Friday 1 May 2015

(Rachel) My life is like the hokey cokey: “…and you shake it all about”

This is what I thought when I was exercising this morning. Now, I am not going to make this post about all the weight that I don’t have because…we all hate THAT guy. But, what I will say, is that I am not the most toned person in the world…no one will be bouncing quarters off of my stomach. As such, I do notice, especially when doing Zumba with Isaac (he’s a real pro, that boy), when my shaking movements of my body are disproportionately vigorous to the efforts I’m putting in, if you know what I mean. Like…you do a little shimmy and your tummy or thighs are still shimmying 10 minutes later, of their own accord. You know?
As I was doing said Zumba, I allowed my mind to wander back to all the dancing we used to do together. I’m no Darcey Bussell but, you know, we could move, right? I’m not imagining that. Well, all of that ability has left me. I was showing my Young Women the music video Jess Carr and I made at university. We looked pretty good. Yet, somehow, having a baby has made me incapable of dancing. In fact, I’m pretty sure that the hokey cokey is all I CAN do.

At this point, I was going to bring in my awesome analogy but perhaps I will wait for another day.

On the subject of exercise, the other week, I went to the church’s annual football and netball competition. Now, I am no netballer. I have recently become friends on facebook with one of my high school PE Teachers, which is great but…when I was playing netball, I couldn’t help but see her in my mind’s eye teaching us how to pivot...brought back A LOT of memories about how awful I was! Anyway. I wish I had a photo to show you of the clothes I wore to this thing. I wore a dusky pink t shirt and my super baggy, navy, mens Washington DC tracksuit bottoms. I actually left the house feeling pretty sporty. I am only 24 years old, but since I was last at a sport event, sport fashion has changed a lot. Upon my arrival, I realised that I had clearly missed the memo about cropped lycra capri things. It seemed like every peer of mine was wearing these things. And all of them looked convincingly athletic and gorgeous. You can imagine how I felt in men’s tracksuit bottoms, can’t you.


When we came home, I said to Ieuan “Did I look hideous in my clothes today?” He said “You could never look hideous. Your tracksuit bottoms were a bit frumpy though.” (poor things) I love my husband because he does not flatter me by telling my falsehoods. He flatters me by understanding my point of view. He knew exactly what I meant! So. Armed with this knowledge, I am determined to get me some of these, So that, next time someone flings me out of my comfort zone and into the shooting zone of the netball court, I can at least look cute.

Another word or two on netball. I was Goal Shooter, because, usually, I am a pretty good shot. My hand-eye coordination is pretty good, you know? Anyway. I was TERRIBLE. At one point, the umpire (who, incidentally, was also sporting these lycra capris) told me to take my time shooting. I thought I had suddenly misunderstood the rules. “Don’t you have 3 seconds to shoot once you have the ball” I asked a team mate. “Yup”, came the reply. TAKE YOUR TIME?? Was she JOKING??
In short. Netball isn’t really my scene. I can do a bit of tennis for fun. I can shoot some hoops for fun. You know, I’m actually pretty good at kicking a rugby ball too. Leigh Halfpenny might even be a teeny bit impressed.  At school, the thing I was best at was softball or rounders. I could hit it and I could catch. But, I have decided that if it’s for anything more serious than fun, move along, cos I ain’t your girl.

I’ve written the following song about my recent sporting endeavours and how I feel about the impeachment of tracksuit bottoms.

“Because you know, It’s all about capris, bout capris,
No Trackies. It’s all about capris, bout capris, no trackies.
It’s all about capris, bout capris, no trackies, it’s all about capris.

Yeah, it’s pretty clear, Mine aren’t the same as you
But I can pivot pivot, like I’m supposed to do.
I’ve got that netball that all the girls chase, and all wrong clothes in all the wrong places.
You see these pretty girls, working that capris look? We all know that ain’t real, come on now make it stop. If you want sporty sporty, let’s raise it up cos every inch of you is perfect from your trackies to your top.

Yeah, the Umpire, she told me when shooting to “take your time”.
(If three seconds is ages then life is a pantomime)
You know I won’t be no lycra-clad Olympic athlete
But I’d like for my trackies to not be so obsolete.

Because you know, It’s all about capris, bout capris,
No Trackies. It’s all about capris, bout capris, no trackies.
It’s all about capris, bout capris, no trackies, it’s all about capris.

I’m bringing trackies BACK!
Go ahead and tell those skinny capris that…
Although I’m playing, I am NOT all that,
And I’m here to tell you every skill of yours is perfect from your pivot to your shot.

Yeah, the Umpire, she told me when shooting to “take your time”.
(If three seconds is ages then life is a pantomime)
You know I won’t be no lycra-clad Olympic athlete
But I’d like for my trackies to not be so obsolete.

Because you know, It’s all about capris, bout capris,
No Trackies. It’s all about capris, bout capris, no trackies.

It’s all about capris, bout capris, no trackies, it’s all about capris.”

Tuesday 21 April 2015

(Jessica)- My life is the Hokey Cokey. All in, and all out.

