I keep a couple of blogs, albeit very badly. I’m not the type of person who feels the need to yell about what I’m doing to anyone and everyone. Facebook irritates the crap out of me, because do I really need to know that you’re shopping/having coffee/eating breakfast EVERY SINGLE DAY? It’s useful for keeping in touch with distant family and friends, and I found the MA group that was set up an absolute lifeline at times. But honestly, I don’t really want you to invite me to play Farmville or that cooking one, thanks. I am more than capable of finding plenty of other ways to waste my time.
I like Twitter, for its brevity if nothing else. If it really does go up to 10k characters a tweet, I may just abandon ship there too.
But between this blog, which I created to keep track of my writing and (hopefully) publishing news, and my other one, which appears to be mainly food/crafts, I’ve noticed that there’s not a great deal of me there. Not much about my day to day life or kids or work or family stuff. They’re mentioned, but not every detail. Even on my public forums, it appears that I’m a fairly private kind of soul.
Filed under Life, Rambles
Anyone who actually knows me in real life will also know that my life is insanely busy. Like, off the scale most of the time. I run a small business with my partner, doing all his accounts as well as physically working in both shops. We have four children, ranging from 8 up to 15 years old. Two dogs. Seven chickens. A bloody big house. I’m also doing my MA. The goblins have various extra-curricular activities, including orchestra and Cubs and shooting. I have a whole bunch of hobbies which I get far too little time to indulge, however spring is approaching and gardening is one of my favourite ones, so I have an (almost useable) polytunnel as well as half dozen raised vegetable beds.
So, yeah, kind of busy.
It seems that life has decided to throw another curve ball into the mix though. After a gentle, if thorough, scolding by J’s grandma – who turned 100 last year – he suggested we think about getting married. I agreed, Grandma thought it was a wonderful idea and then someone left the handbrake off on this batshit crazy idea at the top of a hill and suddenly J has booked the church for August 15th.
That’s this year. 2015. Like, six and half months away.
Excuse me whilst I step into the next room and hyperventilate for a while.
First and foremost, however, if any of you dear readers follow me on Facebook, do not, for the love of everything that is holy, mention this on there. I only really use it to talk to my MA classmates and post photographs of the goblins for my father in Canada. My mother, however, is on there a dozen times a day, and I haven’t told her yet. Because I obviously have some kind of death wish. But I can’t tell her until I know my dad can make it over from Canada, because if he can’t, I’m cancelling it.
That and she would want to organise me to within an inch of my life, and as much as I love my mother, I don’t take well to being organised. (As several of you will attest.)
So yeah, wedding.