Tuesday 30 July 2013

Fixing dried out Mac Fluidline

Thank goodness for the internet.

Mac fix
The other day, I went to apply my favourite eyeliner (Mac Fluidline), which I had foolishly left with the lid off in the hot weather.

Mac fix
It looked very sad indeed. Dry, cracked clean down the middle, and there was no way I was ever going to coax any of that black goodness to come out of the pot and on to my brush, let alone stick on my eyelids.

I became cross with myself for being careless and foolish. I did not want to throw away something perfectly usable, if only I could fix it. Then I became determined not to be defeated by a pot of make up, and began to hit up Google for some solutions to my problem.

When I found one, I was so bemused at how it could work, I put off trying it out until the next morning. It involved eye drops, which intrigued me.

I had some cheap and cheerful eye drops in a drawer, from when I used to commute to work on the underground and my eyes would get very sore and scratchy. I had First World Problems.

Mac fix

I squeezed three drops into the dried up pot, and admittedly, I was a little disappointed that it didn't magically fix itself immediately. The drops sort of rolled around in the crack, and nothing seemed any different. I grabbed a kirby grip (that's a bobby pin to you guys over in the USA - hi!), and started to scrape the eyeliner off the sides of the pot and stir it around with the eyedrops.

At about this point, I thought I had lost my mind and should just throw it all away.

Mac fix

"Never, never, never give up!" Winston Churchill boomed in my head. Besides, I've got an unpleasant tendency to give up something that I am not immediately good at, and that's not a good way to approach life when you're 27 years old and need to get good at something.

So I forged ahead. Once I'd mixed everything together well and smoothed out the paste (and flicked some all over my white desk, hands, fingers, clothes etc), I took a cotton wool bud and started to restore some order to the little pot of horrors.

It took some patience, but it eventually looked like this:

Mac fix

I had to clean up the rim of the pot, and then clean everything around the pot with some make up remover, but I was pretty pleased with it. The gel itself was now the perfect consistency to apply to my eyelids, and gives a good clean, bold line.

I am now obsessive about replacing the lid on the pot, even though I'm armed with this fix now.

Thank you, internet. Specifically, thank you to this page for the original advice that I found.

Edited 12/03/2014: Since I posted this originally, I've had to undertake this whole process twice, as the pot keeps drying out. I'm not that good at the whole lid-replacing thing. I also actually prefer the eyeliner with a softer consistency, and would suggest using four eye drops and making the paste a little thinner. This might prolong the time that it's usable before it needs fixing again.

Friday 26 July 2013

A small thought about long distance relationships

 A casual 5,500 miles separate me and Cowboy for the majority of the time. Another part of the deal is the 8 hour time difference, which means that when I wake up, he is just going to bed. I am lucky that it is only 8 hours, and I do get to speak to him for the last part of my day, and sometimes first thing in the morning if he stays up late.

Getting to see each other is expensive, both in terms of high flight costs and in terms of the time needed to get across the planet and back.

It's really not the best idea either of us ever had (but he started it, so I like to blame him).
























For a little while, I joined a very popular forum for people in long distance relationships, and for a while I thought I'd found a good place to hang out. Then I grew tired of the threads detailing how somebody hadn't replied to a message, or somebody hadn't wanted to sleep with Skype running, or how somebody had said something like "We need to talk" and the forum was supposed to suggest what it was about.

I realised I didn't identify with any of these people. Sure, they were in long distance relationships, just like me, but I came to the conclusion one day that, actually, I was secure enough about my relationship not to need to wise counsel of complete strangers. I didn't panic (any longer) when I didn't get an immediate reply to my message. I would put my phone down and go and get on with something else. I didn't get jealous of his friends who are girls. I didn't feel the need to share my relationship with these people.

