They call it the Silly Season. I call it the Smegging Annoying Season. Christmas is a paradox: It is commonly known to be a time of goodwill and peace, when everybody just wants to be happy. But have you been in a shopping centre full of Christmas Shoppers? Christmas is a time when inoffensive individuals become hagglers from hell. Soccer mums and trophy wives alike elbow their way to the front of queues, raise imperious voices, and demand that jigsaw for Our Young Peter so he can feel loved for another 5 minutes until he opens somebody else's gift. Christmas brings out every person's impatience, exhaustion, rudeness, and selfishness. It is the great equaliser.

Boxing Day, if possible, is worse. We live near a major shopping centre, and yesterday the carpark there was full and cars were blocking streets for about three blocks in all directions. It was madness.

But now it's all over save New Year, and that's just an arbitary date on which to get drunk. Real life returns.

I hate Christmas.

I’m back at work, and starting the training for my new job as Export Assistant... I don’t have much time to blog, or read anybody else’s blog, which sucks! But hopefully once I’m all settled in and a little less under the watchful eye of The Boss I’ll be able to get back into it!!!

It seems like half the country is up in flames right now. Bushfires are the norm in Australia at this time of year, but this year's fires are among the worst. The bushfire season started extremely early, I recall hearing about fires back in October. Our on-going drought only exacerbates the scenario. You know it's bad when experts aren't mentioning controlling or putting out fires; they're going direct to the evacuation plans.

We woke up this morning to find the whole city covered in smoke, we can even smell it inside the house. (Unless Aidan burnt his toast.) Here is the latest news, and that's really only Victorian.

In other news... I have no other news. I have to find something to do, since I'm not due back at work until the 15th. I can't sit around the house being bored.

Oh, we finally got our car!!! Aidan's parents bought us a car roughly a year ago, and we got it a couple of days ago. Now we have to figure out what to do with it... we've been without a car for so long we got used to it and I really think we'd rather not have one at all! Oh well...

The Wedding & Honeymoon Story

I'll start at the start, shall I? And continue on until I reach the end - that sounds rather Alice-In-Wonderland-ish.

Saturday was a typical Melbourne day, overcast but not too cold. I awoke in a hotel room shared with my parents and my bridesmaid. My flowergirl and her mother rocked up late-morning to get organised, do make-up, and so forth. I stressed and paced and worried. For all that, the wedding went off without a hitch. It was small, casual, intimate. Everybody who said they'd be there was there, and everybody was extremely happy for us. The day passed in rather a blur for me, I don't really remember much of it!

The next bit was the "reception" - about twelve of us ended up at the Hard Rock Cafe for dinner, including both sets of parents. Surprisingly, they enjoyed it and didn't get headaches. Or so they said. We all had rather a lot of fun, and I danced with my dad to some old Everly Brothers song that I'd never heard of before, and cared nothing for the mud on the bottom of my dress! (Gotta love a garden wedding.)


Sunday morning dawned upon ill fortune. Sunday was the day of our departure to South Africa, monitoring baboons. But disaster struck! FOOD POISONING!!! I spent all of Sunday in the bathroom, ejecting food from both ends. I struggled bravely on, and got on the plane... we made it as far as Singapore, our first scheduled stop-over, and then I passed out on the plane. That put an end to any hope of reaching South Africa.

I learnt that if you ask a taxi driver to take you to a cheap hotel, you end up in the red light district in a hotel that rents rooms by the hour.

So the up-shot is, we spent a week in Singapore for our honeymoon by accident. I recovered after about three days, at which point Aidan fell ill with what appeared to be the same thing. But by day three or four we were both ok and able to explore! Amazing luck - my brother's girlfriend lives and works in Singapore, so we had our "local guide" and got to see things that most tourists don't find out about.

We had a great time once we were all healthy. The Singapore Zoo, Changi Chapel memorial, Fort Siloso, Fort Canning, Sentosa, Raffles Hotel and general wanderings... I can't be arsed going into the history of Singapore right now, but if you don't know about it, it is certainly worth a read. Interesting stuff, although a lot of what we saw was very emotionally draining. However, on the whole, we had a fantastic time and I guess things kind of worked out for the best!

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!