How good am I?

I just wanted to say to, well you know who you are, I'm always there for you.
And forever grateful that you're part of my life.

Hope we can help you put back the pieces, Hunni.

That's all for now, I guess...

I can't say exactly why.

But, I can tell you that I've been away from spaces for ages, and missed a lot of news, I know.
And for that, I'm truly sorry.

There have been enormous happenings in my life, lately.
At one point, the whole bottom fell out of my world, and yet, it's weird because right now, it wouldn't matter if there was a bottom to it or not, because I'm floating.

Flying, actually.
:)
I wish I could bottle this and sell it, because everyone deserves to feel this way.

And, I'm getting mushy now, so I'm not going to bore those who are already bored with SoppySam :P

Now, normally I would keep this sort of information to myself, but it's so bizarre that, oh I dunno, maybe someone might have an idea what the heck is going on, or else just have a good laugh at my expense (honestly, please go ahead, I insist ;)).

I went to bed last night (late), and was absolutely fine. Hadn't had any aches or pains all day, and was feeling very grateful for a "Good day" at last.
Woke up this morning, and I feel like I've taken a very fast-moving projectile to my bottom.

I have no idea what could have happened to cause the pain, and it certainly is a brand new one on me (not many more of those about, surely).
It feels like a bruised muscle, or bruised bone or something, but I have it on good authority that there's no mark to speak of in the area.

It hurts to move my leg, so I've been hobbling about all morning, clutching it! Must look very comical, a bit like Dr. Frankenstein's Igor, with an unscratchable itch.

Once again I have been away, and no it isn't all down to Neopets or Funkeys this time (Phoenix, I'll get to that too...in another entry).

We have had hi-jinx and shenanigans here this past week; everyone has been ill, and no one has had any sleep.

Started off on I-don't-know-what-day, Steve and his Dad decided to repair a hole in the kitchen ceiling, ever so kindly left there by some men who installed a boiler about a year ago.
I was in my room revising, when suddenly there came a huge crash from downstairs, followed by the sound of Steve's Dad going barmy.
I rushed as much as I could manage to the scene, to find Steve on the kitchen floor with a ladder underneath him. It had basically slipped out, and he'd landed knee first on a rung, and sent the impact up his spine.
He did the man thing, and insisted he was ok, all-the-while in obvious agony. Nothing his Mum or I could say would convince him to see the doctor, so I phoned NHS Direct. Rest and painkillers was their solution.

"Fair enough," we think.
Then comes the problem; to rest, or sleep, most people lie down, right? Yeah, except Steve can no longer lie down, due to the excruciating pain in his back, which only gets worse when he's horizontal.
Cue sleepless night for Steve, during which he wound up on the couch downstairs, wrapped in the quilt from the spare room.

Before this, however, I had rubbed some Ralgex into a sore shoulder, only to have to wash it off again, less than a minute later because his skin looked like it had sustained third degree burns. Strange because his back had been fine with it.

Next day, pain in his back was worse, and his knee had a big dent in it, so he agreed that perhaps the doctor was best. Well, we didn't see a doctor at the surgery, having gotten shunted to the nurse, instead.
She must have been having a bad morning herself, because she just couldn't get him out fast enough! "No swelling, soft tissue damage. Rest and pain killers."

Ah, there's that rest problem again.
Cue the pillows from the spare room all coming to visit our bed, so as to prop Steve in as much of a sitting position as was marginally comfortable.
And another yo-yo off a night for him.

Next day, he conceded that maybe an x-ray was in order.
Off to the hospital, it was then. And over to another one with, presumably, doctors better equipped for the situation.
After much prodding, hammering of joints and an uncomfortable x-ray, the doctor assured us that nothing was broken, and then asked Steve to diagnose himself "What do you think is wrong, sir?"
Say what, now?!? This man was supposed to have had however many years at med school, and he's asking us what the problem is??
"Pain killers, rest" We know the drill.

