Belated Black Cat Apprecation. Sorry Norman.

Posted on August 19, 2016 by thepogblog

Wednesday was Black Cat Appreciation Day.  I think Norman knew; he had an air of ‘appreciate me’ about him.  Today he has an air of ‘I’m going to be a pain in the backside until you appreciate me’ about him, so yes, I am writing a post to keep what I imagine my cat thinks to keep him happy.  I have sunk that low.

So, here we have:

Norman being too lazy to actually position himself in a cat like way in his basket:

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Norman having removed the wool from my bag settling in for the evening:

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Norman appreciating the cat mint that he only actually appreciates if I cut it for him:

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Norman with the hiccups.  I have no proof as I woke up to find him hiccup-ping on my legs in the early hours of the morning and took a photo rather than a video (I’d just woken up), but trust me he was hiccuping!

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And the next one requires a bit of a story.  Norman has never been impressed with cat treats.  He’s much rather just eat the contents of my fridge.  That was until some of his lovely feline friends introduced him to some special treats that are basically freeze dried chicken.  Obviously you can only buy them one place on line and they cost a lot more than most, but to keep him happy I’ve been buying them for him for months.  This week we got a free sample of ‘Dreamies’ through the post.  I thought he wouldn’t be impressed.  I was wrong – they must contain cat cocaine – he almost ripped my hand off to get more.  I hid them on a shelf in the kitchen  next thing I knew, he’d sniffed them out and was trying to liberate them from the packet:

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I had to hid them in a cupboard.  I bought a proper size pack yesterday and let him have a few before putting them back in the cupboard.  I’m not sure if the packaging looks the same to a cat or whether it was just punishment for hiding them, but after 10 minutes of hunting out the cat cocaine, Norman attacked my loaf of bread.  That’s also now in a cupboard.

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Most of the time though, Norman is just very chilled out.

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There you go Norman, I appreciate you.  Can you leave the bread alone tonight, please? :o)

 

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Flashing Bumpkinsville

Posted on August 16, 2016 by thepogblog

Any woman who runs knows that the most vital piece of equipment is their sports bra.  Even if you’re lolloping along, three legged donkey style, you have to have one to save ouchiness, droopiness and, in some cases, black eyes.  I’ve said it before, but as a reminder, you pretty much need to be a contortionist to get into one.  To help explain this post, Paddington kindly volunteered to model mine so you can see the problem (Norman was having none of it.  He might still be traumatised from his bra/bungee experience though, so I think we can let him off):

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See?  You have to clip the bottom and the top and make sure you have those thingys in the middle in the right place.

So anyway, this morning I went for what is becoming my regular Tuesday morning pre-work run.  I try to set myself a challenge each week.  Last week I finally managed 5km without stopping to walk.  Today’s challenge was to do the same, but in a better time (to do that 5km I’d gone so slowly I was waiting for the person on my app who tells me how fast I’m going to make some sort of sarcastic comment, so it shouldn’t have been too hard).  It seemed that other plans were afoot though.  Less than 1km in I felt a bit of a ping and a sense of freedom in my chest area.  I tried to grapple with my straps as I ran (that time was important!) but there was no chance of any contortionist moves while moving.  In fact, it became very clear that I couldn’t fix this while still actually wearing the bra.

And that is why I took this unofficial path:

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And literally ended up half naked in this field:

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It wasn’t quite the challenge I anticipated this morning, but it was a different start to a Tuesday… :o)

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The genius of Google

Posted on August 12, 2016 by thepogblog

When I was at university I won a prize.  I’m not the sort of person who wins prizes so I rushed off to find my head of course tutor to ask what it was for.  She had a slightly traumatised look on her face when she in formed me that it was for asking questions.  Specifically, for consistently asking the most questions of any of my year for the duration of our three year course.  I never did find out if that really was the case, but it is safe to say that I do ask a lot of questions.

Google is my best friend these days.  I Google most of my life.  I must have caused a huge amount of irritation pre Google (which uni was).  Google is amazing.

