Tag Archives: life

Zara Kuchi

 

Z may have been on my letters of doom list when I first signed up for the A to Z challenge. No sooner had I started to panic about it than inspiration came in the form of a Facebook post. For today I am to show thanks gratitude and appreciation for art, I know this does not start with the letter Z but an old school friend, a talented artist Zara Kuchi is my Z of choice.

When I moved from Wales I lost contact with a number of class mates, by the power of Facebook many of us have made contact again. I found (not surprisingly) that great talent had grown. For Z today I would like to share my appreciation of the art of Zara Kuchi, please look her up on Facebook where more of her work is available to peruse.

I have shared a few of my favourite pieces,

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This Zingy Cockerel makes me smile, the first time I saw him I wanted to hang him on my wall I am sure that the life and movement that is captured on the canvass spills into the room where he now sits.

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If music could be captured in brush strokes then I am sure that this handsome chap has been painted with a fine tune. I love the energy that is conveyed and the concentration that has been captured.

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This beautiful trio of miniatures, so tiny and delicate, so precise. The delicate hand that has produced these images leads me to wonder what each of the subjects might be focusing on, could be thinking of.

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The last of the painting that I shall post is this one, again the depth of spirit that is held on this canvas intrigues me, the light dancing on the skin to me the subject is emitting hope seeing something beyond the canvas that draws me to seeing her image as the subject herself.

So my Z of choice, my last post in the A to Z this year is a post to thank Zara Kuchi for producing such diverse delicate and vibrant work. If you would like to look her up please click https://www.facebook.com/ZaraKuchi

I am grateful to all of you who have followed the posts this April and hope you stick around to see what the rest of the year will bring.

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U……..Umbilical cord.

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It may be almost seventeen years since the cord that linked my son and I was cut, but today as my U post I can think of nothing more appropriate to be grateful for. When I was expecting my baby, there were nine and a half months of worry, vomiting and aches, nine and a half months of pregnancy planning and hopes. I was a young Mum, only nineteen when my son was laid into my arms, that moment was the single moment of my life where everything changed. Pregnant for nine and a half months (yes he was late) I was unprepared for seeing my baby, as I looked at the mop of dark hair and the crumpled nose of my son I was consumed with awe, amazement, responsibility and fear a unique mix of emotions that blend to make Mothers’ love.

My little man and I had been connected, he had grown within me I had felt him hiccup, turn and kick the whole time I knew that what joined us kept him safe, fed him gave him the equivalent of air to breath. A lifeline from mother to son that brought him to my arms, the umbilical cord was cut at quarter to one in the morning on the first day of May in the year 1996. This is my U of choice for the A to Z challenge I am grateful for the gift of motherhood, I am thankful for the joy of seeing my son grow into a man. Ultimately my unlimited gratitude on the day of U is for the umbilical chord for it nurtured my son from within until I could hold him, until he was ready, strong enough to breath on his own ready for us to watch him grow.

Now as I prepare for his seventeenth birthday I have to look at cutting the apron strings, For I know he is so nearly an independent man, a young man I am very, very  proud of.

What the L – better late than never!

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Late, indeed this post is, however I recall as a child my family drove 200 miles to attend my cousin’s wedding, we were caught in a jam and arrived in time to see the bride and groom emerge as husband and wife. The five of us were greeted with a smile a hug and the apologies for our tardy entrance was brushed off with that phrase “better late than never”.

I hate being late, perhaps those moments caught in the back of the car panicking about time dashing against the clock have left their mark. To avoid stress at lateness I have habitually become an early bird, often arriving half an hour before a shift at work begins taking time for a brew and a catch up before work begins. I am glad I am not big in the dating circles because nursing a drink when you have turned up a good thirty minutes early is never good for the butterflies.

Looking over the posts of the A to Z so far I am surprised at how quickly we are zooming through the alphabet. None of my posts have been pre-planned apart from P and Z each letter seem to take up my thinking time, those early minutes do have a purpose you see! I would say that L has benefitted from more time than the previous letters as I am a day behind with my posting, but with two jobs and the need for sleep thinking moments have been engulfed pondering the increasing ache of my feet.

I am pleased I have not been late for work this week. Gratitude was extended to the bus driver who grinned and took my money when I had finished my twelve hour shift on Friday. Simple actions make massive differences to the people we interact with. Last night at the bar, I was referred to as “the smiler”, sincere thanks dear customer yet neither of these actions can be squeezed under the umbrella of L.

What the L can I be grateful for? I looked over my previous posts for inspiration. Language, I love language, recently I have had the chance to speak to someone in Welsh, blimey that made my day. It had been years since I conversed in that most beautiful of tongues. Lampeter was the location of that last conversation in Welsh and high on the possibility list for the L post but places don’t seem to fit the bill. Lost I began to write on Love, while there are many forms of love I am pleased to enjoy I am not ready to purge my heart and write the moments that hit my fingertips when I think of love I have come to the conclusion that the internet is not ready for that particular rant.

