Jazz hands and burgers

I was looking back through some of my old blog posts when I found this one, 
http://youthworkertoministerswife.blogspot.com/2012/08/survival-weekend.html 

I smiled with nostalgia, how far I have come since those days, I thought smugly to myself.  I live alone a lot now as poor RAF Boy is so busy working and the house has not burnt down.  Well, ok, it only didn't burn down because RAF Boy was home, but that doesn't count!  I am not a disaster waiting to happen!  Honestly.....it could have happened to anyone...... 

RAF Boy was home and was busy fiddling with something, it may have been DIY or Lego, I forget but let's go with fiddling.  I wander off into the kitchen to cook dinner for us, a nice, easy, healthy meal - burger, chips and beans.  I get the chips out of the freezer and pop them in the oven, pour the beans into a pan and put the grill on.  I make a cup of tea and then put the burgers under the grill.  All is going well.  I wander through to the frontroom to see how the fiddling is going.  Ah, you're already smiling aren't you.  You think you know what happens next.  

The fiddling is going ok and the furbabies are happily snuggled up next to RAF Boy.  I wander back out to the kitchen and glance at the oven.  All is well.  Ha!  See!  Not what you were expecting.  

At this point, my youngest furbaby comes into the kitchen with me and has a cuddle.  She can smell the burgers and is trying to tell me just how much she needs to eat one.  She starts doing all her tricks to try and earn one but settles for a Bonio.  The timer on the oven begins beeping and I check on the food.  The chips are done but they are still very pale.  The burgers should be done but they are also pale.  Hmmmm, RAF Boy prefers his food to not look anaemic.  I'm now in the danger zone .  

I need to leave the food in for a bit longer but catch it before it burns.  The seconds are now ticking and the pressure is on.  

I remove the burgers from the grill and cut them to check that they are indeed cooked all the way through.  Fat spills out into the bottom of the grill pan, a sizzling can be heard, furbaby wags her tail excitedly and I can see that the burgers are indeed done.  They are done but they are still pale.  If I pop them back under the grill for another minute, they'll be nicely browned.  

The following is what was actually running through my head in the seconds that followed.

"Hmmm, they are cooked but he likes them browner.  I wonder if they'll be ok going back under with all that fat.  I think it might catch light.  Will it?"  These were my thoughts as I placed the burgers back under the grill.  

"Right, lets see....oh, no they're spitting.  Yep they're going to catch fire [reaching for grill] ah, there's a flame.....bugger it, now what the hell do I do?"

The one tiny flame suddenly became bigger flames that flew out from under the grill and licked up around the knobs on the cooker.  I couldn't withdraw the grill without burning my hand and I couldn't turn the grill off either as I couldn't reach the knobs safely.  I became aware that my furbaby had run off barking into the frontroom, she's a clever girl and had gone to fetch RAF Boy.  I also vocalised my distress "help!  Help! HELP!"  

Then, one of the funniest things I have ever seen happened.  RAF Boy came charging into the kitchen.  No, charging is the wrong word.  He pushed the door open and kinda leapt into the kitchen into a squat position, sporting bloody jazz hands!  Jazz hands!!  What was he going to do?  Dance the fire away?  Were torrents of water going to fly from his hands?  A massive gust of wind to extinguish the fire?  I stared in disbelief and tried not to laugh.  He stood up straight and said "wow, that really is a fire."  Oh yeah, the fire.  

I began backing away from the cooker as he approached it.  I watched as he flicked the switch in the wall to turn the cooker off.  Damn it, why didn't think of that?  I watched as grabbed a tea towel and grabbed the grill pan out from under the grill.  I had backed up to the door now.  I watched as he began smothering the flames and then....I had reached the safety of the hallway and was getting my shoes on the furbabies leads ready for us to run.  

"Fire's out" I heard him chuckle as I grabbed the leads.  Ah, ahem, best I return to the kitchen and deny that I was about to run for safety.  "Flame grilled burgers" he sniggered.  I tried to act with poise and dignity, like I had meant for the burgers to catch fire.  He glanced down at my shoes and raised an eyebrow.  What?  Oh these, been wearing them all day.  I grabbed the grill pan and put the burgers on a plate and grabbed the chips out of the oven.  I poured on the beans onto the plates and handed him his food.  "Flame grilled, just the way you like them" I declared and wandered off to sit down and eat.  

It would seem that perhaps I'm still a bit of a liability but at least I have Jazz Hands RAF Boy to save the day :D  

Be blessed    

Love one another as I have loved you....

In the middle of the city, on a Saturday morning, rain clouds looming above me, I head to the train station to meet a friend.  We're going for lunch and a catch up.  The crowds are hectic and I realise that some of the roads are closed off.  

I listen and hear cheering heading my way.  Whistles are being blown.  There is loud music.  There is a lot of bright colour headed towards to me. The Pride march!  I had completely forgotten it was on, even though I had been hearing about it all week.  I have never been to one before so I wandered over and stood on the pavement, where the march would soon be passing by.  

The police came first, blowing whistles, waving, laughing, smiling.  Then came a float with cheesy pop music booming out from it.  People standing on it, dancing, waving and laughing.  More people followed, dressed in rainbow colours, waving, walking their dogs, holding rainbow flags high.  It was an assault of noise, colour, laughter and I loved it.  I stood on the pavement, grinning and waving back.  

In a world that is becoming so dark and backwards with its beliefs; a world that is becoming terrifying in believing it is acceptable to physically assault or kill someone because of their race, creed or sexuality, this march, to me was beautiful.  A bright colour and a resistance to the hate and darkness within this world.  

