-Arnie way. In the meantime, please enjoy Ems & Lulu's guest postings. And if you would like to do a guest post yourself, please email me and I will send you the magical password.
xoxoxo
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
What to wear?
So having successfully begun my packing I was alarmed at how many clothes I keep accumulating and still have no idea how ANYONE can live with a capsule wardrobe.
For those of you not in the know a capsule wardrobe usually consists of the following: 3 pairs of shoes; 1 smart, 1party, 1 casual, 2 belts, one for trousers one dressy, a pashmina, two necklaces, 3-4 bracelets 3 pairs of earrings, 3 handbags again 1 smart, 1 casual 1 party. The clothes bit of a capsule wardrobe consists of Trouser suit with skirt and dress that can be worn over trousers, to save on luggage space when travelling. customary 2 white tshirts and one white shirt, Long floaty skirt that can be worn with all, party top, and long sleeve top that can fit over tshrts, dress, under shirt etc. That is your lot.
EXCUSE ME but really how can ANYONE with a LIFE live with such a small wardrobe, and even clean out and update it four times a year? I take more than that on a two week holiday. I live a pretty regular life, well I like to think so, and forgive me for stating the obvious but where in all of this is the cleaning clothes? The slobbing in front f the TV outfit? The gym kit? The I'm premenstrual pass the tents and chocolate coloured clothes? The I'm gonna get this guy outfit? The does this suit say pay-rise to you boss outfit? The standing around in the bad weather supporting your mate in a marathon outfit? The ski-wear? The beach wear? The climbing wear? Oh and the babysitting clothes that MUST be payground friendly.
So try as I might, I filled 4 dustbin liners of clothes - and those were the definite throw outs I haven't even got to the maybes. I still have one cricket coffin full of winter clothes, one GINORMOUS suitcase filled with the rest of my winter clothes, and my summer clothes take up about the same space and we haven't even got to undies accessories or shoes. So the Question is am I a) Fashionably Challenged? b) not sure of my style? c)have too much of a life? d)in need to Trinny and Tranny to give me a makeover and a 360° mirror?
I have no idea and I imagine that as I am 35, my mother has more outfits than the Queen and I am moving to a six bedroom house just so I can have my own custom made dressing room, that I am past all help. But ANY advice on capsule wardrobes REALLY would be gratefully received.
And now to packing my face with Terry's chocolate Oranges as a case has just arrived from a client with a soft spot for me - Love em.
For those of you not in the know a capsule wardrobe usually consists of the following: 3 pairs of shoes; 1 smart, 1party, 1 casual, 2 belts, one for trousers one dressy, a pashmina, two necklaces, 3-4 bracelets 3 pairs of earrings, 3 handbags again 1 smart, 1 casual 1 party. The clothes bit of a capsule wardrobe consists of Trouser suit with skirt and dress that can be worn over trousers, to save on luggage space when travelling. customary 2 white tshirts and one white shirt, Long floaty skirt that can be worn with all, party top, and long sleeve top that can fit over tshrts, dress, under shirt etc. That is your lot.
EXCUSE ME but really how can ANYONE with a LIFE live with such a small wardrobe, and even clean out and update it four times a year? I take more than that on a two week holiday. I live a pretty regular life, well I like to think so, and forgive me for stating the obvious but where in all of this is the cleaning clothes? The slobbing in front f the TV outfit? The gym kit? The I'm premenstrual pass the tents and chocolate coloured clothes? The I'm gonna get this guy outfit? The does this suit say pay-rise to you boss outfit? The standing around in the bad weather supporting your mate in a marathon outfit? The ski-wear? The beach wear? The climbing wear? Oh and the babysitting clothes that MUST be payground friendly.
So try as I might, I filled 4 dustbin liners of clothes - and those were the definite throw outs I haven't even got to the maybes. I still have one cricket coffin full of winter clothes, one GINORMOUS suitcase filled with the rest of my winter clothes, and my summer clothes take up about the same space and we haven't even got to undies accessories or shoes. So the Question is am I a) Fashionably Challenged? b) not sure of my style? c)have too much of a life? d)in need to Trinny and Tranny to give me a makeover and a 360° mirror?
I have no idea and I imagine that as I am 35, my mother has more outfits than the Queen and I am moving to a six bedroom house just so I can have my own custom made dressing room, that I am past all help. But ANY advice on capsule wardrobes REALLY would be gratefully received.
And now to packing my face with Terry's chocolate Oranges as a case has just arrived from a client with a soft spot for me - Love em.
Sunday, April 15, 2007
Ghost writers
Greetings one and all, Well I finally thought it was about time that I own up in true Hollywood Style (think Halle Berry) and confess that I have in fact not been the person you thought I was writing this blog?
Okay so you don't belive me - fair do's
I've Hijacked the space for a bit while Magical M has a life and I do everything possible to avoid packing and moving home AGAIN. Lazy Me? NEVER.
You see its like this. I come from NORMALITY. Think of the perfect English house and family and I lived it. I was the cute curly haired girl in the flowery dresses, with the perfect home, mum, dad, brother, dog, cat etc. Enid Blyton could not have written it better. I grew up in the same house until my hormones got the better of me and from the age of 16 I have moved "home" on average every two - three years. I am now the wrong side of 35, so you can imagine why Yet Again the thought of packing is not motivating me. I mean I haven't even unpacked from the last move, or the move before that or even I think the two moves before that. I am sure one day I will open some of those boxes of diaries and photos to find decomposed insects, rodents, and a mush of paper but until then I shall just fantasise that my memories are sacred and that cardboard is indestructable!
