Titles are Overrated

Hello, dear creatures! I hope you are well and living your best life wherever and however that may be. 

Apparently, it's been a whole year or so since I posted here! Where does the time go?! Honestly, I've just been lazy lazy lazy busy busy busy and haven't bothered with this blogging thingymajig. Yep. You guessed it. There's been nonstop action, excitement and jaw dropping escapades of adventure and intrigue demanding my attention. The year has whittled by in a whirlwind of exhilarating activities and life changing achievements the likes of which have never been seen before and likely will never be seen again. Or something.

It is totally not exaggerating to say that our lives here in ye olde Boganville are akin to the most gripping television drama and should be adapted into a Netflix series IMMEDIATELY. 

Case in point: there's this show streaming on ABC Iview called Marriage starring Nicola Walker and Sean Bean. Spoiler alert: there is an intense seven-minute scene of Ms. Walker's character making a sandwich. Another, stacking the dishwasher. 

They should have just focused the cameras on Mickey Blue Eyes and I instead. I know for a fact it would be equally as riveting and avant-garde. I make sandwiches. I stack the dishwasher. Because - wait for it: I FINALLY GOT A DISHWASHER!

SEE? I told you extraordinary things were happening! 

Other fantazamagorical (totally a word) happenings:

I did something unheard of. I didn't finish reading a book. GASP. But life's too short for boring books, am I right? 

I let a little bit more of my weird out at work via a meme. I should have this on a t shirt, said I: 

I really should. 

I forgot how to spell a word! I would tell you which word, but I'd have to spell it. I guess I'm not using that word anymore. Good. Who needs you, dumbass word! In the bin, word I can't spell. You're completely UNECCESSARY. Or is it unnessacary? Two n's or one? Whatever. Binned. 

Mickey Blue Eyes and I had the opportunity for a brief interlude in Mollymook last month. My friend J (and her other friends) were celebrating 50th birthdays, and we were invited to tag along! They had booked in to go to Bannisters by the sea, which is a fancy pants restaurant connected to celebrity chef Rick Stein. However, Mick, myself and our other friends K and M decided to accept the fact that we are mere peasants with more plebian tastes. 

A courtesy bus to the local bowlo was booked. And look I'm sure Bannisters is lovely and all, but you don't get that kind of service and elegance, do you?

K fancied a cocktail, but upon arrival we deduced that it was not the sort of establishment that would serve cocktails. They did have a meat raffle in full swing however, so NER. We feasted on our basic schnitzels, steak sandwich and spaghetti Bolognese with glee and zero regret. Ambiance was provided by the raucous shouting in relation to the meat raffle. Pure class. 

Following this, we conversed with the locals while waiting for the return courtesy bus back to the caravan park. Alas, we discovered there is no such thing as shop til you drop in this neck of the woods. K and I had contemplated hitting the shops on Saturday while the others headed off to some sort of beer festival. Because beer is gross. Yuck. 

Saturday arrived. The caravan park had a wood fire pizza oven. Due to J's meticulous planning, we were fortunate enough to indulge in wood fired pizza for lunch. Afterwards most of the group headed off to the beer festival. K and I settled in for a cuppa instead. K, being the bloody legend she is, had brought a box of Cadbury Favourites. If I have to choose between beer or chocolate, no contest. Basic bitch 4EVA! Don't even care. 

As well as being a right basic bitch I'm also excellent company, and it wasn't long before I was snoring on the couch in K's cabin. Nice. Suddenly a storm shattered the peace, and I woke up disoriented. We watched a veritable river rushing past the cabin from the sliding door. The storm passed as quickly as it arrived, and we set off for a meal at The Milton Hotel. Mickey Blue Eyes and I tried unsuccessfully to hide our gauche ways at the sight of the somewhat eye watering prices (to us). 

Luckily, sharing meals was encouraged so we ordered the Wagyu steak. 

Waiter: Would you like any veggies?

Us: Yes, please.

Waiter: What are you after?

Mickey Blue Eyes: Um, a bit of everything. 

Cue me realising each vegetable is a separate dish at almost 20 bucks a pop. Yikes. We hastily backtracked and settled on a cabbage dish. 