However, there was some darkness in this march and it grieves me to say, some of it was from fellow Christians.  I feel the eyebrows raising and the inhalation of breath at that statement.  I hear the arguments.  I should stay quiet and keep my opinion to myself.  Who am I to judge others?  I am no-one.  My life is not free from sin and I continually make mistakes.  I know full well that the only way I am getting to heaven is by the grace of God, no other way.  However, I am tired of staying quiet and allowing these Christians to speak for me.  I am tired of them showing a non Christian attitude.  I am tired of the anger and hypocrisy.  I will speak out.  You do not have to agree with me, and that's ok.  You are entitled to your opinion but so am I and here it is.  

On the Pride march there were some Christians with signs that said "Prepare to meet thy God".  Fair enough, I'll accept that.  That can be a message for all of us, those of us who believe need to prepare.  Those who don't believe, well some Christians will argue that you need to prepare.  I will simply say, you've heard it, you've made a choice and I respect it.  

Further down the march were the signs that would state things such as "you will burn in hell" and such like and here is where I get angry.  Who are you to judge in such a manner?  Who are you to say such things?  We (Christians) are followers of Christ.  Christian is in fact a nickname given to the early followers and it means 'Little Christ'.  We are to emulate Him (Jesus).  So tell me, where exactly in the bible does it tell us about Jesus condemning people?  Where does it tell us about him spouting hate towards others?  Where?  Oh, that's right, IT DOES NOT!!!  Jesus did not speak hatred and he did not condemn.  He lead with love and humility.  LOVE AND HUMILITY!  Does screaming that someone will burn in hell seem like a loving thing to you?  Do you honestly believe Jesus would be stood at a march today holding the exact same sign?  Do you?  

Let's have a wee look.  There are so many examples from the bible, about Jesus' attitude and behaviour towards people I could use but I shall choose just one (so that you won't be reading this for days).  The most commonly known example, the woman caught committing adultery.  

Jesus returned to the Mount of Olives, but early the next morning he was back again at the Temple.  A crowd soon gathered, he sat down and taught them.  As he was speaking, the teachers of religious law and the Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in the act of adultery.  They put her in front of the crowd.

"Teacher," they said to Jesus, "this woman was caught in the act of adultery.  The law of Moses says to stone her.  What do you say?"

They were trying to trap him into saying something they could use against him, but Jesus stooped down and wrote in the dust with his finger.  They kept demanding an answer, so he stood up again and said, "All right, but let the one who has never sinned throw the first stone!"  Then he stooped down again and wrote in the dust.  

When the accusers heard this, they slipped away one by one, beginning with the oldest, until only Jesus was left in the middle of the crowd with the woman.  Then Jesus stood up again and said to the woman, "Where are your accusers?  Didn't even one of them condemn you?"

"No, Lord", she said.

And Jesus said, "Neither do I.  Go and sin no more".  

John Chapter 8, vs 1-11 (NLT)

So what can we take from this passage?  We'll ignore the fact that this whole scene was a set up, that is a discussion for another time.  Jesus says "let the one who has never sinned throw the first stone".  When you are throwing out these judgements and words you are casting stones.  Are you justified in throwing these stones?  Are you without sin?  

As everyone is sinful they cannot condemn the woman.  We are all sinful, so what gives you the right to condemn your fellow human being?  What gives you the right to shout hateful things to them and make them feel terrible?  

The one who has the right to judge and condemn DOES NOT!  He leads with love and humility and wisdom.  

Do you honestly believe shouting hate at someone is glorifying God?  Do you honestly believe you are following Christ's example?  Do you believe the way you are treating people will lead them to God?  I'm pretty sure it won't.  Most of the people I have spoken to who did the march, paraphrasing them more politely was "screw you then".  You are not reaching people.  You are not glorifying God.  You are breeding hatred and intolerance.  

Now, I can hear you say "but the bible says homosexuality is a sin" so lets get down to it shall we?  Indeed it does.  In Leviticus Chapter 18 vs 22 "Do not practice homosexuality, having sex with another man as with a woman.  It is a detestable sin".  There it is.  How can I argue with that?  I cannot and I will not.  It is indeed written in the bible.  However, I will call out the people who use it.  Remember casting the first stone?  Continue reading Leviticus.  Chapter 19 vs 11 "Do not steal".  Have you ever stolen something?  No?  Are you sure?  Did you take a pen from work?  Did you have an hour at work where you did not actually do much work, if any?  That is stealing my friends and, I hate to say, most of us have done it in one way or another, perhaps without realising it, but we have done it.  We have committed this sin.

Moving on in the same passage, vs 16 say "Do not spread slanderous gossip among your people".  Ever gossiped?  Just passed on a bit of information about someone you know?  You could argue that it wasn't slanderous but I'll argue that all gossip is slanderous.  It is detrimental to the person being gossiped about and it often makes situations far worse with everyone embellishing their news slightly.  Stone = sin.  Pot to kettle, colour check.

Moving on, vs 17 "Do not nurse hatred in your heart for any of your relatives.  Confront people directly so you will not be held guilty for their sin".  Now, I realise that not everyone has experienced this but many have.  Arguments within the family, dysfunctional family dynamics are all to common place.  For many, even if they have forgiven now, for a time hatred will have been nursed.  A sin was still committed.   

One of my favourites, whilst reading this, please glance down at your clothing.  Now lets read Leviticus chapter 19 vs 19 "....Do not wear clothing woven from two different kinds of thread...".  I do not believe that needs any further explanation.

My point with this is yes, the bible says homosexuality is a sin and I do not dispute that.  What I do dispute is the judging of each other and the hatred that is bred from this.  

Do not judge others, and you will not be judged.  For you will be treated as you treat others.  The standard you use in judging is the standard by which you will be judged.

And why worry about a speck in your friend's eye when you have a log in your own?  How can you think of saying to your friend, "Let me help you get rid of that speck in your eye," when you can't see past the log in your own eye?  Hypocrite!  First get rid of the log in your own eye; then you will see well enough to deal with the speck in your friend's eye."