Cowboy and I take it one day at a time. We say good morning, we say good night, every day without fail - unless we have no signal, no battery, or one of us is drunk. We don't get angry with each other for having a life outside of Skype and What'sApp. I encourage him to go out and socialise and flirt, because I know he enjoys it and I also know that he would never go beyond flirtation and a dance. We trust each other completely. We talk openly and frankly about marriage and kids, so we both know where this is going. We also avoid games at all costs.

There's no time for sulking or manipulating, and where would it get us anyway? When he does or says something I don't like, or that upsets me, I tell him as simply and honestly as I can, as soon as I can. He usually then tells me simply and honestly that he's sorry, and also that I am overreacting. He rides out my moods with patience, unphased, and doesn't hold it against me. Maybe that's from his work with horses...

We true to keep the bigger picture clear. When times are tough and I'm lonely and sad, and I miss him so much I could chew through a pillow, he reminds me that "one day we'll be together all the time, and then you'll get sick of me."

He is probably right, but distance seems to have taught us a great deal of tolerance. Those little things, the missed messages or the plans that don't include waiting by the phone or the computer, don't matter. The geographical space between us isn't enough, we give each other space away from communicating. And we work hard at keeping drama out of it. I choose not to mind about his grubby fingernails or his (obscenely) smelly feet, because on balance he's a pretty good catch. I like to think we'll keep these things going when we finally live together.

I don't think our relationship is special or different because we're long distance. Maybe that's why I didn't last on the specialist forum. 

A Japanese proverb (which I found on Pinterest) says: Who travels for love finds a thousand miles not longer than one. If you find the miles long, maybe it's just not quite what you should be chasing after...

Passing the time

Sixteen days until I fly off to see Cowboy, which means sixteen days of finding ways to pass many hours without losing my mind.

Today, I watched five episodes of The West Wing back to back. That was a good start.

I've also peeled eight pears and three apples, cored and diced them, and I'm currently stewing them with some cinnamon, sugar, sultanas and the juice of a small orange. Look at the golden, bubbly goodness... Mmmm...

Apples and pears

Meanwhile, over in Washington (State), Cowboy is spending his days building fence. I don't know the technical details about fence building - no doubt I will very soon learn - but as I understand it, it involves a lot of posts...

Fencing

It's back-breaking work, so I think he is most excited about getting a massage when I get out there. I don't really blame him.

I'm going to go spend my afternoon rearranging my possessions and pretending to be productive.

Wednesday 24 July 2013

Tomatoes

I get an organic, mixed fruit and veg box delivered every fortnight. I occasionally feel guilty about this, as it seems decadent and foolish when there is a big Sainsbury's around the corner packed with bargain food in plastic bags. But when I shop there I feel guilty about the obscene amounts of plastic packaging.

I use two companies (Abel & Cole, and Riverford), and like to pick and choose the better box depending on what they're offering each week. This week, because of the ridiculous English heatwave (not ridiculous), I ordered an extra salad box from Riverford to keep me going through the warm weather, when hot food is offensive.

What they sent me included this scrumptious box of tomatoes.

Riverford organic tomatoes

My natural reaction was to immediately shove my nose in the box and get a good long sniff. I adore the smell of tomatoes, especially when they're still on the vine like these bad boys. Reminds me of my Grandpa's greenhouse.

Then I set to work making a simple, but glorious, lunch. It's a kind of fake bruschetta. Bruschetta alla Bee? Something like that.

Here's how it happened:

1) Grab two slices of thick sliced multigrain bread from the freezer

2) Throw large chunk of butter into a frying pan over low/medium heat.

3) Fry bread on both sides, adding more butter if needed, until golden, sizzling and smelling like heaven. Ensure butter has soaked into entire bread surface. Set aside to cool slightly.

4) Dice tomatoes into reasonably large chunks. Put in a bowl.

5) Season to taste with salt, freshly ground black pepper, and a glug of balsamic vinegar.

6) Add a good handful of torn basil - mine was frozen in olive oil in, which meant I snapped off a bit and let the oil melt into the tomatoes. If you have fresh basil, all the better, just add a glug of olive oil to the tomatoes along with the seasoning.