So, in for a weekend of fun we were, anyway, with Steve in pain and not being able to do much about it, let alone sleep.
Saturday morning, Steve's Dad, who is in very much less than perfect health, was ill and had to be taken to the hospital. Poor guy, so proud of himself for having not smoked in almost three weeks, and his body goes and rewards him with another case of cellulitis, and the day before the football too. There he is, wrapped in his duvet cocoon, shivering like he's wearing wet clothes in the Arctic, and his leg all gammy.
They let him home, though, but he stayed in bed for most of the day and hardly ate.

So we get to yesterday, seemed like everyone was getting better. Dad came down for a beer with his mate while they watched the footie, Steve went straight off to sleep as soon as his head hit the top of his pillow mountain, and although I'm nervous about my exam, and worrying about everyone, I'm off to sleep pretty early for me, and pretty quickly too.

Twenty to two, Steve and I were awake again, though. Seems his back was becoming unbearable again, but as far as I remember, we went back to bed shortly after.

Three-thirty then came along, and all hell broke loose.
Steve was actually sobbing the pain was so bad, and he couldn't move because it hurt. Managed to get him sat up, and practically ordered him to take some pain relief. Then I had a brainwave: the Ralgex had seemed to help his back, did he want me to take the chance and rub some in? He thought the risk would be worth it, as did I personally as his back hadn't been a problem last time.
So, dutiful partner that I am, I lovingly applied the muscle rub, and sat with him, on the edge of the bed, while waiting for the pain to ease.

Next second there's a horrid, awful, searing fire in my left eye!
Oh, Gods, it stung!
I'd only gone and rubbed my tired eyes with Ralgex-coated fingers, hadn't I?
Quick, run to the bathroom, and wash it out, hoping against hope that when I looked in the mirror, I didn't see a gaping, fizzing goo-filled hole where my eye used to be.
As it happens, it's not actually quite so reactive, and after a thorough rinse, all that was out of the ordinary was that my eye was abit red.

But, man, I could have done without that, not least because, I was obviously now wide awake!

So what have I been doing?
Falling off the 'Virtual Wagon', that's what. Nothing harmful, I assure you, but an addiction all the same.

It's all my brother-in-law-once-removed's fault (not sure if that a word, but it saves my typing Steve's sister's husband's brother, doesn't it? someone really ought to invent a title for obscure family members, even brother-in-law-once-removed is a bit of a mouthful, and still requires this lengthy explanation).
Anyway, I digress.
A few years back, I became addicted to a certain online pet site, so much so that, like any self-disrepecting junkie, I enlisted cohorts in the form of anyone I knew who had an Internet connection.

Long story short, I'd already put the habit to bed once, and given away my account (naughty me, I know), but after deciding to log back in one day for nostalgia's sake, I was bit by the bug quite a bit harder than before.
Once again, I realised that my time was being flittered away, and weaned myself off the site.

Well, thanks to said relative, I visited my account last week.

BIG MISTAKE

Admittedly, I'm somewhat controlling myself, haven't been too oblivious to the world around me.
I went out, by myself, today. Nothing major, just to do some bank stuff, but for me to even take the initiative and go it alone, is a big thing.

I just hope that retaking up this 'hobby' doesn't take over my life again...

It's all part of this 'Get Healthy' thing going around at the moment.

Everyone is actually doing really well, in a 'Rome wasn't built in a day' sort of way. But at least they're trying, right?

And yes, that does include me, by the way.
I'm not curling into a ball at the first mention of doing anything physical, for instance. Not that I want to do it, it hurts, dammit! But, I know that if Steve and his parents are going to do any good for themselves, they need my support.

Steve had his first weigh-in yesterday, after a month of...being aware of what he eats, we'll say. And, surprisingly, he's lost 2 lbs.
And, that's without really walking much (walking is the only exercise recommended to him at this point, and so long as there are relatively few people about, he likes to do it).
So, I think this month, the doc is going to recommend looking at his activities, as well as his food intake.
I really hope his progress reflects the effort he puts in, he deserves the encouragement.
We walked along the waterfront at Gosport, yesterday, and we're going to see Doc early tomorrow, so maybe we'll get another walk in.
Bless him...