Matthew chapter 7 vs 1-5

Yes, I acknowledge that this blog is judging others and I acknowledge that I am not in a position to.  Believe me I know but I am truly tired by people breaking the one commandment Jesus gave us.  

"So now I am giving you a new commandment:  Love each other.  Just as I have loved you, you should love each other."

John chapter 13 vs 34

When you next go to tell someone that they are a sinner, or that they will burn in hell, or that they are an abomination, ask yourself these questions - 

Is this how Jesus would love this person?

Is this what Jesus would do?

Is this me loving you as I have been commanded?

Is this glorifying God and making you want to know Him?

There is so much hate in this world.  Do not add to it.  Lead with love, humility and wisdom.  

Love one another, as He loves us....

F is for....fit?

 Ok.  It's time.  It's time to get, gulp, fit.  It's time to improve my health or something like that.  The question is how?  Let's see....walking?  I already do that with the minimum 45 minute walk a day with the dogs and it has to be said, it ain't toning any part of me.  

Hmmm, running?  Hahahahahahaha.  Unless something is chasing me, that isn't happening.  I always say, if you see me running, run!  Something is either chasing me or I am running away from imminent danger.  

What about these insanity classes?  Um, no.  The clue is in the title of those classes and I am not that insane.  I cannot understand why you would cycle on a bike frantically whilst going nowhere.  What's the point?  Also your legs do not work properly afterwards, making walking down stairs more than slightly terrifying and funny.  

So what did I choose?  What hellish torture known as 'exercise' did I opt for?  Well, my criteria is easy.  I want something fun, something that will strengthen my core and something that I won't get bored with.  So I opted for the obvious.  Pole dancing.  What could possibly go wrong?  

So I signed up for four lessons and received my blurb.  Where they were, where to park the car, wear a loose t-shirt and shorts, very short shorts, that's it.  Ummm, shorts.....shorts.....slight problem.  I don't own shorts.  I try not to inflict my bright white legs upon the public.  They are a safety hazard.  As RAF boy tells me, at night when I walk through a dark room, it's like strobe lighting when the moonlight bounces off my legs, humph.  

Ok, I can buy shorts.  Not a problem.  Oh dear Lord, problem.  I'm looking in winter when shorts aren't really wanted right now.  Shop assistants look at me as if I'm a crazy person when I ask for shorts.  Eventually, Primark comes to my rescue with some shorts.  I grab them and head into the changing room and suddenly realise that, upon walking through the changing room doors, I have entered a fairytale world and become Goldilocks.  

First pair go on and go right down to my knees. I like them, they cover my white thighs but the information said I need short shorts.  Ok, second pair.  As I hauled this pair over my thighs and up over my hips I gave an inadvertent squeak and went slightly cross eyed.  These shorts were indeed short and revealed my thighs.  They also revealed my bum cheeks and gave me an all round wedgie!  Nope!  Off they come in one fluid movement that I'm sure would make most strippers envious (however the move did result in the offending shorts flying up over the cubicle curtain and landing in a cubicle further up where another woman was trying on clothing.  I stayed quiet and admitted nothing, sniggering slightly at the scream of surprise).  Third pair were just right (well, almost).  They were not tight, they did not reveal bum cheeks, they were short enough for pole dancing but not so short that I left nothing to the imagination.  The only problem was my pale, milk bottle legs sticking out from them.  As I turned around in front of the mirror I was horrified.  When did that happen?  When?  When did I suddenly get cellulite?  I started contorting myself in to all sorts of weird and wonderful positions to try and make it go away.  Turns out that if I stand like I'm about to go skiing then the cellulite disappears, ha!  So off I sexily stalk out of the changing rooms in a squat position as if I'm skiing.  I turned some heads that day, let me tell you! 

The day arrives.  I've got my shorts and t-shirt under my regular clothes and off I go.  The room it is held in is in a maze of a building.  I was told to take the lift upon entering the building but for love nor money I couldn't find it.  I asked the door man and he huffed at me, gestured in a vague way and said "THERE!"  I wander off in the direction he motioned at, looking.  Suddenly he shouts "NO!  THERE!!"  I'm really confused and slightly frightened at him shouting at me.  He is manically waving towards the plants.  Perhaps it's like Platform 9 3/4 and I have to run at the wall and suddenly I'll be in the pole dancing room.  I wonder what Harry Potter would have made of that?  Instead of a train station, a pole dancing club with Fred and George providing drinks and tricks (not that sort of trick!  Magic tricks!) 

Suddenly, like a magic eye picture, the door appears before me.  It is the tiniest lift, with one tiny door, hidden behind a tree.  Of course, where else would it be?  I gingerly enter the lift and it creaks and moans as we ascend.  When the doors finally open I pause to say a prayer of thanks.  Today, I survived the terrifying doorman and the haunted house lift.  Off I wander to find the room.

Eventually I find it and I enter, bemused by the fairy lights, spinning poles, tutors in full perfect make up hanging upside down, women in platform sandals spinning around and a guy who I really wish wore shorts and not incredibly tight briefs.  I looked away before I was blinded only to be assaulted by a woman doing the V split in barely there briefs.  I'm not a prude but I do think it's only polite to buy me a drink before flashing me, especially when I'm stood there thinking "ooh, hon, you need to go and get a wax".  Ahem.  Well, least said soonest mended.  

There were two other beginners there.  You could tell we were beginners because we looked out of place and we were wearing shorts, not underwear.  The instructor calls all of us over and starts warm up exercises with us.  Warm up?  I think she's trying to kill me.  Star jumps?  Why?  I am not a star and I've never seen one jump.  Squats, aargh, thighs and butt.  Then we're on the floor doing stomach crunches and swinging our legs around wildly.  When we were finished, I was done.  I wanted to crawl home after this torture.  Why had I decided to do this?  Cheerfully she tells us to grab a pole.  I think she means to help us drag ourselves up, which is what I do.  She stares at me as I pull myself up using it, groaning all the way.  She shakes her head a little, jumps on a pole and starts showing us what we're going to practice.  

