If we were having coffee and ask you how your week's been treating you? I'd tell you I looked in the mirror this week, and it's actually dawned on me that I'm actually 36. My kid is nearly 3. Next month, Neil and I are married four years. Seems longer. And not long enough. Did … Continue reading A Damn Fine Cup of Coffee
Because this is happening...
Today is Blogging Against Disablism Day, 2012. I am disabled. Mostly by society. I am on wheels. Everyone should know this by now. Regular readers, anyone who reads my About page, people I've worked with, laughed with, gotten lost with, my parents and the man who loves me. That's everyone. What people may not know … Continue reading Blogging Against Disablism Day 2012: This Is How I Roll
I have a confession to make. I have not been planning/dreaming of my wedding since I was six years old. There are no scrapbooks, files, dog-eared wedding magazines from the ‘80’s. The first and only time I made any kind of short-lived scrapbook, I glued my fingers together. True story. Two and a half years … Continue reading Yes, I’m The Bride. Who Are You?
When I was a kid, people were always telling me to ‘have patience’. I thought it was some kind of gift, one that I’m still waiting for. And I’m not good with waiting. Well, that’s not necessarily true. There’s a part of me that likes to burn candles and incense and become as blissed out … Continue reading The Art of Patience
Sarge and I still date. Each other. It’s allowed. And also important. When he’s working late, and I’m not working enough, dating is a way for us to remember what the other one looks like without tired eyes (his) or PMS (mine). These days, our dates are weekend trips to the movies after having coffee … Continue reading I Don’t Sleep With My Colleagues
Someone got stuck in our lift yesterday. No, it wasn't me. Unlike other buildings I've lived in, the engineers came out quite quickly, and it was working again almost before I knew it was gone. People have actually asked me if I'm afraid of lifts. Well, no. If I were, I'd be screwed. Or at … Continue reading No Love in an Elevator