Never more so than this week when I wanted to find a song and had no idea how to phrase it so Google would be able to answer.  Out of ideas I typed exactly how I would ask in person.  ‘What song goes da da da daah?’ and you’ll never guess what.  It knew.  It knew exactly what I meant!  Google, the one that knows all the answers told me it was Beethoven’s 5th symphony.  But I actually wanted a different version of it, and I didn’t know what it was from or who was responsible for it.  Google didn’t let me down.  A couple of questions later and I discovered I was actually looking for Walter Murphy – A Fifth Of Beethoven.  Google is a genius.

Later on I was lying in bed and couldn’t sleep and it dawned on my that Google is good, but could Siri be better?  I got out the lap top and asked exactly the same question.  I think Siri needs to clean out his ears:

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Siri may be younger and shinier, but Google is definitely still my best friend :o)

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A Pog diet

Posted on August 10, 2016 by thepogblog

In the ongoing saga to work out the cause of the pain in my face and having completely stumped the dentist, yesterday I went to Guys Hospital to see the surgeon who had done the second wisdom tooth extraction (the one where it actually came out, rather than having to be poked back in and stitched over).

It meant I got to show him that photo.  I did warn him first that no, the cat hadn’t attacked me and no, I didn’t have a bad case of facial hair as two friends initially thought when they saw it.

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Despite looking slightly concerned as I gave this explanation, it turns out it was useful  as he sketched it into my notes.  I knew someone somewhere would see the genius in it.  Next he stuck most of his hand in my mouth and ask me to indicate when he hurt me.  I thought that was either very brave or a bit daft.  Happily, I didn’t clamp down on his fingers, and just stuck to a bit of squealing instead.  He told me he knew the problem and although it’s linked to the wisdom tooth issue, he felt that I was quite a stressed person and that didn’t help.  I felt that was a little unfair as the first time he met me it involved drilling out part of my jaw while I stared at the ceiling and this time he’d been intent on hurting me, but I kind of had to agree he’d got his assessment right.

So the good news is that I have a diagnosis – the muscles in my jaw are in spasm – and it can be treated over a matter of 3-4 weeks.  The bad news is that until it’s better I’m meant to stick to a ‘soft’ diet.  ‘Pasta and yogurt’ was his suggestion.  I asked if toast could be classed as soft.  Apparently it can’t.  And as my diet mostly revolves around toast, I have a bit of a problem.

But I had a brainwave.  For the next month I shall mostly be living on…

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Rice pudding :)

(If anyone has any better ideas that can be whipped up in a matter of minutes using no more than one pan, please feel free to share them with me.  I don’t know how long my rice pudding enthusiasm will last…)

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Little pea and me…and some dinosaurs

Posted on August 7, 2016 by thepogblog

Yesterday was a long over due Little Pea and me day. There was much excitement when I told him our adventure included dinosaurs….followed by crushing disappointment when I had to admit that no, we weren’t going to Jurassic Park, and no, it was very unlikely the dinosaurs would actually pick Little Pea up. Luckily, we’d gotten over that by the time we arrived and we were back to excitement:

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Little Pea knows most dinosaur names and spent a lot of time correcting Auntie Pog’s guesses about what they were.

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Happily, some did try to attack:

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There was further excitement when we got to go on a tractor:

(We will gloss over the melt down had waiting for the ride to start that had no obvious cause and resulted in me apologising to the other people waiting and admitting that I am ‘just the auntie and pretty rubbish at this’. I earned some raised eyebrows and some smiles of sympathy as a result of this admission.)

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Making sand angels is fun, but does result in sand absolutely everywhere:

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What I found most entertaining was watching the Dads become sand engineers in their quest to make masterpieces in the sandpit while their small charges at best, watched, at worse, wandered off to find something more interesting to do. This didn’t deter the dads…they continued on…

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We stroked all sorts of animals and had lots of chats with them:
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All in all, we were (mostly) as happy as pigs in mud :o)

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I was left with three realisations at the end of the day:

  1. I can be out stared by a three year old in a toilet cubicle when I demand that he tries to have a wee before we go home.
  2. When staring is clearly not working and I lift the tree year old onto the toilet to try, he can be shouting that he ‘DOES NOT NEED A WEE’ while…having a wee.
  3. 4.5 hours of running around after a three year old (after an 8km cross country run first thing) means I will be in bed by 8.30pm.