It's harder than it looks.  Apparently I gripped to tightly which is why I was having problems spinning (oo-er missus) but I soon worked it out.  Turns out I'm a wee bit of a natural for pole dancing.  I can do a chair spin, fire pole spin, V split, angel something and hold myself midway up the pole with just my thighs, oh yeah! It was good fun and, yeah, I was a wee bit proud of myself that I could do the moves.    

For the next five days though, I could barely move as I was very aware of my muscles.  I tried to roll over in bed that night and couldn't move.  It was hilarious.  I was like a beached whale trying to roll over.  I eventually made it but made a mental note not to move again.  The next few days heard me moaning and groaning with every move I made, I'm sure the neighbours think I'm either demented or the house is being haunted by a noisy ghost.  

It was a good work out though.  It's the kind of work out I enjoy, where you don't feel like you're actually working out and you have fun.  I've been a couple of times now and I enjoy it but due to time constraints at the moment, don't know if I'll be able to carry on (classes clash with work).  Hmmm, we shall see but I think I will return in the future.  I can't let my shorts go to waste :) Until then, if you see a mad redhead spinning round a pole, it's probably me just getting a quick bit of practice in.  

Until next time.....

The Hunt for Stitch

STITCH!  I love Stitch.  Stitch from Disney's Lilo and Stitch.  He is experiment 626.  A wee alien who crash lands to earth and makes friends with orphan Lilo.  He is full of mischief and chaos but also love.  I love him and have much Stitch paraphernalia around the house.  So imagine my excitement when Lego announced that they were releasing Disney MiniFigures, one of which is Stitch! 

My immediate response - "I NEED HIM!"

So began the plans for the hunt for Stitch.  RAF boy is a massive Lego fan and his skills are immediately employed.  A plan is drawn up.  First, we shall head for the Lego store.  It will be a difficult journey, comprising of public transport and many people meandering around the streets, moving at the speed of glaciers and stopping dead for no apparent reason.  We need to prepare for this.  Then we shall enter the Lego store, attack (squash) many packs of minifigures until Stitch is found.  Go home triumphant.  

STAGE ONE:  We ensure we have relevant tickets for public transport, fill RAF boy full of sedatives to ensure he doesn't kill people for walking slowly or stopping dead in front of him, make sure we have a happy song to sing to keep us from getting frustrated, plan the quickest and easiest route to the store.  

Public transport was easy peasy with us chatting happily as we traveled along.  There were laughs and smiles, hugs and a little kiss (awwww) and the world was like a lovely Disney film.  I was happy and completely sure that everything was going to be fine.  Then we arrived in town and the walk began.  

Suddenly it was like being in a zombie movie.  People shuffling around, moaning and groaning.  We were surrounded, they were trying to kill us by herding us into the road in front of oncoming traffic.  They were attacking us with zombie babies in buggies, by ramming them into our heels.  There was Mickey Mouse brandishing balloon swords at people.  Let me just say, he will never brandish a balloon sword at me again.  Perhaps it was me that needed the sedatives.

RAF boy, even though full of sedatives, is barely containing his rage at the slow zombies and ponders on whether it is a kindness to let them continue in such a state.  We discuss this as we walk up the street and decide that everyone, even zombies, deserve to be allowed to continue as they are.  It keeps us out of trouble and no, pushing them up or down the escalators is not an acceptable, helpful nor sociable thing to do.  

STAGE TWO:  The Lego shop!  We arrive and RAF boy warms up his fingers.  First we must get past the overly cheerful greeter.  Done.  Second, locate the minifigures.  Done.  Third, proceed with the squashing of many bags to attempt to find Stitch.  At first, I feel a bit cheeky, especially as the assistants are watching us, but I soon get into it.  I start squashing. Um....round thing.  "That's the head Red" says RAF boy whilst he squashes a bag.  I'm struggling.  I don't know what Lego heads and ears and legs feel like!  Suddenly RAF boy makes a sound of triumph.  He's eagerly squashing a bag and getting me to feel.  Yup, feels like lumps of plastic. He is 99% certain that he has found Stitch.  He swaggers over to the till and pays for it and then, with a big grin, hands it over to me.  The boy's done good and I'm bouncing with excitement.  

All the excitement has left me parched so we go for a cup of tea, coffee and cake and I excitedly start tearing at the pack, trying to release Stitch.  Unfortunately for me, the pack is being a sod and won't open.  RAF boy grins at me as I argue with the wrapping and gently takes it out of my hands and with one smooth movement, opens it.  How does he do that?  

He hands it back to me and I open it and I find.......

Mickey Mouse.  I was a little bit disappointed but still happy, I have a Disney MiniFigure.  RAF boy, however, was not happy.  So sure was he of his skill and ability that to discover he had found the mouse did not make him happy.  

We considered going back to try again but after all the excitement we decided not to.  We made the decision to come back another day.  

Second attempt.

So, following the previous battle plan but this time, ensuring that we had both taken enough sedatives to take down an elephant, we go back to the Lego shop.  We again begin squashing the bags and trying to find Stitch.  I'm trying really hard to work out what I have in each bag.  I find, we think, two ducks and a couple of minifigures from the Invincibles.  Then, I get excited.  "I think I've found Buzz" I exclaim.  RAF boy had previously said that he would like Buzz. He takes the pack out of my hand and squashes it, then, with an impressed grin, nods in agreement.  We place it to the side and continue squashing bags.  "Found him!" declares RAF boy.  He takes longer, really squashing the bag, picturing what he's feeling and nods.  "I'm 80% certain this is Stitch" he says.  We replace the other bags and I skip up to the till with the two bags.  Again, we go for a drink and cake and open our packets.  RAF boy opens his first and finds.....

