Wry Vita - Marion Ryan's personal blog - blog designer, business coach, lawyer of attraction and good-enough mum

Thanks for dropping in.  I'm Marion Ryan, website and blog designer, business coach, lawyer of attraction and good enough mum... Check out my website / blog design business,  my website and discussion group for life & business coaches, my own business coaching site or my blog for new and would-be bloggers.  But don't go yet.  Wry Vita is the personal blog I love to share with others so stay a while and leave a comment.

Invasion of the Garden Snatchers and Other 'Tails'

Another eventful week in the land of Ryan. 

The times they are a changing alright and it will soon be time to share some stuff here with you.  If it wasn't at the top of my list of most hated phrases, I would say - watch this space.

It's horrible, don't you agree?  Like you're all going to sit there, watching WryVita blog do nothing for weeks on end, just waiting for me to fill the space with some earth-shattering news.  And invariably the people who are annoying enough to say 'watch this space' are dopy enough to forget to ever tell you what it was they were being so annoyingly mysterious about and that's because it's an event that no-one except their mother would possibly give two hoots about.

So please - whatever you don't do - don't watch this space.

For now, let's stick with the drama of a dying cat and Invasion of the Garden Snatchers.

The worst parts about Blackie almost dying are:

a) She's the cat who has always been hardest to love

b) We almost didn't notice she was very ill.

She has always been the black sheep-cat of the family and you can read about that and how I learnt to love her here.

I don't treat any of our animals like replacement children but those family members who do, tend to treat Fluffy like a one-eyed God who must be worshipped, simply because he looks at you with his one very beautiful eye and does a silent miaow.  He enjoys being picked up, he loves being cuddled and will happily sleep on your lap for several days at a time, making it extremely difficult to forget about him - especially when you stand up suddenly and feel 19 claws sinking into your thighs.  (He has a missing toe).

And then Waggy is in-yer-face and and controls his pack with an iron-paw.  He makes Lechero (Prison Break, season three) look like a, like a... pussycat.

And then there's Blackie.  Everyone forgets about Blackie.  She's self-contained and dignified and the last time I blogged about her I was talking about the "healing bliss of complete contentment" which she so beautifully demonstrated as she sat meditating in front of the fire.

And so when each time I spotted her she was sitting still and quiet in her bed in the utility room, I thought nothing of it.  The weather was roasting and I figured all the animals just wanted to be still and stay cool.  It wasn't until I saw her outside the back door, simply gazing at the ground, that I realised something was wrong.

The vet's opening offer was unsavoury:  "She's very ill indeed and I can't see her making it through the night - but I'd like to keep her here and see what we can do.  Ring me in the morning".

He shaved her leg and struggled to find a vein but managed eventually to put her on a drip before filling her to the gills with antibiotics.

And the next day, she was still with us.  Shaky and skinny but back from the dead.  She has let us fuss over her, knowing that's what we need right now, but she remains unflustered and calm.

Blackie's illness, I believe, served a purpose in our lives this week.  More than one, actually but the easiest to share here is that it reminded us to appreciate the beautiful day-to-day parts of life that we take for granted. 

But what purpose are these cows serving in my life?  Earlier on today, they hot-hooved it up the length of the field where I assume the farmer must have been calling them to their Sunday fry-up.  But even as I write these words, they have all come back down and are congregating just outside my fence.  

Invasion of the Garden Snatchers.

I'm hoping to spot the first one making a break for my grass at which point I will run outside and charge them with the kitchen broom and a snooker cue. 

ARGHHHHHHHHHHHH  ARGHHHHHHHHHHHH  ARGHHHHHHHHHHHH

One breaches the fence.  I grab said broom and go out yelling "Out - Out - Out".

And do you know what happens?  I kid you not, there's a stampede and twenty cows come to stand and gaze in at me while a few of their mates come through to join the first cow and make themselves at home.  They're chewing the washing line and doing unspeakable things to each other.

Cows are very annoying creatures.

