Sunshine Award

I had a lovely message last week from Tasneem Abrahams of awarding me my own little award – yay for me.

The award is for bloggers who’s creativity and positivity inspires others which is all very nice.  Thanks Tasneem!

I have been called many things, but positive is seldom one of them.  Actually I take that back, I was positive three times on a pregnancy test, so that could count for something.

I really decided to start blogging one day as a form of therapy.  I had made an appointment at a therapist and had to wait a few days for the appointment and I just thought if I started jotting my stuff down, I am sure it would make me feel better.  Suprisingly it did.  I really recommend blogging as a way to purge the demons and cleanse the soul.  I really know nothing about blogging and sort of stumble my way through it.

So I am deeply grateful when anyone reads my blog, and very pleased when I get comments.  To illustrate how little I knew about blogging, I was so shocked when I realized that blogging even existed and there were so many women who blogged about every day stuff.

I really am still new at this and struggle to visit as many blogs as I would like to.  I need to sort out how to get my blog roll to list the blogs I visit, and have not quite got to doing that as yet.

Right now the blogs I follow – as much as I can.

I really struggle with these lists, as I read such a variety of blogs, and do not follow each on every day, so it really is difficult to build a definitive list – as it always excludes so many other great blogs, that I do read, but tend to keep stumbling on.

But for now here are some I read (and apologise if I read yours and was too stupid to add it to my list)

  1. – she is so funny – I can’t imagine a house with four boys – I used to have night mares about that being me.  Some of her experiences really make me laugh out loud.
  2. – her by line is enough to make me read her blog – I’m an opinionated bitch who usually gets into trouble just by spewing my crass, vulgar life shit onto this here page.
  3. – Comic nerd who met another comic nerd and decided to drag my complacent partner into parenthood. So far he hasn’t complained, except when I wouldn’t name our son ‘Dick Grayson’.  Posts are really funny and clever.
  4. – I love her style!
  5. – we all need our dose of purple to get us through some times.
  6. – one of my favourites to visit.
  7. – gotta love people who are more insane that you are.
  8. – mom of three, who struggles with all the same things I do.  She just writes better!
  9. – I read hers and find we have so much in common even though we are living totally different lives.
  10. 10. – clearly my situation means I read this sort of thing, but I probably will not read after July 2010.

Please continue supporting those who blog – blogging is very addictive, but getting feedback from your visitors is really the thing that floats your boat.

Star Crossed Lovers ….

Last Friday I went to try on a wedding dress.

If you had followed any of this wedding stuff, you may be raising your little hand about now, and posed the question “er did you not already buy a dress?” to which I would have to answer “Right you are!”

I would have to add in an almost embarrassed tone: “But it seems it was not THE dress, THE dress was waiting for me somewhere else.”

It really has just been all so pedestrian and predictable it is tragic.  I can’t even glam it up and tell you how I bought a dress, but there was a fire, and when the fireman ran in to save the women and children, he used my dress to cover the mouths of the babes, so they would not die from affixation, and then my dress was destroyed and see I had to go and get another one.

Nothing like that I am afraid. I just kept waking up and two in the morning, staring at the ceiling and going: “I like my dress, but I want a dress that I love!”

I toddled off to a wedding dress place – yes another one, no doubt they are starting to release mug shots now and keep them under their counters.  I asked the assistant to  drag out all the “sale” garments which I dutifully tried on.  But none of them really excited me.

Right at the end while I was standing in my knickers and no bra – not a good look in a drafty salon, I asked Ester to go and have a scratch through her regular priced merchandise and let me try on something there.  I knew that this was probably not going to end well, but fools and angels and treading and all that.

Esther pulled out this monstrosity and suggested I try it on.  I thought she was having me on for a bit of a laugh, I was standing there scantly clad and all so clearly she was the dominatrix in this role play we were doing.

I looked at this frock and figured I might as well put it on, and then send her back to grab another.  Well as all boy-meets-girl, girl-takes-an-immediate-dislike-to-boy stories go, mine it seems was no different.  Which is all the more depressing, as I sincerely hoped I was cut from a more original cloth.

Esther laced up this dress.  I walked to the dressing room with it’s wall sized mirror and stood on the pedestal – they actually have a pedestal – I should get one of those for home!

I stood on the pedestal and gazed at my reflection and thought to myself “wow, that is quite a frock.. not sure I really like it.”

Then as with all slow romances go, I looked at it again and thought “I sort of quite like the cut of your cloth…”

I walked around the room a little. I jiggled my skirts a bit, and then I looked at my reflection again and realized … I am truly in love.  Not that forced kind where you are a little drunk, and he is the last one at the bar, and you really do not want to go home alone again, that real kind where your eyes meet and you see yourselves wrapped around each other for eternity … in my case for about 8 hours.

I was smitten.  I pranced – yes I pranced – around the room a bit. I even tried on shoes, then I pranced some more.  Oh it was heavenly to be in love.

Then it was the awkward moment.  You are so in love but the logical side of you needs to ask the rather embarrassing question “so how much will it be for the good time?”

The answer did make me choke a little, but we were in love, what does the trifles of money matter to us?

I skipped out of there with a song in my chest and a Heidi-skip in my heels.  I then had an immediate attack of IBS and had to stop at the chemist for some medical relief.  Love they say can hurt, mine was making me bloat, cramp and sweat – and I had wave after wave of nausea.

That is the thing about initial love, when you are in each other’s arms, nothing matters.  But when you part company and the ugliness of the morning creeps in, and the terrible aftermath of the hangovers weighs on you one starts to doubt one’s feelings.

How was I going to pay to be with my new lover?

And what the hell was I going to do with the first dress?

I felt like I had betrayed her and was cheating on her with this larger more voluptuous model.  I really was, and though I felt some guilt, I wanted to be with my new shinier love as the original one no longer mattered to me.

After the weekend, I could not bear to be further parted.  I went back on Tuesday for another fitting, and then I knew we were meant to be – logical thought had stepped out.

So I paid the money and now she is mine – actually she is not mine.  A dress maker in the States will be making a replica of her for me, in my size and flying it over to me, and then she will be mine.  The dress not the dressmaker incase this analogy has got a bit confusing.

When I did the EFT I really felt a little light in my soul – it will be a nervous wait, and well a tad “cutting it a little fine” but my dress will arrive on the 12 July – the fact that the wedding is the 17 July does not escape me, but for now my infatuation has released me of worry.