One hundred years old and climbing

My eyes meader along the grass path which runs in a higgeldy piggeldy fashion towards the one hundred year old beech tree.

This majestic tree commands the sweeping fields beyond it.

Long arching branches bow low in the soft breeze sweeping the tender freshly cut grass. The air around it tingles with expectancy.

Stretching skywards the tip of the tree appears to brush heavens floor.

It’s extravagant size suggests it has regal dealings of a celestial nature.  Fluffy clouds perch on its top, lingering like surreal angels seeking a brief respite from their work.

Truth is this chameleon is hiding an earthly significance. It serves to remind us of natures calendar as it announces the season by the coat it wears.

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Maria’s Diary: Voting Day and Back Pain

No the two are not related.

The thought of voting is a bit of a pain but that didn’t cause the lower pain in my back.

The pain occurred when I bent down to pick something up and twack! There you go, one dog with a sore paw and one owner who is basically knackered. Needless to say Ellie is not in good form (lying around for a collie is like exercise to Bob) and I am not a good patient. I can give the advice but I don’t take it or follow it.

And there is loads of advice. The one I got but didn’t appreciate was from an older friend who suffers with his back big time. “Oh you may get it x rayed but I’d say meself you are knackered, just lie down and die.”

That line went in one ear, got translated as never ask Mr. C for advice again, and straight out the other ear into the bin.

The tips for back pain are (and bear in mind this is all Irish advice) :

1. Put ice on it.

2. Put heat on it.

3. Lie down.

4. Sit down.

5. Keep moving around every 30 minutes or so.

6. Walk but don’t tackle slopes hills or steps! (Cute this is Ireland no matter where you go there is a slope, a hill or a step.)

7. Seemingly I’m not to exercise it.

8. Take pain killers but not too many (?)

9. Find some poteen (best description is probably illegal Irish home made vodka which is as easy to get as  Leprechaun’s gold) and mix with olive oil, rub it in and don’t drink it.(Heck if I’ve managed to find it you can be sure I will taste it!)

I think I’ll go with a mix and match version of some of the above depending on the weather and my humour.

Regarding the local election, everyone I ‘ve talked to has a similar opinion to mine. It doesn’t matter who we elect. They start with great intentions but once they get inducted to the system their intentions (along with logic and common sense) get dry cleaned, pressed and starched somehow turning into the local Councils’ 200 year old policy.

But I have to agree I will need to vote, so anyone got any suggestions?

 

 

 

Maria’s Stuff: Life in the gym at 50.

My decision to take classes in a local gym stemmed from the following facts.

For the period of eighteen months to two years before June 2013, my life revolved around my parents. My mum’s strokes meant she needed our support and that was that. However, following her death in June 2013 I began to take a look at my own health.

I’ve always been conscious of my health but never more so than after witnessing the devastation that a stroke, diabetes and heart problems can bring to someone’s door.  Add experience with dealing with epilepsy and asthma into the mix and I had good reason to sit and think about my future.

Health is your wealth. Truth.

I decided to step up my fitness regime by doing, Pilates and Kettlebells. All went well and when my husband said he was going to Niall’s gym for some strength and mobility classes I was encouraged to go along.

I have been there once a week for the past five weeks. It has been an eye opener for me.

1              I’m not as unfit as I thought,

2              A combination of working for years at a typewriter or computer has reduced my shoulder mobility and

3              Competitiveness does not diminish with age. (As I quickly discovered when a mini competition began between me and another lady of a good twenty – twenty-five years younger than me.) It was worth the heavy perspiration rate when I noticed the surprised and strained look on her face.

The disadvantages of going into this particular gym are:

1. Niall  – Having the trainer tell you “Mum you really don’t need to push yourself into a state requiring an ambulance, do you?” is a bit disheartening.

2. Letting the whole room know you actually gave birth to their personal fitness trainer is not always a good thing.

3. Bribing your trainer (son) with chocolate cake/cheescake and pancakes does not always work in your favor.

But the advantages are still there,

1. I’ve toned up those dreaded bingo wings.

2. I can manage to keep up with the kids I coach athletics to.

3.  I can eat the said, cheesecake, chocolate cake with less guilt than ever felt before.

 

The only trouble is what happens if and when I stop exercising? Best not to worry just enjoy the cake.

Bob’s Diary: Who needs a time travelling machine, check this out.

Ellie’s comment on the Ferrari got me thinking.

She is correct (don’t tell her I said that) we need proper transport.

 

So….Opinions please…. what do you think of this? My hunt an Ogre car….

 

Only problem is, I’m not letting her in, she is always mucky. (Maybe she will fit in the boot).

The Sunshine Award.

A big thank you from me (and woof from the two four legged bloggers) to Belsbro for nominating our blog for the Sunshine Award.

