Babies

Newborn babies are scary. I know we are supposed to be all gaga for them, but I have a pathological fear of them.

Today I held Miss Halle for the first time.  Born on the day that Australia got it’s first ginger Prime Minister, I expect good things from that girl.

But while I was holding her I realised that she is so utterly dependent on me for this short time that I had control over her. This teeny tiny blob that 4 days ago was in her Mummy’s tummy can’t hold her head up, can’t feed itself and can’t wipe it’s own bottom.

That’s a lot of pressure for someone with a hangover to deal with.

Deep down though, as I was cradling her in my arms, whilst her Mum laughed at my complete uncomfortableness, I did hear the faint faint sounds of my hidden biological clock ticking away.

I quickly silenced it however upon my return home with a glass of wine and some camembert – neither of which I would be apparently allowed to have if I was knocked up.

A Magical Adventure

I have decided on my next holiday location (after my festive extravaganza in London of course).

I will be heading to Orlando, Florida. Why? You may ask.

For one reason only.

I will be travelling to Orlando purely to visit the all-new, magical Wizarding World of Harry Potter at Universal Studios.

I care not that I may be too old, or that it is geeky. But as a dedicated fan of the series I can think of nothing more enjoyable than drinking Butterbeer at the Hogs Head, buying a wand in Olivanders or strolling through the hallways of Hogwarts. I am not alone either, thousands upon thousands of people lined up for the recent opening days of the park, waiting in line for up to 8 hours just to get in. Many of them are fans like myself, who have been enthusiasts since the very first book.

So for my overseas adventure in 2012, I’ll be jetting to Orlando – because quite frankly, between you and me I solemnly swear that a rollercoaster is the most fun a girl can have without boys and booze.

Facebook

 

Have you joined Secret Life on Facebook?

Follow me and I’ll let you know whenever there’s a new post or have something amusing and enlightening to share

http://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Secret-Life-of-Ginger/115353435167794?ref=mf 

For every person that joins I’ll do something… nice.

My Day

Firstly friends, apologies for my lack of blogging recently, I’m afraid I have been lacking motivation to do anything.

After another disappointing weekend, and a few frustrating weeks at work, I was all set to sit down and vent to you in cyberspace, however today’s turn of events changed my mind.

Firstly, on Sunday night I read a new regency romance novel by my favourite author of the genre, Julia Quinn, whilst enjoying a particularly tasty glass of red wine.

This morning I woke up rather well rested (for a change) and despite spilling most of my skim milk extra shot latte in the car (damn you retro Benz without cup-holders), arrived at work in a tolerable mood for a Monday.

What really put me in a good mood was the blueberry bagel spread with Nutella that I had for lunch. I would have taken that bagel to bed and shown it a good time if I could have. It was everything a food should be, sweet and savoury, crunchy and smooth and the perfect temperature. Heaven in a bagel. Bliss.

Knock-off time came around more quickly than is usual for a Monday, and I arrived home to find 3 items of mail waiting for me.

A bank statement, which is nothing to get excited about, but still something to open nonetheless. What put me in a delighted mood though was a card and a parcel from one of my favourite people on the other side of the world.

The fact is, in today’s digital age it takes very little effort to send an email, or to send a quick shout out on Facebook.

But to receive an actual piece in the mail, that someone has taken the time to buy a card, write on it, address it and get to the post office, that is something very special indeed.

So readers, because of a letter you were saved another rant about life’s disappointments. I hope you are pleased.

RSS – Really Super Stuff?

 

Each day I get delivered into my inbox a selection of RSS feeds. I’ve blogged about my love of them before, but really they are just too good to be true.

Where else can you get the worlds latest breaking news in 5 words or less?

Babies mauled by fox in their cots, Ernie Dingo’s open marriage revealed, Katy Perry to perform naked at MTV awards, Killer tornado rips through township, Giant burger puts bite into record and Steven Segal advises country’s top cop.

That really is the essential news of the day isn’t it?

And my personal favourite.. Flame throwing elephants clash with humans.  I know this is probably a horrible story of people dying in an elephant stampede.. but all I am seeing is Elephants a’la Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shooting flame at bandits like that cowboy guy in Superted.

Bless.

The Perfect Holiday Romance

Whilst lying on my tummy half stuck under my bed looking for a missing sock (pink, hand knitted and still MIA) I found a long forgotten box of treasures that I lovingly placed under there for safe keeping.

Dusting off the dust and mould (I live in a humid climate, with wood floors.. mould is inevitable) I saw that it was a box of travel goodies. Bits and pieces of basic rubbish that I have collected on my travels.  Ignoring the sealed bag of mementos from The Ex I picked up my diary from my very first overseas trip.

What a joy it was to read the thoughts of my 20 year old self, so eager, naive and if I recall correctly, so beautifully thin!

Much of the diary focuses on my holiday romance, in fact one of those ultimate holiday romances.  As a graduation present from my father I went on a 35 day camping Contiki tour of Europe when I was fresh out of University.

