Friday Fanks

Today I am thankful for ...

1. My workmates who (although they regularly drive me mad) never fail to entertain me when they get into 'dress up' mode
2. The fabulous 70s dress that I found yesterday. This may now form part of my summer wardrobe ...
3. Getting to spend the day in Brighton yesterday. I feel a move coming on ...
4. The fact that it's Friday and all the grown ups are away!
5. The lovely (if a little expensive!) weekend ahead with an all-day, 70s themed, yum-cha-cider-pub-crawl-gastro-pub-dinner 30th of a very good friend tomorrow and slightly more low key 'propping up of the bar' for another friend's birthday on Sunday.
6. Totally delicious, slightly warmed mini-rolls filled with leftover roast lamb

I am not thankful for those same workmates who nattered on and on for the last 45 minutes meaning I couldn't concentrate, meaning I couldn't get to the pub to meet a good old friend ...

Ah, yes ... happiness ...

As I sit at work, resting my chin on my palm, closing my eyes and slowly letting myself drift to sleep I realise I am very thankful I am working in Brighton today. I am thankful that everyone who faces my desk is in a meeting, and I'm almost a little thankful that I've managed to have no caffeine today. Zzzzzzzzz....

I'm also thankful for my little happiness list as I now have Rhapsody in Blue as a perfect soundtrack to my current mood.

Better buck-up ... I've got some serious vintage dress shopping to do in 20 minutes!!

On the first day of the Christmas countdown ...

Ooops ... did I start before? Oh well ...


Today I'm getting myself an early Christmas present (though let's hope Santa comes up wth slightly more exciting presents than I do!).


And I actually looked (unsuccessfully) online for a few Christmas presents and gave a few seconds thought to my card list again - Oh happy day!

To top it off - the sun's out ... mmmm ...

Words aren't enough

I hang up the phone in tears.

I knew when this day came I would be filled with regret, but I forgot that there would be nothing I could do to fix things. Nothing I could do to change the passage of time and make a different decision, follow a different path, choose a different priority. There's nothing that will change the fact that I'm here - snuggled up in bed, in my favourite corner of London, typing away at my blog trying to distract myself. It doesn't matter how very much it hurts right now - I'm here, not there.

Today my friends are celebrating one of the happiest days of their life together. They are marrying each other surrounded by friends and family. They are celebrating their love for each other with the people who love them.

And I'm here. Not there. And nothing will ever change that.

Oops I did it again

You'd think I'd learn my lesson by now.

Just two and a half weeks after severely burning my hand by picking up a tray which had been in the oven, you'd imagine I might be wary of trays which had been in the oven. You'd possibly even think that surely I couldn't practically recreate the incident with just a slightly smaller tray and a fresh new burn and blister on my thumb rather than my forefinger.

You'd be wrong.

It makes no sense to me either

I saw this link today from a friend and it brought me to tears.

Yes, I was a little tired and emotional. Yes, I'd had a glass or two of wine after work. Yes, my boiler was broken and I was not entirely happy with the 12 degree temperature of my flat.

But it's more than that.

Yes, I believe in equal rights for everyone. Yes, I believe that if two people love each other and choose to commit their lives to each other it doesn't matter what their sexuality is. Yes, I believe in gay marriage.

Yes, I was appalled when the state of California passed Proposition 8. Yes, I am scared that the rest of the world will follow suit. Yes, I worry that there will be a day when people I care dearly for will not have their relationship recognised in the eyes of the law.

Yes, Mr Spooner your wife and you did not raise four sons with the idea that three of them would have certain rights and that the fourth of them would be left out.

Yes, I believe in equality. Yes, I believe in freedom. Yes, I believe in love.

Half a decade ...

Five years ago I moved to England.

Well, it was actually five years ago on Sunday that I flew out of Sydney so that's probably an anniversary of sorts too. And I did live in LA for 6 months, which interrupts things a little. And I did live in St Helens for 3 months. So London has only been my home for just over 4 1/4 years.