I'm really proud of his dad,too.
He's 71 this year, and has smoked since he was about 13...Tried to give up, many times, but only sort of 'half trying' if you know what I mean.
Well, this time seems to be different, and so far he's gone three days without a cigarette.

Mike, Steve's sister's husband's brother, is also kicking habits, not his smoking habit, mind, but his Crisp one.
Seriously, this guy can go out and buy two multipacks of crisps, and devour the lot, in under an hour, if he's going slowly!
I've noticed a huge difference lately, in the amount he's been eating- He has just told me it's because he can't find a decent supplier right now! So much for that, eh?!
But, he has been round here a bit, keeping himself and Steve away from their computers, which is good for them. And, he's been walking with us.

I actually feel more sick now, than floaty, but there was a point today, while I was rolling away at the ceiling, when I just know I wasn't all there!

I had a safely mask on too- I know, I'm a wimp.
There is a story about me having once 'whited' on a perfectly legal tobacco rollie. It's quite true- although it was rolled about half an inch wide and thickly packed, in my defence.

Well, the reason for the paint is the King and Queenie Come To Stay extravaganza.
Honestly, Steve and I have been in the spare room for most of the day, tidying, sorting, fixing, painting, cleaning.

I'm not looking forward to this weekend, at all (Phoenix, I would almost envy the silence you face, if it wasn't a hostile one), because I just know, that even if I stay in my room for the whole time, I will not escape the beady eyes and steely tongue of Her Highness.
I almost found myself wishing the paint fumes would linger- but that's too nasty, so I don't finish the thought.

To make things worse, though, it's Steve's birthday today, and he has had one of the worst days.
We had to endure lunch at Camp Chaos, a beach walk with 'Nnoying Nephew, manual labour as above from 3 until 9 when I said enough was enough. On top of all that, he only got one present for his birthday- a HUGE tube of gourmet jelly beans, which he is only allowed to each ten of a day.
One pressie has been held up in the post, he's yet to decide what he wants from me, and no one else bothered to get him anything...

It was Steve's Granddad's birthday, so he really wanted to lay some flowers.

His Mum and Dad took us up, and provided the flowers (Bless), and nuts for the squirrels.

I always get a bit emotional at that place.
Understandably, you might think, but not for the obvious reason.

I have no Grandparent's now, like Steve. Unlike Steve, however, I wouldn't know where to go to pay my respects.
I can't remember them on their birthdays, since I was too young to remember when they were, ditto for the dates they passed away.

Apart from my paternal Grandpa. He passed on just a couple of years ago.
Obviously, I'd have been able to remember that, right? Wrong, because at the time, no one else in the family thought to inform me.

Now, you ought to know something about my family before I go on: we are not a close one, outside of my immediate family, and even that unit seems to have splintered in recent years (some of which I do take responsibility for).
Much of the relevant information is rather too personal to reveal here, but I will own up to running away at aged 19, and to not having returned home for longer than a week or two at at time, on a visiting basis.

There was once a time, when I would call my parents every week, but things would soon become strained between my mother and I, and following some argument or other, I'd not phone again for a while. After rinsing and repeating a few times, with both of us suffering health-wise, I made a pact with my Dad, that since Mum and I both got too upset when I did, I would stop ringing them. This, on the condition that should anything happen that I needed to be told (emergencies, Mum going into hospital, that sort of thing), he would call me.

Now, I'm not saying I was close to my Grandpa, as I already mentioned, our family was not like that. But, I would personally think, that the death and subsequent funeral of any relative would fall under the "Emergency" category. Wouldn't you agree?

Right, exactly.
I didn't find out until last year, when my sister happened to mention it, thinking that I'd known for ages.

It makes me wonder sometimes, what else am I not being told?

So, anyway, the point is, all I can really do, at the Crem, whilst Steve and his family bicker about who was scattered where, is remember all the people I've lost: Nana, Granddad, Auntie Jan, childhood friend Sian, and hope that wherever they are, they know I still think of them, despite appearances being sometimes to the contrary.

So, I always end up feeling just a little bit contemplative, as you can see here...

