It's f*cking hard to be classy.....

2012-01-18T09:56:00.003+11:00

Where I complain and whinge to all and sundry...

I won't bother with apologies about long times between posts - you know I am slack, and I know I am slack. Let's not dwell.

I have five weeks until baby No 2 arrives and I am looking forward to it, but probably not for the reasons that one would expect. Unlike a first baby, I am not excited in the same way, since we know what work is involved, and the potential dramas that lie ahead of us. So, we are looking forward to meeting out new little person, with some reservation about what waits for us.

But right now, I am in pain and feeling low. I don't think it is a resurgence of depression - it doesn't feel like that black dog making a visit. But I definitely feel, for lack of a better description, off. I have a number of things that are currently bothering me, in various ways. Let's have a look....

(i) My symphysis pubis has given up. Pregnancy hormones have softened the adjoining ligaments so that I am in, mostly, constant aching pain. Apparently, other than waiting until the hormones leave my body, there isn't much I can do, and activities such as walking and lifting (say, a toddler) are not recommended.
(ii) Lucy is currently rejecting me. A lot. And I am not handling it well. She wants her Dad all the time, and physically screams and hits at me to go away when he is around. I will freely admit that I am taking this very hard and am constantly on the verge of tears about it. Saying "it is only a stage" only works for so long when day after day I see her giggles and smiles and cuddles with Subtle and I get very little. Subtle tries really hard by trying "group" hugs with her and saying "we love Mummy", but when I see her pull back at those times, it just reinforces it.
(iii) Money. Always a stress, currently playing on my mind constantly as I am about to take some maternity leave.
(iv) At 16 months (and two weeks), Lucy is still not talking. I know there are variations in each child, but she says NOTHING with intent. Lots of sounds, but nothing repeatedly. I worry about her language and vocal development and wonder at what point I actually do something about it and see someone. I also worry about looking like one of those paranoid, over-the-top mothers.
(v) I am tired, sick and useless most of the time. Because of the pelvis pain, and struggling this time with either nausea, dizziness, or both, I am feeling rather limited about what I can comfortably do. Realistically, I can comfortably do nothing. And I don't handle doing nothing well. It is sad when even sleeping doesn't give me respite.

Ok, so that is enough for now. Four weeks of work to go, which I hope will help me keep distracted from at least some of the things bothering me.

2011-10-03T16:10:00.004+11:00

Craziness

Oh dear God.. a year since I blogged. I could say I don't know how it happened, but Lucy happened, and then well, time disappeared into an infant shaped vacuum! She is delightful and wonderful and tiring and exquisite and... well frankly, I could go on for days about how much we adore her and how much sheer joy she has given us. Subtle and I are frankly besotted.

So besotted in fact, that we decided to take a punt and try again. So, yes, I am currently 18 weeks into gestating our next child. Am I crazy for having a 1 year old who wears us ragged, and then so quickly having another? Well, yes. We are crazy. What is even crazier is things that currently worry me. I am NOT worried about how I will cope with two babies under two, or how I will cope with overnight feeds again, or even how in god's name our finances will cope with this. But I am worried that I will compare the new baby to Lucy and hope that they will somehow manage to equal her absolute delicious-ness! (When other mothers, holding their own babies, comment on how gorgeous and delightful my child is - I know we have done well!).

2010-10-02T17:58:00.003+10:00

Oh my poor neglected blog. It seems I had so much more to say when my love life was sordid and depraved. Since the arrival of Subtle in my life, I really don't seem to have as much to say anymore. And I daresay that this will continue for a little while yet. But we shall see.

Nearly four weeks ago, on 8 September, our lives changed forever. In such a short time, so many changes have occurred and things will never be the same again. On that day, Lucy arrived.

We had planned to try a natural birth, but she had other ideas. We were told to expect a big baby, but she proved everyone wrong. I was shocked when she arrived. This squishy, red, puffy, strange looking little thing couldn't possibly be ours, could it? But within a day, with the puffiness gone, and the strangeness starting to grow on me, I realised she was mine and she is beautiful.

2010-07-28T16:12:00.002+10:00

Now that I am getting to the final weeks of this pregnancy, I am really starting to notice distinct changes going on. Yes, there is the clearly obvious bump, which brings out strange changes in those around you. All of a sudden, people want to touch you. People who I wouldn't have thought would we be interested in a bulging belly, suddenly want to stroke the stomach and have some sort of laying on of hands ceremony. I think it very odd, since I have never liked looking at pregnant women, so touching them would be way out of the question. The only times it really bothers me is when people do it without asking first, and if they aren't good friends, it feels weird no matter what.

But the major change I have noticed is my speed. The speed at which I do everything, or anything for that matter, has significantly slowed down. Everything takes longer and is more cumbersome to do. Probably all seems pretty obvious to others, but I have really noticed it in the last week or two. Going upstairs, going downstairs, getting out of chairs, getting into chairs, cooking dinner, etc. Trying to do things that I used to do, at a pace that I normally used to do, exhausts me. Walking is now a saunter, not a stride. And the great irony is to be tired most of the time, but have difficulty sleeping!

I wonder if it would be any easier doing this whole pregnancy thing if I was, say, 15 years younger? Perhaps, but irrelevant I suppose now. Either way, I tell you, this process is NOT natural. No matter what anyone says.

2010-07-20T16:58:00.002+10:00

Sym-path(y)-etic

For those people who don't know me well, albeit via blogland, or as an acquaintance, I have something to tell you that may colour your view of me. I don't do sympathy. I never have really been able to. So much so, that my mother has called me cold-hearted. (Actually she called me a cold-hearted bitch, but I am sure she meant that last bit in the most constructive of ways.) When I hear problems and woes, I just don't get that "thing" that makes people concerned and helpful and come out with the appropriate platitudes.

When Subtle is sick, and I mean really sick, the best I can do is come out with some suggestions for his return to health. Vomiting? Ok, well, you make sure you keep hydrated and I suggest some weak tea with sugar to provide some simple carbohydrates to keep some energy and nutrients in his body. Aching somewhere? Aspirin, Paracetamol, Neurofen, or a combination of all of the above perhaps.

See, not sympathetic. Just practical advice. And for God's sake, don't go on to me about things, because I will truly zone out.

Recently, one of my very good friends has been diagnosed with cancer. And I work in the cancer treatment industry, so it is a topic on which I can be truly helpful. I have been taking her many calls, as well as following up on her appointments, and talking her through the implications, treatment options, side-effects, and all manner of practicalities. Further, one of our mutual friends, also rings me seeking advice on the same sort of things, so that she can talk to our friend knowledgeably on all of the mentioned topics, and provide her with the necessary sympathy (which she does well).

So far - so good.

My friend is apparently absolutely thrilled with what I have been able to help her with, and my frank and pragmatic advice. I seem to be the calm voice of reason in the swirling storm of emotions and confusing quasi-facts that she has found on the internet. Laying things out for her matter-of-fact-ly has suited her very well and given her reassurance when needed. Also, apparently, due to my exposure of many years in the industry, I have some understanding of the psychology of the patients going through this disease and treatment.

The problem is now beginning to be that she feels so comfortable with my advice and pragmatic attitude, that she is starting to border on needing sympathy from me. We had a long conversation yesterday where we talked through her latest information on her treatment process, which all went well. I was satisfied with what she had been told by them, and what I had previously prepared her with. But then I could feel the conversation turning ever so slightly. I fear she may have wanted me to say something like, "There, there, everything will be ok." Which I can't do. I don't know if it will be. I want it to be all ok, but I can't give platitudes that I feel are full of empty sentiment.

When I can't *do* sympathy and all around me seem to be able to do it, I do wonder what happened in my upbringing, or in my head that makes me immune to it. I do sometimes feel that I may indeed be that cold-hearted person my mother alluded to. I had wondered if it was overuse by my mother of using guilt to garner a reaction, which made me this way. Or just a fluke. Subtle, thankfully for our progeny, does sympathy very well.

2010-06-25T15:01:00.003+10:00

The way things make me feel

Many years ago a friend of mine was seeing a man whom she quite liked. He had come out of a marriage/serious relationship a few years before, and although i wasn't sure if this was his first significant relationship since then, it certainly was one of note. My girlfriend was VERY eager for marriage and a family. The whole box and dice. But this guy's behaviour was not in keeping with that life plan. In fact, it seemed quite obvious to me that he was still not over his past relationship and in fact, was still suffering. I said to her once, when asked on my thoughts on him, that he seemed to be still not over his ex, and that she should be careful with him. But she couldn't see it. She replied, "But that was ages ago. He SHOULD be over her by now."

They broke up. Because, he wasn't ready for a relationship, because he wasn't over his ex. (Very rarely can I be insightful with regards to relationship advice!) She wanted to tell him how he SHOULD be feeling, and it just wasn't right for him and he certainly wasn't ready.

Of late, I have been encountering some resistance from some people around me telling me how I SHOULD be feeling right now during my pregnancy. My mother is a prime perpetrator, as well as some other women whom I have encountered. If I complain that I am feeling not particularly enamoured with this whole pregnancy thing, because I am tried of the zillionth pregnancy induced headache, or my hips are aching, or whatever else it is, the response I get is, "But you should be LOVING this time of life. It is a beautiful thing." Sure it might be an amazing thing to create life, although it seems every bogan can do it without nary a worry, but you know, what it does to your body is not that beautiful.

There are so many things I was aware of happening, like the getting bigger and potential swollen ankles (not yet) and stretch marks (also, not yet), and nausea (some early on). But it is the millions of things that I didn't know about. Oh like, the stabbing pains from your ligaments around your uterus when they stretch. The constantly sore breasts. The weird changes in the look of your breasts, no, not the size - I have some funky colours going on down there. The unexplained inability to sleep, despite being exhausted at all times of the day. The funky changes in bowels, and references to discharge that I didn't think I would have to know about. But most of all, the most annoying thing is the stories that you get told by people about their birthing experiences. Horror movies have nothing on those tales.*

If someone has a blissful pregnancy experience, well, good for them. And if someone has an ordinary experience, well, it just sucks doesn't it? So really, I don't want someone telling me how I should feel. It is how it is, and hopefully, all will be good in the end.

*Although my favourite story was by a colleague who told me about how most of the labour was a bit boring, and late at night, so she dozed off until it got more important for her to be awake. She is my new role model.

2010-06-17T12:29:00.004+10:00

I won't even start to apologise for the time between posts. You will just nod and think, sure sure, and I will be grasping at straws.

I haven't blogged for a variety of reasons. Mostly due to not having anything to say. How is this possible you may ask? But, well, when the only things that have been going on in my head are baby/pregnancy related, I can well imagine that that topic will grow thin very quickly for many of you reading.

So here I am at 26 weeks pregnant. When I am sitting down, I look down, and feel like I am bloated after a big meal. But when I look in the mirror, oh god. There is definitely something going on down there. Subtle assures me that all looks well, and he just looks at my unchanging, lovely, visage. Sometimes a suck-up is appropriate. And appreciated.

I have various levels of stress going on at different times. Mostly, there is stress about well, this THING coming and what I shall do! Being responsible for it and all that. I do keep telling myself that far stupider people than me have raised healthy happy children, surely we can manage. Secondly there is stress over finances. With 12 weeks until arrival (I get the fun of going early), the money in the bank is starting to look like all their will be, and I am trying to work out how to manage paying all the bills, having some time off and not going insane. The latter looks like it might go down the list of priorities.

But the one thing that gives me stress, which shouldn't, is my mother. How do you deal with a mother who is projecting her wants from her own birthing experiences onto me? Plus add in the fact that my mother does have a plethora of issues, prior to this pregnancy. My mother has been waiting since, oh, my first period at the age of 12, for a grandchild. 27 years. And boy, don't I feel that pressure. She would like to be in the birthing suite, and views getting to see the baby any more than 15 mins after its arrival, as being their "too late". But she asks about when "I" would like her there, and then ignores my requests. I could perhaps say, "Sure, you can be there", and then have Subtle and the nursing staff restrict her access. Then at least I wouldn't be the bad guy?

We are off tonight to visit my family and friends interstate, so I daresay there will be more venting over the weekend that the ever patient Subtle will have to wade through. Until later, I will provide reports and casualty counts from the weekend.

2010-03-30T11:31:00.003+11:00

What's in a name?

Now that we are 14 weeks (and counting), thoughts have started to turn towards naming the progeny. This is no easy matter. Subtle takes every name I suggest, shortens it, and then finds the worst possible way that it could be construed by a 10 year old in the school yard. He says that he is helping me by not choosing a name that may torture our child in years to come. Strangely, for him to delve into the mind of a 10 year old doesn't seem to be that difficult. Also, any other names I have suggested is often followed by comments that it is a name of some third cousin or something.

I tell you it is difficult! I have also tried hinting at the fact that maybe since I am getting all the issues/difficulties/pain, I should have veto of naming rights. This logical thought process does not work on my dearest husband.

Oddly enough, I find that I am attracted to names beginning with "L". I always have been. I personally think that this may be the only reason I married my first husband, as his surname was an "L" name. Although I might be harsh in hindsight. So, I have been examining lists of names starting with "L" to somehow fulfil this desire. There are not significant numbers of names beginning with "L", but this helps to shorten the list markedly.

But, I wondered, why "L"? What is my afinity for this letter driving me to find any and all names suitable for my progeny?

And then I realised.

I blame "Laverne and Shirley". I blame her cute little monogrammed "L" on every single shirt she worse. I blame her perky attitude and charming demeanour and her occasional guest visits on "Happy Days" and happy banter with the Fonz. Penny Marshall has a lot to answer for in the formation of my young mind.

2010-03-17T14:11:00.003+11:00

It has been a long time since I updated. I seemed to have abandoned this poor little blog of late. What has everyone been up to?

Well, I did my three weeks singing in Germany and surrounding countries, which was great fun and an interesting experience touring in a large group. People, by and large, are stupid, and group tours often has to lower to the most common denominator to function. Nevertheless, our guides and drivers were wonderful, patient and exquisitely organised and got us to all our gigs, accommodation and tours on time and cheerfully.

I followed this with a few days in Dubai visiting a girlfriend of mine from High School, who I get to see roughly every 5 years. Time passes by, and yet some people remain just wonderful souls to be around. Her life in Dubai is so different from our upbringing in suburban middle-class Brisbane. She consorts with high-fliers, is featured in local magazines and dresses in labels and brands beyond my comprehension (and budget). But somewhere, underneath it all, she is still the same girl I have always known, and can laugh and talk with for hours on end.

I returned home to go straight back into choir rehearsals again, and of course, Tap dancing classes which barely seem to have ended from last year.

Hmmm... what else have we been up to.... oh yeah, there is this as well....

12 weeks as of last weekend. I am fine, if a little exhausted and moody on occasion. Subtle is currently fine, if a little frayed with dealing with an alternately sick and moody wife, and an increasingly clingy cat.

2010-01-12T14:00:00.002+11:00

I am not sure if I am full of anything particularly interesting to write about right now. But I felt I should drop by and say hello before I am off on holidays again. Well, holidays is probably a stretch of a term since I am going to be touring with my choir through Germany and surrounds for 21 days. It will be exciting and interesting, but also hard work and frankly, bus tours make me want to shoot people. Subtle has been arming my iPod with lots of TV shows/movies/audiobooks so that I will not have to talk to people on the bus and can while away the hours travelling absorbing something interesting. Of course, it chooses this year to be one of the coldest winters on record... go me!

With the change of year (NOT DECADE PEOPLE... that is next year!), once again, loathe as I am to make resolutions, I am still keen to think about things I would like to do/achieve/change in the coming year. Of late I have been doing a lot of sewing again, and really enjoying the creative process. I would like to continue to explore this and expand my skills and maybe even make something without screaming and yelling at the machine. Subtle has already benefited from my reinvigorated interest by getting a unique Cow shirt from my very own hands, which makes me smile whenever he wears it. I would also like to formally put together the family recipes that have been passed down to me in some sort of photo book. Homey recipes they may be, but they are part of my history and I would like to record this for the future. And obviously, Subtle and I will continue back on our path of procreation. Of course, he will read that sentence, and just hear "mmm sex!".

I hope the new year has brought all of you good things. Any plans for 2010?

2009-12-31T13:50:00.002+11:00

Books I read in 2009:

1. "Wolves Eat Dogs" by Martin Cruz Smith

2. "Eclipse" by Stephanie Meyer

3. "Adventures of Huckleberry Finn" by Mark Twain

4. "The White Tiger" by Aravind Adiga

5. "The Last Temptation of Christ" by Nikos Kazantzakis

6. "Breaking Dawn" by Stephane Meyer

7. "The Slap" by Christos Tsiolkas

8. "The Red Scarf" by Kate Furnavall

9. "My Name was Judas" by C K Stead

10. "The Amber Room" by Steve Berry

11. "The Grapes of Wrath" by John Steinbeck

12. "The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society" by Mary Anne Schaffer

13. "Birdsong" by Sebastian Faulks

14. "The Memory Room" by Christopher Koch

15. "The Host" by Stephanie Meyer

16. "On the Edge" by Richard Hammond

17. "Wedding Season" by Katie Fforde

18. "Cassandra" by Kerry Greenwood

19. "Breath" by Tim Winton

20. "Fatherland" by Robert Harris

21. "Pawn of Prophecy" by David Eddings

22. "To the Hermitage" by Malcolm Bradbury

23. "Inappropriate Men" by Stacey Ballis

24. "Ransom" by David Malouf

25. "Queen of Sorcery" by David Eddings

26. "Man Walks into a Room" by Nicole Krauss

27. "How to kill your husband and other handy household hints" by Kathy Lette

28. "Castle of Wizardry" by David Eddings

29. "On Chesil Beach" by Ian McEwan

30. "First Among Sequels" by Jasper Fforde

31. "A Confederacy of Dunces" by John Kennedy Toole

32. "Enchanters Endgame" by David Eddings

33. "Cat's Cradle" by Kurt Vonnegut

34. "Red Planet" by Robert Heinlein

35. "Just Like That" by Lily Brett

36. "This Book Will Save Your Life" by A M Homes

37. "Picnic at Hanging Rock" by Joan Lindsay

38. "The Night Watch" by Sergei Lukyanenko

39. "Her Fearful Symmetry" by Audrey Niffenegger

40. "Ask the Dust" by John Fante

41. "Guardians of the West" by David Eddings

42. "King of the Murgos" by David Eddings

43. "Demon Lord of Karanda" by David Eddings

44. "Northanger Abbey" by Jane Austen

45. "Journey into the Whirlwind" by Eugenia Ginzberg

46. "Sorceress of Darshiva" by David Eddings

I always set an aim of around 50 books to read in a year, and this year, yet again, I fall short of the mark. I must also admit that there are quite a few pulp fiction type books in the list, but regardless, another year of reading ends. From this list of books, I must give extra snaps to the following;
(i) The Slap - for being a good read, but having NOT ONE character that I liked in it.
(ii) Last Temptation of Christ and My Name was Judas - both were wonderful reads, and reading them almost back to back had Subtle worried that I might be undertaking some sort of religious conversion.
(iii) Cassandra and Ransom - Both superbly written books which ignited an interest in mythology.
(iv) The optimistically named This book will save your life, which left both Subtle and I eager for more from this author.
(v) And finally, to On Chesil Beach for being the most inappropriate book to read on a honeymoon.

2009-12-18T15:09:00.002+11:00

You just can't take some people anywhere
I am about to relate a story that happened to Subtle and I on Tuesday night, and I will admit to actually being a little embarrassed by it. I don't get embarrassed as a general rule. Many have tried to embarrass me, and have failed. There are a few who have made me blush (yes, Subtle, you are one), and even those instances are very rare.

A little while ago, I decided that Subtle and I should go on a "date". You know, dress up, go somewhere really nice and have a nice dinner. Of course, in the interim, a few other events came up, and it ended up being another dinner in a week of glamorous and yummy dinners. But this was a dinner with just the two of us. So, sort of romantic. Sort of nice.

