Thursday, 29 March 2012

ladykin

I signed up to the OED's 'word of the day' a while ago and today's word is 'ladykin' which is explained as 'a small dimunitive lady.  Sometimes used as a term of endearment.' 

How sweet is that?!

I usually avoid '? of the day' sign-ups, blogs, projects.  I just find them exhausting but I look forward to my daily wordy email.  It has an extensive list of references, idioms and information about each word in each email which can provide a certain amount of bloggy wandering, all in the name of language and education.

On another matter - it's the Easter holidays!  After a couple of weeks of household activity and to and froingness, I'm ready for a bit of a breather, if only to catch up on course work get organised for the onslaught of assessments that are looming at the beginning of May.

Enjoy the sunshine while it lasts. 

Wednesday, 14 March 2012

burning bras?

We've been discussing feminist art theory at college.  I know.  One minute I'm cleaning out the mysteriously long hairs in the shower, the next I'm pondering the whys and wherefores of gender on artistic practice and criticism.  Get me.

Anyway...after a particularly rantful morning yesterday about feminism and its relevance today, I'm quite confused.  Did feminism work so we don't need it any more or do we need it even more now? 

If I look around, it doesn't seem that much has changed.  We've still got eye-seeringly sexist adverts (that one about the bloke drinking 0% sugar cola and he gets some woman pitching up in a bikini to fix his truck - with her friend....perrrrrrrleaaaaaaase!, for example).  It seems to me that feminism has been repackaged so that as long as sexism is done with a wink and a nod, it's OK.  We ladies should just get over ourselves.

Were/are you a feminist?

Monday, 5 March 2012

I don't like Mondays

I am writing to confess to a Monday meltdown.

This morning, at approximately 8am, I was tempted on an almost atomic level to take myself back to bed and lie there all day.

Am I clinically depressed?  I don't think so.

Has there been some kind of traumatic event?  Not that I'm aware of.

Had I been up all night watching TOWIE?  No, definitely not.

I simply got up, did what I needed to do to get the breakfast and the lunches sorted, looked at my latest list and the pile of stuff I needed to take to college for the day and thought

"Nah, don't really feel like it....can't be bothered."

How rubbish is that?  There are serious things going on in the world, people everywhere getting up and getting on .  I feel a bit crap and have a hissy fit.  Not good.  Not impressive.

I am pleased to report, however, that after a bit of judicious skincare involving the liberal application of my most recent favourite moisturising mask and a relatively speedy yet relaxing bath, my synapses re-arranged themselves and I started the day again just after half past nine.

I felt as if I'd had a brief short circuit, a lapse, an internal tantrum.

I felt much better as the day progressed.  I didn't have anything major to achieve or anything to finish beyond the usual day to day stuff.  I didn't resolve anything, sort anything out, change anything significant.  I just got on with the day.

When I got home from college, J was in the garage on the cross trainer for some reason, G was working at home and E was out bouncing on a trampoline.  I checked my emails, put another load of washing on and warmed through the quiche that J had made at school with some oven chips and green beans.  We had Aero chocolate for pud and talked through the day.  Nothing had really happened.  There was nothing very new to report.

A lot of my art work is about ordinariness and the everydayness of everyday.  The things that we do or that we see that we don't really take much notice of but that we would value if they weren't there.  If I'd chosen to hide from my day and taken myself to bed, I wouldn't have had one of those perfectly ordinary days, where everyone just gets on with whatever it is they do.

Perhaps I don't mind Mondays.

Thursday, 1 March 2012

pinch punch

Some of us are still avid pinch-punchers in our house.  I always forget and am the pinched-punched.  Someone has to be.

I can't believe we're already two months nearer to the Olympics.  When will it end?  I can't even buy a chocolate bar without supporting the athletes.  It's doing my chocolate covered nut in!

If I see one more product or brand sponsoring the *&^%$&(&$^"*"^$£* games, I'm going to go all lentil and start buying everything wholesale from a vegetarian co-operative.  Not that I'll find one in sunny North Wiltshire.  I'd probably have to take out a mortgage to afford the petrol to get to the nearest supplier of wholegrain, non-branded staples.

I realise I am not seeing life as I know it in a particularly positive light.  I fear my recent toe trauma has left me ore than physically traumatised.  I feel proper narked as my Nan might say.  I may need to break the mid-week no wine rule and pour myself a drop of Shiraz.  Something has got to give.

On a lighter note, I actually had rather a splendid day - a morning spent teaching one of my very lovely crochet ladies to make ripple blankets and the afternoon at school, reading to the kids on National Book Day and then running sketchbook club which although a little noisy and sometimes exhausting is very rewarding.  Every session is full of interest and despite all the racket, some fabulous work gets done.  Two very different teaching experiences from my point of view but both a real pleasure.