Yay me!  I got it right and worked out that I had indeed found Buzz.  Now my turn.  RAF boy is feeling nervous.  He's sure it's Stitch but after last time. It looks like he's almost contemplating praying that it's Stitch.  He opens the pack for me and excitedly I look in and I find.......

At this point, I cannot repeat what RAF boy said other than the air turned blue and my hair curled and greyed somewhat.  I was happy.  Now Mickey has his partner so he's not going to feel lonely.  

RAF boy finishes his coffee and gets up.  "Come on Red, we're going to find Stitch if it's the last thing I do".  Back to the store we trudge.  The assistant looks at us and smiles.  "Didn't find it, eh?"  I grin back though RAF boy looks like he's about to stuff Lego bricks up the assistants nose for stating the obvious.  We begin squashing packs.  We find more mice, more ducks, more invincibles, the Toy Story aliens and suddenly.....I feel a massive head and tiny legs.  Could it be?  My pulse quickens.  Yes, there's a round head, massive ears, no beak or long nose.  I hand it over to RAF boy.  He takes it and starts squashing.  Minutes tick by.  I'm holding my breath.  "Yes, I think it is.  There's the wee knick in his ear, his head is big and round, there's little legs.  Yes, I think you've found him Red" he grins.  I grab the pack and run up to the till.  The assistant grins at me. "Be back in five will you?" he smirks.  I resist shoving bricks into face and just smile sweetly back, though it might have been slightly menacing as he suddenly paled and hurriedly handed over the minifigure.  We dashed outside the store and sat on the bench directly outside.  RAF boy, again opened the pack for me but went to take a peek!  One swift slap on his hands and he thought better of it.  I opened the pack and peered in.  RAF boy held his breath.  My face dropped and a little moan escaped my lips. RAF boy rolled his eyes and again the air turned blue.  I pulled out the minifigure for him to see, with sadness in my eyes.  

STITCH!  WE FOUND STITCH!  I got a light hearted slap off RAF boy for scaring him like that.  He had been preparing to go back into the store.  Finally, I had Stitch.  I practically skipped all the way home.  

It took us a couple of attempts but together we did it.  Please be aware and take comfort that no zombies or assistants were hurt during the Hunt for Stitch.

 Now though, the burning question, should we attempt to complete the minifigure family?  RAF boy's face drops at the thought.  I'm not sure I can guarantee the safety of the zombies from either of us.  Perhaps we'll just stick with our little minifigure family.  

IKEA Adventures

Oh.  My.  Goodness.  Ikea.....<twitch>

I have been to Ikea only once in the past and that was for a look.  Since November 2015, it feels like Ikea has become a second home but not because I like it.  It is RAF boy's version of heaven and he loves nothing more than looking around and then going for meatballs.  I admit, the meatballs are great but the shop.....sob. 

The first time RAF boy took me to Ikea, it was like being on the SS Enterprise at warp speed.  He knows his way around so well that I was dragged along, bewildered, ducking and dodging.   Kitchens flew past me, beds, settees, desks, double doors (for a short cut), bedrooms, dining tables and chairs, children, wardrobes (we had a brief stop here while RAF boy showed me a wardrobe he liked.  I was overwhelmed at this point and trying to avoid the mad woman who insisted on opening all the doors on any wardrobe I stood next to.), stairs, candles, photo frames, lights, light shades that look like massive UFO's, plastic plants, warehouse, crazy people with trolleys, tills and then fresh air.  To say I was dazed upon emerging from Ikea would be an understatement.  What had just happened?  I remember meatballs but then....a blur of furniture with RAF boy shouting incoherent names at me (I later found out that he was telling me the names of the furniture.  Oh yes, that's right ladies and gentlemen, Ikea name their furniture). 

We drove home and no more was mentioned of Ikea.  I calmed myself with a furbaby cuddle and a sweet cup of tea.  I settled down for the evening and put a film on.  Bliss.

"Come on Red, we need to get a wardrobe".  What?  But, I'm drinking tea, cuddles, tea!  I look over at RAF boy, sat at his computer.  "I thought we picked one earlier?  The one with the slidey doors?" I asked, hopeful. He smiled at me with sympathy and pity.  "Yes, but we have to design it".  I stare at him completely baffled.  Design it?  What's to design?  It's a wardrobe.  You normally find one you like and buy it.  Inside it has a hanging bar and usually a top shelf.  Some even come with shelves or drawers depending on which model you buy.  What is this 'design'?  We saw one, we picked one, job done.

RAF boy taps the seat next to him and I warily go over to him.  I take a seat and there on the screen, is the wardrobe that we had decided to get.  Why am I sat here?  My tea, blanket, furbaby and film are over there waiting for me. What foolishness is this?

He begins.  "Ok we need to choose a colour.  Do you want white or black"  I stare at him.  I think about the bedroom.  "White" I reply.  Woohoo.  I made a decision, now to order it and off to my film.  I go to stand up.  "Wait, we're not done yet".  I stare at RAF boy and slowly sit down.  "The frame and bits inbetween the mirror, what colour do you want those?"  I stare at him as if he's lost his mind.  I chose a white wardrobe with sliding doors, what more is there to do other than click the buy button?  He continues.  "You can have black, white, grey or aluminium which is basically silver.  What do you want?"  He looks at me expectantly.  I stare back at him stupidly.  He nods towards the computer screen to encourage me to choose a colour.  "Um, probably grey or silver?" I look to see if this is the right answer, I feel like I'm being tested but for what I don't know.  "Which?" he asks.  He starts clicking on the two colours on the screen and I stare. He does it again and again.  I look at him, dumbfounded.  "There's no difference between them" I say.  RAF boy shakes his head and sighs.  He goes close up on the colours and tells me that there is.  He does it again.  I feel like I'm at the opticians where they ask you which lens is clearer but you don't know - "number one or number two.  Number one or number two.  Again, number one or number two."  To me, the difference between the grey and the silver looks like someone has turned a distant light on somewhere and it has made one so very, very, very slightly lighter.  I bite the bullet and go for it "silver" I declare.  In my mind I do a celebratory dance and a lap around the block.  Well, that's me done.  I've chosen the colour and the silver thing, now to buy it and we're done. 

