Well, it’s the final countdown. Drat, I shouldn’t have said that, now I’ve got a Europa song stuck in my head. Anyway, it’s now two days until Aidan and I tie the knot. My feelings fluctuate: excited, nervous, calm, flustered! I probably won’t get another chance to blog until after the honeymoon; even though I’m not working tomorrow it’s still going to be busy with last-minute preparations and seeing my parents and stuff.

I can’t believe the things I didn’t think of which I’m only remembering now. The caterers will have to cook then chill all the food which was meant to be served hot, because if they serve it hot it will cool down slowly and everybody will get sick from it. My friend will have to bring his CD player on public transport for me because he doesn’t drive. I’m waiting for somebody from Parks Victoria or Melbourne Council or whoever to call me back about vehicle access to the gardens. I need to buy shampoo and conditioner because if I use the cheap stuff on the day of the wedding my hair won’t sit right. (I can’t believe I care about that, what’s happened to the real me?)

I’m having after-work drinks tonight, I think I’m wired enough already so I’ll stick with non-alcoholic stuff, maybe one champagne or something.

I JUST WANT IT ALL TO BE OVER!!!

I got my promotion! From December 15 (upon return from honeymoon) I’ll start training as the new Export Assistant! The official word hasn’t gone out yet, but I was advised late last night. Sweet!!! Pay rise, too! Happystace!

Ikea-inspired fiction!

It was the eeriest thing I’d ever seen.

I had been driving home from my cousin’s house, a long drive on winding dirt roads in the rain. It was very much a “Rocky Horror Picture Show” scenario, up to and including the sudden blow-out. I was stuck in the middle of nowhere. With high hopes, I checked my mobile phone – no reception. I had passed a house not long ago, and thought it the best idea to see if I could use the phone there.

I walked up the drive, and through the slanting rain I could see a light shining from a doorway. This seemed promising, until I realised that said doorway was devoid of door. Odd. Nonetheless, I knocked on the doorframe as a polite visitor should. I waited. There was no response. I walked in cautiously, half-expecting somebody to jump out at me like a bad movie.

“Hello?” I called. My voice sounded loud in the quiet of the house, despite the muffled sound of rain on the roof. But still there was no response. I walked further into the house, gaining confidence that nobody was there.

I wandered the house with growing curiosity. Everywhere was evidence of recent human habitation: unmade beds, a radio playing softly, a kitten sleeping peacefully on a chair. But no human was to be seen.

Then I walked into the kitchen. It was the eeriest thing I’d ever seen. The dining table was set for twelve, but eight chairs lay askew on the floor as though thrown. Half-eaten meals were left on plates. A wine-glass lay in pieces on the table, with wine still spreading from the ruins, and candles still were burning on the centrepiece. But no human could be seen.

*** To Be Continued ***

Improving prospects...

I’m trying for a promotion at work... out of the sales centre, and into export. It’s looking very promising, but I won’t get my hopes up too much just yet or go into too much detail.

To the rescue!!!

What would I do without somebody else’s mother to mother me? My flowergirl’s mother has leapt to the rescue, offering flowers, a ring box, make-up, and anything else she can think of. Phew! I was clueless until I got her email. I suppose after 2 weddings of her own she should know what needs doing for mine!

In other news, I may have changed “Le Plan”. We’re considering doing a trip late next year to Russia and the former Eastern Bloc. If this eventuates, I will forgo most of my money-costing plans, and stay with my current job. It’s worth it though, what an awesome trip!!!

Moscow, St Petersburg, Minsk, Kiev, Warsaw, Krakow, Prague, Budapest, Bucharest, Istanbul.

Looks good, huh?

This is how I do less work...

What’s the difference between boogers and broccoli? Kids won’t eat broccoli.

Why did the chicken cross the road? It didn’t, the road simply changed position in relation to the chicken.

What is the difference between a duck? One of it’s legs is both the same.

What’s huge and blue and has seventy-three legs? I don’t know but its sitting on your shoulder.

What’s black and white and red all over? A newspaper. (red/read)

How do you get ten babies in a bowl? With a blender.

How do you get the babies out of the bowl? With Doritos.

Did you hear about the dog who sat down to chew a bone? When it got up it only had three legs.

Why do people insist on stating the obvious? Because if their lips stop moving their brains might start working.

 

A very odd thing happened late last night at work. I got “told off”, sort of, for doing too much work. Weird!?

Ok, with twelve days to go I have reached the “scared” point. Not scared of BEING married, but scared of GETTING married – making sure the ceremony goes ok, hoping it doesn’t rain, trying to figure out what a flowergirl actually does. However, I suppose so long as I’m there, Aidan’s there, and the celebrant is there... one way or another we’ll end up married and that’s the main thing.

Fifteen Days

Yes, that’s right folks. In 15 days I will be a Mrs. A married lady. Grown up, adult, mature... well, that’s the theory. I just feel normal. I’m counting down, I’ve organised the whole darn thing, but I still just feel like me. I can’t quite grasp the reality of the wedding and being married. I’m sure, for Aidan and I, everything will continue pretty much as usual... except for the trivialities of sharing a surname and a bank account. It will, in fact, make things simpler. Not to mention, of course, that it is the ultimate celebration of our undying love for each other. That’s important too.

Fiften Days. Yes, that’s right folks. In 15 days I will be a Mrs. A married lady. Grown up, adult, mature... well, that’s the theory. I just feel normal. I’m counting down, I’ve organised the whole darn thing, but I still just feel like me. I can’t quite grasp the reality of the wedding and being married. I’m sure, for Aidan and I, everything will continue pretty much as usual... except for the trivialities of sharing a surname and a bank account. It will, in fact, make things simpler. Not to mention, of course, that it is the ultimate celebration of our undying love for each other. That’s important too.