7) Pour juicy, crisp, fragrant tomatoes and the juice all over bread.

Scrumptious lunch of tomato bruschetta. Love those @Riverford tomatoes. #omnomnom

I then ate this a little too quickly, because it was so very, very good. You could add a little garlic if you wanted. I sometimes cheat and spread garlic and herb Boursin on the bread for a cheesy, garlicky, wonderful addition. But often I find the simple tomato, basil, butter combo is just right as it is.

This meal takes about ten minutes to throw together, and is also a really good way to use up bread that has gone a little stale, because the butter makes everything soft and wonderful.

Enjoy!

Tuesday 23 July 2013

Royal Baby! (and bees)

So, yesterday afternoon, the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge (aka Kate and Wills) welcomed their first-born into the world - a strapping boy by all accounts. All very exciting, and prompted my house mates to bake Royal Baby Cupcakes, complete with luminous blue icing, as a celebratory gesture. That's about as politically involved as I like to get these days.

Today I rescued three bees from the kitchen, which is quite a victory as far as I'm concerned. If a bee gets trapped in my kitchen (and they fly in through the door all the time in this hot weather), I feel personally responsible for the decline of bees the moment I find the sad, coiled little carcass in the corner. A dead bee is one of the saddest things.

On a more positive note! The bees in the garden are loving the lavender bush which is starting to flower.
#bees

It's very pleasing to step outside and hear these industrious little creatures working hard in the sunshine, bickering with each other over the best flower. One day I aim to have bees of my own.

This little lady was very territorial about her little patch.
I kind of have a thing about #bees...

I'm still nursing my torn plantar fascia, which does appear to be improving, so hopefully cowboy boots will be an option by the time I get out to Washington.

Cowboy was distinctly unimpressed with my bee-keeping ambitions... I'll show him.

Saturday 20 July 2013

Ouchy

So, last Friday I drove to meet my friend for supper, and because London is currently a hot, sticky, sweaty hell hole, I had selected flipflops as my footwear, and because I get worried about them jamming under my pedals in the car, I kicked them off and drove barefoot.

I've done it before, I quite like it. I like how much more sensitive I can be.

There was a fair amount of traffic, a lot of stop-start, a lot of clutch control needed. Half way to my destination, my left foot began to feel a little sore where the clutch was springing back up into the ball of my foot.

Reluctantly, I chose an opportune moment to stop and put some trainers on, continued driving and thought nothing of it.

Then three days later, I donned my beloved riding boots (Mountain Horse Mountain Riders, if you care) and stomped around in them at the yard for a bit, rode a horse for a bit, and thought "My foot sort of hurts. Oh well."

I had a bruised sort of pain in the arch of my foot. The next day, the pain was vastly worse, and on the sole of my foot, I had a hard, hot bump where something was obviously wrong. Weight-bearing was painful. Shoes were out of the question.

I applied some of my physio training and also some Google searching, and reached the conclusion that I had managed to tear my plantar fascia whilst driving with no shoes on.

If the foot bones were a bow, the plantar fascia is the bowstring that maintains the tension in the bow that makes it strong and powerful. I had bent my bow in a strange way, and applied compression to the bowstring, and the bowstring had torn. Not fully, probably just partially, but nonetheless, it is very painful.

Plantar fascia is ligamentous, which means it doesn't have a very rich blood supply - this is why it's just reddened and not bruised. A torn muscle will bruise, as muscles have a rich blood supply. Muscles heal quickly, because they have a ready source of nutrients and other good things that help repair the damage. Ligaments heal slowly, because they don't have such a good supply.

I'm looking at 4-6 weeks recovery time. The best I can do at the moment is ice, gentle stretching, and rest. It's boring, and it's very painful. I don't recommend it.

Drive with shoes on, people. Unless you have an automatic.

Monday 15 July 2013

Upcycling

I'm a bit of a hippy at heart, and have a deep-rooted love of composting, recycling and reusing things. I hate to throw things away that still have life in them.