It's been one hell of a day, and I really appreciate the back up, I do.

My day from hell started at 1 o'clock this morning, when I went upstairs to bed, after spending a little time on my new Wii game.
Steve, who I had thought to be in bed already, wasn't. He was on his computer still, and obviously bothered by something.
Turns out he'd been having pain in his chest (left side), since the night before, and hadn't told me because he didn't want me to worry.
Cue me, worrying.

We got his mum up, who is slightly more rational than myself in tense situations, and she checked him over, deeming him to be in no immediate danger.
Regardless, when we went back to bed, I couldn't sleep. I was very tired (hence the coming to bed in the first place), and this fact probably didn't help when it came to calming the awful thinks coming through my head.
But, I couldn't stop myself from just lying there, just to make sure he was still breathing, y'know?
I did eventually go off, obviously.

Anyway, so this morning, when we got up, he was fine (he said), and proceeded to bustle round the house, doing chores. But eventually, he came out with the truth, that he was still getting pains, but thought that exercise might help.
Go figure...

So, I banned him from working, intending to spend the day making sure he rested, and had a peaceful one, like you do.

Unfortunately, his parents and their *grits teeth* friend had other ideas.
You may or may not have picked up, by now, that Steve has a weight problem. No one person to blame, took a very long time to get to where it is, and it'll be hard work fixing it.
He knows that.
He wants to try.
He does try, and I do all the encouraging that I can (Steve is a stubborn one, and if he gets nagged too much about something, he is liable to dig his heels in and do the complete opposite).

Anyway, this morning, after having the night we did, "Friend", let's call her Queenie, decides she is popping in for a cup of tea. Now, Queenie is the sort of person who pulls no punches, she says whatever she thinks, no matter what feelings stand to be hurt. I normally steer clear of the firing line.
She starts laying into Steve about not having written in his food diary for a few days (Like it's her business, anyway?).

Now, I knew that he didn't need that to be dealing with, as well as being ill, so I broke my cardinal rule, and spoke up for him, and out against her Highness going on.
And like lightning, she turns on me "Orf with her head!"

Well, not really, but basically.
She intimated that I didn't care about Steven as much as she did, because she's known him longer. She came out and actually said that I was spineless and thought all this healthy eating stuff was a game. And that it didn't matter to me that Steve could die any minute.

I made my excuses and left the room.
I went to our room, like nothing was wrong, curled up on the bed, and spent the rest of the morning bawling my eyes out.

I mean, how dare she?!
Of course, I was worried about Steve, all I do is worry about Steve and his parents. And, if I had a quid for every time the thought of something awful happening to any of them, we'd all be living in the Caribbean with nothing to worry about any more.
How could she imply that I didn't love him, after what I'd gone through last night?
I do not make judgments about her life, nor do I pretend to know what is going on with her and her kids/grandkids. Nor do I question her relationship with her husband (who is also an arrogant git).

Gods know, I have never been so angry in my life.
I used the word hate to describe my feelings towards another human being, this morning. I never use that word, lightly.

After finding me screaming into my pillow, Steve tried to talk to Queenie, get her to apologise, but no dice. I wouldn't have expected anything else.
But, I'm not going to even look at her until she does.

This weekend should be a barrel of laughs: the King and Queen are staying at our house Friday/Saturday, for Steve's birthday meal.
I will find myself sharing a dinner table with them.

I can hardly wait.

How on this green Earth did Chris Fountain not win Dancing on Ice?
We, that is me, Steve and his Mum, all voted for him twice.

He was BY FAR the best performer in ALL of his dances tonight.
I mean, "Dancing on ICE"...the first program, both girls were on the actual ice for less than 5 seconds between them, and yet Suzanne Shaw gets 30?!?

If he's ill, I'm a monkey's uncle.

And, Nanny is totally buying it.

I don't like to speak ill of my elders, unless they deserve it. And, this time, she does.
It's no wonder he's such a pansified brat.
All he has to do is turn on the water works, and he gets his own way every time.

She is taking him swimming today, despite being shattered after this morning's episode.