Trusting The Senses

All we perceive is subjective. Everything is a matter of perception, perspective, opinion. All we receive from our senses is censored and processed and changed by our brains: previous experience, bias, peer pressure. With all this interference, how can we be sure that what we’re seeing is really there? After all, where I see a monstrosity somebody else sees art. What about sounds? Cows, in my experience, don’t say “moo”, but obviously at some point that’s what somebody has heard and written down. Smells and tastes vary too – I think peanut butter is pretty awful, but someone out there loves it and believes that it tastes wonderful. I think Vegemite is fantastic, but most of the rest of the world would disagree. Touch is an odd one... close your eyes and touch something, you will no doubt identify the object by it’s name or appearance. But what if you touched something you’d never seen? Different people would naturally identify it differently. The most misleading sense is common sense, don’t even get me started on that one.

I conclude that the world only exists by common consensus, and we’re all imagining it as something different. I accept no proof that anything is as it appears or smells or tastes (not that I go around licking windows or anything... much). Nobody is really reading this, because I can’t believe my perception that I’ve just typed it or that any other people exist who could read it if I did.

I might just stop this right here... the logical extension of this concept is that there can be no consequences for actions I’ve only taken in my own perception, and no act I don’t perceive can affect me... that leads to disaster!

It strikes me that I am a rather lucky person. When I question what I have to be depressed about, the only thing that springs to mind is my awful job. I have a man who loves me very much, I have a lovely little apartment to live in with him, I make enough money to afford luxuries when I want them, my immediate family members are all doing ok, I have friends who care for me, I have my enthralled blogaudience, and I have most of my health!

The downers: I have a very boring (and relatively low-paying) job with very long hours, I do not have a dog or a cat (although the goldfish go some way to making up for that), I am susceptible to sinus problems, and I suffer from a dreadful case of wanderlust.

Whenever I start thinking like this, I start wanting to volunteer with somebody like Oxfam... seeing as how I have so much, it seems right to give at least a little time and effort towards those who don’t. Then my thoughts wander to orphanages in Kenya and other overseas volunteering opportunities... What an awesome experience that would be, beneficial to my own development as well as the lonely orphans or starving villages or untaught schoolkids... I wanna go now!!!

My cafe dude left my cafe! The girl there never remembers to put marshmallows in my hot chocolate.

Well, I was convinced today in a moment of excitment to place a bet on the Melbourne Cup. I chose Pop Rock, as suggested by a colleague and a customer. I went with $10 each way, so a total bet of $20 (simply because that was how much cash I had on me). Pop Rock came second, paying $21 for the place. $1 on top, yay! I don't think I'll bother next year.

Working on a public holiday is always a little eerie. It’s like being at school on a Saturday. Nobody was on the train as I came in, and now that I’m here I wonder why I bothered... (money)... nothing’s really going on. A couple of calls, a few faxes, some emails left over from last night... There’s a bit of a festive air: everybody’s in casual clothes, there are lollies and chips on the table for us all, and they’ll be bringing in lunch for us from the pub later on. The only things missing are a barbeque and fireworks.

I can’t help but think of all the women in skimpy dresses and strappy shoes at the races today. They’ve all gone out and spent many many dollars on very little fabric; then Melbourne has shown a typical sense of occasion, and rained. Those women will be slowly turning blue, while I’m tucked up in my office. I am where I’d rather be.

I never quite “got” the hype over the Melbourne Cup. It’s a bunch of four-legged animals with men on their backs running very fast (the animals, not the men). For this event, which takes about five minutes, we get a public holiday.

I no complain, I get paid nicely for working!

I returned late yesterday from a weekend with my parents. It was Euroa’s annual Wool Week festival, which used to be a highly relevant celebration of Euroa’s rich and sheep-based history. Now it’s a parade down the main street on Saturday, and the Bush Market on Sunday. A bit of fun, I suppose, but still just a fairly average small-town festival. Sunday was nice... sitting in fold-up chairs by the creek in the shade, with apple cider and sausages in bread... sailing dad’s remote control sailboat on the creek with Taffy (everyone’s family has a friend with an odd name)... listening to the pupils of my childhood singing teacher, who are all just as abysmal as the group in my day... and a tune-challenged C&W singer. So that was how I spent my weekend. I felt very country again, briefly, before being utterly relieved to get back to the city!

Le Plan

I’m itching. There’s no other way to describe the way I feel. I am stuck in a mundane job I dislike, I haven’t traveled since we got back in January, and I never have time to have a life. There are places I’ve never been, music I’ve never heard, subcultures I’ve never been immersed in, people I’ve never met. There are jobs I know I can do that I’ve never had the chance to, there’s a scooter out there with my name on it which I can’t yet afford to buy. Everything is stagnating until the mythical “after the wedding”, when we dream everything will be accomplished. But we thought the same of “when we get home” while we were overseas... and very little of it has eventuated. There is so much I want to experience! So little time!

Resolutions for After The Wedding:

- I will get my motorbike license

- I will be promoted OR in a new job by March – NOT a call centre

- I will go out to more gigs and other events

- I will save some dosh and travel some more!

It’s days like these that Melbourne becomes a sea of umbrellas. Almost all are of dark and sombre hues, so the occasional rainbow striped ones seem laughably incongruous. In Melbourne, everybody is always prepared for rain: even in the midst of drought we know where the brollies are.