I picked out a restaurant that sounded fabulous, and made a booking. When we arrived on the night, the place was suitably busy and the decor and atmosphere drew me in straightaway. We were seated and began perusing the menu. Now, unfortunately for us, we were both quite hungry and had a later booking than I would have preferred. We immediately got down to business and ordered drinks and food. We were not sure as to the time frame that our meal would take, and as often happens in busy restaurants, were worried about some significant time.

We took a look to the table to my left and found that it was being exited by a large group of people. They had clearly had a banquet type of meal, the serving plates still there, and there was still untouched food on the platters. As they left, I looked at the untouched food (some dolmade type food if you must know) and looked at Subtle and salivated. I commented, "You know, it is just sitting there and noone would know if we snuck a bit of that completely untouched food!". To this Subtle responded with, "You know I am not going to stop you, and they are just going to throw it out!".

With logic like that, I was gone. I swooped into action, and deftly removed two darling dolmades and slipped then onto our plates. They were divine. The plan was complete, and we were up one little dolmade and I had saved the world from more wasted food.

Except.

Except as I had a piece of this delightful morsel half chewed in my mouth, our waiter took that exact moment to return to our table and enquire as to whether we had any dietary requirements the chef should be aware of. How does one not look sheepish and admit to no requirements? Clearly we are the worst sort of scabs stealing food from other tables!

The meal was wonderful and our waiters all in attendance appropriately. At the end of the night when the bill was presented, I added on a "generous" tip. Subtle spied the tip amount and commented, "Are you sure the service was worth that much?". Probably not, but my guilt comes at a high cost.

2009-11-18T15:54:00.003+11:00

The things that people say...

I am a great talker. (Please feign surprise if you can....) That said, I never feel the need for making idle conversation just for the sake of it. This has been the reason in the past that I have had difficulty in finding a new hairdresser when required. Similarly, finding someone to attend to my pubic topiary needs. I don't want to discuss the most inane things - frankly I would rather I could read a book and let them get on with it.

The same goes for idle chit-chat at parties and so forth. I detest the superficiality of many conversations, when it seems its only purpose is to fill the air with sound.

But my most LOATHED form of idle chat is the one I seem to be getting a lot of late. (In fact, both Mr Subtle and I.) It seems that since our nuptials, over three months ago, whenever we see someone that we may have not seen since then, or before, their only form of conversation is the question, "So how is married life?".

I can't tell you how frustrating and ridiculous I find this statement. I had taken to replying, with some element of glibness, "Oh just the same, except now I get to complain about my husband, rather than my boyfriend." I thought, perhaps, that this reaction was limited to myself, especially since I can be a trifle grumpy with people I perceive as stupid. But, thankfully, my darling Mr Subtle said that he has been getting inundated with the same question, and he too has come up with his standard answer. For him, he replies, "About the same, except now I get to wear this pretty ring!".

Bless him!

2009-11-05T15:41:00.003+11:00

Maturity

Today marks Subtle's 30th birthday* and his progression to a new phase of adulthood - or at least another version of it. As becomes more obvious as I get older, men don't really progress much past about 14 years of age. Bum and Fart jokes still make them giggle, and computer games and comics are common fodder for a growing contingent of the male population. When he gets together with his friends, as will occur this weekend, I feel like a mother shaking her head at the inane comments that abound and wonder for the fate of the world.

Of course, given the above commentary, one would assume that I must therefore assume some sort of superior role. And often, I think I do. Fart jokes don't make me laugh, and slap-stick humour, that which often proves hilarious to our youth, makes me cringe. But I have to admit to a few "word issues" that I do have. I work in the medical field and strangely, the words that I find difficult to say without giggling are related to work.

Firstly, I can't say "verge" . A part of the anatomy that we often treat is the "anal verge"... so I hear verge, and then my head hears anal - and well, it is all downhill from there. Secondly, I can't say "vault" . Another area we treat is the "vaginal vault"... so I hear vault, and go to vagina, and the giggling starts all over again.**

So I really have to relinquish my high horse, because it seems that while my infantile husband might like fart and bum jokes, it appears that I am only one step removed from liking them myself.

* Happy Birthday my darling man!

**The other words I have trouble with are not related to work. But I think it doesn't take much to work out why I have difficulty with "snatch" and "fingering".

2009-10-15T16:43:00.003+11:00

After having an extended break from blogging, one would expect that I might have lots to write about. Sadly, I don't. In fact, I really have had one thing on my mind of late. And that is a word. And the word is "miscarriage".

This word has been quite meaningful for Subtle and I lately. It is a funny thing when someone says "You lost the baby". How can I lose it? It was in the same place that we put it the last time I looked! But, apparently, lose we did.

Grief is a funny thing. People cope differently with it, and grief about something that was little more than an "idea" or a plan is hard to fathom and articulate. To all around you, you have lost nothing. But to you, you have lost the plans and future you had made. Subtle is stoic and wonderfully supportive, both in being there physically when I needed him, and emotionally when all I could do was cry. Yet again, I realise how lucky I am to have this wonderful man with me in my life.

The loss was sudden and physically painful. The sadness was profound, heart-wrenching, but surprisingly short-lived. Perhaps the reinstatement of my anti-depressants helped with that, as well as some good therapy sessions and time with Subtle for us to discuss and ponder it all. People around us have been caring and thoughtful. Well except for the pointed questions of "So, do they know what went wrong?". I can tell you that having that question posed only 12 hours after the "procedure", was not well received.

Philosophical ponderings of "well, it just wasn't meant to be this time", are not quite the point of recovery that I am at yet either. One day perhaps, but not today. Possibly not even tomorrow.

I know the future is still uncertain, but with Subtle by my side, I am assured that we will be okay. I am also conscious of worries about "next time", but I keep telling myself, that we will face those worries together when the time comes.

2009-09-02T16:09:00.002+10:00

Questions of Etiquette

I have a regular pubic groomer. Getting someone who is not too chatty and not too half-witted to talk to whilst tending to my nether regions is something that has been an issue for me. Similar to the issue of getting a hairdresser one is comfortable with, the pubic hairdresser has a generally unpleasant task and is someone that you want to trust. Not being same sex inclined, it is also a matter of some delicacy in having some female looking intently, in bright lights, at my mons pubis.

But thankfully, my groomer is lovely. Appropriately chatty, not too young to make me feel old, not too thin or beautiful to make me feel inadequate, and certainly brisk and efficient at her job making the whole process pass by as painlessly as possible.

But I have one issue. Only one single, little tiny issue. I have no idea of her name. She doesn't wear a name badge. The salon is small, and generally she is the only one working during the week when I attend. So I can't turn up and have someone say, "Hello, will be with you in a moment!". After seeing her now for many months, how does one just say, "By the way, I know you are intimate with my Labia, but what is your name?". I just can't do it. So I think, in my head, I will just have to call her Mulva. Or Dolores.

2009-08-23T19:30:00.012+10:00

A few wedding happy snaps...

Those of you who have read Subtle's, you will be already appraised of the wedding day. Everything went wonderfully. Better than wonderful. Foolproof. Perfect. Divine.

I began my morning with Brunch with Katja and Co, and then went onto pack up all my things and pick up my quasi-bridesmaids. The most surprising part of the day was the upgrade we were treated to on arrival at the hotel. I was told that there would be an upgrade. But nothing, NOTHING, compares to being upgraded to the Presidential Suite (worth allegedly $6500/night). A grand piano, 8 person dining room, double King Beds and a bathroom bigger than some homes was a startling surprise. Of course, we took it all in our stride, and the bridesmaids and I did *not* run around giggling. Much.

The spa was trialled, as was the TV above it. We are nothing but grace and decorum.

After the hair and makeup was done, and before the dress was donned, we had little to do amuse ourselves with except composing arty shots. Apparently my garter (courtesy of my wonderful Tap Class) became a feature of some note. Along with my perfume. Arty-shots.. who understands them?

I had no desire for a veil, but had to produce some sort of hair garnish to feel suitably bridal. This was what I opted for - a silver/crystal/beaded headpiece and feather.

Sentimental words, and some legalities, and here we are with an official marriage certificate!

Somehow the ring doesn't photograph as well as it looks in person. But trust me, it blings!

Here I am.... oh, that's right, I am obscured by a group of people and this *is* meant to be an anonymous blog. But the train of my dress is quite pretty don't you think?

Here is Subtle, or at least, part of him. He didn't want to wear any sort of buttonhole flower, but some rose petals were thrown after the ceremony and apparently someone felt the need to stuff them in his jacket. We are nothing but class.

The cake required many taste tests to come up with something that made the groom happy, and not panic the bride. I probably won't feel like Chocolate Port Cake for a little while longer, but regardless, it looked fantastic and tasted wonderful. Thanks to Miss Stems for her artful arrangement of flowers and to Miss Tracey for her recipe!

I hadn't planned on many speeches being given, but quite a few were - mostly impromptu. As a result, I apologise to the guests for boring them.

Inevitably, with too many drinks consumed during the reception, confusion abounded as to whose drink was whose. Sadly I think all these drinks are actually water.

By the end of the night, we were all quite a lot worse for wear. So much so that my bridesmaids could no longer determine push from pull at doors. Lucky they looked pretty.

I hope this satisfies some people's need for photos.... back to our regular programming in the near future!

2009-08-06T21:01:00.002+10:00

Just a short one...

Tomorrow is the day. Subtle and I are heading up the aisle and starting marital bliss. The last day or so have seen me a little stressed cooking the wedding cake, meeting the family matriarch and god knows what million other little things that need to be done. Though things are not always perfect with Subtle and I (and anybody who professes to a perfect relationship is deluded!), through it all he and I have tried to keep focused on what is important and to filter out the shit that comes along. We look forward to being able to affirm our love in public and make a commitment to each other. I have seen some rocky times in my love life, but Subtle has provided the most wonderful, grounding, secure and loving relationship that I have ever had. The ceremony, reception and honeymoon await, after which we return as Mr and Mrs Subtle.

2009-07-28T14:02:00.003+10:00

Ten to go....

Ten days out from the wedding and many people are asking me the same question.

"Are you excited?"

How does one answer that? If you don't answer with an emphatic "Yes!", people think there is something with you. But really, describing my feelings as "excitement" is a strange thing, more like joyful anticipation. I am a little anxious, but only for the day and the plans to all come to fruition. I am looking forward to marrying Subtle, and being on our holiday. But, honestly, the progression to marriage in our relationship seems so natural, that "excitement" is not the right word.

That all said, this is after all, me, and drama should be my middle name. I could have made things easy on myself by sub-contracting out all jobs for the wedding, and just sat around doing my nails. But, no, I must have drama, and have given myself the job of cooking the wedding cake - the multi-layer, multiple, fancy iced wedding cake. So my currently list of things to do prior to next Friday's joyous event includes;
- Purchasing 4kg of butter, 3 dozen eggs, 4kg of sugar, 1.2kg of Chocolate and then bulk amounts of other delightful ingredients
- Cooking in my domestic oven, 6 cakes in ranges of 10 to 12 inches in diameter
- Finding time to somehow get my nails looking decent
- Continue removing any trace evidence of hair on my body for my beachside honeymoon
- Meet Subtle's family matriarch and impress her
- Entertain out of town guests
- Practice wearing my wedding shoes so I don't have blisters the size of beach balls
- Continue daily exfoliating to avoid any last minute stress pimples
- Bleach my teeth white so that I can at least attempt to smile in some photos
- Write romantic and meaningful wedding vows that don't sound like bad greeting cards
- Avoid killing any or all members of my or Subtle's family

Anything else I have left out?

2009-07-21T16:49:00.002+10:00

Cleavage.. of a most peculiar kind

This friday, it will be two weeks until our nuptials. I keep a record of the days as they progress, just to make sure I can assimilate the fact that I am getting married and to stem the little sick feeling of panic that keeps trying to rise at the back of my throat.

Don't get me wrong. I am very much looking forward to being Mrs Subtle. It is just the sheer fact of things to be done, combined with financial "issues" and work getting in the way. More than anything, I look forward to about two days post wedding when we are sunning ourselves in Thailand, looking over a cheesy paperback at my beloved, sipping Mai Thais, with nary a care in the world.

My latest issue of note has been my dress. *The* dress. The white frou-frou frock of matrimony. The dress is indeed quite lovely, and I am looking forward to wearing it and feeling quite lovely. At my first fitting for it two weeks ago, the dress was too large. Unless one does couture, the bridal outfitters buy in the "closest approximate" size to your dimensions and then modify it to fit. Bespoke for the financially challenged. Apparently my measurements and the size resulting, do not necessarily tally to a fit on my body. No matter....the staff began inserting pins and taking measurements of dress reduction and assured me all would be well.

Fitting number two last Friday found me in the changeroom in high heels and my underwear - feeling strangely like some outcast from a porn film. The dress was dragged over my head and zipped up. No deep breathing for me, but who needs breathing when the aim is to look lovely! I left the changeroom to get in front of the mirror - handily located in the middle of the store. I looked lovely. Bridal even. I admired the bodice of the gown which made me feel quite feminine. The flow of the skirt and the colour against my skin were all perfect. And then I stood side on for a profile view. And that is when I noticed disaster.

I am not a small girl. Ok, I mean, I am short, but bust wise, and general shape is lumpy. Curvy. Rubenesque. Call it what you will, but I ain't no frail little thing. But I am generally ok with that. What I didn't expect to see, when looking side on in my wedding dress was cleavage both front and back. Yes people, I am the proud owner of back fat. I have a muffin top on my back. The squeezing, cinching bodice, has revealed fat where shoulder blades should be.

I may have screamed. I don't remember. I just remember alerting the staff to this matter and becoming a little shrill and terse! They moved into action, workshopping a few ideas to solve this new dilemma. Liposuction passed through my mind. As did spending the entire day with my back to a wall. With careful shuffling of undergarments, and a sleight of hand, the back fat slipped down under the dress, back from whence it came. I am still hesitant and going to pack some tape, just in case my back fat misbehaves and needs to be cajoled into submission.

I have two self-appointed bridesmaids for the day*. Their duties are fairly simple. One has the dubious honour of helping me pee. And the other is on back fat alert. I may have to restrict her alcohol to ensure she keeps up her job!

*Yes, there are people who really wanted the job that much they self designated themselves.

2009-06-25T16:32:00.003+10:00

Conventions

I never think of myself of being non-conformist. In fact, I think I am incredibly normal, and positively dull on occasion. I go to work, five days a week, and partake in a few little hobbies on the side. I don't drink to excess very often. I don't smoke. I don't inject, swallow or smoke anything illicit. I borrow books from the library and return them on time. You know, normal.

Strangely it seems, with the wedding plans, I am apparently quite the non-conventionalist. I left a woman I work with, both shocked and appalled when she asked about some of my wedding plans recently.

She began by asking to see my engagement ring.

NON-CONVENTIONALITY #1...... I have no engagement ring. There will be a ring. Of course there will be. I want BLING. Massive, fuck-off, drag-hand-on-the-ground, avert your eyes for the brightness type of Bling. But that bling is not coming until we get married. After breaking the news to this woman that there was no ring for now, I commented that hopefully the ring will be there on the day, since there was still quite a significant amount of it to be paid for. She giggles and says to me, "But that is not your problem to worry about!"

NON-CONVENTIONALITY #2...... I am paying for my ring. In fact, at this stage, I am paying for most of the wedding. Finances are such at the moment that Subtle doesn't have many spare pennies. In good time, I hope this imbalance will be sorted. But for now, I am the main bread-winner and therefore, chief bread-slicer. I briefly explained this to her. She tried to not look disappointed and shocked. No matter, she picked herself up to forge on with what would be her final question, "So what will your name be after the wedding?"

(Apparent) NON-CONVENTIONALITY #3......I am not changing my surname. At this point, R who had been sitting (mostly) quietly by, could no longer suppress his comments. He interjected with, "I am voting for 'Cathy'!". I tried, futilely, to explain that firstly I had been married before and changed my name that time. It didn't work for me. I hated it. I didn't feel right. MY surname is what feels right. Secondly, I am not 23 any more. (The age at my last marriage.) At 23 years old, my life/career was just starting, so changing my name was no big deal. At my age now, I am more established. I am comfortable and known. So there will be no name-changing.

I tried to rescue the conversation by laughing it off and saying "I know, I am a disappointment as a bride!". But no such luck, for her I was a wasted bridezilla opportunity.

So to further disappoint people - here are the other things NOT being done for our wedding.
- I am not being walked down the "aisle" by my father.
- I am not being "given away".
- We are not having a wedding rehearsal dinner.
- We are having no readings at the ceremony.
- We are having neither groomsmen or bridesmaids.
- We are not having a sitdown dinner.
- We are not having a "first" dance.
- I am not wearing a garter or any of those other silly ornaments.
- I am not throwing a bouquet.
- We are not having a formal photographer.
- I refuse to walk the aisle to the strains of "Here comes the bride!".

But I am wearing white.

2009-06-12T15:53:00.003+10:00

Relatives: Can't live with 'em. Can't kill 'em.

Having been married before, I sort of knew what I was getting into when beginning to arrange this shindig called our wedding. I knew that there would be tantrums (mostly mine), apathy (mostly Subtle's) and family dramas.

In my former life, the family dramas were all played out by ex-husband's mother. In simple terms, she was a nutter. She had declared that I had to have the ex's sister as a bridesmaid. Then she declared that she wouldn't come if we got married in a Catholic church. The final clincher was a week out from the wedding, his sister claims that he sexually abused her when she was about three years old. He would have been five. Did I mention his sister was a nutter as well? A bona fide locked away type nutter. I should have known then that things were not well in that family. But I married into it. And then divorced from it.

This time I was prepared for smooth sailing. No obvious nutters in Subtle's family (well his sister is a little strange - but nothing compared to what I have deal with!) and other than a few financial issues, all seems good from our end as well. And then *my* family decided to go crazy.

I don't know how people in Hollywood who have fifteen marriages do it, mostly Vegas-style with only them and Elvis I suppose, but there is something weird about re-inviting people to your second wedding. Something a little bit deja vu about it all. So in an effort to not "feel weird" and to also keep down numbers, we have opted for (a) a fairly informal wedding reception, canapes, drinks and cake, (b) a registry office service and (c) a small(ish) gathering of friends and family (note the order of importance there!). So that said, of my large extended family, I invited only three aunts, one uncle and two cousins. And this is where it all fell apart.

Apparently, one aunt and uncle were offended that I didn't invite their son and his wife. They were so offended that they rang my parents and hurled all manner of disappointment and bad manners their way. They claimed that I did it maliciously and clearly don't like them, their son, his wife and made intimations about what it might mean for the future of the family.

FOR FUCK'S SAKE!

I thought I was saving them the bother of more presents for their errant relation (me!) who clearly couldn't make good on the first marriage. I also thought, well, I don't see them much, and hell, Subtle isn't inviting ANY of his cousins, so I don't need to really get them all coming. But you know, apparently not. So, in the spirit of trying to preserve the relationship my parent's had with one of their closest relations, I invited the son and daughter-in-law. God knows if any of them will now come. And really, it makes one not really care if they do or not. They weren't upset about not coming because they had wanted to celebrate our day with us - they were upset because they perceived that it was meant as some slight on their family!

So now I am left wondering, will Subtle wonder what he has married into after the behaviour of my kooky family?

2009-05-20T09:36:00.004+10:00

Cause you gave me the best mixtape I have,
And even all the sad songs ain't so sad

Sometimes I pine for the simple days of youth. I don't pine for the teen angst, mind you. Such angst which leaves a young girl feeling doubt over herself, and reduces her mother to sending her a Valentine's Card. Oh, yeah, they were happy days. But simpler days when you couldn't be contacted all the time, and times when not every thought you had in your head wasn't worthy of publishing to the world (Yes, Twitter, I am looking at you!). Times when "stealing" music meant you had pocketed a cassingle at Target, or taped a song off the radio. Innocent times when one passed notes in class, and looked up dirty words in the dictionary.

