Christmas Eve’s eve.

It’s christmas eve’s eve, and it would too easy to ponder over all the things I wanted to do around and for christmas. It would be too easy to stress out about choosing Quality Street or Roses. It would definitely be too easy to forget why we’re all doing this in the first place.

On the original Christmas eve’s eve Joseph and Mary would most definitely have been on their way to Bethlehem from Nazareth. In nativity plays up and down the country, this part of the story is swept over, at most with a sweet rendition of Little donkey.

The Bible says that when they made the journey mary was noticeably pregnant. No kidding, she was to give birth a few days later – and I suspect mary opted for the typical loose clothing of the day over a lycra Maternity number. ‘noticeably pregnant’ was Luke’s polite way of saying she was huge and ready to drop. Now I can say this with authority because I have been heavily pregnant twice myself – no journey is easy in those last days. I remember being overdue with my Chloe and The Husband dragged (not literally) me out to take a walk in the hope that it might get things going. I even think he had my trying to skip. No joke. My journey was around my estate. Mary’s journey was, I think, around 80 miles. Donkey or no donkey, in my book that makes her a legend. 80 miles!!! No wonder she gave birth soon after. I even wonder, with it being her first kid, and ladies – you know how first births can drag on – she may well have had labour pains on the way [disclaimer: there is no theological evidence to Mary having contractions on the journey to Bethlehem, I am just sumising].

The reality was a lot different to how we’ve made it. I know for sure that whoever wrote the carol silent night has never had children. I’m sorry to say that the christmas story is messy – This young couple are forever explaining why she’s pregnant and she’s still a virgin, Mary is literally just about to pop when they have to make this exhausting and possibly dangerous journey. They get where they’ve been told to go by the government, but have no where to stay, and mary ends up giving birth in a cave that is meant for animals. It’s not quite how mary planned it when she was little. But here’s the thing. It’s exactly as God planned it. For the saviour of the world to be as relatable and as unintimidating as you can get. The servant king.

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Trains, lists and chocolate.

The only positive side to this sciatica is that I’m forced to slow down. I’m always wanting to slow down or wishing that time itself would to cease to whizz by in a blur. So I have a load of thoughts jumbling around in my heavily medicated head.

I don’t know how people cope with long term pain – because it’s doing my head in after 10 or 11 weeks.

I think I’ve lost the key to the tuck shop money tin. Again (note to self – let someone else look after the key).

I’m pretty sure it’s not right to already have a chocolate hangover a week before christmas and I’m very sure it’s not right to have only mars bars in the fruit and veg drawer of the fridge (note to self, eat more fruit and veg to balance it out and jobs a good’n).

It’s a week before christmas!? No no no, I haven’t done nearly as much as I wanted to do in the festive season. I mustn’t have made a list about it. If I had had a list I would have been way more succesful in my christmas festivities (note to self, make a list next November).

If its christmas 2011….That must mean it has been ten years exactly since The Husband and I knew we weren’t just two people in the same social circle. He totally pursued me. Well he at least asked for my phone number at the new years eve party we were both at. There is some pursiut in there surely. But ten years. A whole decade. Blimey.

We’re low on loo roll, really must get some more tomorrow.

I wonder what Rob will do on the train tomorrow. It’s been ages since I went on a train by my self, so don’t know what I’d do.

Medication is making me too sleepy now, I wonder if I’ll dream of trains lists and chocolate.

musings of time warps, crafts and DNA.

It has been said that people often look like their dogs. Possibly the most common conversation held when meeting a baby is who they take after. Famous singers often come from ‘musical’ families. There’s gotta be something in it. Hold that thought.

There’s this wierd thing with my mum (aka ‘me mam’). she could pop to the local shop for a loaf of bread and come back two hours later. She doesn’t go anywhere else. It’s just a fact that time speeds up whenever she goes anywhere. I’m not exaggerating. When she goes anywhere which would normally take a couple of hours, my dad know he won’t see her ’till nightfall.

The scary thing is, when you’re with her you get caught in this weird time warp. I’ve been out with her countless times when we come back way later than we were due home. So with hands on expereince, I truly don’t know how she takes so long to do things. Granted, there are the loo stops, but that can only account for a fraction of the time that lapses while she’s out. I guess it’s just in her DNA.

And here we have the tedious link. Whether I’ve slowly grown into it without my knowing or the genetics have suddenly kicked in, but it appears my mother has passed on her weird time warp trait to me.

This condition is definitely more accute when any kind of shopping is involved. The more choice, the more intense the symptoms. Of late I have become confused fascinated by the variety of butter in the fridge section. I spend an unecessary amount of time working out if it’s cheaper buying two smaller packs of pasta or one medium one. I find myself wandering aimlessly with my trolley, list or no list.

Fortunately for all those shoppers that I so often block their way through the shopping isles, I’ve hardly been out over that past nine or so weeks. This sciatica appears to be even more stubborn than me. And it flippin floppin hurts. But there has to be a reason why it’s all happening, and God-willing I’ll be back to wandering around shopping isles and annoying other shoppers in no time.