"Now for the inside" RAF boy happily declares.  He is loving this.  I stare at him.  "The inside?" I squeak.  What has to be done on the inside?  A hanging bar and a shelf.  By the power of telepathy and longing looks, I indicate that my tea is getting cold and the furbaby needs a cuddle.  "Oh, go and grab your tea so it doesn't get cold" he smiles.  He thinks he's being loving and helpful.  I am not sharing this viewpoint.  

I stalk over, grab my cup of tea and stomp back to the computer, where I plonk myself down heavily to convey my displeasure.  It goes completely unnoticed.  RAF boy is staring longingly at the screen and madly clicking away on various objects.  He goes to speak.  I am filled with dread.  

"I've got the hanging bars for the clothes.  Do we have one in each side of the wardrobe or just in one side?"  I can answer this one. This is easy peasy.  I can see a light at the end of the tunnel.  I will answer this question and then, obviously, we'll click on the buy button and we're done.  "Both sides" I say triumphantly and make a move to get up.  "Wait, we're not done.  There's so much more to discuss" says RAF boy.  "It's a bloody wardrobe.  It has bars to hang clothes on, a mirrored door and a regular door.  What more is there to do?" I ask, slightly irritated.  He smiles patiently at me and waits for me to sit back down.  The task begins and I feel like Alice down the rabbit hole.  

"Do you want a shelf?  In both sides or one side?  How high up do you want the shelf?  How high up do you want the hanging bars?  How long is your longest dress?  Shall we have an extending trouser rail?  Do you want that below your dresses?  Do you want drawers?  How many?  Wooden front, glass display front or both?  Do you want a display drawer?  You could display your jewellery.  I could use it for my ties.  Do you want soft close on the drawers?  Do you want soft close on the doors?  Shall we have a shoe storage area?"  

On and on and on went the questions with me swinging between irritation, confusion, bewilderment and back to irritation.  I just want a blimmin' wardrobe!  "Yes to a shelf.  Both sides?  I don't know!  Why?  My longest dress?  It's as long as me!  I guess.  Er....yes?  Yes! Don't know.  Umm......  What do I want a display drawer for?  I have a jewelry box.  You only have one tie.  I suppose so.  No, we have a shoe rack."  

I lost the will to live.  I lost hours of my life that I will never regain.  I just wanted a wardrobe.  Somewhere to hang my clothes.  That's it.  I never knew just how complicated it could be.  RAF boy, however, loves it.  He's deciding on screw sizes, fittings and fixtures, colours of rails, height (everything measured in millimetres), accessories such as storage boxes, drawer organisers and so on.  I drank my tea, nodded, shrugged and looked mournfully across at the settee where my furbaby had made his bed in the blanket and was happily sleeping, contented snores emanating from him.  

"Ok, I think we're done!  Are you happy?  Do you want any changes?  Anything you want to add?"  The barrage of questions bring me out of my sad longing for the settee.  Did I want anything else?  Dear Lord, NO!  Just hit the buy button, please.  He smiles, adds it to a list and I feel hope returning to me.  

"When will they deliver it?" I stupidly ask.  "Oh no, we have to go and get all the pieces ourselves and then assemble it".  He's so happy.  He loves doing this stuff.  RAF boy sees another adventure to his heaven followed by us lovingly doing DIY together and having an amazing wardrobe at the end of it.  

I see another scary trip to a store that I dare not enter alone unless I have a flare gun and a compass, followed by heaving heavy bits of furniture into the car and then into the house, followed by arguments and cursing by us trying to put it together and ending with some semblance of a wardrobe at the end of it and hurt feelings.  

I go and put the kettle on and start to mentally prepare for the wardrobe adventure........

Adventure Awaits!!

Greetings one and all!  Welcome to my new blog.  For those of you who don't know me, I am a Christian children/family/youthworker who is about to embark on living and working in the big city.  I've been in very rural locations for the past five years so this is going to be a massive cultural shock for me but bring it on.  

I have always said that I didn't want to work with children and that I would never work, nor live, in the city.  Ta dah!  Here I am, doing exactly those things and loving it.  Who says God doesn't have a sense of humour?  

So, first adventure to share with you, my trip to Germany for a friend's wedding!!

It is sad to admit, but I have never flown in a 'real' plane before.  I say 'real', I flew off the island where I was living a few years ago, though I would hardly call it a plane.  It had propellers and as it was my first ever flight and I was on my own, my confidence was not inspired when I saw one propeller frantically whirling around giving it its all and showing off whilst its counterpart, on my side of the plane, was thinking about doing just one rotation.  It was clearly asleep and not in any mood to spin or make the plane fly.  It continued at its leisurely pace whilst the plane was pootling up the runway.  I say pootling as in truth, the plane was not hurtling forward at high speed to thrust us up into the sky.  More it was just taking its time to throw us into the sea for a paddle.  I felt like the Flintstone's and I was sure that I could have run faster.  By some miracle the plane did take off and we all survived but it wasn't the best experience of flying, so I now class this flight to Germany as my first proper flight.  