I remember fondly one romantic gesture of my youth which I fear has gone all fancy and high-tech these days, and that is the mixtape. My first mixtape I received was from a boy who had a long standing crush on me. Like Nick Hornby's analysis, this young gent had put great thought and skill into the tape. Timings, songs, delicate use of the "Pause" button and careful selection of music to convey the right message, and keep the listener engaged. Over 20 years has passed since this tape was made for me, and sadly the only song I can remember on it was "Reet Petite". For those not old enough to know this treasure of a tune, it features the following phrase,

Well, she's so fine, fine fine, She's so fine fine
She's so fine, She's so fine, fine, fine
She's really sweet, the finest girl you ever wanna meet

Oh yes. He was madly in love with me.

The next mixtape I received was actually on my wedding day from my (now, ex) husband. He had secreted himself home everyday and worked on it before I got in. Doing a song or so a day until the happy day of our nuptials and then presented to our driver to play in the car that was chauffeuring me to the wedding. I turned up at the church with the blaring of "We're going to the chapel", which was amazingly heard from inside the church over the revving of the historic car's V12 engine.

I think I have always been a sucker for things like mixtapes, or at the very least, knowing that there are songs that make someone special think of you. Of course, these days, a mixtape is done on a CD with fancy mixing and things downloaded easily from the web. Seems like cheating. Where is the finesse in compiling a songlist in iTunes and pressing the Burn button? Where are the simple romantic gestures of yesteryear?

2009-05-08T10:51:00.004+10:00

For the wont of something to write about

I think I have run out of things to say. I frequently feel guilt about not being a regular blogger anymore, and constantly try and think of things that might make good blog fodder. But inspiration seems to be running dry these days. Wedding plans are not the most interesting thing for me to write about. We have a date, venue, dress, honeymoon and invitations. A few more things to organise, but really, it is all starting to fall into place. A few frustrations and stresses in the house, but nothing that is particularly strange or spectacular considering the events unfolding in the months ahead.

I think I may have become boring.

No longer do I have tales of scandalous dates to tell, or emotional highs or lows to relive. I have found happiness and contentment and security. Those things are not the stuff of great writing. At least for me anyway! Makes me almost consider going off the anti-depressants so I can have a bit of roller-coasting emotional fun back in my life. Almost. That statement should get a good reaction out of Subtle!

The most outrageous thing to happen recently involved my night-time face cream. We were preparing for slumber the other evening - brushing teeth, removing makeup, that sort of thing, when I squirted out my moisturiser to apply my nightly attempt at youth maintenance. It proceeded to splurt over part of my hand, the sink and some of the splashback. And at that moment, I fell about laughing.

It looked precisely like cum.

Subtle almost choked on his toothbrush when I made this statement. So here we are three months from our wedding, when I am considering what vows I should write, and I am reduced to the wit of semen jokes.

2009-04-27T16:05:00.000+10:00

Learning Curve

Every day with Subtle is a learning process. Our relationship has been a process of learning how men think (apparently they do!) and learning about my reactions. Three years of therapy later and I am learning, albeit slowly, about how I function in relationships, both romantic and otherwise. The relationship with my mother, for example, is one that is often examined in therapy. Perhaps it would be easier if we shared less genes and she was less insane. But I digress.

So Subtle are learning from each other. I am attempting to have him learn how to make a bed correctly and fold towels in the way in which I prefer them. He has successfully learnt to make me cups of tea when required, and now knows the correct parsley to buy when I ask him too.

But what have I learnt from Subtle? I have learnt two things most importantly. I have learnt that when preparing a shopping list for him, I must include absolutely everything: brand, size, colour. Despite the fact that 99% of the time he comes with me when getting groceries, he apparently has not noticed ANY of the brands etc that we buy EVERY week. The second thing I have learned from him will be invaluable for the rest of my life. To quote from Subtle:" Loosy Lefty, Tighty Righty".

The man is a wealth of knowledge.

2009-04-14T16:45:00.005+10:00

Getting my priorities right

I fear that this blog may become some sort of a wedding journal. My apologies for that. Rest assured that I am still here, but there seems to be this Bride type creature lurking. After a long weekend of even more unpacking and cleaning up, we were able to start some work on the wedding "To Do" list. I am proud to say that two of the most important matters towards the occasion are now completed. We have booked our honeymoon - which is so far destined to consist of Subtle sitting poolside with a book or ten, and me off to cooking classes, shopping and cultural endeavours. I say it will be the best honeymoon ever! Secondly, I have made one of the most significant purchases towards my trousseau of the day. Yes people, I have my SHOES. Dress - no idea. Ceremony location - not a clue. Vows - zilch.

But, Shoes! All praise to the pretty.... and a matching handbag of course!

2009-04-09T15:22:00.003+10:00

Lessons in Meditation required. Along with a cheap caterer!

All things are going crazy at Chez Cath and Subtle at the moment. We have moved house, to a lovely new townhouse with plenty of room for Miss Isabella and our myriad of crap*. The place has boxes aplenty which provides Isabella with hours of amusement - well minutes anyway. I am awash with stress over organising the house and with organising a wedding.

JESUS. I am getting married in less than four months! How did that happen?

*deep breaths*

One would think that having been married before, I could whip up a little marital soiree without blinking an eye. What do you need to do after all... arrange somewhere to get hitched, find somewhere to maybe swill back some booze and snacks after, a frock to where and maybe some way to tell people about it all. But no, it isn't that easy is it. Most of the time, Subtle and I are careful *not* to use the word wedding when talking to venues etc, for fear of the seeming ability of anything related to weddings to be more expensive. This is the time that one calls on favours and finds people who know people who can do things that might help. You know a celebrant? Are they cheap? I heard you bake? Want to do a cake? You know, that sort of thing.

Unfortunately, my usual level-headedness (do *not* laugh) is starting to take a sideways manouevre and the beginnings of a bride-zilla are forming. I know that I have been snappy lately to Subtle, but his usual calm, laidback, relaxed nature, is causing me some grief at the moment. I seem to have a list of things to do that should have been done (according to all the bridal magazines and organisational guides) about six months ago. And strangely he looks at me with nothing to do and his only repeated comment so far has been related to wanting taste tests of wedding cakes! If he isn't careful, I maybe placing a cake somewhere he doesn't want it!

Oh bring on marital bliss......

* Subtle might dispute that the crap is an "our".... apparently it is mostly mine.

2009-03-23T06:59:00.003+11:00

Ahem, is the microphone on.... I have a little something to announce

Readers of this blog may be familiar with my somewhat chequered history with men and relationships. The only consistent thing in all my failed attempts was, as my mother keenly points out, is me. But after three years in therapy, and five years of blogging about it all, things seem to have fallen nicely into place. I met Subtle through this blog - for some reason, perhaps as a result of his own unhappy circumstances at the time - about three years ago he started reading the ravings of this woman. Apparently he found it interesting, and maybe a little escapist from his own trials, to read about those of someone else. No matter what the reason, he read and liked what he read. After some time he began to comment and then after even more time, we met. Engaging and sweet at the start, and a great friend to have on the other end of the inter-webs.

The emails, turned into phone calls and messaging throughout the day. Before I knew it, I found I got to work in the morning just wanting to get online to tell him what was going on. I knew something was afoot when Kate was visiting on her annual Gastro-Porn tour* and I just had to have her meet Subtle. Within weeks of introducing Kate to Subtle, my friendship with him turned to romance - with the aid of some very fine red wine. And in time the romance has turned into something very wonderful.

Very soon we were living together and sharing every day with each other. And now it has changed yet again. I am happy to announce our engagement. You know, for like marriage and stuff. It seems natural in so many ways, but still clearly wows me. The fact that I woke up at sparrow fart this morning considering wedding "things" shows that this whole thing has taken me for a spin. I am sure before long I will be bandying about the terms like "fiance" and so forth with aplomb. But for now, even thinking it gives me a little giggle inside and a huge case of the "Oh My God's!!!!".

*Known to most people as the "Good Food and Wine Show".

2009-03-17T13:10:00.003+11:00

Standing in Fiction Stretched High on Bare Feet

Anyone who even remotely knows me, knows that I am rarely without a book to read. Clearly if you have been reading this blog, and have cast your eyes to the right, you would have noticed I list the books that I read over the year. It is indeed an aim to read 50 books in a year, but so far I have fallen short - but I will get there. Further, I will admit to having a few issues with purchasing books in the past. I seem unable to say no to certain things when shopping. Shoes, handbags, DVDs, CDs and, last but certainly not least, books.

In an effort to staunch the constant flow of finances from my wallet, I have been cutting back on my shoe purchases. I have only bought one handbag in the past 6 months. DVD purchases have virtually gone to a standstill, and CDs have slowed significantly, somewhat related to a massive lack of storage. But, until now, books have been my source of solace. Caressing their new pages, hearing the crack of the spine when you open it for the first time, smelling the inky newness from the page. All these things make it hard for me to say no to a book, or ten, when I enter a bookstore. My last trip to the USA found me scrambling in the airport to fit as many books I could into my on-board luggage (it was a combination of a fantastic AU Dollar and the ridiculously cheap prices for paperbacks in the USA that was to blame!).

So it has as a huge surprise to me of late, that I am not aching to spend money on books like I used to. In fact, I was in a multinational bookstore on the weekend, with a collection of books that I was eager to buy, and walked out purchasing none of them. Of course, the piles of books that litter my bedside tables, floor, corridors, double stacked on the bookshelves, etc, do give one a sense of pause when about to buy more. But nay, the main culprit that has halted my incessant book purchasing need is a new discovery I have made. Apparently, there are locations, all around this fine city where they will let you take perfectly good books, and read them for free. FOR FREE! Why I never! I can even put an order in, online, and then go and get the book at a later date. And when I have finished reading it, I can take it back for someone else to enjoy (what ho, is this recycling?) and not have it cluttering up my house. I know, seems to good to be true. But yes, such a thing exists. Apparently I am a bit slow to jump on this latest trend, but look about you and look for these strange places called "Libraries". It may just change your reading, and spending, habits!

2009-03-13T11:56:00.004+11:00

Fear and Moving in (not quite) Las Vegas

Excuse my tardiness of late - things are crazy busy at Chez Cath and Subtle. We have decided to move to different premises, and now will be moving within the next two weeks. So it is all crazy packing, and organising, and a bit more packing, and a few phone calls, repeat ad nauseum....

Subtle is accusing me of moving just so we don't have to continue using the cleaner I hired. It isn't that she was bad, so much that I don't think the idea of paying someone to clean is that I still have to come along and fix up the things that they sort of "missed". What makes it worse is that she is a really nice lady. Lucky for me, I just rang the agency and said, "Oh we are moving and we don't quite know what we are going to do at the new place yet [mumble mumble]".

The only good thing about the move (other than being hopefully able to chuck out some stuff that is well overdue), is the opportunity now of buying a new fridge. Yes, I am that sad. But it is shiny, super environmentally friendly and works!

But aside from all that, I have one thought going on in my head these days*. Subtle, god bless him, made a comment the other day about me. He said that I am scary. Although, he did also go on to say that all women, dating men, are scary. It seems that it is the duty of straight men to be scared of their partners. Is this true? Why? Is it fear for a Lorena Bobbit-type revenge if they should do something stupid? Is it based in a man's self-confidence? Or are men only scared of "their" woman if they actually care about them and the future of that relationship? I can tell you that I am sure that Bond was never scared of me, and I doubt that too many other men I have dated had fear constantly coursing through their veins. But is that because they were not in love with me? Anyway, interested on people's thoughts. Don't mind me, I will be off sharpening my knives.

*OK, I always have about a million of thoughts concurrently spinning around, but let us just concentrate on one for now.

2009-02-23T13:12:00.003+11:00

And the Oscar goes to....

In honour of today's Oscar ceremony, I thought I would discuss a few movies. Rather than praising those movies which are considered fantastic and a "must-see", I wanted to go over a few films that I won't see, or won't see again.

One of the first movies I must mention is "Steel Magnolias". I have indeed seen it, and cried appropriately. But since 1989 (!), I became diabetic, and for those of you who can remember the finer points of the story, Julia Roberts plays a diabetic. And she dies. I can see no reason why I would want to see this movie again, but that little reminder of my increased chances of an early death is a very compelling reason to not go there.

Another one, for personal reasons, that I won't see is "Lorenzo's Oil". I have heard that it is a wonderful and moving film, but for me, it looks like a sob-fest from the opening credits. Rarely do I feel like crying *that* much.

I shamefully will admit that I saw "Titanic" on the big screen - didn't we all? Although my lasting memory of this movie is declaring at the beginning, jokingly to my movie companion, "You know the ship sinks at the end?", and being shushed from the row in front for "spoiling it for them". But realistically, I don't think I need to spend another 3+ hours of my life watching Leo be "King of the World", knowing that he is going to die and wandering why good old Kate couldn't have shuffled over on that door and made room for him!

There are some actors I avoid in movies purely since they offend me so much. Meg Ryan is a classic example. I have seen a couple of her movies, but certainly not for her input. She might be everyone's favourite good-time girl - but she shits me. Another person I avoid, in specific roles is Adam Sandler. Put him in something (allegedly) funny, and I run a mile. Put him in dramatic roles, for example "Reign over me", and I have a different opinion. But sometimes, it is best to err on the side of caution and avoid.

I do admit to having a fondness for musicals, and yes, many of them can be bad, but for escapist movies, they can't be beat. A personal favourite movie is "Funny Girl", with Barbra at her best - she won the Oscar for her role. But I just don't know what happened between this movie and its sequel, "Funny Lady". I think I managed to sit through about 30 minutes of this movie. Thirty long and agonizing minutes. The pain was excrutiating. The movie dull, and the characters devoid of any likeability. I almost cried for the horror of where so many things in the movie went wrong. I am tempted to try and watch it again, just to see how things turn out - but I don't think I can put myself through that again.

Of course, there are so many bad movies of which I have blocked out of my mind and cannot recall, and probably countless others which I have refused so categorically to see that the mere mention will draw a shudder from my depths - but this is a start.

That was quite cathartic really!

2009-02-13T13:45:00.000+11:00

What dreams may come

Subtle and I have a bit of a routine going. Every morning, more often than not, we compare the dreams we had overnight. I dream a lot, but rarely remember them to much detail. He dreams a lot, and remembers them quite well. Usually, when describing our dreams, they start off with "I had a weird dream last night...".

For example, last night I dreamed I was working in a McDonald's type store, and was stressed because I didn't know what went on a Big Mac. In my dream I was desperately trying to remember the stupid saying that starts with "Two all meat patties...". I have never known it, and I never eat McDonald's*, so I had no knowledge to draw on. After my stint in McDonald's, my dream moved on trying to by some Russian chocolate in Aldi. (Russian chocolate is actually fantastic.) Two nights before this I dreamed I was remarrying my ex-husband.

See, they are all pretty strange and weird. When I was much younger, one dream I had, which I can still remember vividly to this day involved me teaching a class in a night school. The lights went out, and when they came back on again, I was on the ground in an inch of blood. There was blood and gore everywhere, and brain tissue on the blackboard. Oh yeah - that doesn't scream bizarre childhood does it?

But I must admit that my best, and strangest, dream to date is one from few weeks ago. I dreamed that I gave birth. I gave birth to puppies. Six, in fact. Six sweet little smooth-skinned angel faced puppies. I was frantic, in my dream, that I did not possess six nipples to feed my progeny. So spent some time constructing an elaborate feeding mechanism for my babies. Puppies. Not even kittens, since I am quite predisposed to the feline fur-child.

So now when Subtle says to me "I had a weird dream last night". I respond with "Did you give birth to puppies?". Unless he can compete with that, he is not even in the same competition.

*Drunk I have been known to eat a sundae. The last time I ate a whole burger by myself was in 2002 - in Poland. I don't think that this counts!

2009-02-10T13:36:00.003+11:00

Guilt and Shopping

It has been a few weeks now since my injury, and I am still hobbling around. It is improving in that I have no bruising anymore, and the swelling is isolated to the joint of concern. I have been undertaking physio which proves to be a twice-weekly reminder of the pain that still exists there. Tap dancing is becoming a distant memory, and the thought of being able to run is indeed foreign. I am assured that one day it will be ok once again. But for now, walking is challenging enough for me.

But the real crime of the whole situation is not the costly physio, ongoing pain or cankles I suffered. The pain is that I can't wear my normal shoes. No high heels. At all. Now with compromised balance, teetering in heels is a no go zone. I have been able to manage some very careful sauntering in wedges with full support around my foot. My physiotherapist said that I could start introducing some heels back into my wardrobe this week. I leapt with glee and then perused my selection. It seems that I own a couple of pairs of flat shoes, some casual trainer type shoes and all the rest are minimum two inches high. Minimum!

Begrudgingly I had to admit that I am not yet able to tolerate my usual footwear. I was then faced with a shoe dilemna. Clearly I needed some shoes, even just for work, that had "some" small heel to begin the transition back to normality. Do I spend my usual on a pair of fashionably reasonable shoes, despite the fact that I don't particularly enjoy a mid-heel height shoe? Or do I buy the cheapest I can to "do the job" until I am back to normal? I am certainly tempted by the latter option, much as it shames me to say. Unless of course, I can ignore the guilt that Subtle is trying to lay on me when I say the words, "I think I need to buy new shoes!"

2009-02-03T13:28:00.003+11:00

A meaty encounter

One of the great joys of my weekend, nay, any day, but weekend is when I get to actually indulge this joy, is brunch. It is a holistic experience. The lazy and slow start to the day, the cup of coffee to start, the food... perhaps with a book to read, or the paper, or even a friend to chat with. My requirements with this wonderful ritual are few, but perhaps, particular.

I like to have a nice environment - somewhere small and cosy, preferably a little left of centre. I also like table service - queuing at a counter dispels any form of relaxation for me. I like the music to not be intrusive and the presence of screaming children at a minimum. And then we can get to the menu and the food on offer. I tend to prefer a simple menu. Don't bring me any of your fancy, gourmet, "inspired" menus. I want good quality, plentiful, delicious Breakfast/Brunch fare.

And this is where the problem is arising in cafes these days.

There seems to be a move amongst the newest wave of eclectic cafes to removing one ingredient from the menu which I believe, for me, defines Brunch. This item is Bacon. Religious grievances aside, bacon is quintessentially Brunch. The one legacy of the pig may one day its contribution of heart valves to human transplant, but for now, it is bacon. That magic, salty meat is manna to one's heart and soul. It eases the pain of a hangover, and cures all manner of emotional ailments.

So why why why is it now becoming so loathesome to restauranters of late? More and more I am striking cafes from my list of eating posts due to the lack of bacon on the menu. I beseech the cafes in my area, consider the crimes against gastronomy that you are committing. Please return our piggy friend to the pages of your menu, and then I shall return to your establishments. Until then, Babe and I might have to stay home!

2009-01-28T11:05:00.002+11:00

"I can't stand up for falling down"

I have never pretended that I am glamorous or elegant. I think my potty mouth usually dispels any mystery there. I am capable of being quite adept on my feet when there is music playing (evidence my attempts at tap and other dancing), but I really don't possess great hand/eye coordination. I nearly always wear shoes with some sort of significant heel, which takes some level of skill to master. Many years of practice has meant that I am enviable in heels, and Subtle admittedly likes the swagger that a heel adds to one's walk.

But generally I consider myself a little clutzy. Although I have no great history of self-inflicted wounds, as in broken bones and the like, my clutziness was proven two weeks ago when I managed to fall down some stairs and sprain my ankle*. In bare feet. With no alcohol. I have been trying to find ways to dramatize the story - at the very least to make it sound less pathetic. I have been asked was I drinking heavily? No. I was also asked what sort of activity was I undertaking - wild and exotic dancing? None - just walking. I also have tried telling people that it wasn't my fault - Subtle pushed me down the stairs, but really it is more believable that I am just clumsy (and he wasn't home at the time anyway - but no matter).