The other day I decided to go through my overflowing jewellery box and clear out all the old bits and pieces that I never wear any longer, and which are just gathering dust. I had quite a pile by the end of it, and had streamlined my jewellery into just a few key pieces. I must be getting old.

Amongst my discard pile, I had several necklaces with beads, shells, and other dangly things on them. I've recently discovered how to make my own simple earrings, and might branch out into bracelets and necklaces too, so with this in mind, I set to work with my pliers and removed as many beads and dangly things from the chains as I could. I accumulated a (reused, previously houmous) pot of various beads that I could reconstruct at some point into something I might wear.

Here are two of my upcycled creations - two pairs of earrings. I use silver plate, because my ears are sensitive to cheap metals, but I can't afford sterling silver. Life is hard.




My craftsmanship is a little rough around the edges, but I'm getting better. I'm rather pleased with these two pairs. I have plenty more materials from the old jewellery to create some more pieces.

I'm considering selling on Etsy or similar, but I'm not sure how successful I'd be.


Saturday 13 July 2013

One month to go

It's thirty days until I fly out to Washington State to see Cowboy. It doesn't sound like long, but it's astonishing how long a day can be when you are apart from the one person you want to see more than anything.

Cowboy is a Scorpio, I am an Aries. If you buy into this sort of thing, we should be a pretty good match - my parents are the same combination and have been married (mostly happily) for well over thirty years.

It means, in this waiting period, that I am prone to random, ridiculous outbursts of frustration, rage, loneliness and love. Cowboy is prone to be stoic, calm, logical and quiet about his feelings, although he is starting to admit that he might be having trouble sleeping because he's just as impatient as I am for our summer together to get started.

Here are some things I've been doing to try to keep busy now that university is over for the summer, and I still have time to kill before I can pack my bag:

  1. Cooking - I love to make food, and I will often spend a day in the kitchen. Last week I spent twenty minutes peeling chickpeas because I'd read that it would make my houmous smoother. I'm not convinced yet. But it passed the time.
  2. Moving things around - my room in my shared house isn't huge, but it's ample if you're a normal person who can throw things out. I happen to be a hoarder. I have recently re-jigged my storage options around my room and found homes for things that previously lived "in that pile there". I'm still a chaotic mess, but it passed the time.
  3. Xbox - I am a girl who games. Just a little. I'm terrible at shooting and driving, so my game options are limited to things with auto-aim, and things with no vehicles. My games of choice are: Skyrim, Red Dead Redemption, Dragon Age and Fable. Good games for passing the time and questing about, doing good in the world.
  4. Pinterest - as if this needs an explanation. Possibly the most efficient time-waster ever invented.
  5. Moping - I try not to overindulge in moping, as it loses its edge. Sometimes just lolling about on my bed, wishing I was in America, can kill an hour or two.
Not entirely productive pastimes, but there's a limit to what you can do when you have no income and a lot of time on your hands.

I have also been volunteering at a Riding for the Disabled Centre for the last couple of weeks, and I have one more week with them. I do three days a week, helping out with yard work and leading in lessons. I have discovered my "sweeping" muscles, and I'm feeling pretty sore. Morally, I feel super.

How would you fill thirty days?

Tuesday 9 July 2013

One year ago today, I broke my elbow

Whilst out on my ridiculous adventure last summer, I found myself out in the middle of nowhere with all of the other tourists staying at the ranch that week, feeling my horse test out how well he could round his back under my saddle.

Turned out he was pretty good at it. As he bronc hopped his way through the sagebrush, sending me cartwheeling through the air, I knew I was coming off. I knew I was aiming for a hefty blow on my back when I landed.

And all that went through my head was: Oh my god I'm not wearing a hard hat, I am going to break my skull and die.

Some of the rudimentary judo training that I had when I was 10 must have stuck somewhere, because I managed to land quite squarely on my biggest back muscles, protect my head, and break my fall a little with my forearms. The ground was nonetheless as hard as concrete, and knocked the wind right out of me.

