Chaos in the summer sun

Hello everyone!  Yes, I'm finally back.  Did you miss me?  

It has been a busy year and I've completely lost track of all time and I have so many stories to share with you.  I have been doing training sessions to ready me for becoming a 'Minister's Wife'; going on summer camp with 40 teenagers; getting into soggy dilemma's on holiday; getting used to a girly car; discovering that much loved childhood songs can sound very dodgy when only sung in part and out of context and just generally causing chaos.  

With it fresh in my mind, I'll tell you about my summer.  Startlingly we start with a hot, sunny day.  Now for some of you this is an obvious thing in summer but where I live the sun is not guaranteed in summer (more likely flooding from the rain) and heat is most definitely not a given.  This day was rare.  It was hot; it was sunny; there was no breeze; it was amazing!  Now, as if I had known it was coming, a couple of weeks earlier I had been to visit my parents and I went shopping with my mum.  For a laugh I decided to try on some hideous clothes.  You know the kind I mean, the clothes that are hanging in the sale rack for an obvious reason.  No-one in their right mind would wear these clothes and the designers must have been under the influence of some narcotic to have created them.  I grabbed an arm load and dragged my poor mum off to the changing rooms.  Mum was having a whale of a time and got her camera out to take photos of me in the seriously bad clothing.  

There was the skirt that was made out of weird stretchy material, had an elasticated waistband and the design was that of comic strips.  I put it on and by the time I had finished doing my 'catwalk' (you know the walk ladies.  The one where you parade up and down the changing room doing a walk that you would never do in public along with the obligatory hair flick as you turn around and walk away from the mirror) the skirt had flared out in crazy places and tried to ball itself up into a sausage in other places (and no, before you say it, it wasn't because it was too small for me or that I was too fat for it).  On to the next garish top followed by a dress that looked like a unicorn had sneezed on it.  What fun my mum and I were having but then things went horribly wrong.  In amongst the horrid clothes was an awful blue dress which had large daisies all over it and the most hideous, big, square yellow bow sat in the centre of the chest area.  It was disgusting.  I grabbed it, ready to put it on and laugh at how awful I looked in it but something happened.  Something went horribly wrong.  It actually suited me!  The cut was perfect; the length was just right; the blue suited my skin tone and even the hideous yellow bow changed to being cute.  Oh good grief, how could this happen?  I meekly went out to my mum and even she stopped laughing and said "That suits you.  That really suits you.  The bow even makes you look like a minister's wife" and with that she started laughing again, much harder than was strictly necessary.  I stared horrified in the mirror.  It did suit me.  I looked cute!  I looked like a minister's wife in training.  It was bizarre.  Needless to say, after that dress I lost the will to try on anymore 'hideous' clothes in case they suited me and mum bought me the dress with a very malicious gleeful look on her face I must say.  

Back to the hot summer day and I put this dress on.  The Raving Rev grins and drags me outside for a photo.  He then puts the photo on FB to which many of my friends commented on it.  The worst part of that though was that my dad shared it with his friends with the comment underneath "My youngest daughter, actually in a dress" humph.  I wore a dress four years ago when I got married and I wore one at Christmas when I was doing my impression of a 1950's housewife.  I scared my neighbour when I went bounding into her house in my dress.  She tried desperately to stifle a laugh and said "My goodness Red, you've got legs".  OK, so the people here haven't actually ever seen me in a dress or skirt and I've been here for 3 years but that doesn't mean that I never wear dresses, just when people don't see me haha.  My friend laughed out loud when she saw me with the response of "very minister's wife and soooo cute I wanna cuddle you".  Needless to say, since that day the dress has been washed and hidden away.  

There's loads more for me to tell you but I shall save it for more stories to come.  What I shall leave you with is the story of the Raving Rev and I on the beach during our holiday.  