The irony of the situation is that as I was walking down the stairs, I was cuddling Isabella, reassuring her that everything was ok**. The words "Mummy wouldn't let anything ever happen to you" were barely out of my mouth when I collapsed in a screaming bundle, almost squashing Isabella into the bargain. She ran for safe cover from my weeping and moaning, while I had to hop to the phone to tell Subtle I had hurt myself.

Clearly I need to not only work on my personal balance, but also train the cat to autodial for assistance. I am now hobbling, and out of tap action for a few weeks. I hope that regular programming will resume shortly! To add insult to injury, I am reduced to wearing flat open shoes to work. Oh for shame....

* My sprain is apparently "quite bad" with a full tear of a ligment, some sexy bruising from my toes to my calf and some quite stunning swelling.

**We were staying in another house with a large, sort of dumb (but well-meaning), dog at the time.

2009-01-14T13:54:00.005+11:00

Special dates

Today marks a special occasion. My blogiversary. This day five years ago, I put finger to keyboard and began this blog. I was inspired to start the blog because of Miss Pear, whose former blog has now gone on hiatus. I think I felt I just needed somewhere to write things down. Over many years I have "journaled", although not with any great commitment, and whenever I travelled, I have attempted to write down my escapades.

I don't know what my original plan was in starting a blog. My therapist has discussed my blog at length, although she has never read it, and ponders my need to discuss my life with the world. I don't really know what I wanted to do or prove with this. But, here it is, five years on, still going and I find myself still looking to it for comfort and solace, and some sort of unloading place. There have been times when the blog is the only place that I have been able to truly express how I feel about something. And in the expressing, feel better for it.

Don't suppose for a moment that the blog has been all candy canes and puppy dogs. There are moments when it has been "discovered" and caused me some grief. At those times I have questioned my motives, and pondered whether I should shut it down. Strangely, the blog has won out above all. I think I always came to the conclusion that this blog hurts noone, and is a part of me.

I have always endeavoured on here to be true to myself, and indeed true to whomever reads it. To preserve some sort of privacy, I have used "part" anonymity for myself (although those people who know me in the real world are a different case), and anonymity for all those I mention who don't wish their lives to be public.

For a long time, my blog was a sort of bug-bear with relationships. I felt the need to keep it from many I may have dated, probably as a means of preserving some part of myself and also for fear of what they might think. There have been men who I have seen, who read the blog, either whilst with me, or after we parted ways. And the result was always a negative. Either to me or them. Until Subtle.

Subtle has been reading my blog for well over two years before we ever met face to face. In meeting him, as in meetings I have had with other people via my blog (yes, Kiki that includes you!), was a little awkward. Here is someone who knows an awful lot about me. They have no reference or knowledge of my life except via what I have chosen to edit to the world. But, in a way, meeting someone who knows some of the worst, and best, bits of your life and is still intrigued or interested in you - well, it is pretty special. To be accepted by people is always a pretty nice thing. And then, for Subtle to continue to get to know me - knowing that our lives would end up on here for public scrutiny - has been even more amazing.

I suppose I regard this blog as part of my therapy, and part my life. Five years is a long time and anyone who has been reading along with me for all, or any of this time, I thank you. All comments are always read and appreciated, and I always wonder about the people who stop by and look into this little portal of my life. Sometimes, when one is down and lonely, these virtual friends via here have been a lifeline.

I wonder whether sometimes it is time to say goodbye to blogging. But I don't think so for me just yet. So I will beg your patience with me a little while longer and invite you to share the journey of my life here for a bit more.

Thanks for a great five years!

2009-01-12T13:57:00.000+11:00

Facing up to (in)adequacy

I joined Facebook early last year. I am not sure exactly why I signed up, when really I don't seem to do much with it. I know that Subtle and I "announced" ourselves via Facebook, and I have added Photos to my page. I joined Isabella to Catbook, which I suppose says more about how doting an owner I am than anything else. Recently I have become a little overcome with a word game on Facebook called Pathwords. It is very similar to a word game I have played before on my PDA, but now I can compete against the world - if I should set my mind to it.

But I am beginning to be worried. Facebook is turning into an addiction. And for only one reason.

I find that I spend my time typing in names of people I have known to find out where they are and what they are up to now. It is interesting and often shocking to see how people have changed. The men that were gorgeous, are now balding and overweight middle-aged men. Women I went to school with, are now mothers, with many children in tow. The last few days has brought an unexpected flurry of people from my youth back into my life via Facebook. It is a strange feeling to see twenty (!) years fall away and look at faces from so long ago. But the feeling I am getting is not just a bout of melancholy, or a desire to catch up with them.

I am feeling a huge sense of inadequacy. Fucking inadequacy! I look over photos of people and look at them looking happy, married, with children, travelled, working/living overseas, and whatever else they might have achieved and trying to compare myself. I think over the things that I could have done, or perhaps, should have done, and question decisions and lifestyles and constantly compare.

It is totally ludicrous, I know. But still I find myself on my morning drive this morning, thinking about the photos of one girl living it up in Brazil, and another who skipped her way through a zillion countries over the Christmas break with her handsome and successful husband. For some reason, and isn't it always the way, their lives look much more exciting and glamorous than mine. Sure they may have suffered ups and downs over the last two decades since graduation, but in those little snapshots we choose to show the world on Facebook, they look so much more interesting than my little life right now.

Don't get me wrong. I am very happy in life right now. The best I have been in a very long time in fact. But it all seems a little insignificant and twee right now. Clearly I need to stop comparing and just get on with my life - the way I always have. Of course, it doesn't help that at the moment my boss is using a little emotional bribery on me, work is a little stressful, Subtle and I are looking into "finance issues", I am questioning my property decisions and reviewing the things I want for this year and the next few years. So, no biggie really.

Maybe I need to go cold turkey on Facebook until this passes. Hmm, let's think about that.

2009-01-09T12:00:00.004+11:00

A meme... bite me!

I don't often do meme's, but this one over at Princess Crankypants warranted an exception to the rule. Do as you will with it - although I would be interested by anyone's elses to any or all of the questions.

1. What did you do in 2008 that you’d never done before?
Met someone and started a healthy relationship.

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions and will you make more for next year?
I don’t make resolutions per se, but I did say last year that this year would “be different”. Some things definitely were. Yay me!

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
Yes, Miss Katja begot the very delicious Alex.

4. Did anyone close to you die?
No. Thank goodness.

5. What countries did you visit?
USA, Russia, Ukraine, France. Whew!

6. What would you like to have in 2009 that you lacked in 2008?
Wisdom, patience and common sense!

7. What dates from 2008 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
June 10th. Subtle happened.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Sustaining a relationship for longer than two weeks. And having him live in the same country!

9. What was your biggest failure?
Spending the first few months still letting Bond fuck with my head – despite knowing better.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
I got much healthier, but got injuries as a result. Damn that running thing!

11. What was the best thing you bought?
Oooh.. my shiny new car, pink laptop, databank and awesome new clothes! Economic downturn? Piffle…

12. Whose behaviour merited celebration?
Mine and the entire USA for voting for change.

13. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed?
Mine. But less so…..

14. Where did most of your money go?
Seven weeks in Russia, a new wardrobe and a new car.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Hmmm, I got quite excited about coming home to Subtle after being away for weeks and weeks.

16. What song will always remind you of 2008?
Tears dry on their own – Amy Winehouse

17. Compared to this time last year, are you: a) happier or sadder?, b) thinner or fatter?, c) richer or poorer?
I am a fuckload happier, much thinner and a little poorer. But did I mention the thinner and happy!!!

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?
Read.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?
Waste time thinking about Bond.

20. How did you spend Christmas?
Lunch alone with Subtle. Marvellous.

21. Did you fall in love in 2008?
I found a fantastic friend, and then fell in love with him. Best thing ever.

22. What was your favourite TV programme?
My favourite programme will always be Buffy, but my favourite NEW programme is Dexter.

23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?
Strong word. But no.

24. What was the best book you read?
Split between Pride and Prejudice and Jane Austen.

25. What was your greatest musical discovery?
Finally appreciating Coldplay.

26. What did you want and get?
A new car and a wonderful man.

27. What did you want and not get?
To move into the apartment I have bought – still awaiting its completion.

28. What was your favourite film of this year?
Burn after Reading.

29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I was 37 (!), and I had dinner with Rob. As always, it was both depressing and enjoyable.

30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
Not stressing about money….

31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2008?
They call it a concept now?

32. What kept you sane?
My angel, Isabella.

33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
Wil Anderson. Don’t you know that he is my boyfriend/husband to be…..?

34. What political issue stirred you the most?
I don’t get stirred by politics. But I was intrigued watching things happen politically from Russia, with respect to the rest of the world.

35. Who did you miss?
Nicole.

36. Who was the best new person you met?
Subtle.

37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2008.
I should worry less about what my mother thinks and says.

38. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year.

I shouldn't play myself again,
I should just be my own best friend,
Not fuck myself in the head with stupid men

2009-01-06T15:55:00.000+11:00

Neighbours, Everybody needs good neighbours

I don't think I am what would call a bad neighbour. I am not really bad, in so far as you don't have to worry about me playing the stereo loud at 3am, or for trashing the place. But I don't seem to bond with my neighbours.

In no place I have ever lived in did I become pal-ly with the neighbours. It would be nice to have neighbours that would watch out for you, collect mail if you are away - that sort of thing. The closest I have ever gotten is when my ex-husband absented himself from my life, I decided to go and talk to the one neighbour we had, so she would know not to expect to see him around - and if she did, well, it was a bad thing. We had a lovely chat - really quite a nice lady. But then I moved, and I was back at square one.

Living in big apartment blocks is not necessarily conducive to becoming buddies with ones co-habitators, but I think it is really something to do with me. I try to say hello, or to deliver a welcoming nod in their direction. But rarely does it go well. The two sets of neighbours I did manage to meet and even converse with, quickly ended with them moving out about a month or two after meeting me.

It is only recently with Subtle now living with me that we may have happened upon on a reason that the neighbours don't talk to me.

Sex.

More specifically, noisy sex.

Of course, I am referring to a rather squeaky bed frame that I seem to own. But during an occasion of an intimate nature the other day, there began to be comments outside our bedroom window that may have been aimed at us. Or me. Not sure at this point.

I have often joked about some people who lived upstairs from N and I who had, what we called, "Nazi Sex". Their sexual routine involved the opening and closing of windows and blinds, a lot of "Heil" and then vigorous love-making noises. Oh, we laughed. But now I fear that I am the brunt of many jokes. Oh dear.

To make things a little more awkward, Subtle and I are moving to his parents house to house-sit for the next two weeks whilst they are on holidays. His father has already made some comment about "use the bed as you wish", when giving us the low-down on the house. Perhaps it would not be good for them to return from holidays to traumatised neighbours. His family lives in deepest, darkest Suburbia - perhaps a bit of traumatising them with squeaky bed is needed! Either that or the skinny dipping that Subtle has suggested.

2009-01-03T17:00:00.004+11:00

How goes everyone after their festive season? I have been having a lovely time doing little and enjoying it immensely. I know that there are a few of you out there interested in what Subtle ended up giving me for Christmas. Well, he gave me lots of stuff. Stuff like a DVD I "needed" to watch, and even more Christmas CD's, as well as lollies and chocolate, and then some more sweet stuff. He gave me tickets to see one of the funniest men around - Dylan Moran. And finally, he also gave me the best kick-arse iPod sound dock around (I am iPod addicted) - see below!

But those are the tangibles - and yes - what good tangibles they are. But more than that, he gave me one of the best Christmases I have had in a very long time. I mentioned in my last entry that I often found the magic of Christmas waned by the day itself. The build-up to the day was wonderful, but then left me at a bit of a downer once the presents were opened. Not this year. We opened presents and had a lovely breakfast at home. We went out for lunch - just the two of us - and then visited friends and family for the remainder of the day.

And it was all fantastic.

The day held a little bit of that magic that had been missing for so long. It wasn't just the great presents, but it was the fact that I spent the day not in stressing about food, or relatives behaving, or preparing for disappointments. The day was spent with someone I love very much, and feeling and sharing that love. It was the best Christmas yet - Thank you my darling Subtle.

2008-12-31T12:01:00.000+11:00

The books I have read this year - 2008:
# 1. "The Friday Night Knitting Club" by Kate Hudson: B
# 2. "Blind Faith" by Ben Elton: B+
# 3. "To the Manor Drawn" by Leslie Ann Bosher: C-
# 4. "One day in the life of Ivan Denisovich" by Alexander Solzhenitsyn: A+
# 5. "Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close" by Jonathan Safran Foer: A+
# 6. "Jane Eyre" by Charlotte Bronte: A+
# 7. "The Book of Lost Things" by John Connolly: B
# 8. "Wicked" by Gregory Maguire: B
# 9. "Billy" by Pamela Stephenson: C+
# 10. "If Not Now, When?" by Primo Levi: B
# 11. "The greatest white trash love story ever told" by "Rhett Ellis: B-
# 12. "The Pillars of the Earth" by Ken Follett: D-
# 13. "Naked" by David Sedaris: A-
# 14. "This Charming Man" by Marian Keyes: B-
# 15. "The Rachel Papers" by Martin Amis: B-
# 16. "All seated on the ground" by Connie Willis: A+
# 17. "The Book Thief" by Markus Zusack: A-
# 18. "March" by Geraldine Brooks: A+
# 19. "The Bronze Horseman" by Paullina Simons: B-
# 20. "The Diving Bell and the Butterfly" by Jean-Dominique Bauby: A
# 21. "The Romanov Bride" by Robert Alexander: B-
# 22. "A Scientific Romance" by Ronald Wright: C+
# 23. "Cranford" by Elizabeth Gaskell: A
# 24. "Pride and Prejudice" by Jane Austen: A+
# 25. "Anne of Green Gables" by Lucy Maud Montgomery: A-
# 26. "Three Men in a Boat" by Jerome K. Jerome: B+
# 27. "The Osterman Weekend" by Robert Ludlum: C-
# 28. "Straight Talking" by Jane Green: B-
# 29. "The Lust Lizard of Melancholy Cove" by Christopher Moore: A-
# 30. "Choke" by Chuck Palahniuk: B-
# 31. "The Princess Bride" by Samuel Goldman: B+
# 32. "The Independence of Miss Mary Bennet: C
# 33. "I am Legend" by Richard Matheson: B+
# 34. "The Charm School by Nelson DeMille: B-
# 35. "The Hairdos of the Mildly Depressed" by Doug Crandell: A
# 36. "The Undomestic Goddess" by Sophie Kinsella: C+
#
# 37. "Twilight" by Stephanie Meyer: A
# 38. "Notes from an Exhibition" by Patrick Gale: A
# 39. "The Eye of the Needle" by Ken Follett: B
# 40. "Time for the Stars" by Robert Heinlein: B-
# 41. "New Moon" by Stephanie Meyer: B+
# 42. "Mating in Captivity" by Esther Perel

2008-12-22T18:27:00.002+11:00

What the Festive Season Brings

I am a big fan of most things Christmas-y. So much so that I have an annual Christmas in July celebration to mostly give me an excuse to eat Christmas type food and play yuletide music for hours on end. I trim my house with all sorts of decorations and bake fruit mince pies (my own pastry and mince – OF COURSE!) with great relish and joy. Few men in my life have joined me in such joy, but generally (when they do stick around as long as Christmas) they are obliged to play along – even if it is just to keep me from going ever so slightly mental at them.

Sadly, as much as I love all things Christmas-y, I often find that I am disappointed with the day itself. Despite the effort I put into buying suitable presents, the gifts I receive never seem to fulfil my expectations and the atmosphere is never as magical. This is Subtle and my first Christmas together this year, and yet again, the hopes are high. I have been away all weekend visiting my family and friends interstate, and this has given him the opportunity to shop for my present. The pressure is on....

I was a little concerned when he first told me that he needed to investigate where to purchase it, but declared that it could be found on Sydney Rd. For those who don’t know, we live in Brunswick, barely 50m from Sydney Road. The thoroughfare is full of all manner of shops and emporiums, but by far it features three main types of shops. These shops include; Islamic clothing supplies, second-hand crap shops and sex shops. Yes, there are cafes, and a couple of quirky bookstores and independent designers, but really, those other three are the main ones available. So I am looking forward to a second hand, burkha with built-in dildo.

2008-12-11T13:51:00.002+11:00

I am woman, hear me whimper!

I like to pride myself on being a strong feminist. I mean, I shave my legs and everything, but I identify with the feminist movement and their former struggles and the current challenges and all that. I am offended by society's expectations on women with regards to age and beauty. I baulk at the unfairness in the workloads expected of working mothers compared to working fathers. I empathise with my sisters-in-arms who still suffer from atrocious treatment in other cultures and countries.

So, with my feminist qualifications established I can now proceed with my story.

I am generally good with directions in traffic and maps. Like most women, I probably need to rotate the map to work out what direction I am going, but as a generall rule, me and maps get on. But, I don't seem to remember street names. Never have been able to. In my home town, I know very few street names, and tend to know how to get to places by pure gut instinct or just years of practice. When I moved to Melbourne 6 years ago, I didn't know the place and had to learn quickly. Time has passed, and my skills at getting around have improved, but mostly only in the inner 6km ring around the city. Getting around for me has often meant me printing out a copy of directions from whereis.com and then proceeding to drive and read at the same time. I believe that this is only a little safer than texting whilst driving.

So in the interests of road safety, I bought a GPS system for the car. It has proved to be fantastic in guiding me around town, and also fantastic at annoying me when I "may" go over the speed limit by alerting me gently*. But I have issues with the system (oh, feign surprise!). The choice of voices for me to listen to are limited. Since I want it to announce the street names, I have to use a computer generated voice, rather than the slew of available celebrities that have lent their vocal chords to GPS systems of the world. And of course, I don't want to pay for any voices. So, I am left with the free, computer generated voices. And then we add in my issue, and where the preamble to this post comes in.

As much as I love women (but not in the physical down-and-dirty sense), and admire all that they can do, I really don't take direction from women well**. A female GPS voice telling me when to turn and so on, just makes me want to scream at her and then throw the unit out the window. A male GPS voice might rile my anger, but not to fits of violence. I am not sure what in my psychology has made me manifest this anger in this way. I reckon it must be my mother's fault. Yeah, that's it.

* The selected tone is a cow mooing, which is somewhat disturbing - but effective.

** Although some might say, I don't take direction well from anyone....but that would be just harsh and uncalled for!

2008-12-05T12:20:00.000+11:00

In the absence of anything interesting to write...

I made a statement yesterday to Subtle that it seems like my life is very unbloggable at the moment. He took this as a bad thing. But it isn't necesssarily so.

In times gone by, well, really since the inception of this blog, it seems that what makes good blog fodder is drama and emotion. And when I say good blog fodder, I mean for both the reader and me as the writer. My life was always full of dramatic ups and downs - rather in the way of a person with bi-polar (now that is concerning to note isn't it?). Bond used to say was that I thrived on drama - although I still stand by the fact that life while having him in my life, things would have been greatly enhanced by the injection of him telling some truths.... but I digress.

But with Subtle, there is no drama. Well, a lot less anyway. This is, after all, still me. After the (slight) drama of me being gone for seven weeks of our relationship so far, Subtle moved in, virtually the moment I got home from Russia. We have easily fallen into a state of domesticity which sounds a little tedious to some perhaps. The drama in my life is (mostly) limited to that performed on the stage or inflicted upon me at work. Our relationship is so full of love, respect and security that drama has taken itself on a long walk away from me.

