Body Beautiful

I feel like I'm dying this morning.  In fact, I probably am.  The last of my dinner guests left at 1.30am last night which meant I was on the sauce for six hours solid.  The main problem however with Saturday night drinking is that it is then followed by Sunday lunchtime drinking.  "Well just don't have a drink today", I hear you yell.  That would be the sensible option I agree, but you haven't met my father.  It is a rite of passage that we have some wine on a Sunday lunchtime whatever else is going on in our lives.  In the bad old days pre-kids I remember one occasion of getting in at 5am and then setting my alarm for 11.45 to ensure I was in the pub with Dad at 12.  Craziness.  I've had a glass of wine during the final 'throws' of norovirus, a glass of wine with flu and even when I tried to be good at not drink AT LUNCHTIME when I was pregnant it was all a bit frowned upon.

The last thing I feel like this morning is a drink I must say.  This week is worse than usual as my sister and her husband are staying with my parents and they have both given up booze so poor old Dad has been drinking alone.  Don't worry Pa, here come the Wards to the rescue.  Misery loves company but not nearly as much as boozy Stockers do.

I can't remember when I became fully aware of my own mortality.  Probably not until I had kids.  I put a huge number of unspeakable things into my body during my twenties and somehow have happily survived to tell the tale.  On top of that I hardly ever exercised, ate a lot of take aways but was still nice and thin.  I miss those days.  I think mortality smacks you in the face when you have kids.  You suddenly realise that maybe taking care of yourself is not just a selfish act but a necessary maternal decision.  These days I don't smoke, eat too much junk, I ensure I get my five a day and I run twice a week.  I hardly recognise myself.  My weak link is now and will always be the demon drink.

The government advises two booze free days a week and mostly I adhere to that.  I've always had 'No-alcohol Mondays' but these days I have no-alcohol Wednesdays too.  A weekly 8am staff meeting on a Thursday is a big help there though.  It tends to fall apart a bit in school holidays (which I seem to have quite a lot of these days ;-)) and I'm not sure that the 'government' would advocate the speed in which booze in poked down on the five other days either.

It would be boring to have no vices however and one thing I can never bear to be is dull.  Milk Thistle is my new best friend.  I may have interpreted the bottle slightly differently to how it actually works but apparently it is some kind of wonder-herb that means you can get really pissed without really damaging your liver.  Nice one.  Make mine a small herbal pill and a large pinot please.

On that note I must away to strap on my Sunday-lunchtime drinking wellies and fall back off the wagon again.  Cheers...(Ugh!)

That Bulgarian Business....

Stuart is working very hard these days at his new job and it is going well.  It involves a lot of travelling so my phobia of staying home 'alone' has had to get over itself rather suddenly; a bottle of champagne through a straw seems to do the trick.  His new boss has given him some guidance about working from home and told him it will be hard as you will be around for a few days and your wife will get used to having you about and then it will be difficult for her when you are then away.  "You haven't met my wife" replied Stuart perceptively.

My poor husband told me that he was having to do a business trip to Bulgaria this month. I felt really sorry for him, three days away from home training up some Bulgarians in deepest darkest February.  Then the goalposts shifted just a touch.  The business trip became more temperate as the dates changed to the end of April and I was genuinely pleased for Stuart, much more pleasant.  A few more Sales Men were added to the mix and suddenly it was becoming a bit of a piss up too.  Nice.  Again, good luck to you mate.  I'm examining two of the days he will be away but I don't bear a grudge and I will work my socks off and juggle the kids quite happily while he has a nice time in the Bulgarian sunshine.  More power to him (I'm planning a week's jaunt to Sydney in October so racking up some points....!)

Over dinner the other night my cousin slipped in to the conversation that the 'scenery' in Bulgaria was lovely.  My considerate husband tried to cover up by saying that he had heard it was actually in the middle of an industrial estate.  "No, no, no" said my pissed and not-tactful-at-the-best-of-times cousin, "the SCENERY is really really good."  It came out in the wash that the person Stuart is going to be training and spending all of his time with over there is apparently very beautiful; stunning in fact.  Oh great.

I'm not that jealous a person.  I most definitely used to be but nearly seven years of marriage irons out most of those wrinkles.  I never poke through his emails/texts etc. anymore.  Oh believe me I used to but had my pokey-pointy nose well and truly burnt once on that front so decided that these days ignorance is bliss.  However, the thought of my husband spending three pissed and steamy nights with Miss Bulgaria 2012 does not exactly have me jumping for joy.

I immediately phoned my wise counsel Samantha for some sympathy and advice.  Once she had finished pissing herself with laughter she told me not to worry as Bulgarian women have hairy fannies and armpits and stinky breath.  (She is well racist.)  Probably not true but I will be clinging on to this hope as I wave him off into the ether in two months time.

If anything good is to come out of this I reckon it will be that Stu may well have a gift of a replacement wedding ring sooner rather than later.  I've been dragging my feet on this since he lost it in the Greek sea last summer but maybe the fact that the price of gold has doubled since last time I bought him one isn't so important anymore....