1. I don’t know about you but I like making lists.
2. They bring order and structure to my life.
3. They make me focus my mind.
4. They help me to think carefully about the subject that I am writing my about.
5. They cut me off from all the hustle and bustle that is going on around me.
6. They are calming and soothing.
7. They keep chaos at bay.
8. They release me from the mundane of everyday madness.
9. They are productive.
10. They help me to get things done.
11. They help me to remember.
12. They give satisfaction; especially when I can cross off items on the list.
13. They give positive feedback.
14. They are evidence that things have or haven’t been done.
15. And finally; they get me out of doing the things on the list because I am too busy writing the list!
Thought for the day: People who want to appear clever rely on memory. People who want to get things done make a list.
Since retiring I have started to attend aerobic classes on Monday, Wednesday and Saturday mornings and I have been amazed by how many ladies actually attend these sessions. Up to 30 per session! I wondered who they were and where did they come from?
It is like I have discovered a secret underbelly or underground movement of women hitherto unknown to me. As a teacher I have never left the confines of the school during the day and so was quite isolate in my dealings with members of society, as I was basically institutionalised!
However I have found out that:
They are shift workers, such as nurses, and shop /supermarket workers.
They are stay at home mums, who come after they have dropped their children off at school.
They are office staff and receptionists, who have a day off from work in the week rather than at weekend.
They are part time workers.
They are young girls who don’t start college until later on in the day.
They are like me retired and since we have stopped working full time we have the energy to exercise.
They are ladies no matter their age or ethnic background from all walks of life who have one common goal; to become fitter and healthier.
They are ladies who need to be supported, encouraged and applauded in their endeavours.
Another thought occurred to me; this was just one recreation centre and in the city there are at least four others. These sessions take place in the mornings during the week but there are evening classes as well as ones held on the weekends.
If these sessions are attended as well as the classes I go to then,
THESE LADIES ARE LEGION!
Thought for the day: Life is like riding a bicycle; to keep your balance you must keep moving.
: I thought that I would try another caption challenge this week as my last one was such a resounding success! LOL
( One person sent me a caption!) However I will persevere for a little while
longer and see what happens.
I found this picture and thought of this caption:
" Oh! This potty is so cold!"
Can you do better? Let me know what you think it should be.
Have you ever been told that you think too much?
Well I have. In fact my lovely husband and dear daughter mine often tell me so and I must admit it makes me think. You see; it puzzles me.
Surely we are all thinkers. Every second, every minute of the day is spent thinking about something so how can it be too much. Descartes said, ‘I think therefore I am.’ Isn’t that what separates us from the beasts and makes us human?
Maybe it is a gender thing. I am a woman therefore I think too much because a woman is a divergent thinker; more lateral in my thought process and I am able to multitask. I have the ability to think about many things, at the same time, otherwise things would never get done.
Men are more literal thinkers; straight lines with no bends or derailments. Their brains would hurt a great deal if they were asked to think too much. Give them a beer and a football match and watch them settle down. Give a woman a soap or drama to watch and she can work out the next week’s shopping list as well as tell the children to stop fighting and still be able to recount what she has been watching. Is this thinking too much? Or is it a skill set that men aspire too.
Or maybe it is an age thing. Maybe I think too much because I am of a certain age and have lived a certain amount of time and I have a certain amount of experience thinking and so therefore I think too much because there is always a lot to think about.
Or maybe it is a time factor. As I am retired I must have more time to think about things than when I was working. I have time on my hands so I am prone to thinking about things that I wouldn’t necessarily have thought of before.
Maybe I should get a hobby (like writing a blog or creating a website of writing LOL) and then I wouldn’t have to think; would I?
(Oops! I've tried this and I seem to be thinking more than ever! LOL)
I still don’t know the answer to give to this statement, ‘You think too much.’ I’ll have to think about it!
What do you think?
Thought for the day: Don't think too much! You will create a problem that wasn't even there!.
You will all know what a babe magnet is- right? But I wonder if any of you know the term car-magnet? No? Then read on and I’ll tell you all about it.
Apparently, a car-magnet is an invisible magnetic field which appears in a section of road outside my house. It attracts untold numbers of cars daily and they remain there for hours on end.
Who do these cars belong too you may wonder but the answer is; nobody knows. It is difficult to ascertain who the culprits are because the owners of these said cars craftily park them outside my house and are never seen leaving them behind or collecting them later on to drive them away.
These cars, whilst they loiter and disrupt the flow in and out of my front garden, are of different makes, colours and size. The car-magnet section is non-discriminatory; it pulls in any car it wants, leaving it unattended with no care or thought whatsoever of the occupants, namely me, of the house it fronts.
