Monday, 27 September 2010

Calm And Confusion

Where am I?

Who are you people?

What are you doing in my room?

Good GOD, what happened to my hair!?

Oh, right... right... Yesterday was my sister's wedding...

You'll have to excuse me, what with yesterday's ceremony and my friend Awesome's nuptials I've spent most of this year preparing for and planning weddings and I'm not quite sure what I'm supposed to do now.

I... remember free time but can't quite wrap my head around how it applies to me.

After the months of phone calls, running home mid-week to try on shoes and dresses and pick jewellery and have make-up trials and bombard my sister with reminders of her appointments and to-do items... it's over.

The day itself went flawlessly, almost spookily well.

My mates Awesome and Eep chauffeured us from the hairdresser to the beauty salon to the other bridesmaid's house where we had to get ourselves and my sister dressed without undoing our hair or wiping off our make-up like the klutzes we usually are.

My Dad turned up and managed to restrain himself from making too many jokes as he drove us to the ceremony and then suddenly it was The Wedding.

My baby sister and her fella standing in front of all their friends and family, blue sky, soft breeze, lush garden, vows, readings, no-one faceplanting or stuttering, signings, photos, driving, more photos, reception, someone pushing a welcome glass of wine into my hand, speeches, crying, food, cake, more photos, fetching cars, packing gifts, kisses, collapsing into heaps.

My sister is married to a man who loves her and makes her happy and who we have long since assimilated and added his distinctiveness to our own.

You cannot believe the relief.

Now I think it is time for something a little different.

I might sit in a café and read a book, or take the dogs for a walk, or ignore all those plans and have a snooze, or get all these pins out of my hair and wash out the layers of hairspray.

Yes, that last one.

Then maybe the others, if I can be bothered.

Oh the freedom!

Saturday, 18 September 2010

Planning Hermit

I'm going to blame the fact that my sister and her fiancé are currently building a house.

And that two of my friends and their partners are at different stages of building their own homes.

And the really nice suburbs I drive through with my Dad when we decide the petrol price can go hang and take the scenic route home from Italian.

I can blame whoever I like but the truth is this: I've caught myself planning my perfect house.

I didn't cotton on to it at first that this was what I was doing.

It started with looking at the plans that various people were considering for their future abodes and the ones they'd researched and binned due to how patently crappy and impractical they were.

Then I was paying attention to architectural features of different buildings and houses as I passed.

So when whilst watching Grand Designs I caught myself thinking 'ooh, I'm definitely getting one of those' and realisation dawned.

Of course, when I say planned I'm not talking about a cohesive and structurally sound schematic, just a higgeldy piggeldy collection of 'things wot I like' put together like Door's house in Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere.

For your browsing pleasure and possible bemusement I've gathered a few of them together here.

Now if I can just win the lottery and find a builder willing to tackle a project likely to be rife with such helpful phrases as 'kind of like this but not quite and of course congruent with the rest of the aspects discussed so far...' then I'll be set.

Saturday, 11 September 2010

The Truth Of It All

I think I'm getting a cold.

This is a nuisance and a bother.

So I'm treating this the same way I do most worrying developments in my life.

With sleep.

Great, long, coddling, soothing bouts of surrendering to somnolence.

I feel the same way about sleep as Odin does in Douglas Adams' The Long Dark Teatime of the Soul:
Sleeping was a very important activity for him. He liked to sleep for longish periods, great swathes of time. Merely sleeping overnight was not taking the business seriously. He enjoyed a good night's sleep and wouldn't miss one for the world, but he didn't regard it as anything even half approaching enough.
Of course, seeing as I'm not actually an immortal - unfortunately - I am occasionally rocked by the frantic knowledge that I am frittering chunks of my mortal life away in this fashion.

But usually I'm just rock-a-bye-baby'd.

This is one of the things that has convinced me that I'm not a TRUE ARTIST as a TRUE ARTIST would be gripped by self-loathing and whipped into a frenzy by the need to create and the idea that they are wasting prime creating time.

Mostly I'm gripped by blankets.

When I wake up I will create.

But for now...


Sunday, 5 September 2010

The Shamening! (Not To Be Confused With The Shamaning)

Oh dearie dearie me.

I knew I'd been slack of late but it wasn't until the lovely Erin Palette applied a judicious kick to my saddlery regions with a stylish boot that I realised it had been two months* since I posted anything!


So as a form of penance and blog-self-flagellation I am going to look back through my notes for things I intended to post but didn't and my planner to see what I was doing at the time and I am going to fill in the gaps.

This week.

Possibly today.

Because when you are slightly sleep-deprived, a little bit hung-over and having a hair of the dog it is the perfect time to make grand promises and to write.

So that means... 10 posts! Oh for the love of... I mean, excellent, I relish a challenge!

So here we go.

Operation STOP BEING A LAZY ASS has commenced!


The Chicken Party

My sister is getting married this year.

This month actually.

This is a thought that I feel should be making my brain boggle but she and brother-in-law-to-be have been together for so long and are so absurdly suited to each other it seems more a formality than anything else.

At this stage all we need to remember to do is turn up in the right dresses and shoes and we will be set.

The one thing we did need to get done and done properly before the big day was her hen's party.

I could give you a run down of what we got up to but a) that'd be a bit anecdotal and 'hey I went to a party that you weren't at' and b) it was a private party for my sister and none of your beeswax so instead I'm going to talk about something else.

There's a lot of build-up around what's supposed to happen at hen's parties since they attracted the hivemind's attention so I've decided to use this post to make one particular point, one that I think isn't made enough.

If it is your hen's party you can do WHATEVER YOU DAMN WELL WANT.

This includes telling people who are trying to tell you what you HAVE to do to take their suggestions and jam them up their jacksies.

If you want to get rowdy and take it to the streets that's fine, if that's how you like to play you'll have a ball.

If you're usually a quiet person, like doing things differently or just don't think it's the business of everyone in the damn town/suburb/city that you're getting married you don't HAVE to go out and do specific things and nobody is allowed to tell you that you should.

If you want to go paintballing - Go!

If you want to go to a day spa - Go!

If you want to have a BBQ, get drunk and play Rock Band - Do!

Karaoke bar!

Burlesque show!

Bowling night!

Movie night!

Costume party!

Bake off!

Beach party!

High tea!

1950s glamour pin-up photoshoot!

There is no limit to what you can do for your party, pick whatever you're happiest with and do that.

It is a party to celebrate your life so far, your friendships with the people you invite and the life you have ahead of you - there is no rule that says it has to be just one thing.

You shouldn't have a particular hen's party because you think it's expected of you any more than you should have a particular wedding because that's what you think is expected of you.

Do what makes you happy.

PS. In case you were wondering, no we didn't get a stripper. Just in case instead of Hugh Jackman...

...we got Har Mar Superstar*....

...who does indeed strip with confidence and alacrity but not to the same reception.

*Or someone I went to school with. I don't know why I'm so convinced lately that someone I went to school with will one day take their clothes off in front of me for money.