Then the order was somehow mucked up and they gave us a free cauliflower dish as well. It all turned out to be extremely delicious, and J's friend also provided a delectable cakie to round out the meal. 

On Sunday we got up in the middle of the night to drive home because Mr 14 had a soccer thing on. We were weary but happy after a fun weekend.

Since it's been so long between posts you may or may not know we have an addition to the family! Another doggo!

Meet Ella: 

She was a skinny girl when she arrived but not now! 
See below 

Chandler is not entirely thrilled with the addition, poor dude

The funniest, cutest, goofiest, (and greediest!) little bundle of mischief. She popped up in my Facebook feed one day as available for adoption. This was in the midst of all the torrential rain. I was at work, so I frantically called Mickey Blue Eyes and said go get her. He did! I decided to keep her. And Mickey Blue Eyes too. Tee hee. 

What else is happening? 

My casual work at the library came to a grinding halt as a result of all my sick leave.  However, I am still working permanent part time for a library supplier and enjoying it. I much prefer working part time and behind the scenes. I'm definitely a behind the scenes kinda girl. Behind the scenes of behind the scenes even, if that makes sense. Yeah nah, nothing about me or my blog writing makes sense... Moving on. 

What can I say about the boys? Not much, because they hate when I do that! I will say that I now have a 21-year-old, an 18-year-old and a 14-year-old. Wait...WHAT??? Again, where does the time go??? Yeah yeah, it keeps moving forward and waits for no one cause that's how time works. I get it. God damn logic. Pffft. 

Confirming the fact that time waits for no one: we celebrated our 27th wedding anniversary a week or so ago! Just- WOW. That's a bloody long time! Not as long as my parents though. They celebrated 56 years! A few days later, my dad turned 84! Forget the logic thing, someone please figure out how to stop time!  

In terms of my PPPD diagnonsense, I am thankfully much better apart from occasional blips, but I try not to let it get to me which is half of the battle. 

Sadly, an anticipated road trip to Wagga Wagga with my mum had to be indefinitely postponed due to all the floods and ridiculous weather about the place. I'm sure we will get there eventually! In the meantime, we went to the movies to see Mrs Harris Goes To Paris which was a lovely feel-good movie with pretty dresses. So that's a win.

Mickey Blue Eyes and I are planning a Christmas getaway which promises to be the kind of lavish, upscale affair you have come to expect from us. Shut up. 

Anyway, that's about it for now. I'm wishing everyone a happy Christmas and a merry new year. And if that's not possible (because why all the pressure to be happy and jolly when the silly season can be complicated and fraught for many), then remember it will pass. 

As Mickey Blue Eyes would say, take it easy and I'll catch up with you later!

Kind wishes and cakie things,

Ness

PS. All the formatting and everything here is completely weird, and I have NO IDEA how to fix it. Oops. Sorry! 

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Mrs Picklebottom Is Properly Horrified

Well hello, groovers and shakers. Or shakers and groovers, either way works. I'm back to talk all about LUURRRRVE.

Today is the 13th of February. See how sharp I am? This means that tomorrow is the 14th (razor sharp!), and you know what that means?!!

Yep, it's just another day. Well, it is to me. But for some folk, it's the most romantic day of the year: Valentine's Day. 

This means that Mickey Blue Eyes will be getting some very special treatment tomorrow. I might even make him a sandwich. And, when I serve up the burnt sausages and veg for dinner, I'll even do a little tomato sauce love heart. I'm thoughtful like that. 

Why am a such a cynical little soul? I mean, considering I love the Carpenters who usually sung about love. Birds suddenly appearing, sharing horizons and all that shit.  I guess I'm a weird mass of contradictions. 

The thing is, I don't really need a bunch of over priced roses to know that  my husband loves me. After all, why would he put up with my Carpenters addiction. That shit must be maddening.  Poor bastard. 

I will, however, take a million dollars and a life time supply of chocolate. I'm not greedy. 

Truthfully, I did fall in love for the first time at the tender age of around seven or eight. As soon as we touched I was besotted. My eyes met with the object of my affection and it was love at first sight.

