Remember Mothers Day

I didn’t like my mother very much. I always felt I was a foreigner in my single mother family. I didn’t “match”. I was labelled what was then called a “difficult child”. But she was not a good mother in my fatherless world and we were financially very poor. I had an older sister, too much older to be my “mate”, who was my mother’s mate, not mine.

The bad relationship with my mother was rectified by me, as an adult, doing a thought excercise daily, a kind of meditation I did every night as I fell asleep. It took me months.

In this healing contemplation, I was to remember right back to my earliest memories and re-asses the situation our little family was in, then, through my adult eyes. I was to ask my parents WHY they did what they did, as if they were standing there in front of me. After the question WHY, I was to wait for an answer, an explanation, a reason, to develop in my mind that might explain their actions. (Or single action after their divorce)

The upshot of my healing regime was extraordinary. At every challenge to my imaginary younger parents, and eventually only mother, some kind of understanding revealed itself to me. I could forgive them (her) for my hurts because the reasons why they did what they did became clear.

I discovered that in every situation my parents were trying their best to grapple with life, to consider the children, to deal with poverty, lack and problems and overcome difficulties.

They were doing their best. They loved their children.

She was doing her best. She loved her children.

Most mothers are doing their best, have done their best, in a difficult situation called Life. Most mothers love their children – unconditionally.

I think that’s worth thanking them for.

Bravo! Rollover dog

Right! We have cracked it at last!

The dog does rollover.

Every time.

After training every day.

For six months.

Bravo.

I give myself a medal for the most patient dog trainer ever. And well done to Bass the-new-dog.

Feeling good about yourself

I wake up every day planning the walk I’m going to do with our dog Bass. In my old age, I have finally come to realise that excercise is indeed essential to keeping away nasties like general decomposition found in old age. I really do feel better. I sleep better. I have a more comfortable body in many ways when I’ve done my mile and a bit (ish) every day.

So I’ve recovered from my fall. I’m upping my walk to a bit longer daily if I can. I plan our walks with Google maps so I know where I’m going and how to get home. But now I have a pedometer to encourage me.

Other than that, the walk, I’m not planning anything much for my day. I house work when something looks grubby. I eat when I’m hungry. I stay in bed till eleven daily, but wake up early and meditate for a while. My bed is also my office. I garden sometimes when the spirit moves me. I rarely bath, but shower. And I hardly ever ‘go out’.

The only things I absolutely do daily after my little contemplation-time, is to put on my makeup, dress and walk the dog. That makes me feel gratefully good.

Today, I found someone else’s suggestions as to what to do to make yourself feel good. Here is the list – for some rather more inspiring ideas….

1. Meditate
2. Practice Yoga
3. Declutter your closet
4. Write a list of things you love about yourself. 
5. Practice Gratitude
6. Watch the sunrise/sunset
7. Practice positive affirmations 
8. Walk in nature 
9. Stargaze
10. Exfoliate and moisture your skin
11. Visit a cafe (alone or with a friend)
12. Go to the movies
13. Make a smoothie or juice
14. Go to the gym or a fitness class
15. Bake a cake
16. Write poetry
17. Do a digital detox
18. Visit a Spa
19. Read a Book
20. Make a positive playlist
21. Create Art
22. Have a bath
23. Do a face mask
24. Create a pinterest board of self love quotes
25. Try on outfits that make you feel good about yourself
26. Create a self care habit tracker

AWOL

Gosh, it’s a week since my last post.

How do we, as readers, ever know what is actually hapenning in the life of the blogger behind the posts? This morning, a blogger I follow, who I know has a disabled wife , wrote in a post that he’d been at the hospital a great deal, visiting her. I don’t know what has happened. He hasn’t said. But I’d like to know. He is my blogger friend.

So, to Claudia who kindly asked if I was alright after not posting for a week, I’d like to say I’m a naughty, naughty blogger who has just been AWOL I simply got into the mental state of CBA – Couldn’t Be Arsed.

It’s really nice to know that I have a blogger friend, and someone actually reads my posts!

So, if you are waiting for some kind of inspiration to infuse me, please while away your time by watching this. It is your meditation for today. The chap who makes these “magic machines” spends days and weeks perfecting them. He’s a sort of modern day Heath Robinson.

The Furlong brands

We have just had to endure advertising on the TV.

For insurance.

For motor cars.

For perfume.

For shampoo.

For furniture.

For food.

For clothes

The brands we use are:-

The cheapest car and house insurance.

Our old Chrysler PT cruiser from sixteen years ago, still the most comfortable drive ever.

Our perfume is none.

Our shampoo is I dunno. I’ll have to look.