Thankfully RAF boy had agreed to fly with me and arranged the flights which I was grateful for as I had no clue where I was going or what I was doing.  As we boarded the plane and sat down I discovered RAF boy had booked me a window seat and I was very excited.  Before we took off, he was explaining to me how the wings would grow and change shape. The different noises to expect and what they meant.  That it was a good day for flying, etc.  He knew that by giving me as much information as possible I'd stay calm.  He needn't have worried though as I was so excited.  He laughed at me because I was literally bouncing around.  I smacked my head off the window because I was trying to see out of it better which caused him to roar with laughter.  Apparently he's never flown with anyone so excited or happy before and it was a novelty for him.  

I loved the whole experience.  The taking off and being thrust back into your seat.  Watching the wings change shape. Banking to the right so that I could see the patchwork of fields below me.  Flying over the channel and watching the ferries coming in and out of Dover (one of my old haunting spots), looking over the villages and towns of Germany and marvelling over how different and beautiful they looked.  Flying above the clouds, the sheer beauty of them.  It reminded me of some scenes from Spirited Away.  It was just awesome and I haven't grinned that much in years.  Even the dry, weird cheese sandwich which they gave me on board didn't bother me.  Poor RAF boy had me keep tapping him and showing him different things.  As you may have guessed, he's in the RAF and therefore used to flying and has seen all this before but to me, it was brand new, it was beautiful and I wanted to share it and I'm so glad I got to share it with him.   

We touched down in Germany and now for the second part of the journey, find the car hire place.  RAF boy had hired a car to drive us down to the town where our friend's wedding was to be.  We found the car with no difficulty and between us, worked out how to make the Sat Nav speak in English.  We then realised that neither of us had driven on main roads on the wrong side before.  Not going to lie to you, I was terrified about doing it first.  You see, I want to live and have no desire to die.  Putting me behind the wheel in a country where there is no speed limit on the autobahn and where they drive on the opposite side to me, well that's just asking for trouble.  Thankfully, RAF boy stepped up, my knight in tarnished armour.  He got us out of the town, down the autobahn and to the town of Ulm, where we were staying, in one piece.  No person, vehicle or animal was harmed during the driving of the RAF boy.  His nerves, however, were slightly frayed haha.  It didn't help that as we were driving down the autobahn we both realised that neither of us had bothered to read up on the German highway code, duh!  That night, much research was done and a better understanding of the road signs was to be had.  

FOOD!  On our first night in Ulm we decided to wander around and see what restaurants we could find.  It was beautiful wandering around at night and we found a wee restaurant down an alley.  We walked in and realised that we couldn't communicate at all with them but thankfully, they spoke a little English.  We had no idea what we ordered but when it came, it was amazing!  I had chicken which actually had a really lovely, rich flavour; gravy and what seemed to be macaroni.  RAF boy had meat which he thinks was venison with what seemed to be macaroni cheese and gravy.  It sounds like it shouldn't work but it was soooo good and so tasty.  I have to say,  that is what I loved about being in Germany.  Going to a new restaurant every night, not knowing what I was ordering and discovering new and delicious food.  

Anyway, enough of the talk of food otherwise I'll end up drooling.  Day two in Germany, LEGOLAND!

What can I say?  I was never into Lego.  I never saw the point of it.  To me, it was just plastic bricks.  How wrong I was.  I have been educated into the awesomeness of Lego.  I have been bought a Lego campervan, Wall-e and the Christmas villages but I shall tell you more about them some other time.  Lets just say that I have come to love Lego and Legoland was brilliant.  It was a beautiful sunny day and so much to see and do.  In true geek mode though, what were my three favourite parts of Legoland?  It was getting a free Legoland brick, the Star Wars section and the Sealife centre.  Check it out.  

Oh yeah, I had my geek mode on.  I should explain that I'm not a massive Star Wars fan but look at the pictures!  Star Wars characters and scenes made out of Lego.  Small plastic bricks.  Very cool.  Legoland Atlantis - underwater, sharks, stingrays, starfish, seahorses, octopus, what more could a girl want?  It was so much fun.  I got to touch a starfish, yay.  It felt very different to how I expected it to.  I don't know why, but for some reason I expected them to feel soft and squishy.  Instead, their skin felt tough and leathery.  

Then there were the towns that made me want to go and visit them for real.  

I could go on and on about Legoland but I shall resist.  It was a beautiful day, the Lego models were amazing and I would highly recommend going.  My plan is to now visit all the Legoland's in the world.  

That evening we met with friends and The Bride and The Groom.  For those of you who have seen Kill Bill, yes, I have chosen to give my friend the nickname The Bride, for not only was she the bride-to-be but I have no doubt that if you annoy her, she will draw out her Samurai sword and attack you.  So the evening was much merriment.  I ate the biggest pizza I have ever seen.  When I say big, I mean this thing was nearly 2 feet in diameter.  It did not fit on the plate.  It wasn't just massive, it was mahoosive.  It could easily have fed three people.  At this point I should say something like, I couldn't manage it all; I was very ladylike in my portions etc but the truth is, I stuffed all of it!  My excuse?  I'm very tall and have to fill my tootsies ;-p  Many at the table were in awe of me, especially when I mocked those that couldn't finish their pizza's.  I then did a brilliant finale to the meal.  I gave RAF boy the rest of my beer as I didn't want it, put my coat on and with one swift movement, got the coat on my arms and knocked the beer that RAF boy was holding all over him.  He stared.  He didn't know whether to laugh or cry.  You could see his thought processes "It's funny, she's so bloody clumsy but it's my beer.  How the hell did she do it?  Hahaha, but my beer, sob, but hahaha, but sob".  The war raged until The Bride announced he could get another beer in the next place.  All was not lost.  He laughed and looked at me, "How?"  "I'm very tall and cannot possibly know the location of all my limbs at all times" I retorted.  "Fair point well presented.  Maybe just leave your coat on or off in the next place eh?" came the cheeky response.  

