www.thefroth.com

I've moved! Come see me.
xx
Chloe

Moving soon

My new house

This is one of my last posts here on Blogger. I have been working hard on this place , decorating it and importing posts from Blogger. Not easy. But I managed to import all of your comments, which is the most important thing to me. Because everything else, I can do by myself. But comments, well, it would be pathetic to write my own comments.
It's not a big change. Everything is going to be as before, we'll just have a bigger place to ourselves. Think of it like moving to a bigger apartment, not moving to a different city.
I have moved all of you with me there in the Blogroll. If I have left someone out, please let me know. I did it all manually, so I might have skipped someone by mistake. Also, could you please change my url in your blogrolls too? No? Grrrr.
I'll let you know when everything is ready. Right now, if you dig deep into the archives you will see all my photos jumping around. Such is the cooperation between Wordpress and Blogger.


Infinitely interesting Podcast of the day: "Oxford Biographies: Charles Isham, inventor of the garden gnome"*

*I have at last found a cure for insomnia.

Off to the goats

It is so late and I am practically dead but I needed to tell you a list of things. Actually, it is a list I made in the taxi on my way home from the playmobil fun park where I went with my godson and my son.
Here is:
1. I am going to that mountain village again for a few days. I will be back on Tuesday or Wednesday. I am going to celebrate the first day of May among the flowers. I hope I am not allergic to fresh air.
2. Remember the e-commerce site you all encouraged me about? It is online now. Although it is not totally ready yet, and even without our full range of products it is there and if there are things you notice and want to tell me to correct or add, or maybe you think I should just delete and start over, please let me know. Oh here it is.
3. I have my own domain now. I decided to do it the day before yesterday. I must be crazy because with all the work I have to do for the e-commerce site, I will never be able to transfer all my posts from Blogger to the new place. Still, one day that is going to be my new home. Once I have decorated it of course. Because it is pretty uninhabitable right now.
Erm, that's all. The other items on my list had mostly to do with the inevitability of mascara and moist tissues to clean my sunglasses with.
Bye bye, hugs, must go, the village goats beckon.

My Most Hated Phrases

If I hear/read one of those again, I will stop talking and start barking.

-It’s all good

-When. this. is. done. for. emphasis.

-No brainer.

-How cool is that?

-And I’m like, yeah, right.

-I have issues.

-"Don’t go there" meaning "don't think like that".

-White/Lime Green/……is the new black.

-Think outside the box.

-Life coach

-Hit the gym

-My bad

-"So" at the end of the sentence when you can’t finish it.

-Life changing experience

-icon, iconic

-“To be honest”, when there is no revelation at all.

-Soul mate

-Real good or real bad

-“embrace diversity” (the actual words, not the meaning)

-Role Model

-“My thoughts and prayers are with you” especially when used by politicians on TV

-Put your hands together

-Keeping it real

-You can say that again

-Brangelina, Bennifer, Tomkat etc

-Quality time

-Comfort zone

-“and she goes…” meaning “and she said…”

What are yours? Awesome? Obviously? Clearly? At the end of the day?

More photos until you get sick of them

Roosevelt, my son and Churchill sitting side by side on a bench in Bond Street, in Hampstead.

Science Museum

The slides in Tate Modern

This is from the Tower of London where my son went with M.

You are welcome to write the captions. Best captions win a postcard and a cd. Oh, and an origami flower from my new printer. I am so generous.

Supermarket drama

She was lurking behind the shampoo aisle

Yesterday, in the supermarket, while daydreaming in front of the pantiliners shelf, a crazy looking, blonde woman around 50, approached me. They always do. “Do you know where they keep the incontinence pads?” she asked.

I showed her. They were hidden away along with the baby toiletries, for some reason. The crazy looking blonde thanked me a million times and hastened to add that she needed them for her mother, not for her.

