I've been away for 4 whole days...

... so how it come it feels like only 4 hours?

In any case, my brain is fried, so for a far more interesting post than this one I suggest you pop on over to The Iota Quota where my good bloggy friend Iota (who, thanks to the wonder that is Cybermummy, I have met in person, and who is just as lovely and entertaining as you might imagine), has written about where blogging is taking her now.

Oh, and you could also click on over to take a look at In The Powder Room, the fabulous progeny of Powder Room Graffiti and Mums Rock who have recently joined forces. I don't have a new post up there (although I do have some old ones), so this is not in any way a sponsored pointer. Just some recommended reading in case you're not keen on what's on the box this evening. Go on - you won't regret it...

So it seems this 'life' thing requires application...

Is there anything more depressing that waiting for feedback? Scratch that, actually; I know there are. I just can't bring myself to write about those things right now, hence the long and unaccustomed absence from BlogLand on my part.

I will be back, I promise. It's just that right now I'm tied up in this 'developing a life off-line' business, and unsurprisingly it's keeping me rather busy. In the meantime though, if you are missing my particular brand of nonsense, check out this post on Powder Room Graffiti that went up today.

(I should just add; the fantasy court-case described on PRG no way bears any resemblance to the home life of our own dear potty. None at all, your honour...)

And today, I will be mostly pretending I know Music...

The world of parent blogging is pretty diverse. Other than the fact that we all have children who we are each convinced are the smartest / the cutest / the most entertaining / the most loveable / the most frustrating / the most rewarding IN THE WORLD (oh yes mine are - all of those things - obviously), we're all capable of writing posts that could focus on a multitude of other issues. For example, it's possible to find posts which instead of focusing on Junior's latest adorable habit instead feature everything and anything under the sun. In just a few clicks I can read about what to cook for dinner, how to handle depression, the forthcoming UK election, dealing with cancer, which wine to buy, and what fashion-fixes are out there, without having to work too hard at it, and amazingly all without ever leaving sites that fall under the umbrella-term 'parent blogger'.

So today I've decided to add music to my interests. But don't worry, I'm not going to ask you to read through a review of some new indy band's latest offering. Instead, take a look at this list of bands and artists, and see if you can work out what they all have in common...

Steve Wonder

Beyonce

Crowded House

Journey

James Blunt

Cher

Elton John

Maroon 5

U2

Paul McCartney

Bob Marley

Men at Work

Aha

Toto

Pink

Lady GaGa

Natalie Imbruglia

Got it yet?

No? Well, they all wrote songs that use the same 4 chords.

Unlikely, I know, but check out this video and you'll see what I mean... (there are more artists than I've listed above featured in this, but I'm only human and didn't get them all. Feel free to add to the list in the comments if you're so inclined, and I'll update it...)

And thanks to Powder Room Graffiti where I first came across the 4 Chord Song, and ThatGirl39 who inspired this post with her remark that 'I can be all things to all people'...

Friday Fudge

How do you sneeze? Wait - don't answer that. I think I know the answer. And the men in your life, how about them? No, don't answer that either, I think I know the answer to that one too; I've written about it on Powder Room Graffiti today in a piece called 'The Man Sneeze'. (No prizes for guessing in advance what the tone of this article may be like...)

And that's it for today, because whilst I had planned to blog about the advent of game technology in the Potski household, or alternatively to ask rhetorically why the Russian people put up with so much shoddiness, I'm going to have to save those posts for next week because I've hurt my back and sitting down to type is a problem. My supportive husband blames my run last weekend, citing lack of fitness and preparation as the reason. I couldn't possibly comment...

SATC; you know you want to - but why?

I'm not someone who is easily fooled by glitter and superficiality. Depth and sincerity are important to me - and yet I cannot be the only 40 something woman who is completely over-excited at the launch of the new Sex and the City movie at the end of May. In fact, I know I'm not; I've spotted the trailer I'm putting at the bottom of this post on at least two other blogs, here and here (and Nixdminx I know you're not 40, just grant me a bit of poetic license on this one...).

Why is it, do you think, that this movie pushes the right buttons for so many women and reduces us to giggling 14 year-olds on our way to the cinema?

Well, I can't speak for you, but for me it's not only about the fact that when I used to watch it on tv I was - mostly - young and unencumbered by children (oh, the nostalgia). Of course, it's nice to look back on those days where I bothered to check my reflection before I left the house, when my life was ordered, controlled and a little more - ok, a lot more - glamorous, and SATC on tv is a reminder of those times, but really, would I go back there?

No. Not for a heartbeat.

So why is it that I have fallen hook line and sinker for the reincarnation of the series on the big screen?