So here I am... with nothing interesting to blog about. Doesn't it seem dull to say, "Life is wonderful - I have a fantastic relationship with a lovely man who supports and loves me - Work is fine - Isabella is gorgeous....."? Why should it seem dull to have a life full of positives at the moment? Or I could just say, Fuck it, I am happy.. deal with it!

So, be prepared for less salacious blog entries and more examinings of minutiae of everyday life until some new drama befalls me*!

*Fingers crossed for no dramas.....

2008-11-17T17:38:00.003+11:00

A Return Appearance by a Long Overdue Special Guest

Well it seems that Subtle is nearly all moved in. The crap in my house, which was always quite significant, has increased substantially to now include even more books and DVDs (I didn't think that possible!), quite a lot more in the way of computers, some furniture and various other boy-related things I haven't had around my home in a long while. But it seems that with the now established relationship and partner*, another person has moved back into my life.

Many years ago when I was married, I acquired a nickname from some friends. It appeared I was, for all intents and purposes, "the world's second best wife". Second best you say? Well the role of world's best wife was taken already by another friend. She also cooked amazing gourmet meals every night, sewed and crafted, kept a wonderful home, worked full time and entertained dinner parties for hordes. Her and I were level pegging there. But she also raised two kids, and repeatedly accepted her philandering husband back into her life. So, I really couldn't compare and hence was relegated to the role of second best wife. There might be some that wouldn't say second best wife, more likely, second most stupid. But I was very happy.

So the other evening, I was hands deep in preparing some appetisers and desserts for Subtle's birthday get-together when the friend that appointed me with my nickname rang for a chat. I explained what I was cooking and doing, and he declared, "Has the world's second best wife come back again?". I laughed. Apparently, when I wasn't looking, she moved back in. And strangely, I really don't mind. I actually feel happiest when planning cooking, preparing and entertaining - especially when I get to do it for someone I care about.

And Subtle's reaction to this title? "I don't know about the wife-bit, but you are definitely the world's best girlfriend."

Awwww.

*I really hate saying that word - it sort of feels contrived or weird. Subtle is a great fan of being simple - it is girlfriend or boyfriend. End of story until another title comes along (aka wife, husband). I am inclined to agree.

2008-11-11T16:45:00.004+11:00

Linguistic Lessons

I am constantly learning things at the moment. It was said to me once that being in a relationship is just as hard as being single - no matter how good it is. At the time I was bitterly complaining about my single status and some issues and problems I perceived. Now that I am no longer single, and embarking on co-habitation (the first time in over 5 years), there are a whole new range of issues and problems.

Thankfully for me and Subtle, two and a half years of therapy have finally started to come to fruition. Which is probably the reason that I am able to enjoy such a wonderfully positive and healthy relationship as I am now. But issues and problems there are. Mostly small, some large. But thankfully, Subtle and I are keen to talk about anything and everything to ensure we both understand each other and where we want our future to go.

But.....

I keep forgetting that he is there. Not literally when he is there in front of me and I stumble over him. Then, I know too well he is around! No, I mean that I sometimes forget to put his name in conversation. I shall explain. When the ex-husband and I first broke up, one of the hardest things to assimilate to was no longer saying "us" and "we" eg "When we were on holiday....". After eight years with a person, and from meeting at a young age, most of my significant life experiences up until that point had been shared with someone else - so the use of "us" and "we" was so much a part of my language that I took it for granted. But then things all changed, and I had to remember to delete the "we" and go back to "me". It was incredibly hard and felt so pointedly obvious everytime I did it. Eventually I got used to it and it then became second nature for me.

Now, nine years on from that marriage dissolution, and I am ever so happily ensconced in one of the best relationships of my life, I have to learn to say "we" again. I also have to remember to tell Subtle things. You know, little things like major financial decisions.... nothing much at all. You get so used to looking after yourself for a long time, and fending for yourself and protecting yourself (physically, emotionally and financially), that it is a strange thing to again remember to let someone else in.

Sure I can get used to the strewn dirty clothes and big sweaty man in bed - but informing him of things that I have been thinking that may in fact affect him??? That takes a little longer.

2008-10-28T16:52:00.004+11:00

Where Cath looks her age in the eye

I have never been good with the concept of ageing. I love presents and parties one might have, but deep down, I really do not relish the whole ageing process. For some time now I have been avoiding my advancing years by plucking out my grey hairs when they dare appear. I like plucking them out. It means that when new ones grow in, they stand out - all the easier for me to repluck. It was around the time of my divorce that I really began to notice some grey hairs, and the past 9 years since then haven't made them go away.

To make things worse, I rather like younger men.

For those who don't know - Subtle is younger than me - by more than a little bit. I have dated a few younger men, and they have been (in my experience) far superior to men my own age. But dating younger men is fraught with issues when you don't actually want to look any older than your beau. I have been plagued with some anxiety over actually looking significantly older than Subtle. More than one person has assured me that we look similarly aged. In fact, he has a lot more grey hair than me. This means of course that he can never pick on me when he spies a new crop of grey on my head. Nevertheless, I have started using some anti-ageing creams, and recommended Subtle start some heavy suntanning and smoking to "mature" him.

I think I am joking about that last bit.

But this last week I have had to face reality that I am in fact getting old. I found that when I was reading in bed at night (my excuse is that I am tired....), I have had to start pushing the book a bit further away from me to find focus. For years I laughed at my mother as she held things at am arm's length to see small writing. But now, it seems it has started to happen to me. And I don't find it so funny anymore!

So after much, shall we say, encouragement*, from Subtle, I went to see an optometrist. And all went well until he said, "So, you'll only have to wear them for reading."

I said, "WHAT?"

It appeared I needed glasses.

So now I was faced with two dilemmas. Firstly, I am officially on the downhill slope of age. And, secondly, and more worryingly, I have to now be teased by Subtle since it seemed he was right.... I did need glasses. And I don't quite know what bothers me more.

*encouragement in this instance = harassment, combined with some smirking about the possibility of age-related spectacles....

2008-10-24T10:20:00.004+11:00

Getting my ego stroked

I met some of Subtle's friends last weekend (well truth be told, I met them a couple of weeks ago, but they invited us to their place for dinner). No pressure at all, but before we went Subtle announced that it was the first time that any of his girlfriends had been invited there for a dinner for four (the friends are a married couple). And before I met the wife of the party, I was told by more than one person that she is very scary. When pressed for details about her scariness - none were forthcoming, just generally scary. There were allusions to her Spanish heritage, that were meant to explain it away. I pointed out, in defence, that I was scary, and I have Sicilian heritage (surely the scariest of the lot?). But apparently, I paled in comparison.

So with some hesitation we ventured forth to their home, where she cooked for us a wonderful dinner and we enjoyed many bottles of wine. And frankly, I can't see what is so scary about this woman. In fact, before the night was out she was showing me her bra collection and making plans for our next foursome gathering. (Yes, I know, you want more details on the bra conversation, but there was nothing lewd about it... but if you want to imagine us swapping clothes and giggling and "accidentally" squeezing each others nipples - who am I to stop you?)

The best part of the evening for me? On the way home in the car, Subtle told me that he was told by his friends, that I was wonderful and for him to "not to stuff it up".

2008-10-16T10:10:00.001+11:00

Vladivostok to Paris.....

Thank you to those who have been patient awaiting some happy snaps from my trip - and to those who have been less patient (you know who you are!) - bite me! I can at last give you the reader's digest version of my holiday with some photos. Clearly some serious culling of the 1500 photos I took had to be done, as well as some tasteful editing.

So here goes... you in the back row, dim the lights and pass the popcorn around!

So we started our holiday in Vladivostok in the far east of Russia. The food was a combination of Russian and Asian, and the city was not the prettiest I have seen, but down on the waterfront it was making a good attempt at being the Paris of the East. Shame about the old people bathing in the ocean in their dirty underwear.

Now you can't say that the Russians don't do their Museums classy..... This museum in Vladivostok had no English to help us out - but we found it wasn't needed with priceless installations like this one to illustrate the military communications in action. Apparently bald, stiff women, wearing their headphones over their earlobes are the top elite of the Russian Military....

Don't let anyone ever tell you that Siberia is a barren land. It was green and lush.. and went on for miles... and miles... and miles....

On our way across the continent, we cooled our heels in Listvyanka for a few days. This lovely town is on the shores of Lake Baikal - which is the largest freshwater lake in the world. It was quite stunning, although the waters proved far too cold for me to want to swim. That said, it was quite the spot for some tourists to dress in matching outfits... just in case they lost each other in the milling crowds perhaps?

I just adored the English menus that we encountered during the trip. Irrespective of how bad the English was, they did guide us to what we should eat, and other times, like this example, they were pure champagne comedy. I just want to know how it can deliver to me the "constant pleasure"....

One thing that we encountered nearly everywhere (except in the far west of Russia in fact), was elderly people selling their goods. Sometimes some potatoes, other times a pile of watermelons, and in the truly sad cases, a single cup of sunflower seeds. A micro-second after I took this photo of this very typical and stylish Russian peasant, she berated me geatly. Apparently, there is still a hangover of fear from the communist days....

For some reason, many people have this idea that the Trans-Siberian train is a luxury train trip. Let me dispel that myth now... this is how illustrious accomodations for 6.5 days on the train. What you also don't see in this photo is the two bunks that were above these beds - four people in this space - many days - no showers..... SMELLY.

For a building that would strike the fear in many communist era Soviets, the Lubyanka Prison is surprisingly unimposing.

When a country "needs" a thermometer, here mounted on one of the walls of a building inside the grounds of the Kremlin, that needs to go from +50 to -40 degrees Celsius - you just have to be impressed with that!

Ah St Petersburg... part Venice, part Paris and all parts Russian schmaltz. How beautiful it is!

If anyone has read any Solzhenitsyn, more specifically "The Gulag Archipelago", this is where it starts - on Solovetsky Island in the far north - in the middle of the White Sea. A former monastery was used to become one of the Soviet Union's most brutal Gulag camps earlier last century. It has been restored as a monastery, but the sinister history remains.

At the top of a hair-raising hill, the monks built a quaint chapel, which was turned into housing for the most severely punished of the inmates of Solovetsky Island.

Spotted around the island are memorials like this to honour the dead from the island of Solovetski. This particular monument is at the base of the hill from the charming chapel above. Inmates were pushed off the hill and allowed to fall to their deaths. Of course, this is all alleged.....

Despite the tragic history of the island and the fact that it is brutally cold, it is also stunningly quiet and relatively unspoilt. Sunbathing on the White Sea anyone? I think there was a warm day in August......

The main street of Solovetsky Island.... at peak hour. Is this an island ripe for the tourist dollar or what?

We left the far north of Russia to descend to the bottom of the Crimea. The coast of Yalta, on the Black Sea, is quite stunning. Gorgeous water, steep mountains that descend to the sea, palaces dotted along the coastline..... If you can see through the melee of tourists that is!

No holiday of mine is complete without photographs of food I consumed. Much of the Russian cuisine was a tad staid, but here I present to you "Toreador's Delight"... or in other words, Bull's Testicles.

This beautiful vista belongs to the port city of Balaclava - which disappointingly couldn't sell me even one aforenamed object. But it did have a secret under-mountain Soviet submarine hideaway......

On a pedestrian footbridge in Odessa were literally hundreds of locks with couples names on them. Almost romantic except for the chastity belt overtones.

Something I hadn't seen anywhere in Russia, and only once in the Ukraine...Smoking is accepted everywhere - so I was stunned to find one place where it wasn't!

So here at last we make it to the road to Chernobyl. (Hint: the first town name on the sign is Chernobyl in Cyrillic.)

So here is the little trouble maker - Reactor No 4. We were allowed surprisingly, and somewhat disturbingly, close. Although apparently we weren't supposed to take photos of the reactor at this distance....

After hanging around the reactor area for a while, we moved on to the town of Pripyat, which is in fact the nearest town to the reactor and was totally evacuated. It is commonly referred to as a ghost town. Here we got to see the sites of the local international hotel...

Here is your salubrious foyer area leading to the five star dining room for nightly entertainment.

OK, I will stop the comedy schtick for a bit. Some of the rooms, like this one, have some furniture left behind, but most of them have been totally gutted, including removal of the toilet pedestals. Windows have been smashed in, paint peeling from the walls, 20 years and a lot of looting has left the town unrecognisable.

From the rooftop entertaining area, views toward the fateful Reactor 4 (in the far distance) are a creepy reminder of what this town was once about. The 50 000 residents of Pripyat were essentially all employed in and about the reactors. The money and conditions were superior to other areas of the Soviet Union, and it was considered a prosperous town.

Twenty-two years and trees are growing everywhere - even on rooftops. Feels very apocalyptic.

Grafitti like this on the outside of the building, with the dismembered elevator buttons in the foreground, is ghostly and quite a reminder of what is now lost.

The local fun park provides a stark contrast of the fun once experienced here - and the children now, more than likely, deceased.

Overgrown and rusted out - the dodgem cars are a far cry from what they once were. Between the cracks in the bitumen, this area had amazingly high levels of background radiation, leeching out from the ground underneath.

Local boats were left were they last were moored and rusted away. Any equipment that was in the area, including the cars and trucks used in the cleanup, still remain there as they are too radioactive to be removed.

The local pool and sports facility were used for years after the accident by staff that remained in the area operating the remaining reactors, until they too could be safely shut down.

We at last reach Paris, where I can read signs, understand the locals and enjoy the food. It smacks a little of commercialism now, but I had to visit the shelves of Shakespeare and Co, even if just to stock up on plane reading material.

Not only was the food to be eaten in Paris totally magic, but also the locations were indescribable. Here in the Musee D'Orsay, I supped on a divine lunch, sipping champagne (adding "French" to the front of that statement is redundant you know...). I understand the museum has a few paintings and stuff to look at as well. Apparently....

From the steps of the Sacre Couer at the top of the Montmartre at sunset.... divine. Just needed wine and cheese and a handsome man to make it totally perfect.

Yet again some photos of food for you to salivate over. A lunch where I can have wine, pate and other delicious morsels, whilst overlooking the rooftops of Paris, with the Eiffel tower in the distance - is wonderful. Hmm, wonderful sounds not quite enough... really wonderful?

Another thing I take LOTS of photos of is flowers. I haven't inflicted them on you lovely people, for fear of boredom. But this one, I couldn't resist. In the Tuilieres gardens, in front of the Louvre, a simple flower garden, with a majestic statue behind - magic.

So there is the reader's digest version of my holiday snaps for you all. I had an amazing time and have some spectacular memories of the whole experience.

2008-10-14T17:17:00.002+11:00

Renovations and Projects

It seems there are many changes afoot in my life at the moment. Things are still good with Subtle. Very Good. It seems that my therapist loves him (albeit via my descriptions), and all my friends that have met him feel the need to make comment about how lovely he is. The only people who have as yet not commented on him are my parents.

Yes, he has met them. And I thought it went well.

So, I had to ring them the other day to tell them that Subtle is moving in. (Like how I slipped that in? Perseus is unimpressed, but so far, seems to be the only one to be vocal about it!) In my life, I have only lived with two other partners, so for me, this is a significant step. With some anxiety I announced that things were going very well, and that he would be making the step to move in soon. Their response was somewhat less that impressive. They didn't denounce him or me, but I was met with a simple, "Ok." I was perturbed by this. Not that I expect great protestations of joy, but maybe a "That's lovely dear - he seems like a nice fellow", would have been nice to hear.

No matter. We are putting plans in place - which mainly involves me culling out all of my (significant) crap in the house, so that we can squeeze in his things. When there is sufficient floor and cupboard space reclaimed, I believe he can make an official move.

The upshot of all of this is that he has been given projects. These projects include putting wireless in the house, and networking the printers and other such (dull) stuff. Giving him a project to do is only fair - since I seem to have a project as well. Like all women who meet a wonderful man, it is now necessary to make him into what we think he should be. My project is a Subtle Makeover. So, far it has involved some shoes with street smarts and good hair product. But there is more to be done.... and god it is fun!

2008-10-02T14:39:00.004+10:00

There's no place like home....

And I'm back home again! It is indeed wonderful to be home, although work is tedious as usual. Such an amazing trip with a million photos to go through and organise. Perhaps when I can remove a digit, I will post some of the more interesting photos on here for you all to get bored over.

My last few days in Paris were spectacular, although I was most distressed to find the only museum I wanted to see was shut for the next few months for renovations. For your information, it was the Picasso Museum, since I am a bit of a fan of Pablo. Finally in Paris I was able to get my fill of shopping and magnificent food. The weather was wonderful, the sights glorious and all was delightful. The last time I was in Paris was about 10 years ago with my (then) husband. It is strange thing in a way to revisit cities once travelled with significant other halves.

I have revisited a few places, and all seem so much more interesting now. And I am not quite sure why. Perhaps, it is merely that I am older, wiser and more savvy as both a traveller and a person now, so that the cities and the experiences are vastly different. I absolutely adored wandering the streets of Paris, desperate to find the next back alley where I could find a little unknown shop or cafe. That is certainly something we didn't do on that trip back in 1998, but maybe it was also because we were desperately trying to see all the "must-see's". Now I didn't feel the need to do that sort of thing and happily took myself where the day might lead. There are a few more places I think I need to go to again now without the encumbrance of that marriage and to make new memories of those locations.

There are so many stories that I am sure I will think of over the next few weeks that I shall garnish this blog with them from time to time. One thing worth noting from any trip that I seem to take is the number three. No matter how long I am away for, be it six days or six weeks, I am assured to buy at least three pairs of shoes. Given that I have had three overseas trips this year so far, you can imagine that state of my shoe collection!

On other notes, Subtle is glad to have me back. And I am glad to be had back. There is some time to be made up for - a girl could get giddy from all of this activity and lack of sleep. Although I am suspicious that I will survive.

2008-09-15T17:05:00.002+10:00

Just a quickie...

Things have been progressing, as holidays are apt to do, and this morning I am at Kiev airport awaiting my flight to Paris. This is our last stop before returning home at the end of the week. After all the other locations, Paris will be easy. For a start, we can read the writing... secondly, I can speak some very basic French. Certainly enough to know when we are being ripped off!

Two days ago we had what was surely the major highlight of the trip - we went on a day trip to Chernobyl. It was totally amazing! As we drove out we were shown a dosemeter to observe the slowly increasing background radiation levels. Of course, this meant little to most people except me, as the only physicist in attendance. But it was so surreal. The empty town with the images of the abandoned ferris wheel and sports centre. We were able to go into a former hotel and it was amazing to look over the town - which had a perfect view of Reactor 4 which blew - and this town that was once bustling with 50 000 people, and is now desolate. The drive out there, the group of us was laughing and joking. On the drive back to Kiev, we were quiet and contemplative. A truly amazing experience.

2008-09-07T00:13:00.002+10:00

Farewell Russia and hello the Ukraine!

Hello again from the wilds of my holiday! Isn't it completely tedious hearing about the adventures that someone else is having when you are at home doing boring work things and so on? Yeah. Well, bite me.

So anyway, I left Moscow after I last wrote, and ventured on to St Petersburg. Such a glorious looking city and full of tourists.... Of course, it seems that the only tourists in Russia are Russians. Unfortunately this means that everything is given in Russian for tours, and all the information written in places like The Hermitage are in Russian.... you get the idea. Nevertheless, we had a delightful time, and spent our last night in St Petersburg at a kitch themed restaurant. Every inch of the restaurant, including the mirrored ceiling, was covered in busts of Lenin. It was fantastic. The man is some sort of God, and every town has at least one statue of Lenin. Is it a little wrong to revere one man so much?

After St Petersburg, we traveled north to Archangelsk, which honestly has little recommend itself, except that it was a launching place for us to go to Solovetsky Island. The island is the location of the first, and the most brutal (allegedly) of the gulags. The island is quite beautiful and unspoilt - but absolutely freezing - even at the end of Summer.