I could let Waggy outside because he will soon show them who's boss but that will start Cow Wars.

It's small - and twisted - revenge I know but dinner is a steak pie.

My Happiness Depends on Me

Good morning Monday.

Last week was a strain.  Not all of it of course but in a life of highs and lows, last week's lows were lower than usual.  Don't ask me what happened cos I'm not quite sure.  No-one died, I know that.  No disasters happened in my work.  I didn't row with any of my friends and clients.  My favourite Apprentice didn't get fired.  The water tank didn't explode.  I didn't get a puncture.  My broadband didn't break.  And I didn't run out of money.

Hm.  Put like that, sounds like a pretty good week.

But truth is, it was a struggle and a strain.  And I know that if I had to, I could identify good reasons, excellent reasons even, why I felt down, why I cried, why I felt tired and stressed, why I wanted to get into bed and not get up again.

I also know that I could happily blame other people for every crap thing that landed on me last week.

"If I could just be left alone" the fantasy goes, "my life would be perfect".

And though I know, I really really know, that I am responsible for my own happiness, I realise I mostly know it intellectually, logically.  Because sometimes, when the going gets really tough, the tough secretly 'know' that it's someone else's fault really.  At least, in the moment.

With the benefit of time and distance, I accept complete responsibility for even the major disasters of my life.  It's in the moment that this belief gets forgotten because you're too busy feeling sorry for yourself to remember that your happiness depends on one person only.  You.

So I'm just reminding myself.  I never want to let someone else, or circumstances, dictate that I can be happy or not.  However bad and tough and difficult life can be, it's still better than the alternative, isn't it?

In the words of Abraham, spoken through Esther Hicks:

Tell everyone you know: "My happiness depends on me, so you're off the hook." And then demonstrate it. Be happy, no matter what they're doing. Practice feeling good, no matter what. And before you know it, you will not give anyone else responsibility for the way you feel -- and then, you'll love them all. Because the only reason you don't love them, is because you're using them as your excuse to not feel good.

Having a Bless-Fest

It's time to stop and smell the roses, drink the coffee and use those lemons to make lemonade. 

So here's what I'm grateful for right now...

• The dawning of a warm sunny Bank Holiday weekend.  Though I don't have a horrible job I need to escape from for a long weekend, there is something magical about a long lazy hot weekend.  Ignore that "lazy" word, it's presence is purely alliterative as I started my day at 6am writing a two page Action list but it is still officially time when I am answerable only to my favourite person in the whole world.

• The start of three months school holidays yesterday.  I can choose to see this as a right pain in the arse or I can choose to focus on the positives.  No arguing about bedtimes, wake-ups, wet towels in school bags or test results.  Instead we can argue about a whole load of fresh stuff.

• My pink, green, purple, yellow, coral and blue reading glasses which quite suddenly I've noticed I need rather more frequently than previously.

• A trip to Londinium for eight days next week that will mean a decent curry, time with some of my very very favourite people and a Money Gym gig thrown in too.

• Tesco "Value" fresh coffee, I kid you not.  I'd given up making fresh coffee at home as I would end up throwing most of the bag away because it lost its flavour.  Then someone put me onto this and it's simply perfect for one perfect cup each day.

• Britain's Got Talent.  It's true the vicious reporting in yesterday's Daily Mail put a different slant on the show but I've enjoyed watching all week and correctly predicting who would go through - which I agree has been obvious.  And so to the Final.  Who will win?  If they put her on last, then I guess it will be Susan Boyle though she's not my favourite, nor do I think she's the best.  With the competition she has from the other finalists, I hope it's not a foregone conclusion she'll win.

In my view - without wishing to sound patronising - she is not sturdy enough to win and neither is the little girl who started crying last night half-way through her act.  I mean, I'd have cried too if they'd made me sing Edelweiss, though at least it wasn't Somewhere Over the Rainbow.  Even if she was more sturdy, she's not the best anyway.