So I am now attempting to regain normality and have bought a house with a boy - I say boy because he is 5 years younger than me and has the looks of a 14 year old boy most of the time. So this is soon to be my version of normality. A 7 bedroom detached house with a garage and nice size front and back gardens. The house will end up being a 4 bedroom house as we will knock two bedrooms into one and make it a deluxe bathroom and one bedroom will be a full on dressing room, but still its pretty normal, it is in the VERY pretty Suburb of Antwerp called Mortsel and is one of THE areas to live, good schools, great hospital, village type shopping feel, tree lined streets, cycle paths - you get the picture.
The only Oil in this sea of tranquility is my hormones, my brain, and THE PAST. Why? Well let's cover these in order;
Hormones - in the last year I have been pregnant three times, all ending in tears. the first I didn't even know I was pregnant, as I had been told the odds were stacked against me. It failed at 5 weeks and I had to have the contents of my womb removed in surgery as my body didn't seem to want to miscarry naturally. The second was similar only I had been put on strong hormones to help me keep the baby, it failed at 7 weeks and I went through surgery again. The last one I was expecting triplets!!!! Hence the large house purchase. Defying medical science I took it easy. New Years eve was spent in Hosptial strapped up to monitors watching one of the three die, while the other two grew stronger and developed healthy heartbeats. During this time they are giving me hormones like I am a lab rat. By week 15 all three were dead and I have now gone through another 3 surgical procedures, more changes in hormones, and am having genetic therapy in the first stages of IVF - GREAT more hormones, oh and we have also started the long process of adoption - obviously being joe bloggs doesn't get you preferential treatment. (if Angelina Jolie's brood ever get kidnapped I am probably prime suspect no.1) .
Brain - with all the above and the past going on, my brain is playing delightful tricks on me. Frequently my 12 personalities try to sabotage my dream, making me horrible to my beloved boy. Think about running away. wondering if I could have done things differently, will history repeat itself and the good old guilt trip of "I did something bad and now its going to come back to bite me in the bum"
THE PAST - Last time I tried NORMALITY I bought a house with a divorced man, had his children move in, and then his dying ex wife. Only to be beaten to a pulp one night, thrown out of my own home and needing my lawyer to come and collect my possessions - that had not already been thrown on the fire.
I know, I know. I can't back out now and I should just go with the flow and relax a bit, while packing but relaxing and ghost writing seems a better fit. one things for sure - Living in Belgium means I have an endless supply of good chocolate and good beer to get me through it and numb the brain a little in the process.
So Missing the ole Magic yet?
Laters xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Okay so you don't belive me - fair do's
I've Hijacked the space for a bit while Magical M has a life and I do everything possible to avoid packing and moving home AGAIN. Lazy Me? NEVER.
You see its like this. I come from NORMALITY. Think of the perfect English house and family and I lived it. I was the cute curly haired girl in the flowery dresses, with the perfect home, mum, dad, brother, dog, cat etc. Enid Blyton could not have written it better. I grew up in the same house until my hormones got the better of me and from the age of 16 I have moved "home" on average every two - three years. I am now the wrong side of 35, so you can imagine why Yet Again the thought of packing is not motivating me. I mean I haven't even unpacked from the last move, or the move before that or even I think the two moves before that. I am sure one day I will open some of those boxes of diaries and photos to find decomposed insects, rodents, and a mush of paper but until then I shall just fantasise that my memories are sacred and that cardboard is indestructable!
So I am now attempting to regain normality and have bought a house with a boy - I say boy because he is 5 years younger than me and has the looks of a 14 year old boy most of the time. So this is soon to be my version of normality. A 7 bedroom detached house with a garage and nice size front and back gardens. The house will end up being a 4 bedroom house as we will knock two bedrooms into one and make it a deluxe bathroom and one bedroom will be a full on dressing room, but still its pretty normal, it is in the VERY pretty Suburb of Antwerp called Mortsel and is one of THE areas to live, good schools, great hospital, village type shopping feel, tree lined streets, cycle paths - you get the picture.
The only Oil in this sea of tranquility is my hormones, my brain, and THE PAST. Why? Well let's cover these in order;
Hormones - in the last year I have been pregnant three times, all ending in tears. the first I didn't even know I was pregnant, as I had been told the odds were stacked against me. It failed at 5 weeks and I had to have the contents of my womb removed in surgery as my body didn't seem to want to miscarry naturally. The second was similar only I had been put on strong hormones to help me keep the baby, it failed at 7 weeks and I went through surgery again. The last one I was expecting triplets!!!! Hence the large house purchase. Defying medical science I took it easy. New Years eve was spent in Hosptial strapped up to monitors watching one of the three die, while the other two grew stronger and developed healthy heartbeats. During this time they are giving me hormones like I am a lab rat. By week 15 all three were dead and I have now gone through another 3 surgical procedures, more changes in hormones, and am having genetic therapy in the first stages of IVF - GREAT more hormones, oh and we have also started the long process of adoption - obviously being joe bloggs doesn't get you preferential treatment. (if Angelina Jolie's brood ever get kidnapped I am probably prime suspect no.1) .
Brain - with all the above and the past going on, my brain is playing delightful tricks on me. Frequently my 12 personalities try to sabotage my dream, making me horrible to my beloved boy. Think about running away. wondering if I could have done things differently, will history repeat itself and the good old guilt trip of "I did something bad and now its going to come back to bite me in the bum"
THE PAST - Last time I tried NORMALITY I bought a house with a divorced man, had his children move in, and then his dying ex wife. Only to be beaten to a pulp one night, thrown out of my own home and needing my lawyer to come and collect my possessions - that had not already been thrown on the fire.
I know, I know. I can't back out now and I should just go with the flow and relax a bit, while packing but relaxing and ghost writing seems a better fit. one things for sure - Living in Belgium means I have an endless supply of good chocolate and good beer to get me through it and numb the brain a little in the process.
So Missing the ole Magic yet?
Laters xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
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