At least Cowboy isn't here to see that, I thought to myself as I sat up, trying to encourage my lungs to expand fully again.

One of the other wranglers who was on duty that day came over and offered to take me back to the trucks. We had barely started our ride for the day, and I could hear Pony Club wisdom ringing in my ears: Just get straight back on the horse.

"I'm fine!" I said cheerfully, dusting myself off and standing up a little gingerly. "Let's go!" I got back on the horse, and we rode on.

Five minutes later, the horse bucked me off again, this time choosing a rocky, slippery slope, where I jettisoned myself as carefully as possible from where I clung in the saddle. I rolled, slid, absorbed a good amount of Montana dirt and gravel into the skin over my hip, and eventually came to a rest.

"Could I maybe trade horses with somebody?" I asked, getting up again and discovering I was bleeding from a couple of places.

I had tested all my joints, and they had appeared to work, so I climbed aboard a different horse who carried me home gently and carefully - although this took three hours. When I slithered off at the end of our ride, my left elbow had completely seized up and my back was ridiculously sore.

I had a good cry in the bath back at the ranch house, and then gave myself stern instructions to man up.

Long story short: the next day I insisted I was fine, despite a complete inability to move my left elbow, and attempted to climb on to another horse, with Cowboy's capable hand firmly on my bottom to help me up. I screamed in agony, and then again insisted I was fine.

He took me by the shoulders, whilst I tried desperately hard not to cry in front of him in case he thought I was being a girl, and he said gently, "You'd better get that looked at."

"It's definitely not broken," I told the doctor, who looked at me as if I was crazy.

"It's definitely broken," he told me, after the X-ray of my radial head had been processed. "Would you like some pain relief? I'll bet it's pretty sore."

"No, no," I said, not wanting to cause a fuss. He gave me the look again. "I'll be just fine."

Well, I was. Bones take a long time to mend, so it's still a little squiffy, but it gave Cowboy the perfect excuse to give me a little extra attention over the next two weeks: saddling my horse for me, helping me mount, taping my elbow. Perhaps it was the making of us.

Monday 8 July 2013

One year ago, my life became ridiculous

I am a normal(ish) girl living in South London. When I was a kid, I papered my bedroom walls with posters pulled out from the middle of Horse and Pony magazine, and if a book had a horse on the cover or in the title, I read it.

When I was about 14, I read The Horse Whisperer by Nicholas Evans. I decided then and there that Montana sounded pretty cool, and that one day it would be nice to go on holiday and ride horses.

Twelve years later, I sat in my dreary London office, looking out at the January gloom, wondering what on earth I was doing with my life, and I made a mad decision that this was it, I'd had enough, I was going to just up and go. I booked a holiday to a dude ranch in Montana; so-called because of all the tourists who think they're real cowboys, but really they're just in the way.

I flew to America for the first time on 1st July 2012. I spent a week exploring, a few days in Minneapolis, a few days in Wyoming and Yellowstone Park.

Then on 7th July 2012, I waited in the bustling (not bustling) airport of Billings, MT, the biggest city in the state (not a big city), for my transfer to the ranch.

In walked Cowboy. I knew he was a cowboy, because he was wearing a hat and jeans and boots and spurs and he was all bow-legged and sunburned.

This man changed my life. Maybe he saved my life. But I now spend a lot of money on plane tickets, wear jeans and check shirts, and I know what fencing pliers look like. I have now known this man for a one whole year, and I am amazed that he is still interested in me, that he still talks about when we'll be settled down, and that he was not deterred when he met my mother.

Mostly for my benefit, so I don't forget this weird and wonderful journey through life that started on a whim, I've decided to try blogging in a more serious fashion than I've ever done before. I'll write about food, friends, life, probably nothing particularly witty or intelligent or observant, but there are much better bloggers than me out there who can deal with all of that sort of thing. We'll see how it goes. If anybody reads, welcome and have some tea and cake.

Love Bee x

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