• I like Julian, the Saxman, a lot but he is just a bit too humble and it's not attractive to beg because this is your last chance to make it.  Even if he doesn't win he'll get a contract from Simon, I guess, so I'm not too worried about him.

• I adore 2 Grand and they have inspired my empathy without them giving up any dignity.  What a great advert for family togetherness - singing in public with your grandad is not the coolest activity for a 12 yr old and I like that they have kept her dressed as a child and not a mini adult.  And see my 'Tear Factor' comment further down.

• I love Diversity, and Flawless are a mere inch behind them.  Either of them winning would feel like there was something right in the world and they would be great role models for other kids.

• Stavros Flatley, again the inter-generation relationship has the feel-good factor and they are definitely entertaining enough for the Royal Variety but just a little too home-spun to be truly worthy winners.  Note that though 2 Grand are just as home-spun, I will ignore that label to see them do well.  From memory, they are the only act that has made me cry too.

• Susan, Shaheen and Shaun.  All talented singers but kind of 'so what' for me.  

• Hollie.  Not a serious contender though has a seriously sweet voice.

• That leaves Aidan.  Despite George Sampson winning last year and with the brain-washing of the British public to vote for Susan, right now Aidan must be my favourite.  He has buckets of street-cred but comes across as a remarkably lovely bright normal kid.  There was something horribly twee about the lad who allowed himself to be brought on stage to sing songs from Oliver and Jungle Book (albeit he had a gorgeous giggle) while Aidan is on the way to being a heart-throb.

• My home office.  For the first time in years, this is not a dedicated room but I am now sitting in front of a picture window on the bright warm side of the house.  I am looking out on green fields and trees, horse riders trotting up and down the road, neighbours out walking dogs and in the distance, the mountains.  Peace at last.

• The clutter around the house.  A reminder that the universe has not just always sent us enough, but sent us more than enough.

• The local carboot sale where I might take some of that clutter tomorrow.  My heart sinks slightly at the thought of preparing for a carboot sale but any time I've done one in the past, I've had a ball.  The good weather should bring out lots of people too...

• My mum who shared 50 years of her life with me and taught me so much about human love and kindness.  "Death leaves a heartache no-one can heal, Love leaves a memory no-one can steal".

• GiveAwayaDollaraDay.com I heard Todd Silva being interviewed by Jewels Johnson and decided to embrace the concept of leaving a pound or euro somewhere every day for someone to find.  This is all to do with your own sense of abundance rather than trying to give it to a worthy cause (though you can do that obviously).  More information at that website link.  If you're doing this too, let me know how much fun you're having and how creative you're getting about where you leave the money.  If you're not already doing it why not join us.

Others doing it include Judith Morgan and Janet Swift.  Do join us!

Ok, that's just the start of a Bless-Fest, I know, and it's now time to go and bless my shower, my washing machine and my chilled grapefruit.

What would you like to bless today?

Where are Your Manners?

I couldn't believe my eyes this morning.

The old gent in the petrol station was filling his tank while leaning heavily on two crutches.  He hobbled over to the shop and was just approaching the door when Ms Corporate Snotty-Drawers coming out of the shop also reached the door on the inside.

With it being a glass door and him hardly fit to stand, I assumed she'd hold the door open while he staggered in, instead of which she opened the door, walked through and let it slam shut behind her as the two of us looked on in disbelief.

I started laughing - in despair - and he chuckled too. 

He said "no-one has any manners any more".

I said "I'm just glad I didn't meet her on the road in her car, seeing as how she's obviously completely feckin blind".

Choose your Thoughts from the Buffet of Life

"We want you to enjoy the contrasting experience, just like you enjoy the contrasting buffet. And we want you to reach the place (and practicing Virtual Reality will help you to gain this confidence) that whenever you're in front of a buffet that has so much that you do like to eat, as well as some that you don't like to eat, you don't feel frustrated that there are things there you don't want to eat. You don't feel compelled to put them on your plate and eat them; you just pick the things that you like."