:o)

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A chaotic 44 minutes

Posted on August 5, 2016 by thepogblog

I nearly had another fireman story for you tonight.  Nearly, but not quite.

I can explain by telling you what happened between 1.56pm and 2.40pm.

1.56pm – realise I am hosting a teleconference at 2pm and had better log on (a new fangled system means it takes at least two minutes to get connected.  The joys of technology.)

1.57pm – dawning realisation that the person in the house backing on to mine is having the mother of all bonfires, the wind has just changed direction and my clean washing is all hanging on the line.

1.59pm – bring in washing in the speediest way it’s ever been done just as the garden is being liberally coated in ash:

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2pm – start teleconference

2.01pm – close all windows and doors as the house is starting to fill with smoke

2.02pm – attempt to run teleconference

2.07pm – put phone on mute and thank lucky stars someone who likes talking is in their stride as the doorbell rings repeatedly.  Answer door with phone in one hand (on speaker so I don’t miss anything) and notebook in the other for no particularly good reason.  Get shouted at by a neighbour I’ve never seen asking if it’s my bonfire.  Wish I could invite him to see the size of my back garden and demonstrate that a barbecue would be a fire hazard out there, but just say no.  It’s the people on the next road.  And no, he can’t get through to their garden from mine.  No, I am definitely sure. Close door.

2.10pm – Attempt to join in on the call

2.16pm – Much shouting from Y-fronts man neighbour.  Look out (no Y-fronts visible, thank goodness) to see he’s up a ladder and leaning over the top of his fence shouting at Bonfire man.

2.17pm – Move into bedroom to reduce the likelihood of anyone hearing the fun and games.

2.28pm – Attempt to summarise a 30 minute call that I’ve heard a total of 10 minutes of.  Mostly fail.

2.31pm – Brave the garden to find out what the shouting is all about.  It turns out Mr Bonfire man has disappeared so Y-fronts man fills me in on the fact that not only is Mr Bonfire having a bonfire (no shit, Sherlock), but he will be having ANOTHER one next week, when he chops down all the laurel and trees overhanging our back fences (which we can’t do much to, due to their height and the fact that they are all in his garden).  Y-fronts man is clearly not happy.  I am over the moon!  I’ll have so much more light!  I convince Y-fronts man that this is a good thing.  Surprisingly he agrees.  I call out for Mr Bonfire man to thank him.  It turns out he’d had to rush off because someone had called the fire brigade and he had to show them that things were under control.  This was the near miss – last time they turned up here when they were called out to his fire.  Anyway, I’ve thanked Mr Bonfire man for the work he is intending to do.  In fact, I told him I love him.  I hope that doesn’t stop him chopping down the trees.  Although that will be a big bonfire.  I hope the firemen remember the address next time…

2.40pm – Finally get back to work, but smiling that my view will hopefully soon be a lighter one :)

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One of THOSE days

Posted on August 2, 2016 by thepogblog

You know those days when you don’t know whether to laugh or cry?  When sitting rocking in a corner with your fingers in your ears seems like a sensible option?  Today was one of those days.  (For the record, I opted for lying on the conservatory floor for five minutes.  Norman approved; he sat on my chest looking at me and purring in a slightly concerned way.  I can recommend this for getting a sense of perspective back.)