Our furniture is inherited, bought in charity shops, or passed on via Freegle.

Our food is home made, even our Nando’s sauce, except for naughty stuff like chocolate. We do buy coffee and mayonnaise and sardines ‘n stuff.

Our clothes come from “The House of Threadbare” generally.

We don’t need anything they advertise on TV. We’ve got everything we need, just the way we like it.

Dogs watching TV research

Today, the three of us – Mr Furlong, me and new-dog Bass, sat on the couch watching our recording of Crufts.

I am pleased to say that Bass watches TV. Only with cats, mice, birds, sheep, cows and other animals on it – and Crufts! I am pleased because I used to sit on the couch and watch Crufts with Gracie, the West Highland White we had before Bobby-the-now-dead-dog.

Bobby was oblivious to TV. Yet we have the exact same TV – a Smart TV.

If you try to research why some dogs see TV and others not, you get a muddle of rubbish like they can see digital TV but not analogues, or they only have four rods and more cones, so they cant see what we see, but only movement. I have come to the conclusion that no one has a clue. Yet everyone agrees that some dogs watch TV and respond.

Today, Bass stayed focused for a good long time, which is in itself quite miraculous. He has a short attention span I’ve noticed. Anything distracts him at any time – he’ll never make Crufts. Yet he watched the Flyball with great attention, just like Gracie (may she rest in peace) used to.

I discover that West Highland Whites are especially good at watching TV for some reason explained away as them being Terriers seeing movement. Herding dogs are better at seeing TV than others evidently. But a strange thing happened the other night. There was a report on a crackdown on fighting dogs. A typical fight was shown, with the actual dogs blurred out. But Bass responded anxiously to the sounds. And he knew the sounds were coming from the TV.

Some dogs see TV, and others truly don’t. It’s not that they “couldn’t be bothered”, it’s because they are oblivious to it.

Some dogs know exactly what they are looking at – like this one!

My new medal! Dog poo

Mr Furlong has awarded me a medal.

It’s a picking up dog poo medal.

My recent disadvantaged condition of having a sprained left ankle and a sprained right knee has cut my dog poo picking up activities to a minimum.

I have picked up dog poo from our various gardens for forty three years. I’ve been the ONLY poo picker in the Furlong family. I must have picked up thousands of kilos of dog poo in forty three years for we have always had dogs, or several at one time.

Recently Mr Furlong has had to take my place. He has suddenly realised what a soul destroying activity poo picking is. How the beauty of the flowers, dissipate from view as one’s eyes pivot around searching for a pile of something that is not floral; how ideas of dog starving come to mind; or training dogs like Racoons do, to use the actual loo.

Anyway, I am very pleased to announce that in recognition of forty three years of poo picking, Mr Furlong thanked me very sweetly the other day, and promised to award me a Poo Picker Supreme Medal.

Remember Jesus Loves Me?

Remember Jesus Loves Me?

Ok – so here is the meditation for today Jesus Loves Me… in Jazz by the brilliant young Yohan Kim….I hope you like jazz as much as I do….

Want to go “Green”? Hell no.

I watch the “green” people, the “rainbow” people and the “snowflake” people with interest. They are going to deal with climate change and culture here in the West? Ja. Good luck to them,

Problem is that our climate is linked to the climate everywhere else, and our culture used to be considered enlightened (based on science), but no more.

I’m talking about the West. We’ll all be green yet multicoloured, multigendered vegans, bicycling around under our flight-free skies, reading loving messages on Twitter and Facebook, whose emotions are never challenged by any ugly ideas, or the sound of clapping, whose lythe bodies are never sullied by smoking, vaping or sugar and who believe the next James Bond should be a black, transgender, vegan, Downs Syndrome (or any other disability) actor.

But then, I’m really grumpy. I’m still in pain from my fall.

This little film will show you how we have embedded our lives in Fossil Fuels. It’s your meditation for today. Green? Bah Humbug!

Fiat currency for kids..

Years ago, I switched from giving useless, unwanted, disappointing gifts to our grandchildren. I gave them Ten Pound notes in a lucky red envelope.

Everyone knows that the lucky red envelope inside their cards, contains money. Well, it contains a piece of paper that says it’s worth Ten Pounds, that the Bank of England prints out when it needs to.

When I was a kid, it seemed amazing that paper money represented ACTUAL GOLD, kept safe for me somewhere. I loved that. It even told me so on the note.

Things have changed.

This month we have loads of kids’ birthdays in our family. I’m sticking to red envelopes and Ten Pound notes. You must be able to get something less tacky than a plastic doll with Alien eyes,terrifying hair or a plastic lorry, whose wheels fall off, for a piece of Fiat currency!