But I did move to England five years ago.

Half a decade is a very long time in some ways. The number of births, deaths and marriages is off the scale. The concept of living in Sydney is a world away ... and maybe that's why I wonder if I'll ever move back. Surely I should be missing it a bit by now? At the same time I don't think I'll live in London for the rest of my life.

Where, oh where shall I go next ...

Five years. Wowsers.

Rhapsody of Happiness

Maybe I should try 15 ...

14. Hearing the first few bars of Rhapsody in Blue (as long as the rest of it follows!)
15. Finding the perfect gift

Happiness is ...

1. Walking through the mist as the sun rises behind Tower Bridge.
2. A good and proper hug
3. This post - not just because it's about Where the Wild Things Are and eating
4. An unexpected letter or postcard (though expected things are good too!)
5. Arriving home
6. That song that you simply have to dance around the house to
7. Watching my friends learn how to be parents
8. Pulling all my winter clothes out and discovering new clothes (that I've owned for 5 years)
9. Sitting on my old bedroom windowsill watching the sun set over the gorge.
10. Sobbing loudly and uncontrollably through a film (at home of course!)
11. Being woken up by someone singing "Good Morning"
12. A perfect still warm, but slightly underbaked cookie
13. The number 13



Inspired by the Here's to Happiness project

52 weeks

What a fabulous idea!

Reminds me of a much less creative plan had earlier this year to make sure I did something new every week ... or fortnight ... or month ... or something!

And I quite like the idea of this 52 weeks too.

Better get my act together.

Picky Pick Pick

Warning: this post contains pointless and inappropriate details about my healing injuries. I only wish a had a small child that I could pretend to be telling the story about ...

I know that scabs are nature's way of providing a clean, sealed environment within which our wounds can properly heal ... but I just can't resist picking off scabs as soon as they start to show a little wear around the edges. I mean it's little bits of skin just hanging around looking grotty and in need of picking!

Imagine my excitement as my all consuming burn slowly dries up and starts to do this weird snakeskin-y thing which I've never seen before (possibly because I've never been able to leave a blister alone before). Yesterday, a little crack appeared at the joint where my index finger meets my palm and I had to convince myself that I hadn't noticed it, and that it would be better for everyone if I just left it alone until it reached a prime state for picking.

The anticipation nearly killed me.

Today as I happened to be gazing intently at my non-blister over lunch I came to the conclusion that prime pickability had been reached. Despite advice to the contrary I began and it truly was almost all I expected it to be. Actually, the only let down is that the burn itself is tingling a little and probably could have done with a few more days sub-scab (which totally ruins the point of picking). And the fact that I'm starting to get the post-pick blues. I'll be ok though.

This post is dedicated to my flatmate who cannot bear the thought of flaky, dry skin. Ever since I found out this fact I've felt the need to hide my poor worn heels and make sure that any dandruff that shows up at the oddest times is out of her line of sight.

Nots

My last post seems to have posted itself to Hannah's actual birthday rather than the posting day ... at least my blog is on time even if I'm not ...

I'm not a lot of things at the moment ... but when you start to reel off a list of things that you're not you tend to end up sounding very negative ... which might be the case ... or it might not.

So I'm not being negative.

I'm not sick (really).
I'm not friendless and alone.
I’m not hungry.
That's a lie. I'm really hungry. But I'm not starving.
I'm not too cold.
I'm not broke.
I'm not unemployed.
I'm not thirsty.
I'm not America's Next Top Model.
I'm not Paris Hilton's British BFF.
I'm not sad about the previous two things that I'm not.
I'm not interested in finishing this post and getting on with my stupid boring work.

But I will, because I'm not in a position to get away with it anymore.

THAT'S something not to like about turning 30.

Happy Birthday Hannah Beth!

Can you believe she's two?!

Well she's two and 4 days actually ... I just thought three posts on Monday was overdoing it a little.