Another woman, let’s call her auburn lady, not much older than the blonde one, was shopping nearby. As soon as the blonde lady noticed the auburn lady, she grabbed an incontinence pads pack and waving it from the other end of the shampoo section, started shouting at the top of her voice: “Hey lady, you should know. Is this the right one to buy? You are using these, right?”

Whereupon the auburn lady pursed her lips and proceeded to the check out.

Easter in London

The most beautiful duck in the world

High and mighty in Richmond Park

Hampstead Heath on Easter Sunday

The view from Richmond Hill

I have many many photos to show you. I thought I'd start with these: flowers, trees and pretty things. To celebrate spring that this year won't pass us by.

Never beaten

I thought I’d tell you an incoherent story. Back in November things started going seriously wrong for me. It was a combination of difficult situations topped with my sense of not belonging here. I cannot tell you how many times I thought I had lost it completely.

I didn’t want to sleep. I didn’t want to eat. Or, I only wanted to sleep. I only wanted to eat.

I wanted to be alone. When I was alone, I was angry for feeling so lonely. When I was with people I had nothing to say to them. Every day was a mountain of chores and the despair was increasing. And gradually, I stopped writing here, which has always been an immense pleasure to me.
I think I also became unreasonable. Increasing helplessness makes you unreasonable.

When you feel desperate and helpless other people notice. And you see the reflection of your despair in their eyes. So you don’t want to meet them anymore.

Someone said I was depressed. I thought, I am not just depressed; I am absolutely submerged in this unhappiness. So, no, I was not depressed.

A day came when I seriously doubted my ability to live. Sometimes, in the night, everything seems easy. It’s easy to just stop, or so it seems. In the morning, there was always a new flicker of hope, but the nights were becoming more and more difficult.

I talked to my sister, I talked to M, I talked to Blondie. I told some of it to some of you. But for a while, nothing happened. Then, things started to change a bit, after my birthday in March (which I didn’t celebrate). And then I went to those trips. The first one was good, the second was better. Considering, of course.

When I was in Britain, I had lots of time for myself. I thought I had to create a new basis for my life. One that would include other people of course, but that wouldn’t depend on them being here, all the time, forever and ever.

I don’t know how many miles I walked, just thinking. It made me feel so powerful and in control. I know I don’t want to be here in Athens. There is no inspiration and even M who loves it here remarked one day as we were lying in the park in Richmond, that I looked like an animal in its habitat.

Also, I want to have more friends. I want to go out with friends and do things. And I don’t just want best friends. I have best friends. I want good people around me. At the same time I want to be more independent and push myself more.

Does it make any sense to you?

So that’s it. I wanted you to know why I made myself scarce. And to say thanks again, because you stayed right here during all the craziness.

Blackcrag has given me some homework, things he wants me to write. I have a week packed with posts to meet my deadline. Blackcrag is so strict.

Flight BA0631

Greek Kitsch

It is getting boring, I mean, me, checking in to say "I am leaving tomorrow". It is true, I am leaving tomorrow, and I haven't updated you on all the times I went away this month. But I am going to have a laptop in London and I will try to update from there. And post fresh photos.
I've been very busy with the e-commerce business for which many of you were an inspiration. If it goes well, I promise you, free pasta forever.
My heart grows bigger and I feel love for the world again. I decided, my problem is me, so I am going to try and solve me. But other than that, things are fine.
I really want to start posting every day again. If I remember correctly it made me feel sane.
Off to London now. This time I am going with Blondie, M and my son.
Expect postcards. Don't forget me.
x

Life is crazy but the food is good

I made some strawberry panacotta

And a spring onion pie

And this impromptu strawberry-Kellogs Special K-yogurt dessert

I am trying to find my way back into this thing I used to enjoy so much: blogging. Some food porn never hurt anyone, did it? See you soon, hopefully with words. Eric, thanks, you are such a bright light. Thank you all in fact, those of you who leave sweet messages here and in my inbox. Those of you who sent gifts to cheer me up, like Cathy and Connie and Scholiast. Those of you who sent cards, like Stephanie. Madelyn, Devil Mood, Gina, thank you for the beautiful letters and notes.
It sounds like I am getting an award for something, doesn't it? Hehe.