After our northern encounter with the White Sea, we moved onto Novgorod and then finally we left Russia to now find ourselves in the Ukraine. At this moment, we are in the beach resort town of Yalta, which is quite tourist-y and kitsch - but ever so delightful and summery after our cold and frosty days.

A joke for you all... what do you call a nice Russian?... Ukrainian....Ok.... maybe only relevant for those of us battling local signage and customs.

It has been so far jsut over 4 weeks of wonderful holiday, although I fear for my phone bill when I get home. Not calls per se, but the text messages that I am sending constantly to Subtle. He happily jokes to all and sundry that I ran off to Siberia just after we started dating. I must admit, that it was not ideal timing, and my travel companion does comment on the third, but absent, member of our holiday. Six weeks away from Subtle, and Bella, will be difficult, but as they say, absence and all that....... I think he will be most happy when I am once again home. I think he might even miss my snoring at night. Ok, maybe not.

2008-08-20T03:49:00.002+10:00

Where the beer is cheap and plentiful...

This is almost too much to cope with... two entries in such close proximity!

I am now off the train - ok, you could have guessed that - and in the heart of Moscow. It seems wherever we go it turns into a sudden heatwave. Lucky me. Thankfully the vomiting has stopped and I can now eat again - and more importantly, drink again. Although, truth be told, I have as yet to drink any Vodka here. Beer is everywhere, sold on street corners, in 2l plastic bottles no less. If you like self-destructive habits, this is the place to be. Beer and cigarettes are dirt cheap and to be had everywhere, and of course, it is expected to be able to consume them everywhere.

Moscow is both amazing and a massive contradiction to the rest of the country seen thus far. To a far greater extent, than anywhere else I have ever been, the disparity between rich and poor is ludicrously large. The poor areas, which we saw along the Siberian railroad, were like something from the early 20th Century, never mind the 21st. Old women at stalls selling a few humble crops to make a few roubles - in one case, a woman selling a single bowl of mushrooms. Contrast now to Moscow where the Rolls Royce showroom, is around the corner from the other luxury cars shops, and near a multitude of other boutiques, sporting labels that would make many a rich Westerner cry. I have found it *very* easy to not spend money shopping here! (Yes, Subtle, I know you won't believe me!)

Such a bizarre country in so many ways... they overthrew their elitist and corrupt monarchy, to install a corrupt and sinister communist bureaucracy...? What? They preserve the body of a man who set those wheels of bureaucracy in motion, against his own wishes to lie for eternity in a simple cemetary with his Mother.

But still, we are here and soaking up what we can. A few more days here before I head North to St Petersburg, and then even further north back out of the big cities again. I think I look forward to the slower pace of the Gulags up north......

2008-08-15T13:50:00.002+10:00

Privyet....

Long time... no blog! But for once I do have excuses that I can give you all. About three weeks ago I had a work conference in Houston for 6 days. I can tell you, in my opinion, Houston has little to recommend itself. Unless of course you are a fan of sweltering heat. Foolishly, I did a fun run at the conference, which started at around 6:30am. Yes, AM. But by 7am, the steam in the air was somewhat like a well functioning sauna. My run was less than stellar, but getting up at sparrow fart and running in heat, deserves some sort of allowances. As a geek, at a Physics conference, in Houston, of course I went out to NASA. Bite me. But if it helps, I followed it up with some more shopping. True to form, I came home with twice as many shoes as I left with. In my defence, one pair is for Subtle....

I was home for a few days. Just enough time to "catch up" with Subtle (is that a covert way of saying, shagged like minks??) and wash my clothes before I left off another trip. But this time it is to Russia. I have been planning this trip since December last year. Well before Subtle was even a blip on my radar. But true to form, plan a holiday... get a boyfriend. Handy thing is, it is something to annoy my travel partner with for the next seven weeks. Yes, SEVEN weeks. About the same length of time that Subtle and I have been together. *sigh*

So, my trip to Russia started a week or so ago, with flying into Vladivostok, and then getting on the Trans-Siberian Railway. For those of you who have visions that this is some sort of luxury rail line... please let me dispel those myths now. Like most Eastern European trains, the quality and hygiene is questionable, and conditions are spartan. But, go me for my ability to slum with the best. Same clothes for days, no makeup, heavy drinking every night and lots of local foods to punctuate my day.

We stopped in Irkutsk, with a side trip to Listvyanka which is on the shore of Lake Baikal. The Lake is the largest and deepest freshwater lake in the world and has about 20% of the world's freshwater. Unfortunately, statistics like this do not extend to the state of the town. No matter, lucky we don't complain. Except when we returned to Irkutsk where we were booked into a hotel with a double bed. For two single straight women. Bozhe Moi! Especially when we made it clear to our (useless) Travel Agent that we wanted twin beds everywhere. And then, the hotel gave me food poisoning from my dinner.

So here I sit in their "Business Centre" using the internet, trying to suppress further urges to vomit, like I had been all night, before I am about to get on the train again for three nights and four days. I am not sure if I need to drink more Vodka to cure this or just keep avoiding it?

It goes without saying that I miss Isabella and Subtle - although it is amazing how much phone coverage one can get in Siberia.....

Next stop Moscow!

2008-07-23T12:49:00.002+10:00

In my humble professional opinion...

Even after working for the number of years I have, I still find it hard to believe that people might seek out my opinion on things. When my boss has rung to canvass my thoughts on something, I often think that he has dialled the wrong number, or got really deperate.

So again, imagine my surprise when I was recently approached by a member of staff for my opinion on a study she is about to undertake. Well actually, not an opinion on the whole study, but actually, just an opinion on the title of the study. I thought, wow, I wonder what it involves that she seeks my opinion on this sort of thing.

And then she told me the title.

"Oral methods for fixing the position of the prostate"

Yes, really. She was asking if it sounded a little "wrong". So, no professional opinion required, just my smut opinion.

And I told her to change it - unless she really wants a lot of attention......

2008-07-18T13:28:00.003+10:00

One small garment to a man. One near orgasm for womankind.

I may have mentioned it before, but I have been on a diet. And it has been successful - thanks for asking. In fact, I have lost about 15% of my body weight since starting. And strangely enough, some of it has even come off my breasts.

Now I am a well endowed woman, so bra-shopping is always fraught with fear and frustration. There are pitifully few bras that are both pretty and functional for the, ahem, larger bust. Fewer still that are at a reasonable cost. I came to the realisation that I seriously needed to buy some new bras, and whilst it is sale time, it could be an opportune time to look. Subtle and I were out shopping when I decided to look. Ok, I was shopping, Subtle was being a really good boyfriend. When it came time for me to head to the lingerie section, I asked him if he had any preferences for colour or style. His only comment? "Will they come off?". Ok, so he is easily pleased. He begged off and left me to my own devices.

Buying bras without the assistance of sales staff, or a runner, means that everytime one doesn't fit, I have to redress and dash around the floor collecting new sizes and styles. This may have happened a few times since not only did I not know what size I was, I was different sizes in every bra I tried on.

Finally I was proud to have a delightful collection of some practical, but also some VERY pretty bras. One bra was particularly comfortable and on sale and all bunches of happy boobs resulted in its wear. So happy am I and my mammaries with this item, I subsequently rang other stores in this state looking for more of the same. A reconnaissance mission was started to purchase every last remaining bra in my size. Perhaps it wouldn't have been so bad if I didn't have to enlist Subtle to pick one up for me. Apparently, he feels somewhat sheepish, and a little pervy going into the lingerie section. For someone who likes to perve on women.... he is surprisingly coy. But pick it up he did - and I was most grateful, and he didn't even complain too much.

But apparently I went over the edge in eliciting the help of my parents who live interstate in acquiring more of this joy-making brassiere. I rang a store, paid for the items and got my parents to go and get them for me. Subtle, I believe, was more than a little perplexed. He sees only a foundation garment. I see true happiness in supported and caressed breasts.

All day, every day.

No extremes are too great in the search of the perfect bra.

2008-07-10T13:00:00.000+10:00

Lost and Found

I don't lose things. Not regularly anyway. Ok, sometimes I might lose my head. And I rarely lose my temper. Years ago I believe I lost my mind. When I was about 11 I lost a recorder (as in the instrument), and I still obsess about where it might be. I lost a brush in a back-packers in Florence in 2000, and it still annoys me. But, really, as a general rule, I don't lose things.

But then along came Subtle. And with him, the return of my sex life (hello dear friend, it has been so long.....). One shouldn't expect the first time with someone to be a romantic and orgasmic experience. Hell, you don't know each other's bodies yet, so there is stuff to find out, and explore. You might fumble and laugh. Frankly, I think that that makes it all the more fun. I expect a certain amount of clumsiness in maneuvering and logistics, especially when one accounts for excitement, anticipation, anxiety and extreme horniness.

What I didn't expect was to lose something. Something small, round and rubber. Something sort of important. And I can tell you what a kill-joy that discovery was. We looked high and low. We looked suspiciously at Isabella - had she run off with it? Did our heated passion make it spontaneously combust?

Thankfully, it finally appeared*. Possibly at an inopportune time. But, I can tell you, it was worth celebrating.

* And no, I am not going into gory details of where it was. You can work it out. None of us needs that image in our heads..... oh shit, image is now there anyway.

2008-07-03T15:08:00.003+10:00

Things

So now that I have a boyfriend, the tasks, and criticisms begin.

The criticisms have come in the form of comments like, "Oh, you will be so boring now that we can't live our lovelives vicariously through you.". I think the only response to that one is 'Bite Me'. Although, I believe there are still stories lurking in the past that have yet to show up on here, so there maybe some vicariously living still to be done. Of course, now dating someone who is not only, lovely, but is a fellow blogger, and in fact met me through this blog, means that my fodder for writing about our relationship is probably off-limits for now. Subtle did say to me only today, "You aren't going to edit what you write now are you?". And no, I don't want to edit, but I think discretion and respect is the order of the day. Of course, until he does something really hysterical or stupid which needs to be reported! There is also the fact that now when he writes anything on his blog, my friends/readers will start reading it, and perhaps get a different viewpoint on me and my life. Yikes!

Anyway, the tasks that have begun are quite tedious. They involve the emails and phone calls to all the dating agencies and sites that I have employed over the years. Putting dating agencies on hold, and cancelling email-outs from speed dating companies, deleting/hiding profiles on online groups and extracting oneself from Facebook Singles Groups..... I didn't really appreciate how many ways in which I had been looking for relationships. Although places like RedHotPie and Adultmatchmaker probably don't really count as "relationship" sites. But, one tries anything when your options seem slim.

The other interesting thing with dating someone who has been a friend for a little while, but also has been reading every detail of your life for a number of years is that I have no stories to tell. Every time I try to tell him about something, I am told afterwards "Yes, dear, I know. I remember reading it." Hmmmm. But at least in knowing much of the worst there is to know about me, he still likes me regardless! Now that is a bonus.

2008-06-17T22:17:00.003+10:00

Ahem.... I have an announcement.

It would seem against all odds, at the moment, I seem to have found myself quite interested in a gentleman. And, even curiouser, he seems interested in me as well.

He is lovely and sweet, and intelligent, and for something different - IN THIS COUNTRY! I have known him as a friend for a little while now, so of course, trying to chart the prospect of a (gasp) relationship, is a little strange for us both. As is also typical in my life, I leave for seven weeks away in about five weeks time.

One of the strange things is that he has been my "stalker" online now for a couple of years. By which I mean, he has been reading all my exploits and trials - and yet, HE STILL LIKES ME! It is a bizarre world people. Keep posted... and in the meantime - read his history....

Oh, and Isabella likes him too!

2008-06-11T14:46:00.001+10:00

I have reached a whole new level in my dating repertoire. It appears I have now moved on to dating cartoon characters. Not only was my date the other night named the same as a cartoon character, he also had the same career as his namesake.

Noone can make up the shit in my life. Noone!

2008-06-04T11:35:00.005+10:00

Oh so happy to be home

Just in case you were wondering, I am fine and back in the country. My time in San Francisco was most enjoyable. I spent the days shopping and being a tourist and the nights eating at either fancy or highly recommended restaurants. At last I can say that there is good food to be found in the USA, but I just have to pay handsomely for it.

I purchased what I think amounts to nearly a new wardrobe. But who wouldn't when one has lost weight, and then throw into it the wacky US sizing system, which plunged my size down even further. Trust me, the ego got a good rub out of it.

The funniest things that I heard in San Francisco were from a tour bus operator and a homeless person. First example, when doing the "tourist thing" above a double decker open top bus, the guide was trying to engage the patrons by asking them where they were from. As is the case with people in these situations, everyone fell deathly quiet. To prompt everyone into action, our tour guide declared, "This isn't an existential bus trip. Everyone is from somewhere!"

Now I don't care if he uses that line every day for the next 10 years. It is piss-funny.

The second thing I heard that made me chortle was from a begging homeless man. There are an awful lot of beggars in San Francisco. More than I expected. And to stand out from the crowd, people have come up with their own spin on the begging game. Call me heartless if you will, but I don't give money to beggars. I would rather channel money into organisations that help people back on their feet, instead of giving them money directly. But I was so tempted to give one man money. He stood on the footpath proclaiming, "I am in need of some help here people. I need to get inebriated. They say honesty is the best policy, so I thought I would see how it works for me."

Champagne begging I tell you.

Otherwise, I was VERY happy to be coming home. No, I did not see Bond. We spoke on the phone a lot, but of course, true to form, he made allusions to seeing me, but it didn't happen. On landing back in Oz, we had a charming fight via phone where he called me a "psycho nut-bag".

I laughed. He hasn't seen psycho. Yet. *insert maniacal laughter here, and rubbing of hands*

2008-05-17T21:50:00.000+10:00

'Tis been a long time...

Having not been overseas since the dramas of Bond from nearly two years ago, I am currently overseas, for my first of three trips this year. Unfortunately, I am in San Francisco, which is about 1 hour away from where fuckhead will be in a day's time. The therapist and I have discussed at length the issues of me "catching up with him". Yes, I know. You can all berate me, if we do catch up. But, I know that I need to see him, to maybe prove myself that I don't desire him anymore.

Fuck knows. Of course, I am horny as all get out and that certainly doesn't help.

Watch this space.

P.S. Otherwise - suggestions of things to do/places to go in the next few days...? (Yes, Alcatraz is on the list already.)

2008-04-28T10:48:00.003+10:00

Public Service Announcement!

In the interests of protecting other women, I am performing this public service announcement so that other women do not also suffer.

On Saturday night I had a date with a man. Yes, I know, that in itself should be cause for much joy and delight. But control yourselves. He is a "nice" man (death knell...) who seems genuine and sweet. He also was quite a gentleman and seems to like me. Sunday morning, as is the habit of men who are interested, he rang to see how I was, and also try and procure another date with me that day. But before he got to those details, being a nice person, I asked how he was. He replied, "I don't quite know how to put this." I waited, "Oh?". He continued, "I got home last night to find I had been burgled." Somehow when bad things happen to people when they are out with me, it feels like my fault. I reacted as one would expect, "Oh dear - are you ok?". And here is where things go bad. He replied, "Yes, it seems someone has come and stolen my heart."

Yes, he really said that.

And I used all my strength not to guffaw down the phone and tell him to stop being such a nob. Go me!

So this is to warn all women - there are men out there willing to use cheesy lines to secure your affections. In the words of one person to whom I related this story, "You can't speak to him ever again." People like this man cannot be allowed to spread this type of unimaginative dross around.

You have been warned!

2008-04-21T16:24:00.002+10:00

Miles and misunderstanding

A few weeks ago I participated in what is commonly called "a fun run". What is surprising to myself is that I not only ran - a feat in itself - but I suspect that I had fun doing it! I am by no means a natural runner, being neither lean of limb, or lithe of build. But I have been on a course of self-improvement which includes eating healthy and moving my arse regularly.

So I got up early, ran along the Yarra and around the Tan, cavorted amongst other fellow runners, feeling slightly holier than thou, and then went home. So what does one do following an early morning run out in fresh air? Retreat for a morning coffee and yummy brunch is what!

After my repast, I felt in the mood to rent a couple of DVD's and retreat to the couch with Isabella and put ice on my injuries. (Oh, yes I am seeing a Physio now regularly - getting fit is never easy is it?) I wandered to my nearby DVD rental store. Often when I go in looking in for a movie, I want something to jump out at me. But strangely this time I knew what I was exactly in the mood for. I looked on every shelf I could think of, and still could not find the movie. Resigned to having to ask for assistance, I approached the video store clerk. I was "nearly" sure of the full movie title, so I asked, "Look, I am looking for some movie called 28 Days or something - but I can't find it!". He, knowing his product well, offered, "Oh, the Sandra Bullock movie?". Immediately I realised my mistake. I may have screeched, "OH GOD NO!". Then, with realisation dawning on his face, he proceeded to, "Then, maybe it is a zombie movie?". "Yes!!! That is it!". "Ahh! That is 28 Days Later."

Whoops! So close.

He then directed me to the horror section, at which point I may have made comment about not even thinking to look there. He said, "Well, it is a zombie movie, it certainly isn't a comedy." "But, Shawn of the Dead was funny."

Oh yes, my witty repartee was in full flight. God forbid that I may have been flirting with the clerk. But my biggest fear was that he had thought I looked the sort of person who wanted to watch a Sandra Bullock movie!

2008-04-01T12:18:00.000+11:00

Feedback....

I mentioned a while ago that I joined a dating agency in an attempt to meet eligible men. That proved oh-so-successful that I even joined a second one a month or so ago. The first agency was expensive and fancy looking, but despite all their promises, delivered me a whole pile of nothing. On joining the sales pitch included a "virtual guarantee" of meeting someone within six months, or they would give you another two months free.

Well, those six months came and went. And so did the two additional months. And yet, still I am single, having met a number of very dubious men. So the other day, the agency sent out their client feedback form. I have proven in the past that I am not particularly adept at insulting people in written form. But this time, I tried really hard. I provided feedback in all the categories that they asked for, and closed with the following statement,

I wish that I had not joined - spending money on a misguided process that has left me feeling quite dejected.

Of course, I haven't heard a thing from them since I sent the form back. I wonder if I would have got more of a response if I had not written so eloquently, and just wrote, "Fuck off you fucking fuckers!".

2008-03-14T21:27:00.002+11:00

Does my butt look fat?

Of late I have put myself on a bit of a diet. My last trip to the endocrinologist had him commenting, "Well, looks like you had a good Christmas!", after looking over my latest weight results. Not the sort of comment that inspires one. Or rather, it did inspire. I thought that maybe his scales were bung, and clearly I must have been pre-menstrual, loaded up with fluid, and of course, the stand-by excuse of "heavy clothes".

So the next morning in little more than a smile and attitude, I climbed aboard my own scales, and came up with somewhat a similar result. I signed myself up for a diet on the spot. So it has all been quite nicely really. Amazingly, this whole cutting back crap and a bit of exercise, does indeed seem to make a negative difference on the scales.

But historically, I have found that the right outfit can elicit more comments from people than weeks of dieting. (I have some great pants which ALWAYS seem to prompt people to ask if I have lost weight.) But further, I have found that I think I swell in people's memories. There have been times that I haven't seen people for months, and then we catch up, and they exclaim, "Have you lost weight?". Unfortunately, I may not have lost weight, or even maybe have gained some, and yet, I provoke this reaction. So the only conclusion I can make is that I swell in people's brains. God knows how this happens. Do people somehow make me into some sort of flesh-coloured Violet Beauregarde (a la Willy Wonka), and I seem to be post-squeeze when they see me next?

Of course, at the moment, any sort of compliment with regards to diminishing weight will be happily received - even if it is unwarranted!

2008-03-04T13:29:00.004+11:00

I am fine.

So howdy peoples... how have you been? You are looking lovely. Things in my little part of the world are going just find and dandy. Thanks for asking. No. Really. They are fine.