I certainly can't, and her Mummy & Daddy seem just as surprised to find that so much time has flown by! She is growing up up though (don't worry Mummy, those terrible twos will be over in no time ... soon she'll be just as patient and calm as me) and I only wish she wasn't so far away.

I've watched this little munchkin grow up via the wonders of email, facebook and the land of blog. I can only imagine how tough it must have been for my grandparents to have their only grandchild on the other side of the world in the time before the internet existed for mere mortals.

But back to Hannah who, along with her little sister, brightens my days and brings a smile to my face when it's most needed - please find "Hannah's party, Have Hi-5 cake" and the photo to the left as evidence.

So Happy Birthday Hannah (It's belated in more ways than one - your present is still sitting on my living room floor!) ... may all your birthday wishes come true. xxxooo

She'll play rugby just like Mummy & Daddy!

Sophia Rachel Ullathorne finally arrived on Saturday 3rd October 2009 at 20.13 weighing in at an impressive 10lbs 7oz! Though she still manages to look tiny in daddy Charlie's arms. Sophia is also a little bit special as her godfather is none other than Dunkie-babes.

Note to self: Ignore post from a couple of days ago and start reproducing rapidly before everyone cottons on to what a fab godfather Dunc will be! He was my friend first people!

I'd also like to point out, that although they haven't all been shown on here I (not personally, obviously) have now had 5 babies arrive in the last 3 weeks and 1 day!

Saturday 12th Sept - Sandy Geoghegan (Parents: Karen & Scott. I used to work with Karen. I can't believe I didn't blog about their fab ceilidh last year!)

Tuesday 22nd September - Madison Hope Hawley (Parents: Kelly & Wayne. Kelly & I grew up with each other ... she's my oldest best friend. I'm waiting on more photos!!)

Monday 28th September - Griffin Joseph Wykeham (Parents: Krissy & Tim. I work with Tim)

Wednesday 30th Septmebr - Isobel Helen Stanish (Parents: Michael & Helen. I didn't use to work with Michael - it's a long story!)

They're not all my nearest and dearest but this year has been FULL of babies. I love it!

Feeling hot hot hot

Other than the very occasional paper cut, I only tend to injure myself in the kitchen. It's not the knives - well not often anyway. I seem to have grasped the concept that sharp metal can cause cuts. Cuts usually mean blood. Liz no likey blood. Ergo, Liz does her darnedest not to chop her fingers off.

What I struggle with is hot things.

A baking tray that's been in the oven for an hour? A stock pot that's been sitting on the stove top? A sauce I can see bubbling away before my eyes? I can't see the heat and therefore it's not there.

I'm just made to be burnt. Oil, water, flames, metal, sun ... I've done it all.

This time it was the baking tray (NB. I did have a thick towel that I use as an oven mitt - it was just in my other hand). Considering the pain, the amount of time spent with my hand under running water, the numbness, the pain, the weird antiseptic ointment and glove treatment that seems to have worked, the pain and the one-handed shampoo I managed this morning (put the broken thermostat into the equation too and I just couldn't face conditioning), the bandaid - admittedly it's large, but it's still just a bandaid - I have on my hand this morning seems rather anticlimactic.

How on earth am I meant to get outpourings of sympathy with just a bandaid?!

As I was saying ...

My thoughts about turning 30 seem to alternate like a split personality, unaware of the other's existence.

There's "30! I'm turning 30! Do you know all the things a person is supposed to do before they're 30?! There's a list. There must be a list somewhere. Everyone 29 year old on the planet is reviewing their list and checking the boxes and I don't even know what it looks like. Can I write my own list based on the thing i HAVE done, throw in a few things that I'm likely to do in the near future and then bask in my own self created glory? No? Is that a thing that only a desperate, unsuccessful, unsatisfied, crazy person would do? Should I just accept my lot in life and be done with it? There is only so much a girl can do in five months ... But I should be trying harder! If-I'd-only-tried-harder-I-might-not-have-found-myself-in-this-situation! Breathe."