Here’s how the nomination works:

* Use the logo above in the post.

* Link to whoever nominated you.

* Write ten pieces of information about yourself.

* Nominate ten fellow bloggers “who positively and creatively inspire others in the blogsphere.”

* Leave a comment on the nominees’ blogs to tell them of the award.

Difficult to remember ten non boring things about myself but I’ll try:

1. I believe in the power of good, everyone is here for a reason.

2. I was born a dreamer, got bullied and in trouble in school because of it and was stubborn enough to cultivate those dreams into stories.

3. I volunteer with several groups because (selfishly) I enjoy it and enjoy meeting like minded people.

4. I am a morning person.I wake early, drive everyone nuts by being up and about and smiling.

5. I used to worry about not having money. Years of not having much has made me learn how to live and enjoy.

6. I was Ireland’s worst athlete but love running and throwing, now I coach schoolkids and enjoy it.

7. I was terrified of everything when I was a child. My parents got a dog, he became a life saver to me, now I would love to adopt many more than the two I have.

8. I love chocolate but it doesn’t like me, leaves me with a headache to rival any hangover.

9. I have a fear of ill health, having nursed my mum I do not wish to travel down the same road so I walk, cycle and attend a weekly strength and mobility class.

10. I have been married for 31 years and Pat is my best friend, corny I know but true.

 

Here’s the list of blog sites I nominate for the award.

Breath of Green Air

At Least I have a Brain

50 is the new 30

Listen Watch Read

Collies of the Meadow

How to be a children s Illustrator

Haley the wonder dog

Live to write – write to live

Violets Veg*n E-Comics

Chronic Conditions and LIfes lessons

Thank you all for inspiring and encouraging me to keep blogging and writing.

Bob’s Diary: I don’t like birds but…

We collected a badge

from#Irishbizparty

 

Every Weds evening from  9pm to 11pm we tweet and swop information.

Try it and see.

 

 

Get up and tell yourself you can do it

For every writer, artist, photographer, entrepreneur who is struggling, keep going….

A Small Act Of Kindness Can Bring Smile On Million Faces

kindly reblog and recommend us in your group.

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The Impudent Tattoo

I’m staring at my arm. I blink. Blink again, in the hope I will wake up. I pinch my arm to check if I’m dreaming. The expensive, painful, carefully drawn dragon has vanished.

This morning, while showering I noticed the ink was fading. Soap trickled into my eyes as I attempted to solve the puzzle. Had I been conned? Money taken for a cheap tacky job. No, I couldn’t call it either tacky or cheap. It hurt.

The tattoo was to mark the turning point in my life. I was free from my husband. I suppose it was an incredibly stupid act of rebellion but  I did it. I got a tattoo, at thirty eight years of age.

Once dressed I decided to return to the scene of the crime – the tattoo shop. It was small, crowded and busy. Despite the recession, many of us are escaping age or misery by acquiring a tattoo.

The door bell jangles as I enter.  The artist looks up. He scowls, then flicks the chewing gum from his mouth into a waste bin by his side. The current victim sitting in the chair is young, pale faced and clutching a tin of alcohol. I grimace, turn from the boy.
“Lo. You’ll have to wait.” He grudgingly acknowledges my presence and waves his implement of torture in my direction.

“I.” Clearing my throat I start again. “We have a problem. The tattoo you gave me is disappearing.”

He smiles. This is not a pleasant smile. It is a horrific metal smile. Cool and ugly. His voice canons into me, “I want whatever you are on.”

The boy in the chair glances at me,  “Can I have some? Does it make the pain go away?”
I ignore him and focus on the artist who is staring at my arm. I glance down. Disbelief washes through me because I have a tattoo of a dragon on my arm.
“I think you should go for a sleep and relax. It looks like a nice clean job, swelling has already vanished. You will be fine.” He dismiss’ me.
I feel the blood drain from my face. ” It’s back.” I whisper ignoring the giggles from the boy.

I leave as quietly as I can.
However two minutes later, cutting through the park, I glance down. No tattoo. This is madness. I head for a park bench.
“I must be crazy.”

“You are not but I wouldn’t class you as being un-crazy either.” The voice is elderly but pleasant. I look around and see nothing. Not even a cat lazing in the bushes or a bird tweeting in a tree.

I feel a tweak of heat on my arm and I glance down. The dragon stares up at me. He is approximately three inches tall and is breathing fire at an amazing rate.
“Please don’t do that.”

“Why? I’ve lain amongst the pages of that blasted book for ever and now that I’m free, why not?’
I shrug my shoulders and think. I can understand that. “But it’s my arm and I would rather not be burnt.”
He smiles at me . “I’m George, by the way.”
I lean over and pluck a leafy twig from the nearest shrub. “Try this.”
He does and is happy with the result. A black shriveled mess.

