The right word

I once bought a book for my ex, many years' ago entitled: 'The Right Word At The Right Time', in the hope it would resolve a few problems of communication we both had. Of course, it didn't help - it was a very large, thick book that neither of us read, so it sat on the bookshelf gathering dust.

Over the years, I have listened to comments, (although well-intended - I think), that have in some way, upset me, but not knowing how to redress the problem, or whether it was just me taking it personally, I kept silent. Looking back, I can see now that the real issue was me and the embedded experiences of my whole life that coloured my interpretation.

An example: Just after the funeral I received this comment: "D'ont worry, you'll soon find another man." It really upset me at the time, but now, looking more closely at the person who said it, I can see the words meant something slightly different to them, and that in their own clumsy way, they tried to tell me there was a future.

I no longer get upset by 'iffy' comments but look at the context in which they have been stated. The ensuing problem may not be the actual words, but what an individual interprets them to mean.

I know that I have also upset people with throw-away comments that I haven't taken the time or trouble to think about first; it is a problem for all of us, without exception. I have been thinking about some of the things I have said to my girls and friends both in the past, and recently, and wonder why I still don't think before I speak. I should know by now, that what I say, and what is understood can be so different. I am an idiot sometimes and hope that if I have offended them past or present, they will forgive me.

Dubious phone calls

A day like any other - I thought. Preparing for my friends' visit this friday; cleaning, shopping, tidying garden, deciding menus; then the phone rings. "Can you give me details of your massages?" "Excuse me?" I reply. The line abruptly ceased. Hmmm. Another caller who misdialled. It happens now and again. I have had about a dozen calls of this nature over the last two years, usually at the weekends, never on a Wednesday morning before. Two years' ago, after the first couple of mis-dialled calls, my son-in-law-(in waiting), did a bit of detective work and discovered that my phone number is similar, apart from one digit to that of an Oxford-based sex club. I had thought about changing my number, but that would entail so much hassle. Instead, I have answered the calls with undisguised surprise, sometimes I get an apology, most times the line goes dead. It isn't the only type of misdialled occurrence; on a monday morning usually, I receive calls from people wanting to make an appointment with a doctor; is it coincidence? Is there a link? Is a Widget involved?

I smile as I imagine the expression on the poor caller's face as he realises his mistake; and can almost hear the expletive after he has rapidly hung up the phone.

Perhaps I should re-train as a Masseuse after all!

To bed, with my leg.

After the storm the sun emerged casting its bright life-giving rays over the battered flowers. The orange Geum quivered contentedly in the breeze, smiling despite the tear-drops of water on its velvet leaves; calm had returned.

The owls are hooting again, a fox calls and the nearly full moon struggles to peep out from behind the dark night-blue clouds. Here I am again about to go to sleep; left leg throbbing and twitching like a bag of worms; 'fasiculation' is the fancy medical term. A pinched nerve from the spine? Who knows? The doctors don't! Still, it amuses my two young grandsons. None of their classmates have a Nana with a twitching leg!

I am so pleased that my attempts at the weekend at pasting HTMLs has in fact worked! And, I have now managed to move the symbols to the right-hand bar - wonderful! Now I can sleep - left leg permitting.

Breasts, Sunshine and Lunch

Yesterday was a real moody monday; wind howling across the open field, battering my nurtured verbena bonariensis and bending the last of the chocolate sunflowers to the ground. Only one thing for it: sit at the computer all day and try and paste in HTML codes to my blog - what else would one do on such a day? It was a good day for a breast scan too. My first! Previous tales of squashed breasts against cold metal and of guaranteed intense discomfort preceded my arrival at the travelling van parked outside the Doctor's surgery. Nurses sat drinking coffee, asked me a few questions and in no time I was naked from the waist up and leaning this way and that while the nurse with cold hands squashed my flesh into different positions on the X-ray machine. I'm passed being embarrassed, so do as I'm told without a murmur. In just under ten minutes it's all over, no discomfort, no pain - very clinical and matter of fact - good! I can tick that particular box, but await the results before doing so.

Postman brought an invitation to an interview next Monday - part-time library work at one of the University Libraries. I must brush up on the Dewey Decimal System and the University itself.

Today the wind has subsided, the verbenas have bounced back and the sun is gloriously shining down on my little patch of garden, lifting my spirits as I prepare for lunch with friends at a pub about 45 minutes' drive away. Two friends and colleagues from my past life, when as a Police Trainer in the golden days I met him and fell in love. They have been loyal, funny and there. We have these lunches every two or three months to catch up, laugh and reminisce. A reminder that I was once alive and participating in every aspect of life; and a little hope that one day I will again.

While not a day for pasting HTMLs, it is a day for a short blog, long lunch and smiles.

More blogging technology

I hope the gobble-de-gook above really works! Perhaps someone will let me know?

Meanwhile back at my ranch I am in the long process of re-writing my CV in the hope I am still employable. I have impressive qualifications and a few other certificates including my 100 yards swimming and fire-fighting for managers. However, I have toyed with the idea of re-training in useful skills such as plumbing, because there seems to be a shortage - especially when I want one.

My young grandson yelled down the stair well, "the flush has broken and it wasn't me..." The modern push-button, imitation chrome flush button had disintegrated into small pieces; hmmm... how could it possibly have done so on it's own I asked my grandson who nose was peering over the cistern. He shrugged his shoulders while not meeting my eyes.

Now this is where searching the web is really good; in no time at all I had photographed the push button flush, and giving details of the make of the bathroom suite, sending off to local plumbing distributors, getting a response of one in stock just a few miles away. With boys in car we sped along, fetched the push button flush and with careful instructions from the nice man behind the counter as to how to fit, we sped home again. Within just one hour and 54 minutes, the new push-button flush was in place and working fine. Had I called a plumber I would have had to wait days for his call-out, a lot of shaking of the head and rubbing of the chin then for him to say it would take a while to locate this particular make, wait another few days or even weeks for him to call back, take 2 hours to fit, and then present me with the bill...

Meanwhile, Grandsons have had a re-cap on the correct way to flush!

It's blogging hard for a Technophobe

Technorati Profile

I really don't know what I'm doing, but Sunday is a good day to try and get my blog listed on a directory, and so far this one seems to be going well. Some sites are difficult to understand - especially about site feeds and claiming... I don't always get it right, but what do you expect from a 'nearly silver surfer'? I say nearly; a few stray white hairs at the front and in a clump, a bit like 'The Mallon Streak' for anyone who remembers seeing the series many years' ago. Clairol and L'Oreal dye products have attempted to disguise the streak over the last few years, but it keeps coming back. Even more alarming is the emergence of one or two white pubic hairs, but no-one else is likely to see these, so I'm not worried.

I'm also finding it hard to think of passwords; do I keep the same one? Not very secure... Do I keep a list somewhere? I really ought to learn more about web-based activities and the terminology - I feel the purchase of a computer magazine coming on, or just keep searching the web.

Meanwhile, on with my attempt and I await the activity of 'spiders'. Is it me???