And the Universe of thought is the same way. You can choose from it the things that you like

Excerpted from the workshop in Salt Lake City, UT on Saturday, June 29th, 2002

Our Love,
Jerry and Esther

Abraham-Hicks

Winning Websites

Well, how wonderful is that - my website and blog design business, ReadySteadyBlog has won an award for one of its website designs!  The EveryWoman Network award for best website home page.

Marie Taylor and Jeni Purdie are the brains behind LivingRightNow.co.uk which offers inspiration and practical support to women "wishing to embrace a personal journey of self-discovery and transformation".  And none better to deliver this in my view, than Marie and Jeni, who are experienced coaches, consultants, trainers and master NLP practitioners.  Ex-company directors and published authors too! 

I know Living Right Now is a project very dear to their hearts so was delighted to be asked to create the site for them.  I particularly like clients who have a business-like approach when we work together.  That is, they understand what the purpose of their site is and therefore what they want it to do.  They want it to look wonderful but know that doesn't necessitate hours debating whether this shade of pink works better than that one.  They have a deadline so they are motivated to provide me with the information I need and let me get on with it.

Living Right Now is a business that continues to evolve and the website and blog will continue to grow as they release new products.  Why not sign up for their excellent free coaching programme which gives you a great flavour for what they are about.

So thanks, Jeni and Marie, for giving me this opportunity to work with you and thanks, Every Woman, for awarding the site with "best home page design"

Birthday Joy and Sadness

Two of my favourite people in the world have next-door birthdays.  First, there's Joe, my pops, who yesterday was 84.  He is a grumpy old sod with a heart of solid gold.  Actually, he's less grumpy than he appears.  Fact is, he's pretty deaf and so when there's a few people around he tends to keep quiet as he can't really distinguish what's going on.  Give him the floor though and he knows how to work the crowd, especially a female one.

He is still driving his flash car and apart from the odd ache and pain he is as fit as many a man twenty years younger.  Happy birthday Joe.

Then today it is Judith's birthday and though she probably doesn't care if I tell you how young she is today, it's not really your business and besides which, like Joe, she plans to go on forever.  She isn't a grumpy old sod but again, that heart of hers is a big as a dustbin lid.

I could say a lot more about both of them and my dad wouldn't care because he's not interested in surfing the 'interweb' anyway but Judith would know I was being wickedly sycophantic so I won't bother.  I will say however that they both know I love them with all my heart and would do anything for either of them.

Meanwhile back at the ranch, there were two more unexpected birthdays...

Tap, tap, tap at the EFT World Summit

Are you a tapper?  Meaning - are you into Emotional Freedom Techniques?

If you are - or are open to finding out more about it right now - then you must check out the EFT World Summit

It consists of two presentations every day for 9 days and they are covering lots of great subjects - from explaining the basics of EFT and how it works to losing weight, quick and dramatic pain relief, clearing debt, raising your personal energy, relationships and lots more.

They are going to turn all the presentations into a digital product you can buy so they say each day's presentations are only staying up for 24 hours but in fact as long as you insert the correct day number into the URL you can still access all of them.

I've been listening each day to snippets of the presentations and am particularly enjoying the introductory discussions and great tapping scripts.  Judith and I have been tapping virtually every day for the last three weeks and though I believe our personal scripts are very powerful, it's always good to hear the experts' versions.  They are better than mine for peeling away the different layers of an issue I might not do so thoroughly on my own.

EFT is one of those tools I've been picking up and putting down for years.  I go for weeks and months ignoring it but re-creating the tap habit never fails to make me feel better.

Yesterday morning, minutes before my Skype tapping session with Judith, I recollected an incident that had happened 14 years ago when I was eight months pregnant.  

Terry's Chocolate Orange - For Life or Just for Christmas?

Nothing less important to share this Good Friday lunchtime than an international conspiracy that I am right at the centre of and note that I have less than 48 hours to get this sorted.  So syringe your ears, put your specs on and pluck away any stray nasal hairs that could prove detrimental in the olfactory department because what I'm talking about today is something that deserves the attention of all your senses.