There’s a lot I do and don’t remember about that trip. I remember drinking alot, seeing beautiful things and every day being overwhelmed by the beauty before me.

One thing that stands out is a 24 year old Brisbane local whom I shall call Ben (to be honest his name was in fact Ben, but the fact that I have not spoken to him for nearly 7 years and that I can’t recall his last name should protect his anonymity). We met in a beachside camping ground in Barcelona, again on the French Riviera, through the streets of Florence and for two magical nights in Rome.

I was completely smitten by him. He was handsome by Brad Pitt proportions (and I’m talking Brad Pitt in 2004, pre-Jolie), tall and dark and knew how to schmooze a woman.

In Rome, Bella Roma, a city I had dreamed about visiting since my first viewing of Roman Holiday when I was 12, a gorgeous boy told me that “.. I’ve seen you walking around the streets all day and all I wanted to do was this…” before scooping me in his arms and snogging me senseless before tucking me into bed kissing my forehead and saying “Good Night My Beautiful Girl” in Italian.

Seriously. Wow. That was last time I saw Ben, until one fateful day later that year after I returned home.  I was walking out of a shop in Queen St Mall in Brisbane and ran into someone, I looked up and it was him.

Fate! I thought. No – just an incredible coincidence.  So tonight I’m glad I went looking for that sock, because that was a lovely memory I haven’t daydreamed about in awhile.  A memory that reminds me that perhaps, sometimes, fairytales aren’t just in storybooks. 

Successful Online Dating?

It was not long after writing yesterday’s blog that I sat down to eat my dinner with my parents. Who, decided it was once again time to start asking me when I was planning on finding a boyfriend.

My Mother suggested online dating. To which I guffawed. Honestly. Does she not know how horrible online dating is? Well obviously not because I have not told her about my online dating mishaps.

However advertising and women’s magazines are FULL of stories about  people who met the love of their lives online.

I decided to do some more research.. and to my surprise found that in the library (Classified under Dewey as Relationships) there was nearly a whole shelf on guides to online dating. 

I ended up borrowing a book entitled “Fine, I’ll go online! The Hollywood Publicist’s Guide to Successful Internet Dating” by Leslie Oren.  I am yet to read the entire book, however I have flipped through the first few chapters.

I found it highly amusing that it said that Leslie Oren thinks that “The vast majority of subscribers, you’ll find that most fall under the category of normal or regular”.

Well Leslie, I beg to differ.  Whilst I am sure that there are a whole lot of normal people on there, the vast majority of people I came across either had albums of guns on their facebook profile, ended up being two feet shorter than me, admitted to perving on 15 year old girls or decided it was socially appropriate to ask me in our first conversation whether my breasts were real. All indicators that these men are in fact single for a reason.

It’s not online this – but really, who is honest in their profile? I sure as hell wasn’t, in fact I didn’t even write mine, my friends did. I didn’t really want to talk myself up to much. According to this book, a profile should be the best possible version of your authentic self.

That’s all well and good but how can you put who you are on paper? You put on what you think is a hot flattering photo (that chances you are you have photoshopped slightly to make your thighs just a wee bit slimmer), you slightly over exaggerate your height, under exaggerate your weight.  You don’t mention the quirks that make you you (for example, no mention online of my love of romance novels, Harry Potter, knitting or eating cheese), rather write some fluff about how you like movies, drinks with friends and the beach.

I love the internet, the anonymity of it and being able to meet people from all over the world.  I love that some of you will read these words in the US, Japan or Spain. And yet, I think, when it comes to men, I’ll go about meeting them the old fashioned way.

By flirting with them in bars under the influence of white wine.

“How Are You? What STILL Single?” “Oh Sod Off”

Recently I’ve attempted catching up with some people I have not seen in awhile, and their first question is always “Any boys” “Seeing anyone”.  Quiet frankly it makes me a little cross.

Whether or not I am seeing anyone is not an indication of my well-being, how I am doing, whether or not I am enjoying my job, how my writing or my course is going or if I am currently just a bit fat (well, this COULD be an indication as to why I’m not seeing anyone). 

My reply that indeed I am still single is always met with one of the following:

a) The right one will come along when you are not looking or
b) Plenty of fish in the sea, bla bla bla or
c) You better get a move on or all the good men are taken.

I don’t mean to sound so Bridget Jones-ish, but really must all the smug married people be so fricking patronising. Coming from a small town it seems your self worth is based on whether or not you are shacked up. 

The fact of the matter is, I can’t see myself staying in this supposedly idyllic (read dull) quiet coastal village for the rest of my life.  I am not done having adventures, and it would take someone extraordinary to deter me from this.  Yes it would be lovely to have someone to share these adventures with, but I’m just as happy with the companionship of my friends, and the company of myself.

And since my resolution to stop whoring around has left me thinking that perhaps finding a man should be a little higher up on my agenda (purely so I can relieve some of my daily frustrations in a more satisfying way), I am not going to go out of my way to achieve this.

I’ve managed to evade Mother’s continual requests for grandchildren by the addition of our adoring and affectionate Border Collie, if only I could do the same for my friends.