The Unveiling and so on

The time has come to make a very important decision - that of the title for the new blog. Thanks to all who took the time to offer up suggestions, and strangely enough, we have two winners - Cali and Alexa. The title shall henceforth be Swallow the Key, with the tagline of, "I Think We're Alone Now". I was torn between the two, then The Dude of all people suggested the above. He thinks the blog is the most daft, potentially time-consuming idea ever, but he saw it in his sweet little heart to participate nonetheless. It almost makes me feel bad that I called him a miserable fucking bastard today. Almost. So yes, now I owe chocolate to two people. At least I kind of like them, or else that whole chocolate buying and shipping fees thing would suck.

As late Friday nights are my blessed tyrant-and-husband-free time, I am left to my own devices for a couple of hours and guess what kids, I have Swallow the Key up and running! It's very minimalist at the moment, but a lot of that is due to the fact that I'm fumbling around Wordpress like a virgin on prom night. Its simplicity is verging on painful, but hey, that's not what the thing is about anyway, right?

Behold! Swallow the Key! As it is functional now, submissions can come flying in right away because I know you lot have acres and acres of drama and heartfelt emotion ready to pour onto the screen, anonymously (or not). The dedicated email address for the new blog is swallowthekeyblog at gmail dot com . I look forward to...uh, something I hope.

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Those who follow me on Twitter may know that I am often filled with hate. Dreadful bile pours out of my mouth and all over the Twitter screen, primarily when I'm at work. My job currently makes me want to beat myself about the head repeatedly, so last week I decided that I needed to buy some stuff off Etsy. Fortunately for the fabulous Mom O Matic, I am obsessed with her jewelry and bought myself two rings, plus another two rings and some barrettes for a friend's birthday. One ring arrived yesterday, the other today, and I can confidently say that my homicidal thoughts toward loudly-chewing colleagues has diminished tenfold. These rings make me want to sing from mountaintops, and I might even get real crazy and give my husband a kiss. On the lips. Because I want to show off my new bling and also pimp Mom O Matic, here are some photos (from Mom O Matic's website - hope you don't mind MoM!):

Ah, I do love me some vintage button costume jewelry.

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I went running tonight, much to my immense reluctance. I think I did just over three miles, which I thought was totally ass-kicking until I read that my girl Helen strapped on her running shoes the other day after 35 years of not running, and ran two miles. Bitch.

This isn't about Nike (the goddess, not the shoe company) over there at Everyday Stranger. I actually just wanted to tell you of my new favourite running song. I should be so overcome by humiliation at this, but what the hell. I love it. There. I at least know Major Bedhead knows what I'm talking about. I'm just saying, if you can tolerate this nu metal rubbish that Limp Bizkit did, this song cannot be beaten for sheer vitriol and anger release.

Limp Bizkit: Break Stuff

I really have to restrain myself from running really fast, raising my arms in the air and shouting things like, "Stay away motherfucker!" I may or may not have softly said these words to myself at a particularly poorly lit segment of my run tonight.

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Speaking of music, I suppose I should post an apology to Kate for not including her choices for Reader Request Music Monday. It had nothing to do with what she picked, but rather just a combination of my own absent-mindedness and the size of my inbox. I never delete and I'm horrible at replying to emails, thus things get lost all the time. I'm having some trouble with YouTube this evening, so I can't actually post Kate's choices, but she was kind enough to put them in her comment on the second Music Monday post. For those too lazy to check that out without knowing what she has picked - "Check the Rhyme" by A Tribe Called Quest, and "My Finest Hour" by The Sundays. I assume this will be sufficient for forgiveness Kate.

Have a lovely weekend chickens.

Victim of tyranny

I've made mention of P's tiny dictatorial leanings, but only within the past couple of days have I realised that the tyranny is aimed primarily at me. P is very much attached to me, which is somewhat of a relief as she is my child. Yet, she is much more likely to be a bossy cow to me rather than The Dude. It's not as if I'm a pushover, hence making me more receptive to her numerous demands, quite the opposite. I'm Mean Mommy (like Wendy Pepper - anyone remember her? Ew), the kid's Dad is the type who will put her on a chocolate drip and let her watch In The Night Garden until her eyeballs fall out. Why is he not the focus of her attempts to dominate and control?

Recent engagements with my dear, sweet, not-even-27-month old:

P: "Sit here Mum. You do what I want Mum."

P: "Go away Mum. NO! GO.AWAY.MUM!" includes hand swatting for extra "piss off already" effect

P: "I don't want to hit you Mum."
Me: "Uh, then don't?"
P: looking very sincere "Mum. I don't want to hit you."

