Means quite a bit for a hell of a lot of Australians at the moment. All those lives and homes lost due to miscommunication or not enough time to get out. My heart goes out to everyone suffering with the bush fires at the moment. I have not thought of anything else for the past few days. I feel so sad and numb. A tsunami of fire I have heard them mention and when you look at the photos and destruction its easy to see how that is an apt description.
OK so transmission means something different to me. "Transmission" as in automatic transmission . It had been playing up a bit in the car for about a week. Gears slipping every now and then. One of those moments where you think to yourself "gee I should get that looked at" but other things happen and you forget. We don't live in a suburb, we live very rural. Our roads are either dirt or freeway. To go southbound I have to travel across a double lane north bound freeway to a safe area and then can turn right and head south.
I left to go get Sarah at 2:30. Noticed it slipped gears for a second as I came off the dirt onto the small patch of pavement before the freeway and thought I would wait until totally no cars were coming in case the transmission gave out. Took it slow and made it to the middle. Did the same thing turning right and made it over onto the slow lane. Went to accelerate and... nothing. I had it revved up between 4 and 5 and it wouldn't move. Pulled over into a safe spot for a few min and tried again and it worked, so thought you beauty and left again. Not even 5 minutes later it did it again except this time it was just as I was heading up a hill. I tried so hard to get it off the road but it just wouldn't go, my ass was still in the slow lane. There were so many fucking trucks bearing down on me. Most were not moving over. A few inconsiderate assholes even honked at me. I rang Paul and was so close to tears. It was then I noticed I only had 1 bar left on my mobile. Paul said he would arrange for Sarah to be picked up by the preschool and to ring NRMA so I hung up with him and rang them. 60 minute wait I was told so thought ok, just barely acceptable, maybe the tow truck can drive me to get Sarah before we go home with the car. Gold membership has to be good for something huh? Rang Paul back to try and work out what to do as he had all the kids at home and no extra car seats (not to mention no spare car) and just as he said "ok so when the tow truck shows up__________my phone died. I screamed FUUUUUck at the top of my lungs and was ready to collapse in a heap on the ground. Cars and huge trucks were narrowly missing my car. A man and his wife pulled over to see if I needed assistance as well as a carload of council workers. I explained to them what happened and one dude was able to get the car to move so at least it wasn't in too bad a position and not in danger of being hit. So I sat in my car feeling sorry for myself, then feeling guilty because it could be so much worse.
Around 45 minutes later a taxi pulls up. My first thought wasn't yay I am saved, it was oh shit this is going to be expensive (ha I was right!) Turns out Paul had ordered a taxi for me which when you live rural is no easy feat! Only thing was I had to wait for the towie to come so I could direct him home. Another 40 minutes and the NRMA dude turns up. He said Im really sorry but I couldn't order the tow without your permission and I tried ringing you but you didn't answer (DUH ) So rang Paul who said fuck the tow, go get Sarah and get home, he will work it out. We made it home and Paul got the taxi to take him to the car. $250 dollar taxi ride... Sarah just wanted him to turn the radio on hehe.
So Paul was able to do the go slow trick and made it home with the car. He also told me that he had purchased a wagon of his brother and we were all going to go pick it up; that the car should make it as its only slipping out of second and we can drop it off there so it can be worked on yet still have a car that we can all get around in. 20 minutes into the trip and the car died. Well and truly this time. So there we sat. Waiting to be rescued on the free way. This time with 5 kids in the car. They weren't too bad. Sarah had a poo emergency. Hayley decided she didn't want the water in her bottle so splashed it around the car. Dale and Jenna took turns biting each other and crying hysterically. Caitlin was happy as long as she was on my lap. NRMA was called again but this time a tow was going to be 90 minutes so we had his brother bring the car to us and he stayed behind to wait for the truck while we took the kids home.
One thing that struck me was the guilt I felt for being scared when I was worried about the car hitting me. All I kept thinking about was how I had no right to feel scared; I really wasn't in as much danger as I thought I was; even though I was. I cant get the visions of the fires out of my head. How entire towns are gone like they never existed. Entire families burnt to a crisp while they clung to one another because there just wasn't enough time to get out. I think it will haunt most of Australia for many years to come. I pray that the death toll doesn't rise any more and they firies are able to put those fires out or at least contain them. I really do hope that the ones that are responsible face the harshest courts in Victoria and never see the light of day again. There is no doubt in my mind that they should be charged with the murder of the 108+ people they have killed.
Monday, February 9, 2009
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
The starting post
But where to start is the question?