And then there's "Breathe again. Who really cares about 30? Does anyone really think that worrying about turning 30 is going to make a shred of difference to whether or not it happens? Plus, it's no different to 29 or 31 really. I don't like birthdays anyway so of course I'm not going to be keen on this one because, well, it's still 5 months away and I'm already thinking about it. And that's not 'thinking' about it the way I do on the 13th of every month. It's proper grown-up thinking about where to have drinks and what I should wear and if there's a way of celebrating all day long seeing as though it will be on a Saturday and I don't get to be at work all day. Is there really any other reason to worry about my next birthday?"

Split personality you see. Both of which honestly took over my brain during the typing of this post. I figure I should just embrace the panic. Not because I'm approaching a momentous birthday but because I'm obviously taking the opportunity to evaluate who I am and where I'm going. I can do that any day so it might as well be now. . Why wait until the anniversary of my birth to start making changes?

First I have to go play with my god-kittens. Don't even think about telling me I haven't got my priorities straight!

29 going on 30?

It wasn't my first, but I had a run in with a grey hair sticking straight out the top of my head last night. A few months ago I explained my new hair colour to my boss "I keep seeing blonde hairs in my roots and stressing that they're grey. I know there are grey hairs in there because I've found them before and I just don't want to think about it every time I look in the mirror"

After months on end of asking nearly-30 year olds what the problem was with turning 30, I think I'm finally starting to get it.

I was starting to think that maybe 30 was just like any other birthday. I haven't liked birthdays much since I turned 21 and was so upset I became a recluse for 2 months, so I figured that turning 30 was hardly going to be more of a struggle. What I was unprepared for was the countdown ... If you're younger than most of your friends you find that from the moment you turn 29, the fact that your next birthday will be your 30th is hanging over your head.

Back in May I was talking to a 30-minus-5-weeks year old and I had to ask "What's it all about? Does it hit when you're six months out? At the moment I just can't see what the fuss is about but I'm thinking that maybe I'm just not there yet." Her reply? "Oh, you'll see."

Over the last 18 months we've been analysing our reactions to the total and utter global financial failure and at one point I wondered why so many of my friends seemed to be taking it so hard (disregarding the aforementioned 'total and utter failure' bit!). Partly, so many of my friends are architects and interior designers and redundancies hit us early. Partly, it's the first proper financial crisis since we've been rent-paying, salary earning, wedding planning, child rearing, fully mortagaged adults. But I also think that we're all about to hit one of those birthdays. One that requires extra effort and celebration. One that brings birthday cards from people you haven't spoken to for years. One that will define your life as people ask "What did you do for your xxth?". And the last thing you need as you're about to face this hurdle is for someone to invent the credit crunch to highlight all the things you shoulda woulda coulda been doing with your life at this momentus stage. To discover the meaning of 'credit crunch' right at this point in our lives seems a little rough.

But I still didn't quite get it.

I was one of the lucky ones. I kept my job (but I worked damned hard to do it and I've been working even harder ever since). I had some money saved away for a rainy day. The thought of having to move back to Sydney and live with my parents isn't as horrifying as it used to be.

Now I'm 5 months and 12 days out. I'm overweight. I'm single. I have grey hairs. I have no career. I don't own any property (Hell, I only just bought my first car last year!). I don't have any children.

But you know what? I'm losing weight (and I love food so I don't care that much!). If I'd met the man I was supposed to be with I wouldn't be single. But I haven't, and I'd rather be single than settle. Permenant hair colour is really rather affordable. I can't (just about) afford to pay my rent, and that will have to do. I have no plans to be a single mum so it would be better for everyone if I refrained from procreating at this point.

I'm not quite sure of the point of this post. I was going to talk about how I'm finally starting to have the '30 panic' (although not really, but I didn't get to that bit!). I somehow managed to go from grey hairs, through the credit crunch and finally end up with 'life's not so bad'.

I'm going to post it anyway. Perhaps tomorrow (when it's not the busiest day of my working month) I'll ponder about it again slightly more coherantly.