Ah Facebook, How I Loathe You…

The more I use it, the more I dislike it.

For a while I thought it was social media in general that I can’t stand anymore, but I actually still enjoy Twitter and Instagram. WhatsApp has become a communication tool rather than a form of social media. And even though I blog far less than I used to, I still enjoy that too.

I also work in social media – Facebook included – and this I enjoy too. Probably because it’s not personal…


My growing distaste of Facebook has nothing to do with the fact that my feed defaults to “Top Stories” no matter how many times I change it to “Most Recent” (get over it people, it’s not going to change no matter how many times you share a protest-slash-petition).
I try to keep the number of Facebook friends I have under 200, and I limit my acceptance of friend requests to people I actually speak to on a fairly regular basis.
My irritation also has nothing to do with the games people play. I just reject the request and block the game. Problem solved.
Even the click bait, bad grammar, and “vaguebooking” isn’t what has put me off.

What I have come to hate is that as much as people share on Facebook, they don’t talk to each other.

Excited About Recycling!

Thats me!

Its actually a little ridiculous, just how excited I am about this!
I know I’m a project person though, so whilst I will continue doing it I won’t be excited about it for too long…

For now, I’m enjoying it.

For a long time now, I’ve been taking my empty egg boxes and the cardboard tubes from my paper towels to a nursery school up the road from me. And I keep tins and glass jars for my MIL who does crafty things with the tins and fills the jars with jams, pickles and preserves.

I felt better for not throwing them away, but that was as much recycling as I did. I had Pinterest dreams of having the colour coded bins, and a compost heap (which is a little odd since I don’t do any gardening), and a chute from inside my kitchen straight into a recycling bin, but I never got around to actually doing any of it.

And then our suburb’s resident’s association got a whole bunch of us to commit to the Pikitup “separation at source” recycling programme, and they came around and dropped off two kinds of bags – one for paper and the other for tins, glass, and plastic.
The bags are put out the day before our usual Pikitup collection and they leave new bags for the next week’s collection.

With just me and my Glugster in the house, and giving to the nursery school and to my MIL, our recycling bags are never really full, but I’m happier for not throwing it in the bin!

Do you recycle?

Odontophobia, The Fear of Dentistry

I am a sufferer.

Its ridiculous because I can’t actually pinpoint a particular dentist appointment in my life where I was hurt by the dentist. I was about 10 when I got my first filling, and I remember the assistant wiping my tears out of my ears but I don’t remember actual pain… and as I’ve gotten older its gotten worse.

This afternoon my knucklehead had an appointment ‘coz his wisdom teeth are really bugging him, and as I have a few small problems with my teeth – nothing painful yet – I decided to book an appointment too.
I called the dentist last week to arrange a Dormicum scrip because just phoning to make myself an appointment gives me butterflies, and they called me back saying the Dentist wanted to see me first to see what needed to be done before he’d write a scrip. It took several phone calls to explain that I couldn’t even sit in the chair without the meds, no matter what needed doing, so he wrote me a scrip.
The chemist didn’t have the 15mg tablet I was prescribed and gave me two 7,5mg tablets instead, which I didn’t think would be a problem and I took them 50 minutes before my appointment.
But once my knucklehead was finished – having a wisdom tooth pulled IN THE CHAIR no less – the dentist told me to take a seat, and I was still wide awake… and I burst into tears.

My poor knucklehead has never seen that because I tried not to be in the chair if he had an appointment – and he has no problem with the dentist! When he was younger I would still be checking our details in reception and he would have slipped off down the passage and be sitting in the chair chatting to the dentist when I got there.
And I only found out about Dormicum when he was already 17 years old! I couldn’t believe no dentist had ever mentioned it before.
Needless to say there’s no twice-a-year check up for me.

My boy was so sweet. He put his arm around me and encouraged me to get in the chair so the dentist could just have a look, and he came and sat next to me and held my hand, trying to reassure me as I literally bawled and tried to push my body backwards through the chair.