I couldn't wait to meet with my new love for our daily trysts. We were together all the time. In bed. At school. Under the desk. In the playground. Parting was always heartbreaking. It was like leaving a piece of me behind whenever I forgot my books. Yes, books. What did YOU think I was talking about?

Forget about playing kiss/chasey in the playground, when you can sit in the corner with a book! Besides, fictional boys are better. Case in point: Gilbert Blythe. Swoooon. I wouldn't have minded if he'd called ME carrots! 

Books were definitely the first love of my life. This continued into my teens. When I was in Year 9, I had this English teacher. As you do. Honestly, I can't even remember her name, so I should probably make something up.

Let's just call her Mrs Picklebottom. Because if you're going to make up a name, it might as well be something ridiculous.  Now, since this blog is just me repeating myself ad nauseam, there's a good chance I've told this story before. But it's a good one, so here it is again...

It was during this particular time in my life that I enjoyed reading Mills & Boon romances.  Before you judge me, bear in mind that we didn't have the internet in 1985, so I had to find out about sex somewhere. I certainly wasn't the type to be off 'pashing' and being fingered behind the demountables. No judgement whatsoever if you were. I certainly hope you enjoyed it. Just wasn't my thing. So I stuck to the books. 

Mrs Picklebottom was completely horrified by my choice of reading material. So much so, that she immediately contacted my mother and demanded a meeting. The next thing you know, my bewildered mother was being informed by Mrs Picklebottom that allowing girls to read these type of novels would make them grow up to think that if they have sex and have an orgasm, they're in love! 

As my late aunt pointed out when Mum told her, you can have an orgasm masturbating, and it doesn't mean you're in love with your hand! I wish mum had sent my aunt to the meeting. Would have been interesting. 

At this point, I must apologise to my mother, some thirty odd years later. I certainly cannot imagine having to have such a conversation with a teacher. Mum replied that she disagreed. She thought it was just a phase I'd grow out of.

This proved to be true, as I no longer read Mills & Boon  novels. Enid Blyton and LM Montgomery on the other hand... 

Shhhhhhhh, don't tell anyone! 

I can't help thinking that if Mrs Picklebottom is still out there teaching high school English, she would have imploded at the Fifty Shades series. Not to mentions teens ready access to internet porn these days. 

However, maybe Mrs Picklebottom had a point. It was just a clumsy delivery. It's entirely possible that romance novels DO set people up for unrealistic expectations about love. 

That is my whole problem with Valentine's Day. It's so phoney and commercial.  Personally we don't celebrate it. We prefer to leave it for our wedding anniversary which has more personal meaning to us. We'll celebrate our 22nd wedding anniversary in November instead. 

One other thing, if you're single and feeling a bit crap because it's Valentine's Day and everyone is posting all their loved up stuff on Facey. Don't. Or, at least, don't feel crap for longer than five minutes. Feel the crappy stuff, then move on.  

Those couples enjoying a romantic meal near the beach will be the same ones who'll be pissed off with each other the next day for forgetting to replace the toilet roll. Incidentally, it's me who always forgets to replace the toilet roll in this house, not Mickey Blue Eyes. Oops. Sorry! 

So I think I finally understand what Mrs Picklebottom was saying. Love isn't about hearts and flowers on one arbitrary commercial day. There is so much more to it than that. It's all the little things your partner does every day.  And the HUGE things; like supporting each other through cancer. (That's a whole other blog post...) It's been a wild 22 years, that's all I can say...

And tomato sauce love hearts are cute sometimes, too.

Maybe I'm a romantic after all? 

What are your thoughts about love, Valentine's Day and Mills & Boon novels? 

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Conversation with a wedding dress

If I could talk to my wedding dress I'd sigh and say: "Why don't you fit me anymore?" To which it would reply: "One word: CAKE."

And then I would get quite grumpy and sulky because I don't like to be reminded that it's my own fault I'm a chubster. I prefer to think there was some sort of weird invasion of the body snatchers thing going on. In other words, I'm delusional. 