Today I seem to have been cured of my alliterative addiction, I am lost in L. All that I can think of is long life milk portions, random I know. Who invented those things, pockets of preserved pasteurized liquid? Does anyone actually want to use them? I am pleased I take my coffee black when these are the only milk option available and will turn my back on tea under these circumstances.

I looked online for an answer, it seems that UHT milk pots were invented in the 1960s and were available on mass from the 1970s. Single portions sealed away from outside influence to be used as a second-rate substitute for the “real thing”.  UHT makes utterly horrific tea!

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whole milk uht (Photo credit: khrawlings)

I have digressed to the point of ridiculous, I apologies for the lateness of my post and for the tangent that has been visited today, what the L am a grateful for today? I am pleased I am not a long life milk pot. I am grateful that to live to exist is to interact with others, to share the smile with a bus driver, to feel the ache of the feet and know that we can aim to be better than second rate!

H – How pleased we were with our aprons? Hilarious moments.

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There is nothing worse than someone telling you a funny story which at its conclusion falls flat with out a giggle. So I shall declare now that this will not be a funny post just an appreciation of funny moments, there is nothing to laugh at here.

Have you heard the joke about the clown that got fired from the circus, he took his employers to court for fun-fair dismissal. Ok so you didn’t laugh, nor did I when that particular little gem of humour was shared the first time, yet the telling of that gag has become it’s own joke part of pub life. We might all roll our eyes but comedy is all in the …
… timing.

Or perhaps not, I am lucky for I have some very funny friends, funny haha and funny odd, however I am aware that I fall into at least one of those categories. During sleep-overs as a kid I recall laughing till my sides ached with antenna’s in my hair made from bendy curlers, trying to balance stacks of mini chedders on my forehead. The actions of the downright weird I know, yet shared moments remembered with a smirk.

Other childhood moments when we truly laughed included a time when one of our classmates stitched her sewing project to her skirt, at the time we howled with laughter. Her cries of “I am stuck stuck stuck and it’s not funny” made us laugh all the more but this saddens me as an adult, for it is my first memory of laughing at some one else’s expense.
To be fair, my fellow student sustained no injury (other than to her pride) and her sewing project was completed when it had been unstitched from her skirt.

When I recently made my Swedish friend howl with laughter cannot declare that I remained unscathed. Crossing the road should be a simple thing but no, not for me with hands in my pockets I located the pavement in a most undignified manner, as the kerb jumped up in front of me I found myself Rugby tackling an innocent wheelie bin while I limped and hobbled up her stairs to dress my wounds, she followed doubled over with giggles at the fact that no alcohol was consumed in the production of that disaster.

Comedy is not all in the timing, it is in the sharing. Can you name a time when you have stood without other human influence and found something properly funny when you laughed out loud alone? I will not admit to being able to think of such a moment in case those men with back fastening jackets want to collect me again.
The people who you stand with as the tears run down your cheeks and you ache from the involuntary chuckles, they make those moments funny so to them I say thank you. I also need to show my appreciation to two good traveller buddies who returned from a recent trip to Italy and brought gifts.

Gratitude is expressed today for many things, I am grateful that i giggle lots and have friends to giggle with. I am grateful that we do not laugh at the misfortune of others unless they are laughing themselves. I am mostly chuffed to bits that my apron from Italy was presented to me yesterday. Clearly my travelling friends had been overwhelmed with the culture and history of their holiday… here is a photo of Swedeling and I modeling or new pinnies
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I must state that mine will stay in the kitchen drawer when mother visits. We have howled with laughter while modelling them, I am thankful for the smiles that have been shared the laughs that are laughed and in the bigger picture,  that my apron needed the largest plate to hide my modesty… the smaller pate on the left was far far more than ample in that aprons case.

What the F- Fungi Freinds and Family.

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First time I tried to write this morning I found myself flummoxed as what to put. The fosters fairy may have exerted her influence on me yesterday, Friday night with friends laughing and chatting lead to fuzzy headed Saturday. This morning I have been flagging to say the least. So I wrote a list made coffee and found myself some breakfast…

Mushrooms on toast, it is a favourite on delicate mornings, I think it has helped. So to my F words. Over a beer or three the “F-ing” possibilities were debated. It seems there is a theme with my friends, as flatulence was the first thing someone said… thank you for farting would just be an absurd. Fungi however, I am grateful for them this morning.

Fluke and I wander as often as time allows. A favourite place to walk is the woods above the town. Kicking up leaves, squelching through mud puddles, feeling the changing seasons around you I might only be a few minutes from the urban sprawl but I am free. Often as we walk I reminisce, Fluke is not the best conversationalist. Friends introduced us to the woodland walks, while Bob, Stella and Fluke sniffed their way along the footpaths, we wandered nattered and laughed, there are many moments in the woods that made me smile.