I sent a text message to a friend for their birthday (this is how truly lazy we have become - a text message is about the effort that we can pull out for a friend - 25 cents worth according to my last phone bill).... anyway..... and they responded with a thanks, and some concern over the tone of my last couple of blog entries. Hmmmm. I was actually feeling pretty good, comparatively, and yet I still elicit concern.

But no matter. All is good. Contact with fuckwit, ahem, I mean Bond, no hold on, I mean fuckwit, has been minimal. Shocked and amazed I am sure many of you are. But true story, minimal. Maybe five sms's a week - at most - and certainly no phone calls. A far cry from 20 a day and the rest. So yay for me I say. On occasion I still think of him with some fondness, and then I remember about the crap that he has said and amazingly, I can push thoughts of him aside again for a while.

I have met a reader recently - Mr Subtle. This is the third reader I have met through this blog (Occ and Kiki precede him), and it is always amazing meeting people who know so much about your life by what I have chosen to share on here. When people can quote back to you things that you have written, for example, asking what I should be called after my entry all about my name - it gets sort of surreal. A delightful evening ensued where I gave him shit and he teased and berated me. Although the clincher of the evening for me, was when discussing Bond, Mr Subtle declared, "I am amazed that you are still so sane". It seems he has been reading this little blog for about two years. He is now to be considered my friendly neighbourhood stalker!

Recently I spent an evening with some women at what is colloquially called "Stitch and Bitch". As has become a habit, one which I am determined to break, these women gather round and dig for details of my current sad dating life. They chortle at my expense, and muse over the state of modern dating dilemmas. All too readily have I offered stories of incompetent dating agencies, ludicrous men and quirky happenings. Once again after relating a story on the (seeming) hopelessness of my dating life, one lovely woman turned to me, and gently patted my hand. She sighed and said, "Well, maybe there just isn't anyone for you." Through gritted teeth I responded,, "I'd like to think that there is."

Now how good am I? I honestly felt like saying "WHAT THE FUCK???????". But, no, I remained calm and contemplative. And vowed from then on that maybe I wouldn't tell stories anymore. To her anyway. You lovelies get all my stories.

Oh, and there is a cute ranga in my Russian class. Woof!

2008-02-16T23:02:00.004+11:00

Hearts and flowers? Not quite.

When one's birthday is so quickly followed by Valentine's Day, it can be depressing when one is single. Just one occasion after another in which to NOT receive presents or attentions from a special someone.

Actually, it has been years since I have had someone to acknowledge those occasions in my life. Whenever I have had boyfriends in the last few years, they tend to handily leave me before or after birthdays, Christmas and Valentine's. Leaving me solo for all these occasions and not on the receiving end of presents - which I like.

So this year, yet again I am bereft of cards overflowing my letterbox, and without flowers crowding my awaiting vases. Although throughout the day I did receive one text message of love. Yes. Yes I did.

Oh. You want to know who from.....?

My Mother. Yes. My Mother.

Depressing isn't it?

What is more depressing is that this is a regular thing for her. When I was about 14, and pining for a boy to love and adore, I received a Valentine's card. It was anonymous and quite sweet. I was so excited. Consider a young girl who is "smart" but not "pretty", feeling low, and getting a card which promised so much. And then consider a day or so later when her mother reveals that she actually sent the card.

I know in her mind, Mum probably thought it was a sweet and loving gesture. But from my point of view, it just was one more reminder of feeling not so pretty and always smart. The sort of girl the boys don't want.

Fast forward 20+ years, and this same "smart" and not "pretty" girl, recieves yet another message of love from noone but her mother. Oh yeah, that was a life-affirming moment. Oh well.

Oh, yeah, and I did get a well wishes for the day from Bond. That also went down a treat. Thank fuck that day is over again for another year.

2008-02-13T11:51:00.000+11:00

Can this be over now?

Another wedding done and dusted on the weekend. Thankfully after trying, unsuccessfully, at many other functions, I finally succeeded in getting well and truly trollied at the wedding.

So much so that there was of course a drunken phone call to Bond. Made by a friend of mine. Oh, the aftermath of that call.

Well, dear and benevolent reader, we ended up on the phone together yesterday for a good hour. Just when I think no more can surprise me and frustrate me - he finds yet another level at which to stoop. A few salient details were clarified yesterday, which now put me in no doubt about where he and I are at. He would like us to be "friends". He also denies ever leading me on, despite me having the online conversations which dispute those claims of his.

Oh for FUCK's sake. Could my heart just listen to my brain on this matter once and for all? So what if he is the sexiest, smartest and most intriguing man you have ever met in your entire life! He is also a lying, cheating fuckwad living his little two-bit whorish life, and acting like he is the greatest thing to have crawled out of the primordial ooze.

I apparently read things into what he has said to me - ie it's all my fault. How would you interpret the words "I just want to see you", "When we are living together...", and the classic, "Wanna suck my thick hard cock"?

So just so we are clear on this.... he is a fuckwit ok?

2008-02-04T15:54:00.000+11:00

Many happy returns of the day...

Yet another birthday passes me today, and I can't say that it has been particularly memorable. One card from my parents and a couple of text messages seems to be the sum total of well-wishes. Probably about the best that a middle aged single woman can expect these days!

I had two dates over the weekend with men from the dating agency. As a birthday treat, I suppose I had hoped that maybe one of them might be a suitable match. Unfortunately, Gent #1 seemed only able to talk about his three children, and Gent #2 thought I some sort of freak when I declared my dislike of attending weddings. He felt it a great honour to attend a wedding, whereas I find most are quite tedious. Bad food, bad music and atrocious speeches, plus the fact that invariably I know few people there except for the Bride and Groom, whom I will not see for the entire night. (Can you tell I have another wedding to go to this weekend? My third in six months!)

Strangely I thought Gent #2 was nice enough, but on meeting him, I realised why he was probably single - if one can pin-point a reason. Middle-aged, balding, primary school teacher, whose manner was decidedly gay. Of course, as one friend pointed out, if he was actually gay, he and I would have got on much better!

2008-01-25T11:01:00.000+11:00

Just one small step for a woman...

There was a time when I LOVED cooking. And I did an awful lot of it. Dinner parties were often. Every week I would experiment with new recipes and ingredients. And everything was always wonderful. I enjoyed it all. The planning of the food, the cooking and preparation, but mostly I enjoyed the sharing of it with others.

Many years of singledom has meant that I don't cook so often for others anymore. Combinations of the finances involved in fancy dinners, availability of friends who are not committed to children and long-distance friendships, have all contributed in part to the waning of the feasting.

I used to still maintain the fervour of cooking for myself - for quite a while - but now it all feels too hard. Meals have become more laboured, and honestly, they just don't taste as good as they used to.

So it is with much shame that I admit my final degeneration. I have, after many many years of always preparing everything from scratch*, bought one of those packets of flavouring to which one is instructed (by the handy pictures on the rear), what ingredients are required to make the "delicious" meal presented on the front of the packet. I was embarrassed purchasing it. I felt embarrassed cooking it. I am only
one small step away from buying frozen dinners. What have I become? And importantly, how do I turn back from the face of Hell?

*Pasta (including tortellini - hand chopped), pastries, all manner of sauces, jams, pickles.......

2008-01-14T10:18:00.000+11:00

Do everyone's preparations for a date include a bikini wax? Just me?

2008-01-08T22:00:00.000+11:00

Happy Belated New Year and all that...

It is about time I return here isn't it? I must admit that I had a lovely break sans blogging for a few weeks. Christmas came and went, and a New Year passed in with me tucked happily in bed well before the midnight hour. I went home to Brisbane for a Christmas break, bringing Isabella with me, and all was lovely, although I must admit that by the time I was due to leave, I was very much looking forward to returning to lovely Melbourne. Maybe too much of a good thing is just that....

And so we pass into 2008.

I have never subscribed to resolutions. If you need a life change - just do it - don't wait for a nominal date. But I suppose some people need something to prompt them in the right direction, and apparently January 1 is that prompt. At least for a month or so.

Despite the fact that I didn't celebrate the new year, I must admit to being a little happy that 2007 drew to a close. Very little about the year was particularly happy for me. The major happiness of the year for me was, of course, Isabella. I admit to being totally besotted and in love with her. Every day I marvel at this little creature who has totally captured my heart and imagination. She has changed me in so many small ways - for the better. She has become, in some ways, my very best friend. And when I am away from her, I miss her so much. She makes me smile when nothing else can, and is there to cuddle when I need to cry. My heart was broken in 2007, and is still not right, but I fell in love with this precious girl, and love every day I get to spend time with her.

My failings for the year include still being in contact with Bond and having deep feelings for him - despite the heartbroken and obvious disappointment that he brings. I also went off my anti-depressant medication for a few months. That turned out to be a bad experiment, but hopefully one that I have learnt from. I felt ok, and figured that I didn't really need the drugs anymore. I thought that maybe I really didn't have depression - who knows, maybe the doctor got it wrong, and it seemed so tacky to have depression!?! But when a sinking episode gripped me around late October and didn't let go, I began to have doubts about my dismissiveness of the diagnosis. I have never felt so wretchedly awful in my life. Days of feeling despair and contemplating how to end the overwhelming pain and sense of futility that engulfed me. I cried wondering when the tears would ever stop. All the joy in my life felt like it had dried up, never to return. Thankfully, my therapist and I discussed it, and I once again returned to the medication in mid-December. Slowly the blackness has lifted. Laughter is returning. Never again will I go off the medication, but I never want to forget those dark times - so I can remember why I need the drugs so much.

My other failing for the year was not reaching 50 books read in the year. I got to 46 and just couldn't make it there. My inspiration for this goal was a blog that I enjoy immensely called (quite creatively) 50 Books. I will try again this year to get to reach this goal. Perhaps I will get a little closer this time.

Rather than setting in concrete some resolutions and major aims for the year (book reading aside!), I have decided that my mantra, if you will, for the year is to be "This year things will be different." I am not sure yet how this will manifest, but I know things must change in my life, and they can only change by changing my attitude towards them.

So how is everyone else doing so far in '08?

2007-12-31T12:00:00.002+11:00

The books I have read in 2007:
# 1. "God's Callgirl" by Carla Van Raay
# 2. "Past Mortem" by Ben Elton
# 3. "My Sister's Keeper" by Jodi Picoult
# 4. "The Devil Wears Prada" by Lauren Weisberger
# 5. "The Plague" by Albert Camus
# 6. "Music for Chameleons" by Truman Capote
# 7. "Deja Dead" by Kathy Reichs
# 8. "The Kite Runner" by Khaled Hosseini
# 9. "Rebecca" by Jo-Anne Ferguson
# 10. "Life of Pi" by Yann Martel
# 11. "Check Please!: Dating, Mating and Extricating" by Janice Dickinson
# 12. "Everything is Illuminated" by Jonathon Safran Foer
# 13. "Odd One Out" by Monica McInerney
# 14. "Middlesex" by Jeffrey Eugenides
# 15. "The Metamorphosis" by Franz Kafka
# 16. "Are you the one for me?" by Barbara De Angelis
# 17. "The Secret Life of Bees" by Sue Monk Kidd
# 18. "Rosie Little's Cautionary Tales for Girls" by Danielle Wood
# 19. "The Red Tent" by Anita Diamant
# 20. "The Pilots Wife" by Anita Shreve
# 21. "The Other Boleyn Girl" by Phillipa Gregory
# 22. "Marley and Me" by John Grogan
# 23. "Pope Joan" by Donna Cross
# 24. "The Song Before It Is Sung" by Justin Cartwright
# 25. "A Spot of Bother" by Mark Haddon
# 26. "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" by JK Rowling
# 27. "The Overlook" by Michael Connolly
# 28. "Something Rotten" by Jasper Fforde
# 29. "The Game" by Neill Strauss
# 30. "Mad About the Boy" by Maggie Alderson
# 31. "Poppy Shakespeare" by Clare Allen
# 32. "The Lady in the Lake" by Raymond Chandler
# 33. "The Man in the High Castle" by Philip K Dick
# 34. "Shakespeare: The World as Stage" by Bill Bryson
# 35. "A Thousand Splendid Suns" by Khaled Hosseini
# 36. "The Memory Keeper's Daughter" by Kim Edwards
# 37. "A Million Little Pieces" by James Frey
# 38. "Hard Eight" by Janet Evanovich
# 39. "Cents and Sensibility" by Maggie Alderson
# 40. "Twelve Sharp" by Janet Evanovich
# 41. "The Horse and His Boy" by C.S.Lewis
# 42. "The Eyre Affair" by Jasper Fforde
# 43. "Suite Francaise" by Irene Nemirovsky
# 44. "Journeys with the Black Dog" Edited by Tessa Wigney, Kerrie Eyers and Gordon Parker
# 45. "This Year It Will Be Different" by Maeve Binchy
# 46. "In My Skin - A Memoir" by Kate Holden

2007-12-15T07:48:00.000+11:00

Happy Birthday!!!

Rather than dwell on how incredibly shit I have been feeling lately, how my Mother is driving me mad, and how Christmas is heading towards being some sort of emotional disaster..... I would much rather look at something far happier and cuter.

It was recently Isabella's First Birthday, so we of course had a party to celebrate, and invited other feline friends. Diablo briefly showed his face to look at the birthday cake and put on his party hat, but spent most of the time hiding under the couch. Meanwhile, Zaphy and Isabella used the hallway as a racing track. There was cake and party hats, and even coffee for the humans!

This is about the closest that all three cats got to each other all afternoon!

They just all look so cute!

What is interesting is that when I told people about having the party, more often than not, people shook their heads and called me sad, and a little pathetic. Can I just tell people that that is *not* the sort of thing you should tell a person who has *depression issues*, and who is talking about the only thing that provided some lift and happiness!??!!??!!

Enough of that - go back and admire the cute little kitties again.

2007-12-06T17:40:00.000+11:00

The pen is indeed mightier than the sword

Now that I have the swanky little Scooter (nicknamed Gloria), I have to get swanky insurance for it. This is not as easy as it may seem. Despite the fact that I am an "experienced" driver - insurance code for "really fucking old" - I am a Learner Rider and therefore am penalised for that inexperience. So I have been ringing around trying to find the cheapest insurance I can, and thankfully I have found a (reputable) company that is relatively inexpensive.

So it was all going swimmingly. I have the cover note. I have paid the premium. But apparently I have to fill out some form, with much of the information that they already have, plus some more. There are spots to fill in on the form where you have to list all traffic infringements - hmmm, those could take a while. A few spots to list all the modifications I will have done to the bike to pimp it up. You know. The usual.

But what I don't get is where it asks for the Rider's Details. "QUESTIONS MUST BE COMPLETED IN THE INSURED'S OWN HANDWRITING". So if I get refused insurance cover, it could be because of my penmanship?

2007-11-29T09:54:00.000+11:00

Nuptial Nastiness

I have a wedding to go to this weekend, and I can't say I am too thrilled at the prospect. Even at the best of emotional times, I find weddings dull in the extreme. And of course, these are not the best of emotional times for me, so you can imagine my anticipation of enjoyment is low.

A few weeks ago I had brunch with the couple in question, and they asked me if I was looking forward to the wedding. I had to wonder why they were asking me that - it wasn't as if *I* was getting married - so why would I be looking forward to it? I admitted, whether rightly or wrongly, that I didn't particular enjoy weddings. They were taken aback, and responded, "Oh, but ours is different!".

Hmmm. Clearly the concept that one does not generally enjoy weddings was lost on them. I am hoping that were blind due to the fact that they are, obviously, looking forward to it, and assumed that everyone else was too.

I am planning on beginning drinking even before the nuptials - waiting until the reception is a REALLY long time. I do hope also that the champagne served is of a reasonable quality and will be flowing freely for me. Some people have said that at least there is food and drinks to help you through the wedding. But I think most receptions have quite "ordinary" food - bulk catering does that - and cheap liquor. Listening to droll speeches and making idle chit chat about crap is also not my idea of a good night out.

This wedding is apparently to be quite small. So yippee for me - I will already know all of the people there. And barring one other single woman, they are ALL couples. Couples I have to sit with and listen to their happy home life stories.

So does anybody have any suggestions on how to cope with this weekend?

2007-11-26T11:34:00.000+11:00

Where Cath buys toys to assuage her loneliness....

I love toys. Of course when I say "toys", I mean just about any techo-gadget. I also love driving my car and could be thought of as a bit of a rev-head on occasion. Very few women own the sort of things that I buy, perhaps barring Ho, who also likes the tech-y things. I have a shit-hot universal remote that needs programming, not one, but two iPods, PDA, ripper of an external drive, and a million other things. I have been known to have boys home for a dalliance, and they get distracted looking at my toys.

That said, I picked up my newest toy on the weekend. It is a little girl-y, I grant you, but I feel it just adds to my stable of "boy" toys - shame that none of these toys actually gets me a boy.

But anyway..... I present to you my latest toy.

Oh yes, I am a bikie moll.

2007-11-23T09:25:00.000+11:00

Oh I am scary when I write...well, a little.

Well so much for the juicy and fun stories I had planned to write about my time with the psychiatrist. I got a phone call today from him, prompted in part by my text message inviting him out this weekend, to say that his "situation had changed", and let us just "leave it at that".

Pissed off was my initial reaction. Partly with him, and partly with the dating agency that set us up. I have paid good money, fine money, exorbitant money even, for this company to find me suitable men to date. And when the last two that they have set me up with have proven to be either outright duds, or clearly about to get involved with someone else - it does piss me off to waste both my time and money.

So I sent the agency a terse letter voicing my disappointment in their service. Well, at least I thought it was terse until I sent a copy of it to Ho. I thought it was direct and implied my anger and extreme "pissed-off-ed-ness" (ok, not a word, but you get the idea). Apparently, Ho thought it sounded quite polite.

Shit. Next time I need to write a letter of that nature, I think I might have to out-source. Offers for this job are most welcome.

2007-11-19T11:49:00.000+11:00

Dating updates...

Sorry it has been a while.... tap shows called for my more immediate attention. They were fabulous - thanks for asking by the way!

That aside, I also managed to have a date/meeting with a gentlemen from the dating agency. The meeting was relatively short, as is recommended for the first meeting, and he seemed possibly normal. Although, my ability to sense normal is clearly not to be trusted. We chatted about a few little things, but of course, I asked about his work. I may have hit the jackpot here if things progress. I knew he was in the medical profession before getting there - but it turns out that He is a psychiatrist! My very own therapist on tap!

2007-11-01T10:06:00.000+11:00

A little announcement

I had a date last night. It was a result of a speed dating attempt, yet again. It didn't start well in that he insisted that I come to his side of town, to a place across the road from his apartment. Surely on a first meeting/date the concept of a location "halfway" is not unreasonable? Further, what happened to chivalry and the gentleman coming to me?

Sigh.

Anyway, we met for a drink. He drank Red Bull, I had Red Wine. He declared Global Warming is a lie and refuses to acknowledge his part in it - he has a fuel guzzling speed boat. He also declared that "all those Paki's" should learn to clean themselves up.

Oh, it was a charming night. But what I also thought strange, as I tried to extract myself at the close of the evening, are the little things that I am sure men must think are romantic. So by way of public service announcement, here goes, ahem....

NOTICE TO ANY BOYS I MAY DATE: Swirling your tongue round and round my ear canal is NOT sexy. Grabbing my hand and putting it firmly on your obviously aroused member, is also NOT sexy. Taking off your pants, pulling out your aroused member and beginning to stroke it whilst we are completely otherwise fully dressed, is not only NOT sexy, is NOT going to entice me to sleep with you.

End of Notice.

2007-10-27T22:40:00.000+10:00

Perhaps I made a bad decision...

The general malaise that has been plaguing me of late, and was duly noted by my therapist on Monday, has sunk me further, I regret to say. This morning I hit rock-bottom, and unfortunately had to put on a brave face and attend another speed dating event that I had already booked (and paid) for. I shall not be surprised if I get no matches from that event, and furthermore, I don't know if I care that much.

