I've been away. Not AWAY away, just away.
I've been playing with tumblr, I find it exciting and fascinating and overwhelming. Much like I find twitter - so that's either a grand thing or something to back away slowly from, while averting eyes.
I'm collecting post-it-notes of all sizes and colours, because I can, and I've started taking folate supplements.
I'm fascinated by all the things I don't know much about, and am very grateful for Wikipedia.
I unpacked all my scarves and jackets and thermal underthings yesterday - and now I see that we're looking at low to mid-20's for at least the next week or two. I wore a jumper to work today anyway, because I could.
I'm on here to catch up with what YOU'RE doing, because my adventures of late have been a little non-existant.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Memories and elephants are playing in the band.
I still know most of the words to Baby Got Back. Normally I pat myself on the back when I remember them, congratulating myself on my hip-ness. Today though, I wish I could forget them. Not that those are the lyrics presently on rotation in my brain (I have to blame Elvis for my present ‘Love Me Tender’ jag, but he’s dead so I don’t think he’ll care..) but they’re taking up room SOMEWHERE and I’d like to use that space for something a little more constructive and useless.
Memory is an amazing thing – smells conjure up recollections of teenage crushes, sounds of geckos the heady days of sneaking out at night and back in the morning before anyone noticed, that particular shade of baby blue reminding me of my Grandma. I've a very visual memory, which is fantastic for finding the keys and embarrassing for most of my teenage years. Sometimes, memory likes to shed the skin of pleasant reminiscences and rear the ugly head of ‘gosh, I wish I forgot that’.
We visited some friends the other day and for the first time I hung out properly with some folk I went to high school with. Let’s call them Nigel & Nancy. There we were, four adults (hubbie met them for the 1st time) and all I had going through my head was the time I admired Nigel as he stood in front of a bonfire clad only in ren & stimpy boxer shorts on a school camp. And how Nancy flashed me her breasts in year 11, and then commenced to make out with 2 guys simultaneously. Some things just stick in your memory, you know?
I wouldn’t mind losing some memories, so that I can move on without seeing flashes of naked flesh while we’re being very civilised over tea and cake.
Memory is an amazing thing – smells conjure up recollections of teenage crushes, sounds of geckos the heady days of sneaking out at night and back in the morning before anyone noticed, that particular shade of baby blue reminding me of my Grandma. I've a very visual memory, which is fantastic for finding the keys and embarrassing for most of my teenage years. Sometimes, memory likes to shed the skin of pleasant reminiscences and rear the ugly head of ‘gosh, I wish I forgot that’.
We visited some friends the other day and for the first time I hung out properly with some folk I went to high school with. Let’s call them Nigel & Nancy. There we were, four adults (hubbie met them for the 1st time) and all I had going through my head was the time I admired Nigel as he stood in front of a bonfire clad only in ren & stimpy boxer shorts on a school camp. And how Nancy flashed me her breasts in year 11, and then commenced to make out with 2 guys simultaneously. Some things just stick in your memory, you know?
I wouldn’t mind losing some memories, so that I can move on without seeing flashes of naked flesh while we’re being very civilised over tea and cake.
Monday, March 15, 2010
The Sisterhood isn't sacred, and that's ok.
I’ve never been a girl-girl. Growing up, my closest mates were boys, or tomboyish girls like myself. I tell you this, so that you’ll understand how disturbing the circumstances I’m about to relate to you truly are.
Up until 3 nights ago, I would have laughed in your face and possibly pushed you into a conveniently places wall or pot plant if you suggested that I, as a married woman, was part of the sisterhood.
What IS the sisterhood? I’ve a vague notion of boy bands, communal bikini-line plucking and talking about the joys of menstruation… and none of that really sounds like my cup of tea. It turns out though that I was wrong, and I didn’t realise it until I was betrayed. Until WE were betrayed, fellow lady friends.
My husband and I had another couple over for lunch. They’re probably our closest ‘couple’ friends (lets call them Bob and Betty) – I have my mates, Hubbie has his, but Bob & Betty are OURS. Anyway, we were watching TopGear and laughing at the silly car men when Betty came out with ‘you know, it’s so great that we women can get guys to do whatever we like, just by praising them.’
There was silence in the room (broken only by Jeremy Clarkson saying something faintly offensive about Bolivians), before I nervously laughed at the thoughtful looks on both men’s faces. Thankfully, at that moment someone drove into James’ May’s car, and the moment passed.
I sit here a little confused and disturbed at how strong my initial urge was to throttle her. I mean, hubby is a wonderful man, but encouragement goes a long way towards emptied bins, stirred sauces and fed puppy. I knew this wasn’t my secret alone, but I really hoped that a) I wasn’t being manipulative and b) that Hubby wouldn’t realise I actually was being quite manipulative.
