It's beginning to look a lot like...nah it's not really


Normally I love Christmas. Usually I have the tree up on December 1, in a glory of decorations and lights. I decorate the house with a small, but festive, selection of decorations including a traditional style Santa, Angels, door wreaths and yuletide cushions. I have a stylised nativity scene that I arrange on the television, and lights in the windows of stars and such. But so far this year, nothing much. My therapist recommended I put in some effort and have some sort of mini-tree. I bought a charming and chic LED and crystal mini-tree and have even turned it on twice so far.

Understandably, Christmas spirit is a little wanting this year. Bond's presents are sitting by my bed waiting for me to do something with them. (And, no, I can't return some of them.) I have celebrated an early Christmas with my parents, anticipating to be away. So, it is now a bit of anti-climax.

Although, now that I am to be spending time home, I have actually gotten some presents from friends, that I would otherwise not have expected. And, they are all good! A girlfriend of mine lives in Dubai, but still managed to arrange delivery of a bottle of Veuve Cliquot to work today. Another girlfriend gave me a hilarious book and some massage oil - in preparation of Bond's anticipated arrival.

But the one I was worried about was today's Secret Santa at work. In the past I have made it quite clear about gifts that I will NOT accept. Frankly, if someone resorts to giving me soap, or hand lotion - they clearly do not know me. Surely my personality at work is large enough to give some ammunition for amusing gifts before resorting to the "bail out" gift of hand lotion? Last year, I made it clear enough about the lotion, that indeed, someone was thoughtful enough to give me a more considered gift. Although a daily reminder about my pathetic dating life, in the form of a page-a-day "He's just not that into you" Calendar, was bordering on a little hurtful. But today's present, again reflected on my awesome skills in finding either unsuitable and/or unavailable men - but with an amusing twist.

People I bring you my new beloved - Mr Wonderful.




He speaks missives and acts of kindness, all with a cheery grin and handsome attire. Although his dispropionately large hands disturb me somewhat. And that is the only thing that disturbs me*.







*Don't judge me..... well not too much anyway!

Calling for help!

OK, so, say you wanted to STOP ringing someone. But you know their number so well you could recite it in your sleep - so deleting it seems somehow redundant. And you live on your mobile phone (for work), so the temptation to ring is always with you. You might be a little obsessive about your phone and never turn it off, and have been known to check it even when you are sure you heard noone ring or message come through.

But you really want to stop ringing someone because the fact that they don't answer is sending you insane. And you know you should stop ringing because if they say they are going to ring, and they don't - well shouldn't that mean something?

Fellow bloggers, and those loitering around reading,.... what do I do?

A snippet of a conversation...

Tea room conversation in the workplace is often curious - especially when taken out of context. Today's gem of conversation, "Hippos - same as Magpies."

Discuss.

There is no volume switch on good conversation!

I have never denied that I am a geek. I think it is proof positive since I am in a Choir, I tap-dance and I studied Physics. It really is a no-brainer. But what really clinches the geek title for me is the fact that I am in a book club. Once a month I get together with a bunch of women (no, men don't read apparently), and we ostensibly
gather to discuss the book of the month. This often doesn't go on for too long, before we digress into discussions of any other topic that comes to mind.

What I absolutely adore about women is our ability, when comfortable in each other's company, is to discuss the most insanely personal things that would otherwise never enter our minds to talk about. There were no embarrassing flushes or hushed tones. Over wine and some Vietnamese, five women discussed, with much vigour, mucus. We discussed texture, colour, occasion, form and function. We oohed andaahed at each other's stories and revelled in the sharing and imparting of such an important and informative topic.

Although, in retrospect, we perhaps should have lowered our voices just a little.
So if you were sitting near five boisterous ladies in North Fitzroy recently, discussing such a topic. I hope you found it as educational as we did!

What are words for?

I am quite adept at text messaging. I have had conversations via text which have been more informative and meaningful than some dates that I have endured. To further enhance my text Goddess demeanour, I never use those funky short terms so common amongst "kids today". Full spelling and correct grammar is a must. As a result, over time I have had to teach my phone a number of words and have increased its dictionary
quite substantially.

Rob has found that he too must constantly add words to his phone's dictionary. But his phone doesn't seem to want to learn a few words - despite him having saved them numerous times. Apparently it has a problem with "Kilda", as in St Kilda, his suburb. Perhaps his phone is a touch anti-Semitic, or homophobic?

Strangely, last night I found I had to teach my phone the word "bastard". How could I have had this phone for so long and not had the need to write that word until now? More curiously, people seem to think it odd that I have noted that the same letter combinations are required for "coal", "cock" and "anal". And I know this because of the number of times I have had to cycle through the options to get the word I am looking for.

Make of that what you will people.

Just to make things clear....

It is not all over with Bond. Just post-poned for a bit. Citing difficulties of scheduling, he suggested we wait, and he will come here in February. Yes there is sadness, and disappointment. Mostly I am a little numb, and doubtful about ever seeing him again. But what choice do I have? I have invested so much time and emotion into him, I don't want to just give up yet.

And then things went pear-shaped....

I must say that I never really understood that expression. Why are pears the malcontent of fruit? Surely a pineapple would be worse - what with the prickly exterior and all? Anyway....

So the trip is off.

I have been counting down days to a shag-fest. Planning my beauty regimen around flights out of the country. Calculating the days of my period, to maximise shag time with Bond. My mail has been redirected, and friends and family organised for my coming absence. I need not have bothered.

On the upside: within moments of announcing that I was no longer going away, I was excitedly asked by a co-worker if I was now going to the work Christmas party.... and did I want to sit with them. I also could draw some comfort from the fact that I had spent last weekend with some very good friends who tell me, and certainly make me feel, that they love and adore me. I mentioned this to Bond, and he said, "Everybody loves you dear."

Yes, everybody except him.