P: "Do what I say Mum."
Me: "I think it might be the other way round dear - you do what I say"
P: squeals "No! Do what I say!"

More to come, no doubt.

Since we're on the topic of controlling toddlers, I can take this opportunity to showcase, in the form of photographs, a display of my child's major control freak tendencies.

P has a little car:

The seat of the car comes up, providing a handy little mobile storage unit.

P keeps her most precious elements in here, and woe betide anyone who dares to remove just one object. She is perceptive beyond her two years, and she will notice its absence.

What are the contents you say? Why...let us have a look!

Shall we break the elements down? Small denim purse which always has a varied collection of stones and shells?

CHECK!

What are those two creepy things hanging out on either side of the purse? Why they are a tiny pink frog and a miniature green seahorse made of hackeysack material. Obviously! Ah yes, and the addition of two hairbands cannot go unnoticed. Do not try to put these hairbands in the tiny dictator's hair of course, as screeching mutiny will ensue.

The final element to make this festive little unit complete? The requisite dirty ziploc bag containing more stones and shells. I have tried to replace the bag, which housed some raw vegetables I took to work for lunch, but my attempt was roundly rejected. Vehemently and with much emotion.

I tried to remove the seahorse one night - her screams of agony were so high-pitched, wolves bayed beneath our windows and walls weeped with blood. I took these photos when she was asleep, so scared am I of her wrath.

DAMMIT WOMAN! RESPECT MAH AUTHORITAH!

I try desperately not to laugh, but seriously, when a small being no taller than your hip goes all postal on you about the most minute thing - that shit is funny. I watch her pick all of the shrunken peas out of a readymade dinner and carefully place them in the cupholder portion of her highchair tray. I supervise her in the bath, lining up all the shampoo bottles and having a fit if the wetness of the bathtub causes one to slip slightly from its rigid line. I know that if I give her milk in the wrong cup, I will spend the next 10 minutes suffering for my sins.

I wonder what sort of OCD future awaits. I have faith that at the very least, I will not run out of blogging fodder, perhaps ever.

Music Monday: Reader Requests, part 2

First of all, I'm still looking for recommendations for the new blog. Chocolate is at stake. C-h-o-c-o-l-a-t-e.

There was a time in which I was concerned that I wouldn't have enough music to comprise a whole post, and now I find myself with more than enough for two. I did need to kick you in the ass a few times, but you crazy kids came through for me in the end!

First off, we have May's requests. If you're not already reading May, you've got a lot of catching up to do. About her selections, May says,

"Songs that I, personally, think everyone should at least listen to the very once. Whether they add to one's functionality in today's society is highly debatable, especially as friends and relations think my taste in music certifiable at the best of times."

Manu Chao: Mr Bobby


The Traveling Wilburys: Inside Out


The Traveling Wilburys: Tweeter and the Monkey Man


Eagles: Take it Easy


Fine Young Cannibals: Funny How Love Is


Lut C, though often quite quiet lately, has emerged to request the B-52s: Planet Claire


Em over at Eggs Akimbo has mixed it up and asked for some Cher. It seems Cher is a popular choice around these parts, as Beth is a bit partial to some Cher as well. Here you go Cher-lovers!

Cher: I've Found Someone


Erin from All My Pretty Hates, yet another blog you need to be reading, has suggested The Weepies. I've not yet had a chance to investigate The Weepies much, but I like what I hear so far.

The Weepies: Gotta Have You


HairyFarmerWife has requested Sheryl Crow. Now, I have a rather rabid dislike of Sheryl Crow, but I will allow HFW some Crow this time because I love the woman so dearly. HFW, not Ms Crow. Also, I don't mind this song. Oh, and Strong Enough. That's a good one.

Sheryl Crow: My Favourite Mistake


Kristi, my co-writer of the currently stagnant Mush, mother to one friggin' cute toddler, and soon to be mother to TWINS, has some recommendations straight out of my mid-90s life. I selected the titles Kristi, I hope you find them agreeable!

Echo and the Bunnymen: The Killing Moon


Suede: Trash (Live on Jools Holland)


The Beautiful South: Dream a Little Dream


Cali has fully embraced the spirit of Music Monday and been most diverse in her picks.

Cat Stevens: Moonshadow


Soul Coughing: Circles


Cowboy Junkies: Sweet Jane


Mel, who is very concerned that I am refusing her request due to lack of coolness, is most insistent that I put this bloody video up already. HERE YOU GO MEL. YOU CAN STOP SENDING ME PARCELS OF PUBIC HAIR MIXED WITH PIG ENTRAILS NOW.