By typing this, I realise some men will read it. And you know what? I think that’s ok, because guys have known what we’re doing the whole time when we praise, and they don’t mind. And that’s why I won’t have to collect the mail or clean up the coffee machine when I get home tonight.
Up until 3 nights ago, I would have laughed in your face and possibly pushed you into a conveniently places wall or pot plant if you suggested that I, as a married woman, was part of the sisterhood.
What IS the sisterhood? I’ve a vague notion of boy bands, communal bikini-line plucking and talking about the joys of menstruation… and none of that really sounds like my cup of tea. It turns out though that I was wrong, and I didn’t realise it until I was betrayed. Until WE were betrayed, fellow lady friends.
My husband and I had another couple over for lunch. They’re probably our closest ‘couple’ friends (lets call them Bob and Betty) – I have my mates, Hubbie has his, but Bob & Betty are OURS. Anyway, we were watching TopGear and laughing at the silly car men when Betty came out with ‘you know, it’s so great that we women can get guys to do whatever we like, just by praising them.’
There was silence in the room (broken only by Jeremy Clarkson saying something faintly offensive about Bolivians), before I nervously laughed at the thoughtful looks on both men’s faces. Thankfully, at that moment someone drove into James’ May’s car, and the moment passed.
I sit here a little confused and disturbed at how strong my initial urge was to throttle her. I mean, hubby is a wonderful man, but encouragement goes a long way towards emptied bins, stirred sauces and fed puppy. I knew this wasn’t my secret alone, but I really hoped that a) I wasn’t being manipulative and b) that Hubby wouldn’t realise I actually was being quite manipulative.
By typing this, I realise some men will read it. And you know what? I think that’s ok, because guys have known what we’re doing the whole time when we praise, and they don’t mind. And that’s why I won’t have to collect the mail or clean up the coffee machine when I get home tonight.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
The rumours are true.
I've got a puppy.
This has changed my life in several unexpected ways and sent my thoughts into several (as yet uncharted) directions, and I thought I'd note some of them down in an attempt to record them and (more importantly!) understand them.
1. I love her.
I grew up with dogs in the house, however they were always family dogs (or, on one memorable occasion, my brothers). Biscuit, this bundle of fluff who has invaded my space, is mine. My husband is obviously involved in this relationship, however only he can say how much she has impacted HIS life. I speak for me.
I've very much a dog person. The instant forgiveness, the unconditional love and tail wagging, the snuggles and superman launches all give me that little pang inside. Which I thoroughly enjoy, and which also disturbs me a little. More on that in point 2.
In a short space of time, she's become such an integral part of our house. Our time spent at home includes (and often revolves around) her, which scares me.
2. She's not human - and I'm so grateful.
Being responsible for this character, this ball of energy and enthusiasm and amusing noises, is amazing and it's overwhelming. I've caught myself, more than once, thanking God and goodness and myself that I don't have kids yet. I couldn't play with a 4 month old human for a half hour in the morning, then leave her in a pen outside with food and water while I get ready for work. I couldn't leave her in the backyard while I do the ironing, or only bathe her once a week.
While many of my facebook gal-pals (all those girls I knew in school - barely - and now get to know intimately online through their albums and postings) are on their 2nd, 3rd or 4th offspring, I'm yet to make one baby. In the past few years I'd caught myself wistfully looking at their offspring, wondering if we should take the plunge... and now thanks to Biscuit I'm suddenly questioning if I want to plunge (so to speak) at all.
I may be chronologically in my prime, but I've noticed some traits about myself that wouldn't be healthy in a mum. I'm not patient, and can get frustrated to tears quite easily (take this morning. Why oh why, dear puppy, did you choose to wait until we were quite literally out the door before you knocked over your water? 3 times? I know you'll be checked on during the day, but it stresses me out that you could be without water for a couple of hours, all because you think it's a game). I try and reason with a puppy, which may indicate that I'd try to reason with a toddler. I don't need Dr Phil to tell me neither conversation will end with revelation and obedience on the part of the puppy/child.
3. Puppies are not grandchildren.
My Mother In Law is a wonderful woman. I need to say this first and foremost, because I know point 3 is my projection and not her actions. Much.
From the 2nd day we bought her home, my husband's mum has been smitten. She rings to see how she is, if she can help out by puppy sitting, and if she can come and visit. Biscuit has a ridiculous number of toys to play with - and I get stupid satisfaction out of the fact that her favourite two toys are the (only) ones I bought her. All the rest have just appeared over the last 2 months, along with effusive praise.