 

Look, I'm not even an NLP practitioner yet all my senses are tingling as I gaze upon its loveliness:

• I see that perfect chocolate orb, that symmetrical orange ball of loveliness; its curves in all the right places

• I feel the weight of that silky chocolate sphere that begs to be enclosed in the palm of my hand.  We were made for each other, surely

• I hear the muted sound as I unwrap its protective foil and the sudden thud as it hits the table as I attempt to cleanly separate the segments

• I smell its tart orangeness mingling with the warmth of the cocoa beans

• And I say... Terrys Chocolate Oranges - Are they for life or just for Christmas?

Because I don't really go in for Easter eggs, me, but this year, having dramatically reduced my chocolate intake in recent weeks, I decided that I would give myself a treat on Sunday.  And when I thought about it, I realised there was only one thing I wanted.

A Terry's Chocolate Orange.

So I popped out shopping yesterday to make sure I had a couple of Eggs for My Boy on Easter Sunday and decided to get myself a TCO.  Up aisle and round carousel I went but could I find one?  The answer begins with N and ends with a hissy fit.

Doggedly I ran the gauntlet of the Easter shoppers, most of whom had carts heaving with booze, because in Ireland you know, the pubs shut for one entire complete 24 hour day on Good Friday and some people think they might die without the security of 3 dozen cans of Bud
and a bottle of rough whiskey.

I mean - how ridiculous?  Anyone knows that the only thing you can die of is the lack of a Chocolate Orange.

"I had the blues cos I had no shoes..."

"...Till out on the street I met a man who had no feet".

With thanks to Daniela Fraser who came across this inspirational video and shared it with me, I'd like to share it with you too if you have 4 minutes to spare.  And if you're too busy to watch it because you're rushing around with too much to do, then why not watch it anyway.

Inspirational Books

I finally got to the bottom of the stack of books beside my bed.  Two were particularly heart-wrenching.

"Once I was a Princess" by Jacqueline Pascarl-Gillespie and sub-titled "A mother's worst nightmare" told the true story of an Australian woman who married a member of the Malaysian royal family.  Despite agreeing to her retaining custody when the marriage broke up, he later kidnapped their two children and when the courts ruled against him, ignored the verdict and kept them anyway. 

In "Stolen Time" by Sunny Jacobs, her children were also taken from her but for rather different reasons.  In the wrong place at the wrong time, she was convicted alongside her husband for the murder of two policemen while the real killer did a plea bargain.  Her children were 10 months and 9 years old at the time.  She then spent 5 years in solitary confinement on death row, the only woman in the state of Florida facing the death penalty, followed by a further 12 years in prison before her wrongful conviction was overturned and she was released.

I love biographies and find this sort of story inspirational.  I love the evidence of the strength we find within ourselves when we find ourselves between a rock and a hard place.  I love getting an insight into other people's characters and a reminder that life serves up challenges as a matter of course.

I do however limit my reading of this genre of book these days simply because most of my reading takes place in bed and dozing off visualising the gruesome events of people's lives doesn't strike me as the optimum way to start my night's sleep.

But tomorrow I'll tell you what I'm reading now and why it is the perfect reading for any time of the day or night.

Learning to Love a Teenager

It is really not all that long ago (or so it seems) that that title would have meant something quite different.  Though I was never particularly attracted to younger men, it's true that when finding myself single at age 34 I jumped into a delicious fling with an 18 yr old.

Roger and I had nothing at all in common but after ten years with a wild and unpredictable bloke, Rog came into my life like a gentle breeze, wanting nothing more than to make me happy.  He would find me a seat in the most crowded pub, gaze adoringly into my eyes and hang on my every word.  Of course he did.  He loved me as only an 18 yr old bloke can love an old bird of 34.  Truly.  Madly.  Deeply.