It is not interested in whether the house owners may have mobility problems or has small children with car seats, prams and all the baby paraphernalia that has to be carted, nay hauled a distance down the road.
It does not think about how the said occupant of the house, in the car magnet zone, struggles to carry heavy shopping bags along the street in order to deposit said shopping to their homes.
It is not concerned at all that the kerb litter of leaves, mud and rubbish, which is accumulated over time, cannot be cleaned by the local council services let alone allows the drains to be washed clear because the car magnet obviously draws cars in and dumps them over the said drain.
It does not bother to think about the deliveries of post, parcels and the difficulty workmen men have trying to gain access to the house as the car parking space is already taken up.
The owners of these cars who allow the magnet to anchor their cars in this fixed space simply vanish into thin air. Are they working in the area? Are they trying to avoid paying for parking? Whatever the reasons, they show a distinct lack of thought and disrespect for the people who live on the said road.
I am sure that there are lots of these zones scattered over the city and there maybe one near you.
So although the name car-magnet may sound like a cute terminology it isn’t. It isn’t a cute description like the babe magnet moniker; no it is an annoying and frustrating device which seems to settle constantly around the vicinity of my home and I wish dearly that it would demagnetise itself effective immediately!
Thought for the day; Relationships, like cars, should undergo regular services to make sure they are still roadworthy.
I am posting something different today- a change is as good as a rest or so they say!
My lovely husband rearranged two of our 'mementos' the other day and I took a picture of them because I thought the juxtaposition of the two characters was amusing.
I came up with a caption to accompany the photo.
However I'm not sure that this is the best one so I am opening it up to you to have a go and see what you can come up with.
I look forward to reading your suggestions. Good luck!
My caption idea: "Who you looking at!" (Think Joey from Friends! LOL)
10 things I can’t do but would like too (maybe/possibly/ one day/ in the not too distant future)
1. Play a musical instrument
Unless you count playing the recorder one handed. I drop it if I try to use two.
2. Run a marathon
Although I am improving! I ran around the circuit at the gym twice the other day; all of 25 metres.
3. Make custard from scratch.
Who needs to when you can buy it ready made? Is there time in the day?
4. Speak a foreign language.
Biggest regret but not my fault as my brain hurts too much and my memory isn’t what it used to be.
5. Draw anything which resembles what it is supposed to be!
You trying living with an artist and see how often you draw!
6. Eat exotic or spicy foods.
Sorry but was brought up on meat and ‘two-veg’- a typical British diet. Plus they burn my taste buds!
7. Dive into a swimming pool.
Too scared I’d hit my head. One belly flop was enough to put me off for life; plus I’d get my hair wet!
8. Stand on my head.
Get dizzy- plus with too much weight to lift up; I’d crumble.
My hands have difficulty doing what my brain tells them to do and it looks HARD!
10. Keep quiet in the morning when others want me too!
My lovely husband and dear daughter mine are just miserable!
Thought for the day: Don’t put off till tomorrow, things that you can do today! LOL
I was thinking about names and thought...
You are born and your formal name is whispered to you by your cot-side, “Welcome Thomas!”
For the first couple of years of your life this is the name that you are known by. This is the name that is whispered reverently and the name that is celebrated by all of your family.
But as with all things, life changes and time moves on and you move onto new experiences at nursery and infant school and Thomas seems too formal so you are called Tommy by your friends and eventually by your family because you are so cute!
You have tousled hair and run around like a ricocheting bullet. Your teeth fall out and you steal the remote and you giggle like a maniac at the least little thing; and still sleep with your bottom stuck up in the air.
You are open to bribes to encourage good behaviour and you are fun to be with. However, at times your formal name still appears but is said in the staccato rhythm of annoyance, short and sharp or in the long drawn out of exasperation from your parents. It is always there to remind you of who you are.
And again, as with all things, life changes and moves on and you enter the junior time of your life and Tommy is just too babyish for your liking so you have a cool nickname of Tommo, which rhymes with ammo and you play Call of Duty and you are tough and hard. Your competitive side appears as you develop your strength and are aware of how your body works and moves.
You play football and rugby and delight in the sideline cheers of, “Come on Tommo!” And when your teacher calls you by your nickname you are made up because that is you deep inside.
But when you do something wrong formal Thomas is resurrected and you are reminded once again of who you really are.
And then one day you wake up and you are taller than your Mum and your shoulders seem wider than the doorway with a body too long for its bed, because as you well know, life changes and you move forward.
Your voice has a mind of its own with its ruff and gruff sounds; you snarl and growl around your world and you begin to push the boundaries and every now and then your Sunday Best name is uttered in desperation and frustration as you eat like there is no tomorrow and you raid the fridge and guzzle litres of milk and then when everything is all swirling and full of ifs and maybes, your name changes once again and you become Tom and it fits and feels just right.
