Posted by: reflective moments

I have to live with myself, and so
I want to be fit for myself to know;
I want to be able as days go by
Always to look myself straight in the eye;
I don't want to stand with the setting sun
And hate myself for the things I've done.
I don't want to keep on a closet shelf
A lot of secrets about myself,
And fool myself as I come and go
Into thinking that nobody else will know
The kind of a woman I really am;
I don't want to dress myself up in sham.

I never can hide myself from me,
I see what others may never see,
I know what others may never know,
I never can fool myself -- and so,
Whatever happens, I want to be
Self-respecting and conscience free.

First day on the job..  

Posted by: reflective moments

Woke on Monday morning nice and early to get ready for my first day in a new job.  I woke with a headache so found a headache tab and thought maybe I was feeling off with nerves about the new job so brushed aside my feelings of ickyness and headed off to work.   Once on the job and there was nothing to feel stressed or anxious about I should have been feeling better but instead, and, to my embarrassment I felt so sick that I was vomiting.  If I wasn't feeling anxious before I sure was now.  

Not an auspicious start to first day in a new job.  I am now contemplating not going back as I  am mortified. I do not usually vomit and picked a really, really bad time to start,.

It turns out I have some gastro virus that is doing the rounds.


Posted by: reflective moments

My mother in winter would always add dumplings to the pot of stew.  Those stodgy balls of whiteness.  My older siblings would scoff them down like they were some sort of delicacy... me, well, I would move them around my plate pretending to eat them.  And I swear my dumplings were bigger than the rest of the families.  I got caught this one night when I was all of about seven years old playing with my food.  My mother had, had enough and decided I was going to sit at the table till I ate them.  I was still there when my father came home from work and sat himself at the table opposite me.  I could tell by the look on his face he felt sorry for me and asked my mother to let me go to bed.  Eventually mum said I could go to bed without any dinner but, that it would be waiting for me in the morning.  I really tried to stay awake as long as possible willing the morning not to come. As a 7yr old I soon realised that does not work and morning did come and joy of joys no left over dinner was waiting for me and never mentioned again. I found out later from an older sibling that dad told mum he was still hungry and asked for my dinner to be heated up and he ate it.  I am positive he only did it to save me from a fate worse than death. I do not know what my father said to mum that night but I was never served up dumplings again.  My mother I swear tried to trick me or so I thought by making Golden Syrup dumplings which the rest of the family found delicious; I tried, I really tried to eat just one but I just could not break my aversion to those white stodgy balls.  Don't get me wrong my mother was an excellent cook.  However, I have been eternally grateful to my dad for saving me from those dreaded dumplings.

To this very day I cannot eat dumplings even when an English friend insisted I would love his roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. He invited us to dinner especially to show me that I would eat his Yorkshire pudding.   I tried, I honestly tried to get a bite down and even sneaked some onto hubby's plate and went home with some in my as not to offend after all his wife is a Cordon Bleu chef.  I am sure John knew as much as I tried to hide it that I just didn't like it and I know he thinks it very odd.

There were other foods of course, that I struggled as a child to eat, but nothing like my aversion to dumplings has stayed with me.

If you ever invite me for a meal, please, please do not serve me dumplings I beg you....