Our relationship lasted a full ten days before I woke up, came to my senses and told him it was time for him to go.  I suspect he was inconsolable for a very long time - possibly as much as 48 hours - before finding himself a 16 yr old to love.

But today the teenager I'm learning to love is quite a different matter. 

Getting into Gear: Quarter 2

It's been a long time, I know. 

But life goes on.  It's 1st April.  Today we start the second quarter of 2009, another new beginning and another opportunity to seize the day, let go of the past and look forward.

I turned 50 last month and my friends were there for me, if not my family who were still too tuned into my mum's passing to take much notice of it.  One of those 'growing up' moments for me and at 50, it's high time.  But thank you mille fois to the people who can be thoughtful even when the world is turning so fast these days that it took me and my next door neighbour three months to bump into each other and stop for a chat.

I am rebuilding the tap habit.  EFT which despite being too woo woo for its own good does not fail to make me feel better when I keep at it.  Judith is much to do with this, having suggested daily joint tap sessions so we stay accountable to each other and don't stop the practice at the first diary clash, menopausal moment or jam doughnut. 

I'm also listening to powerful and positive stuff on my Ipod by night, not just when I go to bed but also if I wake up at 4 or 5 so no more tossing and turning trying to make myself sleep.  I just put the earphones in and drift softly back to sleep listening to some anonymous American guru telling me what to do and what to believe.

Yes, even contrary control freaks who know everything have times when they just want to relax into the soothing comfort of knowing someone else is taking charge and being responsible.  Just for a little while anyway...

Talking of grown-ups and being all serious, whatever happened to April Fool's Day?  4.30pm and not a trick in sight.  No newspaper reports of spaghetti trees, three legged ostriches or money found growing on trees.  Oh yes, tell a lie, Martin Lewis's newsletter this morning had a silly one about how to have a tax-free year, a little weedy and pretty tame.  Perhaps you've come across something good you could share with me - I could do with a laugh.

Death is Only a Horizon

We give our loved ones back to God,
And just as He first gave them to us
And did not lose them in the giving,
So we have not lost them
In returning them to Him.
For life is eternal,
Love is immortal,
Death is only a horizon,
And a horizon is nothing
But the limit of our earthly sight.

Author Unknown

For Bridie, my beautiful loving funny patient kind self-deprecating warm crazy dry spiritual generous giving mother who lived in this world from 22nd December 1929 until 31st January 2009 when she slipped down beyond the horizon.  RIP. Mal xx

Photo by Josh Staiger

My Brilliant Future

Last night I had a dream.  And though I didn't exactly dream I saw the promised land, you could say it was my own small MLK moment.

I was standing in Dublin's O'Connell Street, reputed to be the widest urban street in Europe.  Years since I've been there actually.  In the distance was a rumbling.  I stood in the middle of the street listening as it grew louder.  Within seconds, the rumbling was a roar and the ground shook.  A volcano erupting perhaps, somewhere over in Bray or Clontarf or some other unassuming Dublin suburb.

Still I stood there, completely unafraid.  And then the crashing was upon me. 

Lovely Cows and Old Cows

Almost involved in a multi-cow pile-up today.

Do you know I have developed a little soft spot for cows?  I know, I know,they don't appear to have that much going for them.  Less cute than a sheep, less graceful than a horse, less quirky than a pot-bellied pig.  But they have an accepting placidity about them that makes me want them to know they are loved all the same.

I live slap bang in the middle of two farms.  The farmer to the left maintains a cow from the other side attacked him earlier this year and tossed him into the air but that hasn't put me off.  One has to wonder what his business was in someone else's field.  No witnesses either, beyond the largely silent ones who are saying nothing.  Just an occasional moo.

Anyway, the school run involves a fifteen minute drive along empty country roads and the school adjoins a large dairy farm with around 200 cows.  I know the number because they take a very long slow walk from the milking sheds to the fields, then back, at least twice a day. 