Of course you have to pretend dresses can talk for this scenario. Perhaps it would be helpful for me if all my clothes COULD talk. They would give me a stern lecture about my love of cakies. Then again, they already do this without the need for words. Every time I try to ease my pants or top over my expanding belly, the warning is whispered. And I ignore it. Because CAKE. Sigh. 

But getting back to my wedding dress. I LOVE my wedding dress. It was a very traditional, prim dress with a high neckline, long sleeves and a train. There were pearl buttons on the sleeves and back. It was ivory, even though it appears to look white in photos. This dress was made for me by my mum from a Vogue pattern. For this reason it's very special to me. Years later, my aunt made a christening gown for my son with remnants from my wedding gown. 

I look back at the woman in the photos and think about how young and naive she was. Fast forward almost 21 years and this dress would look quite ridiculous on me. Especially since I could only wear it on one leg. It's actually a good thing that we can't see into the future. If I had known I what was before me perhaps I would have ran shrieking from the church a la Julia Roberts in Runaway Bride.

No, there's nothing wrong with my marriage. But to say that Mickey Blue Eyes and I have certainly been through the whole 'for better or worse' and 'in sickness and in health' thing would be putting it mildly. I'm still waiting for the richer part of 'for richer or poorer'. Waiting, waiting, waiting...

Anyway, I was going to say that I'm not really sure why I had such traditional ideas about my wedding dress. I think what I wanted was some sort of Anne Of Green Gables theme, like THIS. However, Mickey Blue Eyes might have thought I was nuts and not married me. I waited until after our vows to bring out the crazy. OOPS. Too late! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! 

Here is the exact Vogue pattern that my Mum used. I'm pretty certain it's that one, anyway.

We were married in a church. I'm not sure why I wanted to get married in a church, considering that I never attend church whatsoever.  I didn't even go to church as a child. In fact, I don't even believe in God. Weird.

This was a dress I have only worn once. It would look a bit odd if I wore it to go shopping. Although if it actually fit me, I'd would just BECAUSE I COULD. Not possible.

As well as feeling beautiful in the gown, I felt calm and serene. There were no wedding jitters for me on this day in 1995. Or the 'olden days' as our boys refer to it.

For this post I believe I should let the photos speak for themselves. These two are my favourites because they are just candid and not posed. 

I feel wistful and weird thinking about this dress. Life has been a bit of a struggle in the past year and I suppose I look back at those innocent times with more than a bit of nostalgia. It's hard for me to pinpoint exactly what I want to say.

My wedding dress is still hanging in a wardrobe at my parents house. I haven't looked at it in a long time. Our 21st wedding anniversary is coming up on November 11th. It was such a long time ago. One of my most vivid memories is the priest who married us saying: "You'll look back at photos and think 'we looked pretty good in those days!'" Yep. Even more so, because since I had cancer, my hair grew back strange and curly. I don't look like myself anymore. Sigh. 

It's certainly true that when you're planning a wedding you put a lot of thought and energy into things such as a dress that you will only wear for one day. Poof! The day's over and it's almost 21 years later. 

In the space of that 21 years we've faced infertility (bizarrely), then babies (luckily), the loss of a baby, cancer (both of us have had cancer), the loss of loved ones, and a million other boring and brilliant things. 

I don't have a daughter to give my dress to, and I suppose it's a bit dated now anyway. It was kind of dated even in 1995. 

But I still can't bear to part with it. I'll always love that dress. 

And I simply can't believe that we were not included on this cover:

RUDE! Of course, we're not celebrities. But we look exactly like Brangelina, so same thing really. 

I did mention I was delusional. 

What do you think about wedding dresses? Beautiful or baloney? 



Linking up for Conversations Over Coffee and IBOT. 

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Marriage: 20th Anniversary Edition!

The most astonishing thing has happened!! I was just minding my own business and then suddenly I blinked and guess what??!!

20 years just whizzed past in a nano-second! Unbelievable! 

Apparently Mickey Blue Eyes and I will have been married for a monumental 20 years on this coming Wednesday, the 11th of November, 2015! I could make the usual jokes about how you don't get that long for murder, but that would seem to imply that marriage is some sort of punishment to be endured. Pffffffft. As if. 