We went over to a neighbouring island with my mum and the two dogs.  We had decided to go over to one of the beaches where we could paddle in the beautifully crystal clear waters and the dogs could run around without causing mischief.  The trip over was eventful.  We were the first onto the wee ferry that takes you over, which means that the car was right up against the ramp.  The ferry sets off and we're all chatting and having a laugh.  However, as the ferry nears the port on the other side, it begins to lower the ramp.  Now the Raving Rev and I are used to this and we were expecting it but I forgot that mum had never been over and was not expecting it.  Suddenly, during mid conversation, mum starts flailing her arms around all over the car and making the most bizarre noises.  Think Frankie Howard with the "Oo-er".  I stare at my mum wondering if she is having some sort of fit and wondering why she's bracing herself against the dashboard.  The Raving Rev who is in the back of the car, has worked out what's happening and is laughing so hard that I'm wondering if he's going to need an inhaler.  I suddenly cotton on that mum is panicking about the ramp (the clue was when she screamed "Oh f*** we're sinking") and I also began to laugh.  The ferryman who was next to us was also laughing at mum and was overjoyed when the Raving Rev thanked him for giving us a good laugh.  

The ferry trip behind us we set off to the beach.  We park up and discover that there are loads of tourists there (how dare they!) but there is a deserted beach next to it, across a burn.  Mum looks at the whole situation and decides to stay in the car.  The Raving Rev and I grab the dogs and set off.  Now, the Raving Rev had decided that he was going swimming so he bought his swim shorts, towels, change of clothes etc.  He was a boy scout, he was prepared.  I on the other hand had decided to paddle but did not want to go out into the water so I bought nothing with me.  You can see where this going already can't you?  

The Raving Rev and I get to the burn and I'm looking at it suspiciously.  It's much deeper than I originally thought and even with my jeans rolled up, I'm going to get wet.  Even the dogs are not too keen on swimming over.  I stare at the Raving Rev as he takes his shoes off.  He flung them at me, turned his back to me and said "hop on".  Now already alarm bells are going off in my head.  We'll fall in, I know we will.  I state this and the Raving Rev stares at me.  "Don't be silly we'll be fine.  I can carry you over and back, come on.  Don't be a wuss."  So I climb on to the Raving Rev's back, praying that I'm not heavy enough to cause him some sort of awful injury and we set off.  He takes one step, then another, then a third, woohoo, we're getting across.  Then....he wobbles.  "It's getting really deep and the rocks are hurting my feet."  Gulp.  I am already laughing.  I know what is coming, it's as if I can see the future.  The Raving Rev takes another tentative step forward, smacks his toe into a hidden rock, howls with pain and then we are going down.  He leans backwards so that I will obviously break his fall and we land, waist deep in the water, me with my poor behind slammed into the rocks and his weight on top of me.  The dogs are going nuts trying to work out if they should come out to us or not.  I'm laughing hysterically (probably defence mechanism so that I don't drown him).  He is laughing and wriggling on top of me trying to get up and my mum, who is watching from the safety of the bank, collapses in a heap laughing at us.  I put my hands down into the water and push up to get myself out while he screams "not my shoes".  Oh yeah, I was holding his shoes so that they would stay dry, now they're wet, like mine.  

We continued across the burn, paddled with the dogs, returned back to the car and thankfully, the Raving Rev had a spare pair of shorts for me to change into and my mum had bought her awful 'granny' shoes that I squeezed into to drive home in.  This story, however, does not end there.  There is another hidden lesson in it.  Always use insect repellent when going out.  You see, the Raving Rev and my poor mum were bitten half to death from the bugs.  I received no bites (even the bugs know not to annoy me) but my poor mum had 64 bites, most of which blistered and some went infected.  So always wear your insect repellent and don't laugh at the youth worker's misfortune haha.  

Blessings
   

Hello all and hello spring!  Spring?  Sprriiinnngg?  I swear it was here two days ago, honest.  The sun was out, it was warmer, the snowdrops were making an appearance as were the daffodils.  Now it's snowing and 0 degrees, grrrr.  Don't get me wrong, I like the snow but I like it in winter, I'm sure it's supposed to be spring now.  