I swear by all the Gods there ever were, and will be, when the time finally comes for Steve and I to have a kid, it will not turn out like Adam.

I'm not saying he's all bad, because he can be quite sweet, but seriously...there is only so much crap one can take.
My kids will be polite, truthful, disciplined, and they will understand the word "No".

It is 8am, and the house rings with the sound of wailing.

Did we leave the cooker on last night? Would I walk out into the sight of flames licking up the stairway, the blue lights of a fire engine flashing through the window?

Bleary-eyed, I crack open the bedroom door. Surely, some disaster that warranted an interruption to my carefully planned Sunday lounge-about?

No. Nothing of the sort.
Adam is crouched in the bathroom, clutching the toilet bowl, and lamenting at the top of his 'little' voice about a stomach ache.
The worst that ever was, apparently.

Nanny is on hand, with lots of sympathy and calming words.
"Where does it hurt?" she asks, her words practically dripping with pity and anguish.
"Every...where," came the wrought, distorted reply.

"Hang on...just a minute," thinks I, my own comforting thoughts caught in my throat. "What sort of a tummy ache hurts everywhere?"
I mean, I get a thousand and one different kinds of aches daily, and I wouldn't describe one of them as hurting 'everywhere'.

But, the thought that he is a only a child, without a clear idea of how pain really works, and a much less varied vocabulary than my own.
I give him the benefit of the doubt, for a minute or two, as I follow the pair of them into Nanny's room.

The sobbing has stopped, almost as soon as they had crossed the threshold.
And, the reason? He's being fed medicine, I see.
"Maybe he's not faking..." I mean, who take medicine if they don't need it, right?
But still, nephew is remarkably calmer than he was mere moments ago.

"Does it still hurt?" I ask, trying to keep the skepticism out of my words.
He shakes his head, rather a bit too enthusiastically for someone who was all but dying seconds before.

"I think it's migraine," says his Nan. (Don't laugh, stomach migraines are actually quite common in children, I hear.) "Maybe, its cramp? I've been up with him since 4."
"Oh, dear," I lament, this time my voice is dripping, only with sarcasm. "Does this mean he can't go swimming today? And, he was so excited about it, too. Perhaps, you'd better lay down, Adam. Rest your tummy."

"Auntie Sam?" he says, eagerly picking up his DS and Pokémon game.
"Not this morning," I cut in, knowing that he's going to ask me to play with him. "You need to rest today. Best get back to bed."

And there he is, still, bottom lip the size of a small country, playing by himself, and clearly bored.
Steve thinks he shouldn't even have his DS, but I can't think of a reason convincing enough to make that particular battle worth while.

And it's been a while since I've been hyper, I promise you.
I guess the Happy Pills are finally starting to work.

That, and the fact that, besides actually feeling achy still, nothing has gone wrong today.

Nothing. And how often does that happen?

Okay, so the shops were a bit stressful, packed and so stuffy (why do they insist on pumping warm air into those places all day?), but I managed to find a new Funkey!

It was just sitting on the shelf, waiting for me- a Rare Fallout, just the colour I wanted!
And, Steve let me get a pre-owned copy of Endless Ocean for my Wii. Been after it for a while, but haven't seen it in the few times I've been out since. anyway, I had a little go earlier, and I'm not disappointed.
It's exactly my sort of game, not guns, no fighting, no manual dexterity required in order to pull off impossible feats of agility, just a wonderfully relaxed gaming experience.

Also, heard from the CCCS today, not going into this too much, but it was good news for a change.

Wales won the Rugby!
Now, I don't follow sport much, and have more productive things to do usually, but anyone who knows me will tell you, I am very patriotic when it comes to Wales, and as such, did actually pay attention to the half of the match (Is that the right word? I get the feeling it isn't somehow).
And, boy, am I glad I did!
What a feeling that was.

I watched I'd Do Anything after that.
Had to...John Barrowman. I don't think I need to say more than that, really ;)
But, to think, we get to see him two nights a week now, with this and Torchwood.
*Swoons like a teenaged drama queen*

Sorry about that...

So, I sit again, having not blogged for a day or two.
Bad girl, Sammy!