I must confess I couldn't even tell you why we've lasted this long. OK, maybe I have an inkling. 

A few months ago we were having a conversation about marriage and divorce, which had us arriving at this conclusion: the only reason ours has survived for 20 years is because neither of us could be bothered with the hassle and rigmarole of going through with divorce proceedings.

We do have arguments and annoy each other, just like every other couple. At the time you are completely outraged and wish to storm out of the house in high dudgeon and haughtily declare that you're never returning. Then, in the next beat you realise it's almost dinner time and something good might be on the telly after that, and really it's rather a lot of effort to pack and exactly where are you going to go anyway? Um. Yeah. Better rethink that. 

Long live romance! 

Anyway, seeing as though I'm now an expert on this subject here is some random advice and thoughts about marriage: 

• Wedding days are just that - a day. Yes, it's a special day, but I firmly believe you can still make it special without spending eleven billionty dollars on a cream puff frock and horse-drawn carriages and doves and all that nonsense. 

It's amazing. We look EXACTLY the same!
Except for the older and fatter thing. Details.

• There's no rush. Live together first. 

• When you are married there is really a frightful amount of a) talking, and b) togetherness. Who would have thought that a schmaltzy Carpenters song got it right? You know, that lyric about 'talking it over, just the two of us - togetherrrrr, togetherrrr?! Okay, you probably don't know, you're not groovy like me.  Check it out below. Anyway, if you're like me and not that great at talking and require alone time the way you require, you know, oxygen, then this will be a challenge. Not a totally impossible one, but a rather significant one. 

• There will be good and bad days. On a bad day I wish I could pack a bag and leave in a huff (see above). On a good day my family are like my coat of armour against the World. *passes over sick bags* 

• Those relationships that seem to be too good to be true probably are. 

• Don't post any of your arguments and drama on Facebook.  

• Remember the old line from the movie Love Story? 'Love means never having to say you're sorry'. Horse shit. If you know you've been a dick, an apology wouldn't go amiss. 

• If your husband isn't one to make grandiose romantic gestures, like sending flowers or writing gushing Facebook posts about you being the love of his life, but instead does the laundry, washes dishes, is a fantastic Dad to your kids, puts up with you being forgetful, disorganised, silent and uncommunicative (see above) and having a raging, totally perplexing Carpenters obsession, then there's a pretty good chance he does love you after all. 

• Likewise, if you're not one to make grandiose romantic gestures, or even say much at all, but instead support your husband's decision to work from home, despite your intense need for quiet time being disrupted, and put up with him being stubborn (yet somehow bizarrely oblivious of this fact), disorganised, and having a raging obsession with shares, soccer and birds (the feathered variety), then there's a pretty good chance that you do love him after all. *hands over more sick bags* 

• One day you will innocently blink your eyes and 20 years will have passed just like that! 

• Don't sweat the small stuff. We have a saying around here: Let it go over your head. No point in getting worked up about him leaving the toilet seat up. Especially if you have even worse habits. Or is that  just me? Ahem. 

• Make it clear early in the peace that you do not share your partner's enthusiasm for soccer, Star Trek or any other riveting obsession. Otherwise you will spend many hours being bored shitless and shivering at football fields on the weekend. Likewise, he isn't going to be enamoured of your fascination with shoe shopping or scrapbooking. Leave each other to it.

• When you are young and wishing to meet a potential partner you are certain that having common interests is essential. It's actually not. See above. Especially if you have, shall we say, some rather offbeat interests. I mean, let's face it, if I'd waited to meet a bloke who shared my Karen Carpenter fascination, I'd be permanently single. 

• Valentine's Day is a load of commercialised bullocks. There's no point in some one making a big fuss on a certain day and sending over-priced flowers then treating you like crap for the rest of the year. It sounds like a cliche, but it truly is the little everyday things that count. 

• If you were married in the 70s, 80s or even the 90s like me, your frock may now be hideous and dated. Not mine. Mine is exquisite and timeless. Because I've always had exquisite taste and didn't wear a cream puff frock. And clearly Kate Middleton totally copied me with her gown. So ner!

