Beloved came home in his normal fashion, helmet and jacket on, I-pod in, so I bustled around in the kitchen until he was huggable and communicable. When I glanced over at the buffet I noticed a tell-tale blue bag.
‘Is that for me?’ I asked.
‘It might be’ he replied.
I left it a little bit longer, not wanting to get too excited. After 5 minutes Beloved asked:
‘Well aren’t you going to investigate?’
‘That depends, is it for me? Cos if it is a pair of cuff-links or something for you, you should expect an uppercut to the plums’ I had been sucked in before by Beloved’s call of ‘I have a present for you’ only to find it was a CD I had left in his car, a book order sent to his work address or something equally exciting. As I peered into the bag is was all systems go – I didn’t think the Tiffany and Co chicks would put a bow around a pair of cuff links. Nestled in the blue box was a soft blue drawstring bag and in the blue bag was a silver heart shaped key-tag! I had been eyeing one of those off for ages. (No point in lusting after unobtainable diamonds in this economic climate eh?) I was extremely pleased.
‘Thank you husband – it is lovely!’ I said, giving him a hug and a kiss.
‘Yeah, well – you would have got it earlier if you had shut your whinge-hole.’
Indeed.
What a romantic. Though it is true. Husband likes to do things ‘off his own back’. If I ask I don’t get. But then I think if I don’t gently remind him (read: nag) he might forget.
It is a vicious cycle.
If you are a nosey bugger like me, you like looking in people’s windows while we are walking the dog at night. It is fair game if the curtains are open, right? So I thought I would let you have a little look into my world, with some pics of my study. At the moment Beloved and I have a study each, with one spare bedroom. With the possibility of kids in the near-ish future, we are have room for one kid, but two? It’ll be a fight to the death over who gives up their study. I spose bunk beds might also be an option.
PS: I am getting SO much spam. If you are a real person – please decloak and say hi. I know that all of my ‘readers’ can’t be Russians who want me to see Miley Cyrus naked in Nike Air Jordans…..can they?
On Sunday my friend is using me as her….model (demonstrator? demonstratee? body?) for a Bowen Therapy course she is taking part in.
Luckily, I am hairy like a guinea- pig right now. And you watch me overuse that line on the day.
PS: I have already been using ‘I really need a good bowen-ing’
Dear GYL,
It has been 6 years now. I really think you should be getting your bum into gear, rather than idling in piss-fartitude. If Romi can do, you can too! Yes, you can write a book. You started one and it was fun and exciting but then the story got bigger and it became more complicated and daunting. Every school holidays you would vow to write more but somehow ended up not writing anything at all.
Enough is enough. You know that this is your lifelong dream. And it is an attainable one. Make these upcoming school holidays for you. Your Beloved husband spent a better part of 8 months in the garage ignoring the house, garden and sometimes you. How bout you properly indulge in your passion and hole yourself up in your study? Ignore the weeds, stuff the ironing – achieve your goals.
I know you have been feeling a bit off kilter lately, like you are missing something. I think this might be it. Having something to strive for. Maybe it will take your mind off your body image obsession too. (While not skinny you are probably not half as fat as you think you are)
50 pages in 2 weeks should about do it. Don’t worry about quality – go quantity – that is what editing is for, right? It is okay, you can still go to the gym and stuff. Just treat 7 hours of your day as work, arvo naps negotiable and excessive reading (more books have been devoured!) is considered research.
It will be hard, but it will be worth it. To not do the one thing in life you really, really want to do would be a great shame.
Love,
GYL
PS: How is this for fan fiction? Sookie Stackhouse meets an adult Harry Potter gang. Awesome!
If there is a TV/movie AND book version of a series I will usually ‘bond’ to the one I have seen first. I saw the first season of the HBO series True Blood before I picked up the books. However I am up to book 8 and I am LOVING them – perhaps more sothan the TV series.(Those of us Aussies well acquainted with Ryan Kwanten in his ‘Vinnie’ phase will agree that his seeming manorexia is quite a concern) And I think that is because they have gone a certain way in the TV series that they won’t be able to follow the books very closely and the books are great. I mean, they are not particularly complex or sophisticated but they are highly enjoyable and Sookie Stackhouse is a honest and realistic heroine. And I think this particularly applies to her love life. The TV series already seems to be setting up for some unrealistic romantic bull-wangle.