The dentist was really nice too, trying to reassure me that he wasn’t going to hurt me, but even as he just had a look with the little round mirror and took X-rays I cried, gripping the arm of the chair and my son’s hand till my arms were white to the elbow.
He tried to ask if it was the needle I was afraid of and I spluttered that it was all of it. Then he said there was one small cavity he could fix without giving me a shot as it was only on the surface, and asked if he could try. I could barely acknowledge anything and as he started the drill he barely touched it to my tooth before I was sobbing and he just couldn’t work like that.
Then my darling Glugster arrived and immediately saw that the meds hadn’t worked like they should, and he held the hand my son wasn’t holding.
We tried to wait a bit to see if the meds would kick in but nothing changed and after a few minutes I left, I’ll make a new appointment when the tooth starts hurting me. 😛

Normally, when the Dormicum works like it should, I fall asleep in reception 20 minutes before my appointment and have to be guided into the chair. Apparently I talk a lot of nonsense and the dentist has to repeatedly tell me to open my mouth, but I’m not there and I remember nothing afterwards. Obviously I have to be driven to the dentist and then home again, and I sleep for several hours afterwards, but it doesn’t take me days to recover from the physical tension I experience without the meds!

I apologised to the dentist, who I am sure has seen this kind of behaviour before, and my Glugster drove us home. As Murphy would have it I fell asleep 5 minutes before we got home and slept for a couple of hours, but I remember the appointment in its entirety.
The dentist suggested we hire a type of anesthetist next time rather than using Dormicum, but that will be pricey as we have to pay the specialist up front and claim it back from the medical aid, so I think I’ll probably go with the Dormicum again when I have to go back – I’ll just make sure I get the 15mg tablet.
Thankfully I’m not stiff and achey this time since the poor dentist didn’t actually do anything.

How are you with dentist visits? Do you need to be medicated first?

Just Skip It!

Yesterday I went to an event on Cardiac health, and when we left we were each given a thank you gift, in this case it was a “Fit Body Box”.


Inside the box there’s a skipping rope, a pedometer, a scale and a tape measure that can also calculate your BMI.


This morning I skipped. With the skipping rope. For the first time since I was in primary school.

I didn’t even manage 2 minutes before I had to stop – with the step-step style skipping not the two-feet-hopping type of skip – but considering my BMI is 37 and there are few things more uncomfortable than running or skipping with my boobs, I think its not a bad start.

Baby steps.

Or should I say, baby skips…?


A Galaxy Far, Far Away…

Okay, okay. They’re not going to another galaxy, but my parents are moving.

I have never lived more than about 25 minutes from my parents, and that was only for the last 7 years or so. Until then I lived not even 5 minutes away.
Being a single mom I knew that living so close to my parents was invaluable. They were my support structure, my backup, my babysitters, my please-come-to-this-school-meeting-with-me. Changing jobs and moving away wasn’t an option because my son and I needed our family.
They were always there for me, and I got to spend pretty much every family occasion with my parents.

Now my mommy and daddy darling are both retired, they’ve sold the house we moved into when I started high school, and they’re moving into a cottage being built for them on my sister C’s property.
My daddy darling’s health isn’t spectacular and they want to spend their time in each other’s company, and I am so very glad for them both, that they will be able to spend their golden years together. And its a smaller house than the one they were in for nearly 28 years so its easier to maintain, and of course- their precious pooches are going along with them.

They’ve spent the last few months – since the house was sold – packing up boxes and giving things away in order to fit into their new house. We’ve all been given all kinds of things from clothing to crockery, and I have several antique pieces I’m going to try and sell for my folks as well.

The packing and sorting and preparation has made the last few weeks very busy, which has kinda helped…

I no longer need a babysitter, or someone to accompany me to school meetings, but when I think about just how far away my parents are moving it makes me want to cry.

And I know its ridiculous. I’m still going to see them. I’m still going to visit. But they’re not going to be round the corner anymore.