Went to bed completely shattered, at about- Gods, I don't even really remember the time- anyway, Steve and I took Adam, and Mike, for a walk along the beach yesterday.

Mad idea. It was sooo windy, and because I didn't want to look like a loon, I had decided against wearing my warm, ear-snuggling winter hat, and just wore a cap.
My ears hurt so bad, even worse than the pain in my legs and knees from the walk.

So, naturally, I was expecting trouble this morning, and sure enough, the pain well and truly brung itself. *Nice English, I know...*

The 'rents had a day out today, so we've had pretty much the whole day to ourselves, so I didn't feel bad about lounging about in my jammies, watching TV all morning.

After that, I did my work. 2 units, plus an assessment and an exercise (don't worry, I know what I'm talking about).
Did my crappiest EVER on the assessment, which is a testament to how bad I was feeling- 82%...I was mortified, but was content to sigh, shrug, and vow to make up for it come revision time. And, anyone who knows me will tell you how completely not like me that is!

So, Dr. Steven prescribed an evening of frivolity in the form of a major Guild Wars session.
Seriously, we haven't played for months, but I forgot how much fun it was to hack baddies to pieces with my kick-ass assassin and her Shredders, not to mention raining down massive blocks of flaming stone, and watching the Elementals drop like flies, with my Ele.
Very cathartic, or whatever the word is.

I also really enjoyed tea.
It was nothing special, really, but it was a nice meal, y'know? Well cooked food, good company and conversation. Mike really has become a more pleasant person to be around lately.

I am a little worried about Steve though. He seems to be doing ok with the 'lifestyle change' thing this time, but he tends to lose interest after a week or so, and I really don't want it to go that way again...Will try harder to be supportive and encouraging.

Steve and I were having a conversation the other night, and he said something that completely blew me away.

Next year, we will have known each other for ten years.
We've been together for almost a decade!

Us, the couple that were thrown together on a blind date, for a joke (not that we knew that at the time).
No one thought we'd last. And, believe me when I say that we have been through that which most couples would not come out from (I was a bad girl-Nuff said?).

There is a list, as long as my arm, of people who've tried, and ultimately failed to split us up. And to all of you, who know who you are, from us, have a rigidly extended middle finger for your troubles, because we're not going anywhere.

I mean, I don't know what is so bad about us being together, people just don't 'get it' I guess...oh, well, their problem.

Unfortunately I'd only written the titles, as reminders to me about what I was going to write (I was in Migraine-ville, you understand...)

Anyway, the upshot of that is, me being me, I've forgotten exactly what immortal words I was intending to impart upon you all.

I'll do my best though...Judging by the title, I'd just woken up from an horrific nightmare, and wanted to share its freakiness with you.

I have at least one nightmare a night, more often I have a string of nightmares that meld into one another, and cross over.

It's odd because when I was younger, living at home, I never had nightmares, ever. I was even jealous of my best friend, who use to enthral me with tales of her night-time demons on the school bus.

Which is kind of ironic when you consider the recurring themes in mine; the first and foremost of which is School.
I'm either with school friends, going to school, late for class, I always seem to have lost something (most often my bag), forgotten which lesson I'm supposed to be in.

Other recurring themes:

• Toilets. Do not laugh.
  It must be something to do with being humiliated in public or something, coupled with a deep-seated fear of becoming incontinent.
• Dr.Who/Torchwood. Again, don't laugh.
  If you're having trouble with a scary dude, who better to help you save the day than the Doctor, or equally sexy Captain Jack? Need I say more?
• Mummies, skeletons
• Needles, the hypodermic kind
• My family
• Being dead/a ghost

And on, and on.

Now, I have no idea what all that means, psychologically, and I've had to stop telling Steve exactly what happens in them, because he gets freaked out by how messed up they are.

I do, on and off, watch a lot of horror, listen to horror novels, read horror books. I mean you just have to look at some of my lists here to see that, but saying that, I like cutesy, childlike, happy stuff too.

Bah.

I really dunno where this blog entry was/is going but, you get the picture.