And that about wraps up my wisdom and insight* about marriage.

Happy 20th anniversary, Mickey Blue Eyes! 

*I have no wisdom or insight about anything ever. I just pretend I do. Works for me. 

Linking up with Kirsty and Alicia. 

What are your thoughts about marriage? 

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The Best Thing I've Ever Done

What is the best thing I've ever done?  I have NO IDEA.  Ask me what I've never done. That would be easier to answer. The list of things I've never done and will never do is rather long and detailed. The list of things I will never do if I live to be a hundred and one, even longer.

I've never:

• Travelled to far away, exotic places, unless you count Dubbo. And I certainly don't.
• Had a thriving, successful career, or even any sort of average job that I've been remotely good at.
• Made a five year plan. Or even a five minute one.
• Known what I wanted to do when I grow up. Still don't.
• Made friends easily and consequently had millions of the things coming out of my arse. Or, you know, I've just never had millions of friends. Forget about the arse thing.
• Been adventurous. I've never wanted to do anything heart racing such as bridge climbs, white water rafting or bungee jumping. I'm a two feet planted firmly on the ground kind of girl. 
• Been the owner of one of those sleek and blindingly white homes seen in magazines and on the telly.
• Been stylish, elegant and effortlessly chic. Instead I've always be the one wearing too much eye make-up and a dodgy, at home dye job teamed with bargain, sales rack clothes from not very classy stores. 
• Been one of those competitive 'Tiger' Mums, bragging about my kids  and how brilliant they are to anyone and everyone.
• Been competitive, period. I can't win the race, because I'm never in it.

Anyway, I could go on for days with this list. Instead I'm supposed to be telling you the best thing  that I've actually DONE.  The truth is, I really don't know. Or maybe I do. It's just that it's not the things I think I should have acheived.

I will never have a home that looks like THIS.

I've stumbled through life, feeling like an alien. Along the way I managed to have the odd job, (even if I thought I was never very good at any of them), make a few friends, get married and pop out a few sprogs. Nothing remarkable. Nothing remarkable at all. Seemingly.

Also, before all of that I managed to survive through several years of infertility. The fact that I ended up conceiving at all was all because of the shit I did to help myself. Actually exercising like a demon and being *gasp*, healthy. Then, after we had our first two boys, Micky Blue Eyes was diagnosed with bowel cancer. Surprisingly, that wasn't very much fun. Okay, not surprisingly, but we got through it. Just when we had picked ourselves back up of the floor from that little shock, we had another shock. I was up the duff again. But this pregnancy ended in tragedy, when I lost the little man at 19 weeks, and, to make matters worse, still had to go through birthing him. That was actually the WORST thing I've ever done. I'm  supposed to be telling you the BEST thing. I'm getting to that. I think. I hope. Maybe. Whatever. You've probably stopped reading by now, anyway. Sigh.

I think the point I am trying to make is that sometimes the best thing you can do, the biggest achievement, is to survive all the worst things. Does that even make sense?

I've survived all of the above and am still relatively sane (okay, it's debatable), as well as bumbling along through life without the diagnosis of Asperger's until I was 40. Did I mention that? That was a fairly big deal for me and a gigantic yawn for everyone else. Which is what this post is turning into.  Sorry!

Plus, the fact that I've survived all of this and went on to become a Professional Bogan, boring everyone with this bogan themed blog is quite a stunning achievement in itself. Whether it's stunning in a good way or bad way- well, draw your own conclusions. I think you know what mine is. I'm a very proud bogan blogger. So ner.

Now I am also facing one of my biggest challenges yet. Potentially giving up cakies. I know. Heartbreaking. If I survive this, it could possibly be my biggest achievement to date. I am having a Glucose Tolerance Test on Monday. I get to carb load for the next few days before finding out if my cakie addiction has caught up with me. This should be interesting. Or boring as batshit, really. Stay tuned. Or tune out. Or whatever.

Linking up with The Lounge. which is being hosted by Tegan from Musings Of The Misguided.

What is the best thing you've ever done? It may not be what you think...

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