Anyrant. I had a lovely day – Beloved sent me a dozen roses at work to start the kiss arse process whereby he apologises for the 8 months he spent in the garage building 2 motorbikes. I also know that he has a lot more sucking up to do because in the process of building and showing of said motorbikes he has been asked to build more.
I have one word for you husband. Tiffany’s.
Last night I went and saw my dad perform with his choir. They are an amateur group but it was lots of fun to watch. Dad did a solo and contrary to what I remember being warbled from the bathroom after coming home from the pub at 2am, punctuated by upper arm raspberries loud enough to rile the dog into a frenzy of barking, my dad is actually pretty good. He has a velvety sort of thing going on and I am positive he could do some Johnny Cash some justice.
I went with my lovely musician friend who is my gym buddy gone social. I have a habit of picking friends who are just so damn nice and this chick is top tier in that department. And nice is not one of those euphemisms for boring cos she is most certainly not. She is smart, talented, cute and funny. And nice. And it makes me wonder why she hangs with me. No, no – this is not a self-pity post. I just mean that I really should be grubbing around with people of my own feraliciousness, rather than dragging the pure-as-driven snow types down to my level. I like to think that perhaps I have the lure of an element of muck and danger. I am certainly not particularly nice, kind or charitable. And this lovely lady knows I am only hanging out with her with the certainty she is gonna be famous and I have first dibs on writing her biography. At least I know that all moral-corruption stories will come first-hand from me.
When she was on Australian Idol I couldn’t stand Lisa Mitchell. I thought she was a boring old mouse with a voice unsuited for the show. However, in her audition I could see that she had her own style and was a great songwriter. Still doesn’t mean I particularly liked her being on the show.
Anywhinge, I have to say I LOVE her new song. It is fun, has lots of layers to it. Have a listen/watch!
You know what sucks? The realisation that you are part of the masses. That no matter how unique and special and individual you think you are, you are one of billions. That you are over 30 and haven’t written a book. And even if you did who says it would be published, and even then, successful?
What is this desire to set ourselves apart? To ‘be’ someone when we already patently are somebody. Just not famous or recognised? Even if you were the most famous person out of your home town (Bon Scott/Heath Ledger/Rolf Harris/Melissa George/Isla Fisher) you would still be forgotten.
Depressing ain’t it?
And then I get a hold of myself. I am ‘famous’. Just amongst my family, friends, colleagues and students. Just like you are famous too. And that is enough (mostly) for me.
I think my life must be going through a lunar cycle or some shit these past couple of years. There have been big changes and events. Getting married, going to Europe, quitting teaching, getting back into teaching – that sorta stuff.
One thing that I have noticed is the friends things. I am old enough to know it is all swings and roundabouts but it still feels like loss when someone leaves the play-ground. Even if I know these people (and there were a few) didn’t share the same expectations of friendship, or were friends through default or whatever. And there is probably some ego in there on my part. Why don’t they like ME? I don’t wanna be the boring marble in the bag. I wanna be the steelie that everyone keeps and covets.
They may have left but some have been added and I am so very pleased. There is the gym buddy gone social, the work buddy, facebook buddies, blog buddies and hip-hop buddies (one of which is a rekindled high-school friendship via facebook)
Welcome all – I hope you have a nice visit to the GYL jungle gym. Stay a while or not long at all – I will appreciate whatever you have to make my life richer, and I hopefully yours. I hope you know that you all play an important part in my life and well-being.
Of course I cannot go without mentioning the friends who are the centrifugal force in my life. The ones who stop me spinning off the round-about and balance me out on the see-saw. Love you lots. I am here for you – to give the bullies a chinese burn, mosquito bite or dead-leg or to play one more game of hide and seek chasey before dinner time.