Among a whole heap of fun and games I had to:

  • Apologise to a rather pissed off group of people when I was thanked on a teleconference consisting of about eleventy million people for the work they did.  I did try to explain on the call that the individual thanking me had the wrong person, but I got in a muddle with my mute button.  That didn’t calm the unhappy people :o(
  • Respond to an urgent email from a senior person asking why something I have been working on was on an agenda I had never seen for a meeting I had never heard of and was happening RIGHT NOW.
  • Doubt my sanity when someone repeatedly mailed me in an increasingly agitated way because I needed to use my admin rights to help her finish the intranet site I’d been building for her.  Each time I told her I’d never seen the site and didn’t have admin rights until I got to the point that I wondered if I’d lost the plot.  Eventually it turned out I hadn’t – she had.  Phew.
  • And finally, I had to explain to an older colleague that ‘I want your junk’ maybe wasn’t the most appropriate title for an intranet story that around 50,000 people would be able to see.  (If you don’t understand, look at 3) on this definition).  That was quite a delicate email.  He’s not responded yet…

Thank goodness it’s yoga tonight, so I can think about something else…

yoga

 

Posted in cats, fitness, work, yoga | Tagged , , , , | 5 Comments

Bumpkinsville in pictures

Posted on July 31, 2016 by thepogblog

It’s that time of year where people are posting pictures of their holidays. I love seeing far away places, but actually, it’s the ones closer to home that I love the most…possibly because those places seem more attainable. As I went out on my bike this morning though, it dawned on me that actually, there are some picturesque spots very close to home, so, imagining I was seeing theses places for the first time, I took a few snaps with my phone:

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And home for a cuppa on the back door step...

And home for a cuppa on the back door step…

I think I’ll pretend to be a tourist more often to remind myself of just how lovely Bumpkinsville is :o)

 

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Pog six eyes

Posted on July 29, 2016 by thepogblog

I’ve never been keen on eyes.  If I think about them too much they spontaneously pour with water so agreeing with the optician last weekend that trying contact lenses was a good idea seems a bit daft.  But after spending the last few weeks, my entire holiday and every sunny moment while out driving with a permanent squint (I don’t have any glasses with darker lenses), it made a bit of sense to try.

I had a lesson on putting them in and taking them out.  I swore a lot, sweated a lot and ended up looking like I’d been crying for a few days, but was told that I had passed sufficiently to be allowed home to test a couple of options.

Last Sunday, I tried option two.  I can only assume that variety had been stored in acid rather than the more traditional watery solution.  30 seconds in my eyes were burning.  15 minutes in, my toes had curled in pain and it was a struggle to keep my eyes open long enough to remove the discs of torture.  My eyes watered solidly for two hours.  My eyelids were so swollen my Sister’s response on seeing me was ‘what the hell happened to your face?!’

So I went back to option one.  I’ve been building up the hours I’ve been wearing them for this week and yesterday I got up early so I could voluntarily poke myself in each eye before going to work.  I think I must still be doing something wrong.  I could feel the one in my right eye.  I’m pretty sure I could see it if I moved my eye too fast.  I had a three hour meeting and had to explain to the bloke I was sitting next to that I was being contact lens challenged, not, as it may have appeared, winking at him…

I’m not convinced this is for me, but I’m going to keep on trying so that I have a choice in eye furniture.  Apart from anything else, one pair of glasses is about to lose an arm and the other has a scratch across the lens – I don’t have a huge amount of choice until my new glasses are made up.

So should you see a winking person looking like they’ve been crying for a few days passing you in the near future, please just be impressed that I am taking on the challenge rather than being concerned :o)

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Norman is making the most of my eye issues my trying to camouflage himself in the garden :o)

 

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I made food!

Posted on July 26, 2016 by thepogblog

Tonight I made something that wasn’t toast!

I roasted tomatoes – from my garden, with feta and rosemary – from my garden (not the feta, obviously) and had that with lettuce – from my garden and a jacket potato:

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It must have been good as Norman maneuvered himself from the cushion he seems to have adopted:

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And subtly sat slightly closer to the plate:

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(He’s very good – he only attempts to swipe food when I am at the final mouthfuls and it looks like I might polish the lot off).  It was good, even if I do say so myself.

Also, I made some lollies with the kids next door at the weekend.  I gave them to them this evening with instructions that if they wanted me to make more, they had to leave the plastic bits on the doorstep for me.  They rarely do anything anyone asks, and I fully expected to find them scattered around the road.  But I opened the door earlier, and:

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They must have liked them enough to want more.  I’ll never be a cook, but 2/2 isn’t bad for a Tuesday :o)

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