Two words.

Wish. Fulfillment.

It's not that I want those characters' ridiculous lives, you understand. I'm very happy with my own ridiculous life, thankyou. It's more that those ladies - Charlotte/Kristin Davis excluded, perhaps, although I'm not certain because I'm not yet sad enough to google the actresses ages - are all over 40, and yet they look fabulous. They act fabulous. They wear fabulous clothes. They have a fabulous time. When they screw up, they screw up fabulously. And whilst I know SATC is just a story, not real life, and never could be, it's just so - forgive me - fucking fabulous to see a movie where age is not a barrier to any of those things happening, and in fact where women over 40 - rather than being expected to fade gracefully into the background as seems so often the case in the media *- are the centre of the action.

And you know what? I really believe - the actresses' vanity permitting - that we may still be watching them in 10 years time, because there will still be mileage in this then. And that - to me, right now, having not seen this movie and having no idea if it's even any good or not - would be just... fabulous.

(* Click here to be taken to a piece I wrote on 40+ media-invisibility for Powder Room Graffiti last year...)

Negotiating the weekly shop and other impossibilities...

Boy #2 and I did the weekly shop in The Hypermarket from Hell today and survived, despite spending an hour and a half in traffic on the way home (Moscow's traffic jams are the stuff of nightmares). I'm viewing our expedition as a huge success however, as not only did we survive, but we left there with everything that I had put in the trolley. This may not seem like much of an Event to those of you who's weekly shop at Sainsbury, Tesco and the like achieves the same end each and every time, but let me tell you, here, it's a big deal.

Why? Well, customer service is never something you should take for granted in Moscow. Sometimes they get it right, sometimes not.

'Not' includes the assault course that is negotiating the aisles full of enormous packing trolleys that, in Western supermarkets, usually only get wheeled out when the shop is empty in the small hours. The combination of reasonable prices, other customers hungry for bargains and not used to queuing (or not in the 'after you, Claude' cultural style that this English rose is more used to, anyway), and trying to handle a wonky trolley weighed down with a feisty 4 year-old hanging off the front does not make for a relaxing shopping trip.

Making it through that without needing to reapply your deoderant is enough of a challenge but then you need to run the gauntlet of putting your shopping through the till without then being faced by the blank look the cashier gives you when your fruit is not barcoded correctly or there is no label on the waste-bin you're trying to buy. There's no Checkout Captain here to rush off and find out what the price should be, oh no. Just a shrug of the shoulders and a tacit acknowledgement by both the customer and cashier that it would have nice to have some mandarins but, well, they've been barcoded by you, the stupid consumer as satsumas, so better luck next time...

Of course, the incorrect bar coding probably wouldn't happen if I had managed to get any kind of grip on learning the language before moving out here, but I have to admit that whilst it was a priority, it was clearly not high enough on my pre-departure list. I've written about this in Powder Room Graffiti if you want to see a perfect example of the best laid plans of mice and men not quite working out as intended...

Nonsense and Stuff

In the car this morning my two sons decided to act true to type...

Me: "So, Boy #1, what do you do at school on a Thursday?

Boy #1 (always loving a bit of drama and suspense when - most importantly - he is the one dishing it out); "I don't know. It's a mystery! We'll just have wait until we get there to find out..."

Me: "OK... And Boy #2? What do you have at school on a Thursday?"

Boy #2: "Sausages!"

Cutting straight to the chase, as usual. Good to know he's aware of what's important in life...


The whole move to Moscow thing is becoming a bit real today with estate agents calling to value the flat for lettings and international movers hassling us for paper-work, so once again I suggest that if you want to read coherent thought from me you check the following;

Powder Room Graffiti - where I'm musing on the dubious benefits of Skype's video-call facility

or Alpha Mummy at Times Online, where I'm revisiting and expanding on my thoughts from my earlier post on a Husband-shaped space in our lives.

Oh, and Red Magazine is running an article about the British Mummy Bloggers Ning this month, featuring an interview with the divine Susanna of A Modern Mother who set the network up. And yes, I am in the photograph. (Note to self - work on posture... Pilates, perhaps?)

Exercise and Me...

I just got back from the gym. Hot, sweaty, and wondering why on earth I bother. Then I realised just why I bother as I found myself standing in the kitchen bolting down my second piece of toast and marmalade in 5 minutes. WITH butter too, of course. (What's the point, otherwise?)

And as luck would have it, on logging on - post toast-frenzy - I decided to check out Powder Room Graffiti, and guess what; they're running a piece I wrote about my relationship with Exercise today...

If you get the chance to read it, you'll see why I give it a capital 'E'.