One occasion Fluke met a friend, he wanted to be a forager, thought himself as Somerset’s answer to Bear Grills. The three of us walked for best part of an hour to the middle of the woods. There is a water tower where paths conjoin here we stopped, selected a bench and began to make a brew.

Fires in woodlands are a big no no! I am aware of this and when dog walking I only ever want to leave footsteps. My friend thinks the same way but he was a good boyscout and came prepared. He pulled a Ghilli/Kelly kettle out of his rucksack. Lit a small fire in the base and waited for the whistle to tell us the water was boiling.

Well we waited, poked the little fire and waited some more… Soon enough (about 30 mins later) I was sat in the sunshine drinking tea. Fluke was happy as the Water tower is a great place to play fetch,  we chatted, giggled and perhaps even flirted a little it was fun.

When you walk with dogs you meet people it is an inevitable pleasure of being a pet owner, add a curious water boiling contraption and the possibility of tea on a brisk day and we became a magnet for other dog walkers. Every person that passed greeted us with smiles and a pair of local foragers stopped to admire the kettle and share their favourite locations for mushroom hunting.  A place I still need to explore.

Food and drink brings people together, it might be a fundamental of life, providing sustenance but the act of fellowship that comes from breaking bread with friends or family feeds the soul. Do you recall the last time you opened your home, laid the table to share a meal with friends and family?

For sure there have been many times that bring a smile if I muse over food related gatherings of the past, some of the funniest have been f**ked up dinners.  Burned Cous Cous, (yes that is possible). Lime cordial being used as a substitute in a recipe (that was a florescent dinner). Custard that you could eat with a knife and fork while hot (Dan still will not risk custard).  All of these moments are punctuated with the silly laughs of shared friendships and family moments.

My family and friends. I have no idea where the F’ I would be without them, so today on the F-day I am appreciative of fellowship and friendship. Fortune shone upon me when I found my friends when I was gifted my family. For this I am forever grateful.

For those who haven’t met him … this is Fluke.

Fluke

How to deal with bedslugs?

We have reached Sunday, our week is almost over and again it is a fabulous blue sky day. My Son may not be aware of the improving weather, for him at 16 it is college holidays and he seems to have lost the ability to get out of bed before dinner time.

Teenagers are a strange breed, I know I was one once but I was a different variety. I was goby and forthright, I knew my mind and was not going to let anyone get in the way of me being right, so I rebelled and moved out. By the age of 17 I had three jobs a flat and my hard-earned independence, I partied and laughed.
My teenage years were short-lived but I do look back on them fondly the year I lived by my own means, life before Dan taught me a lot… it is amazing how much you learn when you are determined not to be wrong. But I was never a bed slug, I did not have time.

The teenage bedslug is perhaps a male breed of adolescent. These slovenly youths, loiter under duvets till darkness approaches, late afternoon brings the first tentative movements from their pits, normally heading towards the kitchen to empty fridges and leave a trail of dirty plates and sandwich crumbs in their wake.

Over the years many tactics have been used to handle the bedslug, I recall my mother brought my older bedslug brother the loudest alarm clock of all time. I used to go into his room and turn it off after 10 minute, he was immune to its incessant hollering.

I have tried the bacon sandwich technique, the hope that the aroma of food will prompt them into early surfacing … This has mixed results. Today, food based bribery has won the day. My bedslug surfaced for Easter eggs and the promise of roast lamb at Grandma’s.

Perhaps teenage boys are a lot like dogs, and should be encouraged to modify their behaviours with food treats, now where did I put that clicker?

Happy Easter one and all.

To Blog or not to Blog… I’ve now answered that question

So I will soon be back to working two job, juggling my time, rushing to and fro trying to maintain my domestic normality and assisting my bank balance in regaining a positive standing.

But what has this rude interruption to my employment status brought me?

Well for a start it brought me here. I have hankered for years to return to the written word to find time to think and relay my thoughts on the page, I am a secret writer who like so many others,  fears the rejection of our craft. Fear that what we churn out may only be subjected to ridicule from writers we can only dream of emulating.

“Tales from Tedium” may only be days old, but I am enjoying the toddling phase of this writing journey. The written  word as a shared experience needs to be explored and explored I have. Writing about my tedious existence while reading about others (and there is so much to read) is becoming part of my breakfast routine.

I have laughed, inhaled deeply as I ponder if my keyboard could cope with the openness that some are able to present and yes one blogger has brought a tear to my eye… this is just the start though isn’t it?

For now I have taken that step and found that I have not been hounded off the web for insignificant ramblings there is no stopping me!!!!

When I got back from the morning walk today I sat and pondered what I would share, what would I write about today… and there was so much and nothing all at once. The truth is I may aim to be inspirational, witty, positive and perhaps even a little quirky but I shall only ever be me.

Today I have blogged about blogging, there is no insight into my inner thoughts I am just a person who gets very excited when some out there “likes” what I have produced. So thankyou for reading … thank you for writing ….

To Blog or not to Blog is no longer the question.