I find that I'm overly sensitive to any criticism of my puppy-owning/training skills. I back up our rules with research, of which I have done much, as well as experience (growing up with many dogs over the years). I defend Biscuit's actions (she's not naughty, she's just teething!) with much zeal. This isn't to say that I don't take advice and experience on board... I just feel the need to emphasise that we'll decide what's best for her.
Needless to say, when we were over there for dinner and I heard her say to Biscuit 'there are no rules at Grandma's house!' I got a little tense. I can't help but translate this into what it may be like to have kids, and it stresses me out to no end.
In reality, I'm blessed to have a caring mother in law who asks my permission and opinion in things, and wants to help out with the new addition. I know this, I just need to remind myself sometimes :D
4. I'm ok with wee.
I've never been an icky person, medical shows and graphic blood-and-guts fascinate me (I got in trouble for trying to watch my toe being operated on - apparently I was moving around too much and my 'oohs and aahs' were a little disconcerting..), but I always wondered how I'd be around the 'ol numbers 1 and 2. It turns out, I think I'll be fine. Sure, it's no smelly nappy, but if this is a learning curve then I think I'm doing alright.
5. My husband will be a great dad.
Despite my earlier opining, I've no doubt that one day in the (not so distant - I AM a few months shy of 30, afterall..) future, we will have children. While I'm sure it will be exciting and thrilling and scary, I rest in the knowledge that I am married to a man who isn't prone to emotional outbursts (like me) or snap decisions (also like me). He is patient, forgiving, tolerant, and he also isn't afraid to do night-time toilet tours when despite the puppy-ish whining I just can't get out of bed. He is strict, but with a fun streak that equals enthusiastic races and tug-o-wars with twigs and towels. He's pretty damn good.
Sorry about the gush there! Point 5 surprised even me! I think it's time to head home and feed him a roast or something... with some raw meat cut off for Biscuit of course! Then we'll race around the backyard, take a break for some TV (Biscuit is ok with gunfire and explosions, thankfully!!) and then settle down with a book with a corgi across our feet.
Life is good.
This has changed my life in several unexpected ways and sent my thoughts into several (as yet uncharted) directions, and I thought I'd note some of them down in an attempt to record them and (more importantly!) understand them.
1. I love her.
I grew up with dogs in the house, however they were always family dogs (or, on one memorable occasion, my brothers). Biscuit, this bundle of fluff who has invaded my space, is mine. My husband is obviously involved in this relationship, however only he can say how much she has impacted HIS life. I speak for me.
I've very much a dog person. The instant forgiveness, the unconditional love and tail wagging, the snuggles and superman launches all give me that little pang inside. Which I thoroughly enjoy, and which also disturbs me a little. More on that in point 2.
In a short space of time, she's become such an integral part of our house. Our time spent at home includes (and often revolves around) her, which scares me.
2. She's not human - and I'm so grateful.
Being responsible for this character, this ball of energy and enthusiasm and amusing noises, is amazing and it's overwhelming. I've caught myself, more than once, thanking God and goodness and myself that I don't have kids yet. I couldn't play with a 4 month old human for a half hour in the morning, then leave her in a pen outside with food and water while I get ready for work. I couldn't leave her in the backyard while I do the ironing, or only bathe her once a week.
While many of my facebook gal-pals (all those girls I knew in school - barely - and now get to know intimately online through their albums and postings) are on their 2nd, 3rd or 4th offspring, I'm yet to make one baby. In the past few years I'd caught myself wistfully looking at their offspring, wondering if we should take the plunge... and now thanks to Biscuit I'm suddenly questioning if I want to plunge (so to speak) at all.
I may be chronologically in my prime, but I've noticed some traits about myself that wouldn't be healthy in a mum. I'm not patient, and can get frustrated to tears quite easily (take this morning. Why oh why, dear puppy, did you choose to wait until we were quite literally out the door before you knocked over your water? 3 times? I know you'll be checked on during the day, but it stresses me out that you could be without water for a couple of hours, all because you think it's a game). I try and reason with a puppy, which may indicate that I'd try to reason with a toddler. I don't need Dr Phil to tell me neither conversation will end with revelation and obedience on the part of the puppy/child.
3. Puppies are not grandchildren.
My Mother In Law is a wonderful woman. I need to say this first and foremost, because I know point 3 is my projection and not her actions. Much.
From the 2nd day we bought her home, my husband's mum has been smitten. She rings to see how she is, if she can help out by puppy sitting, and if she can come and visit. Biscuit has a ridiculous number of toys to play with - and I get stupid satisfaction out of the fact that her favourite two toys are the (only) ones I bought her. All the rest have just appeared over the last 2 months, along with effusive praise.