Fix me

Got to be more like trees

I was not intentionally gone. I was here looking at the screen every day for the past 10 days.
I was searching for my thoughts and my words. I thought I had lost them all. A crystalline sadness had enclosed them, like those iced fruit we have for Christmas decorations.
I became awful, awful to be around. Nobody else’s fault but mine. An unexpected critical error in my system that affects stability, an inherent vulnerability.
I became physically sick, out of spite. I suffered from stomach cramps; I broke out in spots, had headaches that lasted for 24 hours and slept all day. And that was the easy part. I despise me for this.
I have to fix it. I mean me. Look at how many "I"s I typed. That must be the problem.

Song of the era: "Majesty" by Madrugada

P.S Those of you who sent invitations to your blogs, please send them again. Blogger tells me I am not who I say I am and Blogger might be right, but I want those invitations dammit!

P.S Spring is good, everything is green and all that. And no spots anymore.

I am leaving tomorrow

My sister advised me to stop worrying about M's fear of flying and get a sleeping pill myself, to avoid his panic stricken face. I have to tell you, I seriously doubt he is going to go through with the flight. I think he is going to start running once we approach check-in.
So, with my bag full of Bach flower remedies, anti-anxiety pills and sedatives for M, I bid you all adieu. I will be back next Friday with more London photos and hopefully less pills.

P.S I am going to miss you. It is so tranquil here online, with no voices at all.

From Russia with love

A bloody mary to salute Svetlana

I got this email from my new best friend. I don’t know her yet, but we’ll be like Paris Hilton and Britney Spears, THAT close.

“Lets start new relations!
I am svetlana. I am from Saint-Petersburg, Russia. I am young cheerful
creative lady who wants to make happy not only myself but all people
who are around me - my friends and my family. Will you join my circle?
I will be waiting for you reply to: svetlana@bestladies4u.com”

And do you see her domain name? “Best ladies for you”. For me!
Are you green with envy? She wants to make me happy she says, and she is creative. Which means, she will eventually find a way. If you are reading this Svetlana, warm lady in the chilly Russian vastness, Spasibo.

Love sucks

No, wait. It actually stinks. Well, not love. Valentine's day, that's what I mean. I am so happy the day is over. I had forgotten until my son came back from school and announced: "Hey, it's Valentine's day. What are we going to do? Can I buy a new toy?"
And then when we went to the supermarket and M wanted to buy some unhealthy crisps, I mockingly yelled "VALENTINE!" and he blushed and left the bag where it was. So that was Valentine's day 2007.
But I don't want the day to go unsung. The following Eels lyrics are my tribute to this celebration of luv:

Life goes on
Nothing is new
Judge made it clear
I can't be near you

Eels "Restraining Order Blues"

My weekend: disgusting, I know

Someone bit off her chocolate hands

Do not smile. I am going to eat you up.

I went to this food show on Sunday with my sister. You could actually try all these things. You could ask for a tartlet and they'd give it to you for free. Afterwards, they'd ask if you have a bakery or pastry shop, and you'd lie and say you work for a chef, so they'd give you some more.
Replace "you" with "I".

Dear Agony Aunt

Why don't you try the soothing powers of the Pride and Prejudice DVD?