To do this, their path takes them across the lane that leads up past the lake and the swans to the back of the school.  And often, if my journey coincides with theirs, I have to sit and watch a very very long line of them slowly make their way in one direction or the other.  One is always looking for a gap in the cows, much like looking for the gap in the traffic in any urban rush hour - just without the 'rush' bit.

Friday, however I suffered my first incident of bovine rage - only this bovine had two legs.

Playing Headlight Chicken

You know it's September when  you see once gloomy, slump-shouldered parents looking cheerful once more, whistling a chirpy tune and bouncing along with a spring in their step.

Not that we don't enjoy the end of summer term -- knowing that for several weeks we are freed from the misery of early wake-up calls, locker key search parties and Sunday night uniform washes.  But come September, we are more than ready to kiss their sweet-smelling cheeks goodbye (metaphorical kisses for some of our 13 yr olds) and pack them off for five whole days each week to wrestle with Caesar, the Irish language and their classmates.

There are two types of parents.  Wry Vita now operates an equal opportunities policy and anti-paternal propaganda is no longer tolerated otherwise we would be saying what we mean - There are two types of Mothers:  Those who are out buying the new school uniforms before the old year has even broken up and those who are dashing into town the afternoon before the new term begins to pick up a replacement school tie and to wander hopelessly through bedraggled racks of trousers, vainly hoping to pick up even one pair of trousers that might almost be the right size and colour.

No clues for guessing what type I am.  I'm proud to be a member of the second group.  Just-in-time parenting -- just-in-time living actually -- suits me fine.  Or it would if I could rely on my pack to keep their part of the bargain.

My Life Story. Volume 27, Section B, Chapter 51

I decided this evening I'm going to write my life story and be damned.  My life is far too rich, varied and bedazzling to keep it to myself any longer. 

When my book is written I shall have to give away two or three chapters to whet the world's appetite and the events of today will probably be one of the teaser passages.  Such a lot has happened:

• I had a cheese and onion sandwich for lunch.  No ordinary onion.  This one was plucked from the rich Kildare earth of one of my best pals and I think it must honestly have been the most outstanding onion I've ever eaten in my life.  I'm cursing myself I didn't take a picture of it as I take pictures of everything.  You don't believe me so here's a recent photo to demonstrate that no object is too banal for my lens.  What we have here is a section of my wheelie bin with a rain-bejewelled spider's web decorating the side.

  When I write the book I'll explain what made the onion so extraordinary but for now I have to move straight onto the next event of the day.
  

Early Morning Joy

It's another beautiful August morning, dark and rainy, wet and clean.  I'm inside, drinking my favourite coffee out of my favourite mug.  Does it get better than this?  I suspect it does and I'm ready and waiting.

I jumped out of bed this morning, I mean literally.

I was lying in bed marvelling that my tooth (or rather the hole where my tooth used to live) was no longer aching.  I had self-diagnosed "dry socket", a condition I'd never heard of till last Saturday and which, thanks to the internet, I am now one of the world's leading experts in.

I did loads of tapping yesterday for the pain, remembering how Maria Huntsman had tapped away an entire abscess, a success she might never have experienced had she not been holidaying in the US at the time and without access to several thousand dollars for dental treatment.

So there I am, minding my own business when I became aware...

I was not alone.

Joying My Way to Joy

Gosh, it's a bit dusty and cobwebby in here, isn't it?  And look, so long since I posted.

The joyful irony for me is that I spend every day working with Typepad and have been so busy designing and refurbishing clients' websites and blogs that I have completely abandoned Wry Vita.  But as no-one reads WV cept me, it doesn't matter a jot.

Anyway, I was just enjoying the morning and felt the urge to log my thoughts here.  So what's my pleasure?

First, waking up early.  It beats those mornings where you wake a bit late, a bit tired and never quite catch-up.  So even yesterday, Sunday, I was up before 6.30am and luxuriating in a rare bit of box-watching, the recording of Last Choir Standing and verifying the voting public and judges had made the right decisions.

And today again, up and getting work done before 7am, feels great.

Second, the weather is fantastic - an abundance of rain, hail and wind.