I want to lose weight. A lot of weight. 40 kilograms worth. My husband has promised me that if I can get it off and keep it off, I will get my body make over. No more stomach rolls, no more saggy boobs or waggly arms. I long to go clothes shopping in the regular sized isles. I loath buying clothes, coming home and being disgusted when I look in the mirror.
I have 2 major problems; I hardly exercise and my portions are way out of control. I know that if I can create some sort of balance between those two things, the weight will melt off me. I am the sort of person who needs constant reassurance and motivation or I get bored and lose interest. I am hoping that you readers out there can give me the pushes I need.
I guess for me, my weight issues started when I was preteen. I had a pretty shit family life, alcoholic mum, dad who worked a lot or went out in his shed to get away from the constant abuse my mum shot at him. I was always the last kid picked, the kid never invited to parties. For years and even to this day I cant work out why I was never really accepted. The more rejected I was, the more I ate and the fatter I became. No one wanted me for a girlfriend and friends always "coupled" up when going out on weekends so even in my late teens I would sit at home watching movies and pigging out in my bedroom. When I hit my late teens and began working and earning my own money, I could suddenly afford the gourmet junk food. It wasn't like I needed it for the pub or partying.
Addictions run in my family. All of them drug/alcohol related. Unfortunately for me I chose a drug that I need to survive. Some days I wish it was booze, heroin or cocaine, something I could walk away forever from. Instead food is my addiction. I know no portion control. I am so scared that I am going to screw up my kids. I have no idea what a normal serve looks like. My plate is always piled high.
Anyway, I didn't start this blog to whinge about my past or present. I want it to be a record of my journey, my self discovery. I want to watch my children grow up and one day look back and show them how I struggled for 15 years with the most horrible addiction but I was able to over come it. I don't want to let it win. I don't want to die in my 50s or 60s from obesity related illness. I want to enjoy my children when they are young because I know the time we have when they are selfishly ours is such a short time. As it is, I have no energy really to play. I am always getting questioned from my 5 year old about why I get puffed so easy. She has also called me fat a few times and yes I will admit, it stung real bad. I was always so embarrassed of my mother. I never ever want my children to feel the same level of shame that I did either in regards to themselves or their parentage.
OK so I will leave it here for tonight. The baby will be waking for a feed soon and my kitchen is a disaster. I will over the next few days think about how I am going to tackle this. The time for making excuses is over. I need to act now while I still can.
I want to lose weight. A lot of weight. 40 kilograms worth. My husband has promised me that if I can get it off and keep it off, I will get my body make over. No more stomach rolls, no more saggy boobs or waggly arms. I long to go clothes shopping in the regular sized isles. I loath buying clothes, coming home and being disgusted when I look in the mirror.
I have 2 major problems; I hardly exercise and my portions are way out of control. I know that if I can create some sort of balance between those two things, the weight will melt off me. I am the sort of person who needs constant reassurance and motivation or I get bored and lose interest. I am hoping that you readers out there can give me the pushes I need.
I guess for me, my weight issues started when I was preteen. I had a pretty shit family life, alcoholic mum, dad who worked a lot or went out in his shed to get away from the constant abuse my mum shot at him. I was always the last kid picked, the kid never invited to parties. For years and even to this day I cant work out why I was never really accepted. The more rejected I was, the more I ate and the fatter I became. No one wanted me for a girlfriend and friends always "coupled" up when going out on weekends so even in my late teens I would sit at home watching movies and pigging out in my bedroom. When I hit my late teens and began working and earning my own money, I could suddenly afford the gourmet junk food. It wasn't like I needed it for the pub or partying.
Addictions run in my family. All of them drug/alcohol related. Unfortunately for me I chose a drug that I need to survive. Some days I wish it was booze, heroin or cocaine, something I could walk away forever from. Instead food is my addiction. I know no portion control. I am so scared that I am going to screw up my kids. I have no idea what a normal serve looks like. My plate is always piled high.
Anyway, I didn't start this blog to whinge about my past or present. I want it to be a record of my journey, my self discovery. I want to watch my children grow up and one day look back and show them how I struggled for 15 years with the most horrible addiction but I was able to over come it. I don't want to let it win. I don't want to die in my 50s or 60s from obesity related illness. I want to enjoy my children when they are young because I know the time we have when they are selfishly ours is such a short time. As it is, I have no energy really to play. I am always getting questioned from my 5 year old about why I get puffed so easy. She has also called me fat a few times and yes I will admit, it stung real bad. I was always so embarrassed of my mother. I never ever want my children to feel the same level of shame that I did either in regards to themselves or their parentage.
OK so I will leave it here for tonight. The baby will be waking for a feed soon and my kitchen is a disaster. I will over the next few days think about how I am going to tackle this. The time for making excuses is over. I need to act now while I still can.
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