To prove his happiness he begins to dance, tap dance if I’m not mistaken all the way up and down my arm and along the seat I am sitting on.
A shadow looms above me and I look up. The park keeper is standing glaring at me. “Why would you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Set a twig on fire.” He has yanked off his cap and is mopping his brow with a white hanky. His bald head is a shining example of cleanliness.
“I didn’t..” I begin.
“It was me.” George explains as he jumps onto the arm of the bench. To reinforce his point he releases a bellow of fire that catches the end of the park keeper’s hanky. It goes up in smoke. He looks at me and at George. He faints, landing on the ground with a nice soft thud.
Standing up, I step over the keeper saying, “George, this is interesting.  Would you like to meet my ex husband?”
George smiles and I leave the park with him sitting on my shoulder.

Tricks, new and old.

Joe stood staring out at the sea. He was an upright weather beaten man in his late seventies. The large shaggy dog sat at his side.

Joe’s sadness stretched out and down into the depths of the sea, his school friend Larry had died two days ago. It was a fine funeral.

Joe wished he knew if there was something after this life. He would discover the truth sooner rather than later. He grinned remembering long hours spent debating the what if’s of the whole matter, while perched on their regular high stools. We enjoyed the debate, even if we never came to a concrete decision. He shook his head, now they would never debate anything again.

A bird flew low heading inland to it’s nest.

“We should do the same Rigsby”, he said, “but it won’t matter much if we take a bit more time. It’s nice out here.”

His eyes met the dog’s solemn stare, “raw and wild, the way life should be, not confined by rules we are afraid to step beyond.”

Joe chuckled remembering the way he could never colour within the given lines as a child. A talent he carried with him throughout his teenage years and into adulthood.

“Hard to teach an old dog new tricks,” he said as the dog nuzzled his hand. “But I’ve been told I have to conform, behave rather than indulge in whims, or wild and fanciful moments.”  He had spent the last six months behaving in a manner befitting his age while he stayed by Larry’s side.

“Boring, awful depressing stuff,” he muttered.  “But today we escaped our minders,”

Laura had been fussing about him going to a funeral, standing about in the cold. “You might catch something, Dad,” she scolded.

“Wouldn’t that be something! Imagine catching anything at my age,” he replied. He felt guilty at having given her the slip, she would worry and he’d hear all about it when she caught up with him.

He reckoned they had a good hour yet. ‘What would you do Larry if you were here with me?” He grinned as the sun switched its power on him.

He could hear his friend say, “Why Joe, I’d dive in, go for a swim, enjoy meself isn’t that what truly matters? Live for the moment.”

‘What the hell, you are right Larry. Let’s celebrate the fact that I am here,’ he chuckled as he pulled off his shoes and socks. “Come on Rigsby, let’s live!”

When the gentle ‘woof’ of approval was given together man and dog went for a paddle.

A Walk On The Wild Side (400 words)

‘I might as well be a tinned sardine.” The bus lurched to a stop. Grace’s chin met the large shoulder of the guy in front of her. One line of text from his book jumped out at her: ‘What will you do with your one wild and precious life”

‘Nothing wild in my life’ she thought, visualizing the stack of unpaid household bills. For a moment she wondered what being wild would entail.

‘Jumping ship to discover the wonders beyond these shores, with not one euro in my pocket?’ Grace’s smile was tinged with sadness and longing. Truth was responsibilities meant she was careful to colour her life inside certain borders and never, ever, step outside the boundaries. Besides I don’t do wild or mad, not anymore she thought, not since that one night of drunken madness resulted in baby Noah.

Though, she considered, I might become bonkers from stress, boredom or worse lose my patience with this whole system and run naked through the streets. Thinking of the stack of money needed to survive brought a lot of grey thoughts to her mind. Wearing them like a cloak she got off at her usual stop and trudged up the street.

Standing on the threshold of her front door step, she took a deep breath and walked into the grim reality of her daily life. One hour later and Grace was feeling that familiar tightness in her chest. The room was closing in on her. Two pairs of eyes followed her every move: a silent echo of the sadness she felt. For a moment she considered running away.

A glimmer of sunshine sneaked into the room, Grace turned and peered outside. The warmth and comfort beckoned.  Gran looked at Grace pulling hats and coats from the hooks by the back door, “Where are we going? We never go out after tea!”

Grace placed baby Noah on Gran’s lap saying, “Hang on tight to him. We are going to walk on the wild side.”

A puzzled look was shot her way, she grinned as she pushed the laden wheel chair through the door. Then standing in front of them she performed a dance.

“I am going to teach Noah how to make the most of this life, be it wild or precious, we have only one, let’s make it count, eh gran?” Giggling and chortling like two teenagers they set off for the park.