M, the father of my child, is afraid of flying even more than he is of actually dying while flying on a plane.
I have presented him with statistics that prove that flying is safe and if it wasn’t for 9/11 I am sure he would have been able to join the pilot in the cockpit for a few minutes, just to check that everything is running smoothly.
We are about to fly to London next week and I can tell he is getting very very nervous. So it doesn’t really help that these last couple of weeks the news has been filled with airplanes having problems landing due to bad weather conditions. Last week a big drama was made out of a greek plane and some ice (nothing horrible happened; it was just a slow news day). Today many British airports closed down and flights were cancelled due to the heavy snow.
The first time we went out and he never got around to watching TV that evening. Today I had to pretend I was terminally bored by the news and wanted the television turned off immediately, like a crazy woman. I simply cannot do this many more times. Eventually he is going to want to watch the news. He is one of those people who believe that the world depends on them watching the news. Otherwise, what’s the point of things happening eh?
Do I act crazy and throw the remote out of the window? Do I pretend to be a sensitive flower and start crying after the war in Iraq update? (weather news are usually sixth or seventh in line unless it’s about greek weather). Do I pretend to want to watch endless DVDs? Do I bribe my son to throw tantrums and ask for his playstation all the time? It’s only for one more week; there must be something I can do. Any suggestions?

Sensitive flower

I don’t hear voices yet

This Monday morning, I woke my son up, gave him his breakfast, helped him dress and prepared his snacks for school. Then we went downstairs to wait for the school bus. A feeling of impending doom I had been trying to suppress overwhelmed me so five minutes before the bus arrived I told him to go upstairs and take his shoes off. Then I told the driver he was sick and could he bring the homework after school (they do this for everyone).

Am I nuts? Probably. I kept my son home because I had a bad dream and a bad premonition. On top of that, two of his photos had fallen off the shelf yesterday evening. I mean, who could argue with THAT?

Now he is cheerfully playing with his ships in his room and thinking of me both as his Monday saviour and his crazy gaoler.

The coy doctor

Could you play "you can leave your hat on" please?

Last week I went to the doctor to have a second electromyogram. Somehow, the first doctor whom I had found on the internet didn’t look that credible to me. He had made a comment about husbands giving him more money to electrocute their wives. I laughed. A visit to the neurologist should be a somber affair.

By the way do you know these fake sweaters plus shirts some shops sell and lazy people like me buy? The ones where the parts of the shirt that show under the sweater are added on: cuffs and collar. I was wearing one of those.

I am mentioning this because when the good doctor asked me to take off my sweater so he could insert the electrodes into my hand, he didn’t expect to see me, well, in my bra. Brassiere. Upper body undergarment. Whatever.

“I thought you were wearing a shirt underneath!” he said averting his eyes. “No, I just have the collar on” I apologized, red as a beet. He gave me a puzzled look, maybe thinking that I actually cut off all my shirts’ cuffs and collars. You know, to save time.

He also told me to rest my hand.
I am obviously giving it a rest since I don’t need to iron whole shirts anymore, aren’t I?

He then asked me not to clean the windows anymore (he spoiled all the fun didn’t he?). Apparently the circular motion hurts the particular nerve. I assured the doctor that I almost never clean the windows (Stephanie can attest to that) and he needn’t worry about that either. So I put on my grey sweater, my cuffs and collar and off I went.
By the way, you could do it with shoes and socks you know. Why wear the whole sock?

Migration

The menu is giving me a headache

For the next couple of days (only a couple, don't go away for months) I will be migrating to the New Blogger, because it finally heard my prayers. However, as in all intimate relationships, I like to have my options open, so I am checking Wordpress, Movable Type and even Drupal and Joomla. But whatever I do, I am going to let you know and everything is going to be as before and even better (there was room for improvement to start with).
This is always going to be Froth and I'll always be chloe.

If I could take sleep in a pill

Spell SLEEP please

I don’t know any other person apart from newborn babies and jetlagged people who have so outrageous sleeping patterns (they are so chaotic they are not even patterns; there must be some method in their madness but I cannot fathom it).

It sounds ironic, but should I try hypnosis? Or something stronger? Like magic?

Tomorrow there are more tests for my hand as well as a check-up to establish that the damage is purely mechanical, not pathological. And then a business meeting. Thank God, I do business with my friend.

I think what I need is an enduring lullaby.


Song of the day: To Sheila – Smashing Pumpkins

A day in the life