Well the past couple of months have been hectic and a bit stressful.  The Raving Rev and I are doing so much travelling and work right now that if we get to see each other for one evening a week, it's cause for celebration.  How do we celebrate our time together?  As all married couples do, asleep in front of the tv, oh the romance haha.  My training to become a minister's wife is not going well and I seem to be failing sob.  For instance, minister's wives should be calm, peaceful and approachable.  I have not been any of the aforementioned of late and so decided that I should do something about it.  

I took the dog and myself down to a quiet cove on a lovely (spring) day last week.  My intention was to watch the ships sail pass and imagine the lives of the people aboard the ships.  For instance, was someone drinking a cup of coffee in the cafeteria thinking about their family at home?  Was someone out on the deck having a smoke and look at the land as it passed by, wondering about the people who lived there?  Was the captain busy at that moment or sitting quietly?  I love to do this as it makes me feel connected to fellow human beings and it stills my frantic mind.  So, I give the dog his ball to play with and I settle down.  I take a deep breath, gaze out to sea, focus on a ship, feel something being dropped into my lap and hear a whinging.  What?  The dog doesn't like playing with his ball on the pebbles.  I stare at him and he whinges at me and then looks mournfully toward the grassy area of the beach.  I sigh, get up, take him and his ball to the grassy part and settle back down.  I stare out to sea, I watch the ship, I begin to imagine the people, the man drinking his coffee (pfft, pfft, pfft), the guy writing a letter (rip, rip, pfft, pfft), writing a letter (whinge, whinge, pfft pfft), writing a letter (thunk, bang, pfft, pfft, whiiinnngge)...oh for goodness sake!  I turn around and there is the dog trying to squeak his ball but the squeak is dead, hence the pfft pfft sounds.  He's then ripping up the grass, whining because his ball isn't squeaking, running into boulders and rocks, aaarrgh.  I felt like Master Shifu from Kung Fu Panda, you know the scene "inner peace.....inner peace....inner......inner....in.....aargh".  I gave up, grabbed the dog and the ball and went home even less peaceful and calm than before we set out, if that were possible.  The ship sailed past peacefully and I stropped home stressfully.  Peaceful, approachable and calm test - FAIL.

My next failing as trainee minister's wife - language.  I try so very hard not to swear in any circumstance.  It has been noted in the past that the more stressed I get the more colourful my language so I've really been working on controlling my language.  As you may have guessed, I failed and the manner in which I failed is embarrassing.  I have a couple of friends who do not swear, at all!  I aspire to be like them.  No matter what happens, no matter the agony or pain they may be in, how stressed they are, how shocked they are, not one profanity is uttered from their lips.  One of them had a horse stand on her, the other was bitten by a lima and karate chopped by a penguin (which broke her hand) yet not one swear word passed their lips.  I'm sat around at a friend's house the other day, their cat jumps on me and sticks it's claws straight into my leg.  AAAAARRRRGHH!  I held the swear word in but apparently it was very evident that it was there on my lips, first letter already being uttered.  So, clean language test - FAIL.  

Then my most worrying development occurred the other day.  I had never seen the comedian Tim Minchin and I was watching one of his stand up shows.  In it he began to discuss having a dark humour and how there is a line.  I never thought that I had a dark sense of humour (sarcastic yes) and as he began his joke I thought "I won't find this funny at all.  This is going to be an hour of my life I won't get back".  Worryingly though, I laughed and I discovered that I do actually have a very dark sense of humour.  Are minister's wives supposed to have a dark sense of humour?  Surely it's supposed to be pure, fluffy, clean cut and gentle laughing?  

So to sum it all up, I'm not peaceful or approachable, I have colourful language and a dark sense of humour.  Pair this with the dark clothes and big boots.  Oh yeah, I'm gonna make a great minister's wife, bwahahahahaha.  

Be blessed.