America: Sister Golden Hair


Last, but certainly not least, we have the recommendations of a blogger's husband. I am told that said husband may view blog reading and commenting as a frivolous endeavour, but that Music Monday has his stamp of approval. So flattered was I by this, that I told my own husband, as if to emphasise to him that look - other husbands think this is cool! He remains unconvinced. So Betty M's husband, thank you for being the first person to make suggestions for this theme. I'm even willing to forgive you for being an anti-blogite.

"If you like Elbow and/or Beta Band, try Cranebuilders - 'Sometimes you hear through someone else' is a great album, you can listen to some songs at http://www.myspace.com/cranebuilders, start with Radio Song. Another recommendation that came from the same source for me is I am Kloot - try 'Play Moulin Rouge'."

I couldn't really find any Cranebuilders (YouTube's suggestion was The Cranberries), but here is some I Am Kloot from the sessions mentioned above.

I Am Kloot: Hey Little Bird


Laura Marling: New Romantic


"Now this is left field but too special not to mention. If you listen to fado, you'll know Mariza, if not and you enjoy amazing female voices [she is also about 6 foot, platinum blond crop and gorgeous] she's really not to be missed - quite astonishing. Terra is her new album but really at her most spine tingling live [agree there - we saw here at Womad in 2007 and forgot we were knee deep in mud]"

Mariza: Cavaleiro Monge (Live)


Mariza: Barca Negro


"While I'm in left field, have a listen to the Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain. I can guarantee it'll make you smile."

Ukelele Orchestra of GB: Wuthering Heights


Since Mr Betty M seems to know his stuff, I'll just cut and paste some other recommendations for you music fiends out there. No video I'm afraid, as I need to get to bed before 2am.

"Back to indie pop and thinking about your fondness for James, you should try British Sea Power, 'Do you like Rock Music?' is a good starting point. And do you know the Wonderstuff? Same kind of time as James and much the same energy.

And given that you like Morrissey, I am tempted to start writing about Prefab Sprout so I think it's time to stop."

Oh yeah, I guess I should throw in my brother's recommendation, even though he had a whole week of his own recently. It's Iron & Wine, and as I really like him (them?), I'm ok with this suggestion. I believe my brother attended this show, which is likely the main reason he wants me to put it up. I'll humour him this time.

Iron & Wine: The Trapeze Swinger


That's it, I'm spent.

Here's the playlist. I had to make some substitutions, but did what I could. As usual, pop out the player if you can't see it properly.

Idle Hands are the Devil's Tools

Apropos of absolutely nothing, I had an idea about another blog. I know, I know, I'm patchy at best with this one, and the other one, well...a year with no updates is usually considered kind of bad, but the logistics of this new idea make it less work than either of my other two blogs. Er, and that private one I haven't updated in three months. Anyway, I digress. My other concern is that my idea isn't a new one. What I would like to do is start an anonymous forum for people to write what they can't on their own blogs. Of course, this would also extend to the five blogless people left in this world. I know we are often silenced by the knowledge of who our readers are - whether they are family members we don't want reading about our sex lives, or a reader base who may object to unpopular opinions we may have.

I'm aware that HBM has this market cornered with the great, often heartbreaking Her Bad Mother's Basement. However, if hundreds and thousands of mommy blogs can exist, why can't we add another cloaked-in-darkness-and-anonymity blog? I feel quite unoriginal in hijacking this idea, but I also know it is something which would surely be utilised.

Those who know me well would question the wisdom in me receiving even more emails, as I am such a very awful emailer. This has occurred to me as well, but it seems all I would really have to do is cut and paste into Blogger. Yes, I may at times send my child to school with a thick crust of snot, yoghurt, and milk layering her upper lip due to my own inability to manage time effectively, but I swear, I can totally handle this!

An issue would be that in making a submission (to an address as yet determined), you are of course surrendering some anonymity. I can only promise you that if your email address is one which I recognise, nothing would be said to anyone about it. You could even set up another email address if you're that bothered. That's what I did would do if in that situation.

I would like your feedback, because this stolen concept is my new baby. It doesn't scream until hoarse, ensure you only sleep 4 hours a day, or have reflux. Or, as happened today, tell you, "I don't want to hit you Mum." This is much more my speed at the moment, in contrast to the real kind of baby my husband is pushing me to want. That might be something I blog about anonymously one day, on my Brand New Spanking Secret Blog. Hey, that's an idea for a title - Blog Secret. Like Post Secret, but not nearly as good. I take the concept and the title from other blogs. I'm such a class act. I've just gone off that idea in the past 35 seconds, since the posts wouldn't necessarily be secrets, just things that could not be said in the usual places. Secrets welcome, but not obligatory.