He’s been waiting for a long time to surface but you are comfortable with him and Tom lasts you for a very long time even though in the background your real name is not forgotten as you fill in forms for weddings, mortgages and birth certificates. When you are in hospital waiting rooms at the doctors this name reappears constantly reminding you of where you came from and who you ultimately are.
And finally, when you are shrivelled and wrinkled and lying in a bed, your birth name is resurrected and it is whispered reverently by your bedside, “Goodbye Thomas!”
Thought for the day; Remember that a person's name is to that person the sweetest and most important sound in any language!
Since my blog about CD’s I remembered that I watched Top of the Pops over Christmas and New Year (2015) and what a shock I had!
I am officially my grandparents! I didn’t know any of the groups or singers. I recognised only about four songs but couldn’t tell you what they were called or who sang them!
It was a terrible eye opener that I am getting musically old. I always promised myself that I would keep up with the music trends but to tell the truth and I am ashamed to admit to this but I don’t listen to contemporary music any more. Not even on the radio. In fact I’ve stopped listening to the radio as well!
Why or when did this happen I don’t know. It must have crept up on me without me realising that I was doing it. I can even hear myself saying, “This modern music is just noise!”
Shock! Horror! What have I become? What is wrong with me? If I was asked what was the last CD did I listen to, it would have been one of my old favourite ones from back in the day! I bet you are wondering what it was?
Well, I was driving back from visiting dear daughter mine and listening to a mixed pop anthems CD (old ones obviously!) when one of my all time favourite songs came on – ‘I’m a Believer’ by the Monkees. For those of you too young to know who these were well they were a pop group from the late 60’s who had their own TV show which I adored. I must have been about 11 or 12 years old. I was also a member of their fan club and received their Monkee magazine every month.
And I don’t care what anyone says at that time; they did sing and play their instruments on their songs so there!
Anyway I need to get back to my story.
I hadn’t heard the song for such a long time and within minutes was singing along quite happily so the next day when I was cleaning I hunted out my Monkee’s CD, The Definitive Monkees and yes that’s the last one I listened too yesterday and I thoroughly enjoyed going back down memory lane.
I could see all of them Mickey Dolenz, Davy Jones, Mike Nesmith and Peter Tork. I listened to Daydream Believer, Last train the Clarksville and I Wanna Be Free. I remembered friends who came round to watch their show and the fan hysteria of finding out a telephone number that was supposedly the home of Davy Jones who came from Manchester.
Three of us squashed ourselves into a phone box, dialled the number and breathlessly waited for someone to answer. We squealed with excitement and I remember whispering, “Is Davy there please?” And the person answered, “Sorry he isn’t in at the moment but I’ll tell him you called.” Teenage fantasy achieved!
I’m sure that you too have all time favourite songs, which transport you back to another time in your life.
Oops! Sorry! I’ve wittered on too long so to get back to my original thought about contemporary music; I’ll have to do something about this in 2016. I’ll have to try to get more up to date. I could watch one of the music channels or listen to the top 40 countdown if it is still going. I’ll let you know how I get on.
Thought for the day: “One good thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain.”
Are men’s changing rooms up to scratch?
As my last blog concentrated on my observations of some ladies changing rooms that I had visited recently; today I can announce that I was pleasantly surprised by my recent encounters with men’s changing rooms.
Don’t get me wrong they still have some of the same basic problems that I mentioned on Tuesday but the overall experience was much more pleasant.
In some aspects the assistants were so much more accommodating to spouses or partners of the opposite sex. They allowed you to go into the corridor part of the changing room so that the man didn’t have to come out with their item choices. No embarrassment factor there!
I wonder if in- store policy must dictate that all men who want to go and look at their female companions choice of garment, inside the changing room, are perverts (obviously) and would stare and ogle any woman that they see whereas us women wouldn’t do that at all; now would we ladies?
That is why in the women’s department, we have to come out and parade our garments to everyone in the shop; whether it is flattering or not!
Outside the changing rooms you can often find a seating area for us women to sit on, which is very welcome after trudging around shops for a few hours. It is so much more civilised and comfortable.
Unfortunately my lovely husband (who you may remember from a previous blog actually enjoys shopping) usually has to stand outside, whilst I try items of clothing on. This is definitely not welcoming and doesn’t encourage men to enjoy the shopping experience.
So, in the interest of fair play, I would like to suggest that retail stores should try treating both male and female shoppers and their waiting partners equally with the same service and facilities as each other.
Thought for today: Remember everything begins with an idea!