Day three was the day of the wedding.  The Bride and The Groom had the ceremony in Wiblingen Monastery in the library.  

Look how beautiful it is!  It was an absolutely stunning venue and The Bride was extremely gorgeous.  The Groom was handsome as well but let's be honest, The Bride was radiant.  The ceremony was lovely though poor RAF boy was burning up slightly.  He's not good in holy places and starts to get a bit warm haha.  Anyway, after the ceremony in this beautiful place, there were the photos in the courtyard and then onto the reception.  The reception was brilliant.  Instead of a champagne reception, The Bride and The Groom had organised a milkshake and cupcake reception.  The hazelnut milkshake was soooo good.  Then onto the food.  The table settings were excellent; place names were Stormtroopers holding name cards; the placemats were old records with the menu stuck in the middle; there was a dress up corner where The Bride and The Groom had placed props and set up an iPad to take pictures.  These pictures could then either be broadcast up on the wall or printed and placed in a photo album for The Bride and The Groom later.  I don't know what to say other than this was the best wedding that I have ever been to.  Everything was fantastic, everything was fun, the food was amazing, the wedding cake was the Death Star, there was spaghetti ice cream.  The whole wedding was incredible and definitely set the bar very high for other weddings.  

Should mention one incident though at the wedding.  The drinks had been flowing and after the food and spaghetti ice cream and some more fluids, it was time for the cake to be brought out.  Everyone gathered out on the balcony.  I was stood near the fire pit (where they had been doing the meat earlier which was out of this world) to keep warm.  RAF boy comes over to join me, pint in his hand.  He has failed to notice the fire pit.  He takes a mouthful of beer, people come out onto the balcony and he steps back.  He looks around, nods, grins, takes another mouthful.  Again, people come out and he steps back.  I'm getting concerned now as he's getting very close to the fire pit.  A third time this scenario is repeated with one difference.  As RAF boy goes to step back, I grab him and prevent him falling into the fire pit.  He looks and raises his eyebrows.  "Ah, that explains it.  I wondered why my ass was getting warmer every time I took a mouthful of beer".  He grins and turns his attention to the Death Star cake that is being wheeled out.  I shake my head in disbelief.  They let him work on planes, oh dear.  I grin and queue for cake.  

Day Four - wedding day recovery.  Needless to say, I didn't get to bed until the early hours of the morning and was rudely awoken in morning hours to join everyone for the wedding breakfast.  I get showered and dressed and wander down the beautiful marble steps of the hotel, trying not to groan with every step as every muscle aches and screams for more sleep.  I hasten to add here that I'm not hungover.  Well, not an alcoholic hangover anyway.  I was only drinking Coke Cola the night before so I had a sugar and caffine hangover.  I gingerly made my way to the table and croaked to the lovely lady that I desperately needed a cup of tea.  The Bride was sat chatting, still looking radiant.  The rest of us, well we wouldn't have been out of place in a zombie film.  The groans, dark, sunken eyes, pale complexions.  We all sadly realised that our youthful days had gone.  That we were now of an age where we couldn't go out and burn the midnight oil and wake up refreshed and raring to go on only two hours sleep.  Well all of us except The Bride (who was feeling tired) and RAF boy, who was merrily tucking into his breakfast and laughing at all the oldies who were suffering.  I believe he would have been cheerfully stabbed with many forks that morning, if any of us had had the energy to move.  

Later that day was a trip to Ulm Minster.  A beautiful, massive church.  



You could go up the spire (steeple) and get a wonderful panoramic view of Ulm and the mountains.  You only had to climb something like 768 steps, piece of cake.  Of course, for views like that, fantastic photographic opportunity, you know I didn't do it.  I had trouble climbing the one step into the minster itself there was no way I could manage ten, let alone 768!

After the minster was more fantastic food, a look around the market and then onto a shop that sells clothing that I love.  It was in this shop that my new travelling buddy was bought for me.  You see, my Staffie is my travelling buddy and we love nothing more than road tripping together.  However, he can't go abroad as he doesn't have his passport and he prefers to stay with his nanny and grandad where he gets spoilt rotten.  So RAF boy bought me a travelling buddy to take with me on my trips abroad.  Here he is -

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Hubert Von Scarem!  Hubert (pronounced 

Hoo-bert) is my new travelling pal and as you can see, he loves travelling.

Ready for a day exploring Ulm

At the fisherman's quarters

Overlooking the Danube 

Check out the pretty house

Taking pictures with RAF boy

 

Headed for the airport

Hubert's first
flight





We flew back on Day Five after more exploring of Ulm.  It was raining on our return to the UK, what a surprise.  Poor RAF boy had to put up with me hitting him out of excitement.  He had told me to watch what happens to the engine when we land, how they use it to brake.  I stared at it and as we landed I saw the flaps lift up.  I started slapping RAF boy's thigh.  "Look!  Look!  The flaps are up!  Look!"  He laughed and dutifully looked and made appropriate noises until I realised.  "You've seen it before" I said sheepishly.  "Let's look at the facts.  I told you about it and I work with aeroplanes, I might have seen it before, possibly, but not definitely".  He grins and laughs.  Apparently flying with me is an experience.  

So, this is my first of many adventures.  Germany was incredible and I'm planning on going back.  Also on the list is Paris, Finland,New York, Norway, California, Italy, Switzerland, Vietnam, China, Russia, Lapland, Canada, Mexico, New Zealand and so many more places.  Might help though if I learn a bit of the languages and definitely learn the highway codes!  

Heartfelt thanks to The Bride and The Groom for inviting me to their wedding and RAF boy....well, thanks doesn't cover it.  He got me there and back, kept me alive and out of trouble and gave me the best holiday I've ever had.  

Join me for more adventures :)