I find that I'm overly sensitive to any criticism of my puppy-owning/training skills. I back up our rules with research, of which I have done much, as well as experience (growing up with many dogs over the years). I defend Biscuit's actions (she's not naughty, she's just teething!) with much zeal. This isn't to say that I don't take advice and experience on board... I just feel the need to emphasise that we'll decide what's best for her.
Needless to say, when we were over there for dinner and I heard her say to Biscuit 'there are no rules at Grandma's house!' I got a little tense. I can't help but translate this into what it may be like to have kids, and it stresses me out to no end.
In reality, I'm blessed to have a caring mother in law who asks my permission and opinion in things, and wants to help out with the new addition. I know this, I just need to remind myself sometimes :D
4. I'm ok with wee.
I've never been an icky person, medical shows and graphic blood-and-guts fascinate me (I got in trouble for trying to watch my toe being operated on - apparently I was moving around too much and my 'oohs and aahs' were a little disconcerting..), but I always wondered how I'd be around the 'ol numbers 1 and 2. It turns out, I think I'll be fine. Sure, it's no smelly nappy, but if this is a learning curve then I think I'm doing alright.
5. My husband will be a great dad.
Despite my earlier opining, I've no doubt that one day in the (not so distant - I AM a few months shy of 30, afterall..) future, we will have children. While I'm sure it will be exciting and thrilling and scary, I rest in the knowledge that I am married to a man who isn't prone to emotional outbursts (like me) or snap decisions (also like me). He is patient, forgiving, tolerant, and he also isn't afraid to do night-time toilet tours when despite the puppy-ish whining I just can't get out of bed. He is strict, but with a fun streak that equals enthusiastic races and tug-o-wars with twigs and towels. He's pretty damn good.
Sorry about the gush there! Point 5 surprised even me! I think it's time to head home and feed him a roast or something... with some raw meat cut off for Biscuit of course! Then we'll race around the backyard, take a break for some TV (Biscuit is ok with gunfire and explosions, thankfully!!) and then settle down with a book with a corgi across our feet.
Life is good.
Monday, January 11, 2010
The navel gazing.
I wonder how many Blogs start out this way. With someone who wants to talk, share, laugh, cringe, amuse and be amused... in more that 140 characters and without including a survey on which fruit (pomegranate), XMan (Toad) or era (50's) they'd be.
I feel I need to sell myself, to convince you to be my bloggy friend and have adventures with me... but first things first. A list!
I'm at the start of several journeys;
But I digress.
So what do I hope to achieve by blogging? I read other blogs and admire/envy the support, opinions and advice they elicit. I'd like to think I'm able to learn from others as well as share a little of my own experiences as they happen, or as they have shaped me. In my 28 years I'd like to think I've learnt some lessons and formed some opinions and an oft inappropriate sense of humour that help build the Anni you see before you. (or rather, read. We'll save my paranoia of photos-on-the-web for another day!)
I miss the heady days when Myspace was cool, when I maintained a blog and sprouted witty non sequiturs on life, love, the horror of housemates with a penchant for fake tan. Actually, while I'm thinking about it, I think my brain worked differently then... this could be due to age, or the fact that I was living in the tropics and synapses were a helluva lot faster... I'll let the jury work that one out.
So this may be a rather bland and uninspiring beginning - but with your help (and the excitement of day to day life!), we'll take the bull by the horns while not rocking the boat, or somesuch!
I feel I need to sell myself, to convince you to be my bloggy friend and have adventures with me... but first things first. A list!
I'm at the start of several journeys;
- We're getting a puppy!
- My husband and I plan to start a family within the next 2 years. We're very organised, checklist kind of people. I'm curious how long this will last once we introduce a kid into the mix.
- I've started to make a concentrated effort to be fit again... this includes long walks to Joss Whedon, callanetics, jumping around like your drunk uncle to Zumba, and trying to do the splits.
- We're at the start of talks about renovating/extending our house (which we purchased a year ago).
But I digress.
So what do I hope to achieve by blogging? I read other blogs and admire/envy the support, opinions and advice they elicit. I'd like to think I'm able to learn from others as well as share a little of my own experiences as they happen, or as they have shaped me. In my 28 years I'd like to think I've learnt some lessons and formed some opinions and an oft inappropriate sense of humour that help build the Anni you see before you. (or rather, read. We'll save my paranoia of photos-on-the-web for another day!)
I miss the heady days when Myspace was cool, when I maintained a blog and sprouted witty non sequiturs on life, love, the horror of housemates with a penchant for fake tan. Actually, while I'm thinking about it, I think my brain worked differently then... this could be due to age, or the fact that I was living in the tropics and synapses were a helluva lot faster... I'll let the jury work that one out.