The slow leeching of the anit-depressants from my body seems to have at last finished. Thus the fact that I feel so low, and extraordinarily apathetic. I have contemplated this blog on hold until I feel better - but we shall see about that. It seems that I do need, if not drugs, some sort of chemical enhancement for my mood. I am going to try some natural things for a while, I just worry that they will take a while to kick in. Things are so flat in my head at the moment that every second feels like an eternity that I have to work through.

But to add even more poignancy to today's low vibe, I realised that I was shoe-shopping - but for COMFORTABLE SHOES. This is clearly the first sign of the coming apocalypse.

2007-10-23T10:36:00.000+10:00

Did I mention....?

Things that I should have told my therapist before I did it:
- Going off my anti-depressants

Things that she noted at yesterday's appointment:
- "Your mood seems low - your Seratonin has dipped again it seems."

Things that I told her yesterday that I hadn't told her before:
- "By the way, I took myself off my anti-depressants. I meant to tell you."

Her reaction was somewhat less than truly supportive of that decision.

2007-10-21T21:43:00.000+10:00

Some professional chit-chat and some melancholy rambling

I have had quite a week at a conference where the most taxing thing I have had to do is keep up with companies trying to sell me things in consuming alcohol. Every night there was another function by a vendor forcing alcohol and food upon me, and all the while I was trying to keep my professional demeanour.

What was that - could I hear a pin drop in disbelief?

Ok, so perhaps my demeanour was a little more relaxed than other people in the same situation. Can you blame a girl when she meets not one, but two completehotties ? Of course, one was an infant with no interest in a middle-aged woman, and the other was some sort of religious nut-bag (he had a cross tattoo covering his entire upper arm FFS !!!). Nevertheless, I made friends with some vendors who have declared that they would love me to come to the next big Physics meeting, in LA in a week, just so I can continue partying with them.

Oh yes, I was a consummate professional.

Did I mention that Bond is apparently planning on being at the meeting in LA as well?

I have to own up at this point that things are confused in my head at the moment with regards to Bond. Yes, even more confused than normal. The hot boy from Brisbane that I met, of course never rang, or emailed. So my heart still finds itself yearning still for Bond. My head knows exactly what it should do, but my heart won't let it. So the confusion goes on. I want to say to him "Fuck off and stop fucking me around",
but something is stopping me.

Perhaps that something is the total fear that no other man will find me attractive, the way that Bond did. I fear that no other man that I find amazing and interesting and sexy, will think the same of me, the way that Bond did. I still find him the most intriguing man I have ever met - and some of that is probably the fact that he wanted me.

I am so lonely. Lonely beyond comprehension. There was a time when I could say I had really close friends. But I don't have those anymore. Those people are all ensconced in couple-dom and have quite happily abandoned their single friends - or at least me. And somewhere along the way, the singles I know are not my closest friends - and in fact have people who fulfil those positions already.

I suppose I just want someone who wants/needs me. And that is where Isabella comes in isn't it? I had hoped to make this a slightly more up-beat post - but, well, bite me.

2007-10-08T16:00:00.000+10:00

I met a boy.

Over the weekend I was in Brisbane visiting friends and family. On the way up in the plane, I was a little melancholy - for what I am not sure precisely - but I spent some time on the plane ride writing down my thoughts in my Moleskin. I pined for a partner with whom I can share all. I also lamented that the one thing I missed, while trying to not get pissed off at the VERY canoodly couple beside me, is the secret knowledge that couples have. I miss the way that when you are with someone for a long time, you know little things about them that others don't. I still remember the way that my ex-husband tied his laces, the quirky way he brushed his teeth and his clean smell just after a shower. Remembering this sort of stuff made me realise how much I want someone to have that quirky intimate knowledge of me.

So I began my weekend with a mild state of melancholy.

And then I met a boy.

He was in fact a friend of Ms Ho, and her husband (Mr Ho perhaps?). She informed me a few weeks ago about wanting me to meet him when I was up next. I didn't get told too much about him, except that he was recently single (alarm bells!!!!) and was bemoaning finding a woman to spoil. He apparently also possessed a biting wit. So a meeting was arranged for the four of us to have dinner and facilitate conversation. The evening involved eating, drinking (well me and Ho - the boys were dry - WTF?), and conversing.

And how was he? OH. MY. GOD. Was he hot? Oh, yes, tick. Was he smart? Fucking yes, tick. Did he make me laugh - a miraculous feat on occasion? Oh yes, tickity tick tick. In fact, I couldn't have done better if I had put a direct order in at the shop.

He made me laugh about Schrodinger FFS. This is truly a man that worked for me on many levels. Before I went home, I imposed my business card on him, with, of course, all of the implications of "Call Me".

When I went home, I lay in bed thinking about him. And about Bond and our tortured and ridiculous relationship. And about men in general. I tried to rationalise and say to myself, "Well isn't it nice that there are in fact men out there who actually excite and entice you - don't give up hope yet." Considering that very very few men even make me think about them once, let alone twice. But then I thought over the evening, and acknowledged that although he was amusing and polite to me, I don't think he was interested. So then, the immediate next thought was, "Great, I finally meet a man that piques my interest, and yet again, another man that doesn't want me."

Think yourself lucky that you don't have my brain and thought patterns!

So with all this going on in my head, and it is progressively getting later (think close to 2am), I then get a text message from Bond. Fucking great.

2007-09-28T14:08:00.000+10:00

I hang my head in shame - but smiling

I had a curious 36 hours - emotionally. As noted previously, I am now running on unleaded having by now detoxed from my anti-depressants after about 7 years of their faithful service.

So far, so good.

But on Wednesday afternoon, I suddenly went from feeling fine, to feeling remarkably flat. A downward spiral that took about 10 mins to achieve. Oh there was a trigger. A very bad bad man. For the next 24 hours, I felt a general malaise. But then last night, I went to a girlfriend's place to do some applique (DO NOT MOCK ME!), and she desired to watch some television.

Within minutes of watching the as yet unnamed show, I was feeling a smile radiate. I was downright chipper. In fact, I began to smirk. Then laugh. Before I knew it, I was guffawing. (NOTE: For your own safety, do not laugh hysterically whilst holding sharp objects.) By the end of the show, I had tears - of laughter - and felt immeasurably better than I had in days.

The show, I am loathe to admit, was "The Footy Show - AFL Grand Final Edition".

Oh the shame. At this rate, I will be watching "A Current Affair" to catch up on all those pensioner rip-offs etc, and enjoying it.

Your help for these dire times is most appreciated.

2007-09-26T21:20:00.000+10:00

Unrequited Love

I was directed to watch a documentary some nights ago by R. It was on quite late, and probably wasn't made so recently to warrant a prime time slot. But it intrigued - so I watched. Ostensibly, it gave the impression that it could indeed be a documentary about myself. It was titled "Fag Hags: Women Who Love Gay Men".

But this was not about women who loved gay men. It was about a few women who were IN LOVE with gay men. I think it screams a lot of a case of pot calling the kettle and so on, but these were women with ISSUES! There was the woman who loved gay men so much that she started her own interest group, for fag hags to get together. There was the woman who married a gay man, after he was so scared of AIDS during the early days of the epidemic. There were so many women who seemed to be in love with these men to avoid forming relationships with available men.

I thought to myself, I am nothing like these women.

I have gay friends whom I love and adore. But not because they are gay. Simply because of who they are. Their sexual preference is of no consideration to my friendship with them, and certainly does not make them any more of an attractive option as a friend than any other person. Persons who are my friends, whom I love, are friends no matter where they put their pink bits.

Of course, where I am similar to these women is the fact that I seem to fall in love with unavailable men. And that DEFINITELY has something to do with them *not* being gay.

2007-09-13T10:35:00.000+10:00

(Ab)normal functioning

Whether rightly or wrongly, I have recently stopped taking my anti-depressants. I have attempted to go off them in the past, and have usually found that I quickly realised the error of my ways. This time, I hope it is for good.

I didn't mean to go off the drugs, but I kept forgetting to take them, and when I did, it was every other day or so. So I figured that it was only a small step to eradicating them altogether - so why not! Up until a few days ago, things had been going well. I congratulated myself on breaking 7 years of artificially enhanced seratonin levels. But now I am in a dilemma.

A few things of late have pissed me off. A few other things have made me cry. I have noticed that my tolerance of things is reduced, and I am seem more prone to an emotional reaction. So what I have to ask myself now is - is this normal? Am I so used to having my moods somewhat levelled out (yes people, the dramas of the past few years related here have all been under the assistance of drugs - and are therefore more moderate than they could have been - scary isn't it?) that I don't know how to function with normal roller-coasting emotions? Should I still be on the drugs because roller-coaster emotions AREN'T normal?

I am going to try and ride this out and see if I can function. To illustrate how crazy I feel at the moment, I actually smacked Isabella the other night for some annoying and pretentious behaviour. Me. Smacking my angel. Unbelievable.

So - consider yourselves warned. This could be a bumpy ride.

2007-09-07T08:06:00.000+10:00

Who am I?

Yesterday at work I was relaying the joy of my new purchase to work colleagues. No, it was not a pair of shoes, or even a handbag. It was a PVR. For those of you who are techno-illiterate, it stands for Personal Video Recorder, and has dual digital TV tuners and a 160Gb hard drive and completely rocks.

After much struggling, and bemoaning ("Two fucking physics degrees - surely I can connect a stupid fucking TV together!", etc), I was enjoying new and improved clarity, recording shows onto the hard drive and marveling at yet another toy that I had purchased.

So, after my glowing reports of this new found joy, I was asked, "Are you sure you aren't Generation Y?".

Now - this of course led me to a bit of research. According to Wikipedia, Generation X is the generation spanning those born between 1964 and 1979 - an age range which I can assure you I most definitely fit into. But funnily, it then went on to say that Generation X-ers were notable for their "stereotypical reputation as apathetic, cynical, disaffected, streetwise loners and slackers". This is a description that I think hardly fits me. Although, conversely, they they then go on to say that "Generation X is noted as one of the most entrepreneurial and tech-friendly generations in American history". Now that is more like it.

As for Generation Y, which loosely follow the birth years of Gen X-ers, up to approximately 2000, there seems to be little to exactly describe this group. Perhaps as their influence is more fully felt within the community at large, we shall understand what it means. They are collectively described as rude and rebellious, but more appropriately, they are reactionary and are more likely to think along the lines of "an eye for an eye" philosophy. They are accused collectively of bad spelling, poor grammar, and no respect of authority. But they universally are the purveyors of all modern gimmicks. Studies done have shown that in this generational category, the use of computers, mobile phones, MP3 players, instant messaging, on-line information sharing, blogs(!) and forums such as Facebook are not only common, but the norm. And it is into this part of the definition that I most clearly identify.

So it seems to me that there maybe Gen X and Gen Y - but it seems that there is something more. There are those of us who are Gen X in our birth years, and perhaps in our earlier years we were the rebellious slacker youths (hell - we gave John Hughes his entire early career by relaying our angst!). But now we are technophiles who fill up our, perhaps, empty lives by gimmick after gimmick. Electronic toys (of the non-adult variety) are our passion and our distraction.

So what generation are we that fit in between? X and a half? Gen i - for all things Mac? Suggestions please!

2007-08-29T14:30:00.000+10:00

Parental Issues

Clearly it has been a while since I have posted a picture of the love of my life, Isabella. So here is a picture to satisfy everyone's needs. Please look at her and admire. It's ok, I will wait for you.

*hums tune to self while waiting*

OK... now this leads me to something that happened a few weeks ago and pissed me off. A lot. While having brunch with some friends, the discussion turned to our cats. All three women in the room had cats, of various types and ages. It goes without saying that none of us has children, so our feline children become the next best conversation substitute. In the midst of this discussion, both of my friends (this label will be reviewed) turned on me to point out the ways in which I was a "bad mother", and further, went on to say that they "worry if I should have kids". They implied that Isabella is spoilt and misbehaves, and that I indulge her and am the worst of all kitty parents.

I can't tell you how pissed off I was. I was so pissed off, I couldn't even respond!

Apparently the fact that their cats destroy their furniture, attack their legs, are fussy eaters, sloth around with no thought for playing and make a break for it the moment the door opens - is all irrelevant apparently.

So tell me - is there a relationship between cat behaviour and parenting skills? Is there any reason why people feel the need to say such thing to a friend? Should I have just told them all to royally fuck themselves?

Your thoughts appreciated.

2007-08-20T12:47:00.000+10:00

Dating not quite straight men

About a month ago I decided that things had to change for me. With my still, daily, yearning for Bond, and my lack of meeting eligible males, I decided to do something radical and join a dating agency. Not just your online type job, or even one of those group dinner things. I went the whole hog, signed up for meeting with complete strangers, take all my money and then some, type deal. The idea being of course, that firstly, I meet NO men in my usual day to day dealings, secondly, I seem to make such crap choices in choosing men, I should leave the selection up to someone else.

So far I have met two men. Both seem to be relatively normal specimens, and not completely troll-like in appearance. Although curiously, I have had to move a meeting time with one gentleman as it coincided with his Ikebana class.

Straight man.

Flower arranging class.

Oh dear.

2007-08-14T17:36:00.000+10:00

Where Cath reflects on vows and such

The wedding has come and gone, and not without a strange sense of melancholy for myself. Watching the bride and groom, I felt a little odd. Seeing him looking at her, in a way that he seemed to once look upon me. I felt jealous. But not because I wanted him - gracious no! - but for what they have. That sense of contentedness with one's partner, but more than that. I miss having a partner in crime, someone with whom I can confide. Someone with whom I can laugh and be silly, and love all at the same time. I am so happy for him, since our relationship was not great, and he is a good man. I just don't understand why I am not the one at the altar.

2007-08-07T16:03:00.000+10:00

Sins from the past

It seems of late that everyone around me are couples. To make it worse, by happenstance, I created a Facebook page - I really don't know what happened there - but as part of the process, it can troll through your email addresses and find people who also have a Facebook account. It appears that I have quite a few old addresses of people in there, and they returned successful hits in Facebook.

More than one man that I have dated in the past, is in Facebook and listed as engaged, and in one case, a new father. Even funnier, one guy that I dated accepted the automated function to be a "friend", and when it came to the part where it asks how you two met or know each other, he chose "we met randomly". Random? If you call meeting off an internet dating site and dating for a wee while, and him then writing me a letter to dump me, random...???? I responded that "it wasn't quite random". And his response was to remove me as a friend.

So it appears that I am date-worthy, before they move on to other more appropriate women. Sigh.

Which brings me to this weekend. I am going to a wedding. I must admit that I really don't enjoy weddings. They are dull in the extreme, with (usually), bad food, strangers, and bad speeches. This one will probably be no different - although the day is never about the guests - it is for the "happy couple". This day will be a little different in the sense that the only people I know there will be the bride and groom, and the groom's family - since the groom and I dated a few years ago for a while. Hopefully it will be better than I imagine.

Oh, and to add to all of that, Bond and I spoke the other day for the first time in over six months. Many text conversations have occurred, but this is the first time I heard his voice in so long. I must admit that my heart leapt, and then it didn't know what to do. I don't know how I feel right now about it all. Of course, I miss him. Of course, I desire him. Of course, he was a total fuck to me.

Double sigh.

2007-07-20T13:19:00.000+10:00

I have a lovely pussy

I have been thinking a lot lately about sex. Precisely, will I ever have any sex ever again? Right now it feels like sex is a distant memory. But more importantly, I worry about the cat.

She has come into my life during an unprecedented period of un-shagging. Therefore, the bed, is her bed as well as mine. She has never had to share it with anyone other than me, and in all likelihood, will not enjoy a stranger in the bed. Frankly, I wonder sometimes if I will cope having to share a bed again. I quite like being able to spread out, should I want to. I like not having someone get shitty at me for having the bedside light on, so I can read for as long as I desire. I don't look forward to someone waking me with their snoring, or them hogging the sheets/blanket. I don't like heat, so you can imagine how much I fear having a bit sweaty man in bed with me.

I think the cat will be traumatised if I am trying to have wild and outrageous sex, while she is in the room, let alone the bed. Locking her out of the bedroom is not an easy task either. She has a tendency to avoid being locked anywhere, and will attempt to claw her way out - even if it is through solid walls.

While there is no shagging prospect around, it is a moot point. But then again, am I avoiding shagging for fear of the cat's reaction?

2007-07-13T10:38:00.000+10:00

Misunderstandings

Following up on the winter party hosted by PSD, where Miss L and I wore our PJ's... PSD had a catch-up with one of the attendees at his little soiree. Apparently, he commented on the lovely lesbians in attendance. PSD thought for a moment, clearly not recalling any lesbians, until his friend elaborated, "The one's wearing pyjamas."

So for all those people to whom I said my hair made me look like a middle-aged dyke - I TOLD YOU SO!!!!!!!!!

Mind you, Miss L is lovely, and we would make a lovely couple.

2007-07-11T09:27:00.000+10:00

Jobs

Well, I suppose there are some of you wondering what happened about the job. As I predicted, I didn't get it. But not for the reasons I thought. There just happened to be a more qualified candidate. That said, apparently, I "blew away" the interview panel. So much so, that they decided to promote me up a grade level anyway, and put me in charge of mentoring and education.

Me, a mentor. Whodathunkit?

2007-07-04T15:00:00.000+10:00

Reasons why I don't think I got the job...

1. The interview was undertaken in a doctor's room. There weren't enough chairs to go around, so I asked whether I should hop up on the examination table. Not the time for a comedic moment perhaps?

2. One of the interview panel asked whether I could be serious, especially if I had to deal with a serious matter, eg someone's cat dying (I kid you not - that was his example). I responded, "If it was a dead cat - I could be very serious."

3. When asked about my thoughts on taking on administrative duties in my boss's absence, I responded, "As long as it doesn't mean cleaning up his office!". And yes, my boss was on the interview panel.

Other than that, I think I handled the questions with grace and style. And I only swore once during the whole interview.

2007-07-02T11:10:00.000+10:00

Stress and detox

It seems to be just one of those weeks. Everything just feels a little flat of late. Of course, just staring at my phone for hours on end, wishing it to ring, to make me feel like someone in the world remembers I exist, doesn't help. Even my own parents don't ring me. I get the occasional email from them. I also realised yesterday that although I crave company, I actually want it to be the sort where you don't have to talk. I suppose I am pining for the days when a beloved and I could sit and read the paper, not saying a word, but feeling companionship. I miss that. A lot.

I got an email from a girlfriend this morning stating I was in a dream of hers last night. Apparently I was in hospital in Geneva, and was being transferred to a Beverly Hills Clinic to detox - from my American love. Yeah, great, send me to within an hour's flight of his home to detox from him!

In other news, I am starting to ever-so-slightly shit myself. I have an interview tomorrow. Same company, new job, more money, more responsibility. I really want this job. But I am not sure exactly why. I feel at a point where I need more (cue the previous post I suppose), and since I am not getting more out of my life romantically, clearly it might have to be work that fills up the slack. If I don't get it, I am not sure what to do. Getting some time away would be good, but when I asked my boss about some time off, he ummed and ahhed. I then reminded him that since April last year I have had one week off - and I have over eight week's leave waiting for me. Of course, getting the job and then taking the leave at higher pay would be the very best of everything!

2007-06-27T20:00:00.000+10:00

Raindrops

You ever have one of those days where you just feel like crying? Well I do. And tonight was the occasion. So I tried walking in the rain, as a good masking mechanism for my tears. But it didn't work.

But the moment I stepped in the door, where it was warm and cosy and Isabella greeted me (to demand food of course) - the tears began. And I want them to continue. I am hoping that the tears will cleanse my mind and heart, and make all feel better than it does right now.

I just worry sometimes that, as they say, this is as good as it gets. What next if it is?