Endless emails from fans and readers all over the world have brought Rachel and I to our knees. We have caved to pressure (which usually is a bad thing, not here though. Kids, the principle still stands. Don't forget, JUST SAY NO.)
...Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls of all ages, the confusing and nonsensical sister blog has returned.


Dearest Fruity,

Where to even begin? It would seem we are more adult than ever now. You have an actual fruit of your loins, instead of calling me loiny you have a legitimate reason to do that to someone else now. How exciting.
So for all of you people out there that are a little confused about this, Rachel now has a son called Is. I have been away on a mission. No, not top secret...gosh you people. A service mission for my church. I taught people about my belief and faith in God for about 18 months. Crazy right? Wrong. Well, no, you're right. It was crazy brilliant. *sigh* I digress. SO lots has happened since we last typed.


I usually update you with all of my embarrassing experiences... and I have so many. So buckle up love, hold onto your hats and anything else you'd like to secure as we take a grand tour of my life as a returned missionary.
I have had to get back into practice of being normal again, my main problem with this is winking. My wink is a little rusty. I was home for one week, tried it in the mirror and determined that I looked like a horse with a rare corneal disease. So needless to say this has caused for some serious practice, intense drills (one eye open, one eye shut, rapid eye reps etc) and eye-lid massages. I am happy to report on this day, this wonderful April day, that I am ready to unleash the winkwinker. I will use it. Who knows were, who knows when...but BAM! It'll happen. I'll keep you updated.

There comes an age in one's life where she is called up to serious reflection on her marital status, by the general public. The General Public, let's call them GP to make it easier, the GP... feel the need to remind you of the fact that you may become a menace to society if you aren't married, or engaged, or seeing someone... or even dating. Well GP, I have some news...big news. I am dating. YEP! Breathe it in people. Feels good doesn't it? I am dating myself. Wait, wait. Let me explain before the thundering sound of eye-rolls deafen me. People are complicated. I, myself am a sphinx (I'll be honest Rachel I have no idea what that means. I think it's some Egyptian bear statue, but it sounds mysterious so run with me for a minute). I have no clue what I am about so I think I need to take this time to work out who I am, before I put someone else's ingredients into the mix. It'll take a flippin' pro chef to crack this recipe anyway so whomever he is - he needs a few years of warm up stretches before he can break this cookie. Now, having lost myself in my own analogies, I'll attempt to re-group. Ah yes, I was being a menace...so what else is new?

I like hugs as much as the next socially awkward 21 year old, but I  had no idea just how varied hugs can get. But I have experienced it all , so let me report the array of PDosAbuAoitrtA (Public Displays of sometimes Awkward but usually Affectionate or in the realms thereof Affection ).
One Sided Bear- Someone is giving you all they've got... but they have also trapped your arms by your sides. You are either sad because you can't show them any affection back, or grateful because you don't want to. Like Voldemort and Draco.
Mutual Bear- Almost like you are trying to see who can choke-out who first. That, or you're trying not to seem wimpish as you feel most of the bones in your body do a decent impression of Rice Krispies.
Llama- Sometimes you are stuck between a rock and a hard place. Back to back, interlocking arms. Yes, I have experienced this one recently. But I think it's funnier if I don't share the details.
Especially for Youths and Awkward People with parentals present- The infamously lame side hug. I have nothing to say about this other than the fact that it is severely underwhelming. Although, sometimes there is just no hug more appropriate.
Some Up and Some Down- You are sitting on the sofa and someone hugs you before you can get up. Resulting in either a back-breaker or a quick head turn so you don't get a mouth-full of stomach.
Catch and Release- As little body contact as possible for as quick as possible, like shrapnel.
Taken 4- I don't know who you are. I don't know what you want. But I will not let you escape, or move, or breathe. Forever a hostage, carried away by a stranger.
Meow and Purr- Sometimes you just have those moments where the inner cat takes over and you have to curl up on someone's lap. Depending on the moment and how well you know the person...this could get a little creepy. Especially, if you actually purr. I'm just saying. (DO NOT MENTION ELLA THE CAT. *sigh*...but now I feel like I have to explain...so I may or may not have spent a short amount of time utterly convinced that I was a cat. It's not uncommon.)
The Slow Cooker- Eventually softening every muscle in your body. Possibilities may include your brain and heart. These should come with a safety warning- "Users may find motor skills impaired and some speech dysfunction for a few minutes after use, especially depending on make and model of slow cooker."
I'm sure there are more, but at this present time I think I'm still recovering from the latter (let's blame my brain deficiencies on that...)

I hope you are having a good day my little Snafficus. Better than mine anyway. The person opposite me trod in a questionable substance and the office is like an oven. We have also missed out on our daily lunch time phone calls, so I failed to update you on the fact that in my shower today I coughed and inhaled water and shampoo, resulting in the near constant taste and smell of L'0real Elvive. Oy.
Buuuut, on the plus side I am obviously having a good day in the real world.

Love you,
your own little Monroe.