That is my painfully long-winded way of saying - suggestions? Overall, and in regard to title. J, I hope you do not come up with the winning title again. It would be weird that you'd named two of my three blogs. Also, the winner might get chocolate. Chocolate, or something British. For instance, British chocolate. Just don't expect it in a timely manner, see above for explanation.

Reader Request Week 2 to follow tomorrow.

Better, stronger, faster

I am finally on the penultimate week of Couch to 5K. There was a bit of a break around week 6, as I was too ill to go to work, eat, paint my toenails, or even watch Maury. After a week out, I went out at 8.30 on a Friday night and ran 2.5 miles, much to my own amazement. I ran past drunks puking into the bushes, fat, bearded greasy men smoking cigarettes, and girls in what amounts to westernised kabuki makeup, wearing belts small skirts on their way to the pub. Just six weeks prior I would have been sprawled on the sofa, maybe drinking a bottle of Coke, reading blogs whilst shitty television blared in the background. No longer! Now I run past those people, ensconsed in a bubble of smugness and superiority because for once in my life I've initiated something and stuck with it.

My primary goal is to lose weight and rid myself of my massive baby gut, as I have told you all many, many times before in my whiny, woe-is-me posts. The change in my body has been quite significant, but now that I have had the chance to recover from the shock of actually losing weight despite my presence in the PCOS weight gain Hall of Fame, I'm now worried I am now not losing enough. Common sense tells me that I have been doing this since the beginning of August, and as I'm approaching my weight loss in a healthy and realistic way (ie eating well, but not dieting/starving myself), I can't expect to have lost 15 pounds or something.

I know I've lost a fair amount of weight - not only are my trousers a bit looser (that never sounds like a real word to me), but some of them are in danger of completely falling down. My tops do not enhance a series of massive, inflated rolls, but rather only slight rollage. Contrary to popular myth, the boobs are not the first thing to go on everyone, as mine cling steadfastly to voluptuousness. Bastards. My legs are firmer, my thighs slimmer. I do exercises with weights, so my arms, chest, and back are more toned than they have been since I was an athlete all of those years ago.

I think I'm doubting the extent of the weight loss because no one has remarked that I look better. Well, The Dude never shuts up about how much better I look, but he is matriomonially obligated to flatter me regardless of circumstances. I don't believe in scales, so I have no quantifiable way of knowing how much I have actually lost. I feel that I look vastly different, but if I really do and it's not all in my head, why are The Dude and I the only people to see the changes?

When I was sick, I didn't eat anything beyond a couple of bananas and an orange in three days. I know I lost quite a bit even in that brief period, and I would be lying if I wasn't slightly pleased. The thought has gone through my head that my limiting my calories even more, though not to that extreme, I could lose more weight quickly. My rational self knows that doing that is most naughty indeed, as I am also doing this to be healthy, and eating 700-800 calories a day is not that. As it is, the only sugars I consume is in fruit and my two blessed coffees per day. It's an amount of discipline I never thought I'd be able to maintain, but I have for a few months now.

I am a bit slack in the other exercises I do, I must admit. I always plan to break out my folder of exercise diagrams, cobbled together from newspaper and magazine articles, but I so rarely do. The busiest part of my year falls during the summer months, so I have been working some 10 hour days, coming home to a miserable tyrant of a toddler, and then running three or four times a week after P is in bed. When I get back in from running at 9pm, I hardly want to spend another 15-20 minutes lunging and contorting for 3 sets of 20 reps. One of the articles in my folder states that one should be dedicating 45 minutes 5 times a week to cardio! On what planet? I could totally do that if I was a housewife with no kids, but that life is not mine.

There is a point to all of this. As I'm coming to the end of my Couch to 5k programme, I have no idea what to do next. The objective of it is to run 3 miles in 30 minutes, which isn't a problem. I could do that now if I wasn't so OCD about adhering to the plan as rigidly as I do. Do I try and increase distance, or speed? I know from haunting Doctor Mama's maggot posts that I shouldn't do both simultaneously. Also - I really should find some time to do other exercises, shouldn't I? I do the weights three times a week or more, mainly whilst watching television. Ah, how I do love to combine sloth with exertion.

My head usually convinces me that I'm doing well. Otherwise, how else would I have been able to squeeze into my skinny jeans? Yeah, they aren't so much skinny as skinny-er than the denim tarps I have been wearing, plus I look like a most uncomfortable Talouse sausage escaping its casing, but whatevs man - SKINNY JEANS. The last time I wore them, three years ago and sans baby weight, I was told I had a "hot arse". Yeah, that's right. Hot. Arse. It wasn't even my husband who said it, I hasten to add.

Long story long - I would like to hear what works for you, or even what doesn't work for you. Share your wisdom so that I may live the hot arse dream again.