So this may be a rather bland and uninspiring beginning - but with your help (and the excitement of day to day life!), we'll take the bull by the horns while not rocking the boat, or somesuch!
About Me Avoidance
I stress out whenever I see 'About Me' free type fields. How do you sum yourself up in a limited number of characters, trying to convey all the little quirks/passions/obsessions that make you you? The pressure we put on ourselves to be all things to all folk is really quite disturbing - trying to convey coolness, remoteness, transparency and privacy. Even being a dag is cool now - which is of great relief to all of us who had mile-high fringes in highschool.
Of course the whole 'about me' issue gets even worse once you decide to adopt a pseudonym (as I have), because then you spend your time conflicted between wanting to know and connect with people, and wanting to keep your real identity a secret. At the end of the day, as it is, if you knew me irl, and stumbled upon this, you'd probably recognise me. I type like I talk, I like what I like, and I can't be bothered trying to hide my gender/preferences/beliefs/love of all things green.
And why do I even have a pseudonym, you might ask? I think I like the back door it provides, the ability to say what I think and feel without the potential for embarrassing others (any more than I have. I love you, Mum). It could also be a result of being stalked in highschool - I think every girl should be stalked at least once to teach her the value of privacy and the dangers of exhibitionism.. Just imagine how much more palatable sites like myspace and facebook would be if we'd all had a nice little injection of paranoia at an early age.
Not that I'm advocating stalking, despite what I've just written... but I can't help but recognise how much safer I've been as a result, taking care in my overseas rambles and on night-time excursions to always look after myself.
Speaking of rambles, forgive my tangent. I'm forever letting them show in public and I apologise.
You know what? I'm going to publish this. Because I can. And because you might think I'm cool, and one day we'll meet irl and you'll realise that no matter what weezer/harry potter/chuck say, some dags really are sheep droppings.
Of course the whole 'about me' issue gets even worse once you decide to adopt a pseudonym (as I have), because then you spend your time conflicted between wanting to know and connect with people, and wanting to keep your real identity a secret. At the end of the day, as it is, if you knew me irl, and stumbled upon this, you'd probably recognise me. I type like I talk, I like what I like, and I can't be bothered trying to hide my gender/preferences/beliefs/love of all things green.
And why do I even have a pseudonym, you might ask? I think I like the back door it provides, the ability to say what I think and feel without the potential for embarrassing others (any more than I have. I love you, Mum). It could also be a result of being stalked in highschool - I think every girl should be stalked at least once to teach her the value of privacy and the dangers of exhibitionism.. Just imagine how much more palatable sites like myspace and facebook would be if we'd all had a nice little injection of paranoia at an early age.
Not that I'm advocating stalking, despite what I've just written... but I can't help but recognise how much safer I've been as a result, taking care in my overseas rambles and on night-time excursions to always look after myself.
Speaking of rambles, forgive my tangent. I'm forever letting them show in public and I apologise.
You know what? I'm going to publish this. Because I can. And because you might think I'm cool, and one day we'll meet irl and you'll realise that no matter what weezer/harry potter/chuck say, some dags really are sheep droppings.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
I clear my throat..
What can I say... I like to talk.
I've tried to keep quiet for some time now, and it's just got to stop. Even if I'm talking to myself and the nosey magpie out there, it's ok. I'm talking! Well, typing, really.
I don't know what makes a good 1st blog. Is it wittyness, intelligent insight, honesty and openness, mystery and hints at what is to come?
I think I'm witty. I'd like to think I've insights and more than a modicum of intelligence. I'm honest except when I'm not, like most folk. I don't know how mysterious this all makes me, but I guess that's a decison you will have to make as you get to know me.
Having typed all this at 1030 pm may not have been the wisest decision! It's bed and book time (solving murders with Colin Dexter this evening) so I'll let you get back to it.
Night!
I've tried to keep quiet for some time now, and it's just got to stop. Even if I'm talking to myself and the nosey magpie out there, it's ok. I'm talking! Well, typing, really.
I don't know what makes a good 1st blog. Is it wittyness, intelligent insight, honesty and openness, mystery and hints at what is to come?
I think I'm witty. I'd like to think I've insights and more than a modicum of intelligence. I'm honest except when I'm not, like most folk. I don't know how mysterious this all makes me, but I guess that's a decison you will have to make as you get to know me.
Having typed all this at 1030 pm may not have been the wisest decision! It's bed and book time (solving murders with Colin Dexter this evening) so I'll let you get back to it.
Night!
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