True love in a bottle

As much as I am a romantic at heart and believe in true love (that’s as soppy as I get I promise!), I have always been very sceptical of those that say they have found true love when they are young. Up until two weeks ago, I would have laughed if someone told me that there really are people out there who have a ‘strength’ in selecting lifelong partners when they have little or no relationship experience. An 18 year old who knows the difference between infatuation and love – oh please give me a bucket!

I was only chatting to a friend the other day and one of the questions I asked her stuck in my mind. I asked her what age she was when she married her hubby – wait for it…..21. OMG! She then said they dated for a couple of years before that, so it was obvious to me that this man (who she is still happily betrothed to) was her teenage sweetheart (oh bless!). What surprised me was my reaction. I was overcome with a feeling of happiness and gooeyness at the thought that there are people who do get it right first time. But, hello! What’s wrong with this picture and why did I feel so good about it? Where has the cynic in me gone?

The real ‘me’ pretends to puke when she hears a soppy love story and loves one of Olympia Dukakis’ lines in Steel Magnolias – “…if you don’t have anything nice to say about anybody, come sit by me”. So what’s happened? Am I that soft now that it only takes one soppy love story to change my views on relationships forever? Maybe there is hope for me yet!

Previously, I thought there can’t be any better test to whether a relationship would work than experience. The ‘try before you buy’ stage of ones’ life. I’m not talking about being a complete tart (or whatever the guy version is – something tells me there isn’t one), but finding out the type of person you truly click with takes time and A LOT of dedication and understanding (i.e. leaving the toilet seat up is not the end of the world if everything else is hunky dory). Also, the type of person you might think you would suit, in practise might drive you completely insane. I might have fancied Tom Cruise at one point (don’t go there) but I’m sure his ‘short person syndrome’ approach to life would have got way too much for even me to bear.

So why was I such a late bloomer in the life partner thing (another way of saying why was I so rubbish)? I remember my first crush – like it was yesterday. The cute chubby boy. My friends didn’t get it, but for some reason I saw potential (mostly from afar). From all reports he grew up and into a dashing chap, but in my world physical improvements alone don’t necessarily mean someone is fabulous inside and out. Thank the Lord my choices did improve greatly since him and I was pretty much on the right track once I reached my twenties, as my selection from the single men pool prior to meeting my hubby had similar characteristics – great career prospects, hardworking, extroverts, lovely smiles and they made me laugh. Oh and nice bums - what more could a girl want? Regardless, I’m quite happy knowing that I met my husband at the age I did and have no desire to change that part. I’d change my hairstyles (oh God don’t get me started on fashion disasters), but not much else.

So how will this new moi react? This is the interesting bit – what will life be like for the ‘changed’ me?
· Meet someone who is still with their teenage sweetheart: FROM -> cringing (on the inside) TO -> I will now think and feel that everything is wonderful.
· Get asked for advice with these type of relationships: FROM -> advising to dump asap TO -> I will be interested in giving tips to help
· What is so bad with meeting ‘the one’ in late teen years?: FROM -> ‘where do I start’ TO -> appreciating that it can be a good thing and it’s possible to have the best of both worlds (grow up and face the long term stuff together)

So now that I AM (almost) the person who is focussed on what people have (connection rather than material) and not what they might have missed out on by getting married so young, I just need some practice to see if my new outlook is to be short lived (or not). Never said I was perfect!

Is there anything else that’s good about it? Damn right there is! For some reason it’s the not–so-talked-about aspect and it works the same as Botox without the needles. Yep, you heard it first from me. This is obviously baseless in terms of scientific research (I am after all someone who makes big baseless statements almost daily!), but there’s no denying that my friend (the married at 21 lady) looks younger than her actual age and every time I see her she is always happy - you know the type that always look like they are up to something because it’s not possible to be that happy that often! Well that’s her. Maybe avoiding the standard scenarios that come with young relationships (dumping and being dumped) early on in life is part of her secret?

Anyway, for now I have lots to be positive about. I’m a little less cynical about other people’s lives and my motto is - it’s your journey. Depending on how it is used though, it can be a good descriptor or completely condescending to someone – so versatile (love it!). So moi is no longer going to focus on someone’s age as a measure of their ability to decide on their love life and instead appreciate who they are as a person and respect their decision. Unless it’s my daughters then I freak out and rethink my entire argument (but I’ve got a few years till that might happen).

So, where to now? If you are one of those who have been fortunate in finding true love first time round - bravo, congrats, fabuloso, and well done you. I can now honestly applaud you without a hint of sarcasm and at the same time I need a favour - I’m only human after all! Whatever you have within you to be so spot on with your choice of partner (oh and being able to stay so happy and youthful) – don’t be so damn selfish and share it. I want to bottle it. You might not realise this because you are so damn happy and content with life but the majority of the world’s singleton population out there would kill for what you have to share. So when I find you (and I will), don’t be surprised if I kidnap you for a wee while to crack this secret code you have going on. Not for selfish reasons though (hi hubby!), I happen to have friends who could do with your help and given the selfless gal that I am (almost saintly I know), I’m happy to be the one to make you talk. The things I put my hand up for………….Tx

Dedicated to Nicola, Angelique and all those who got it right early on……. you look so damn young and happy it makes me sick!

So what’s your secret?

How important is it to understand someone – I mean really understand them? My Nan used to tell me (and anyone else who would listen for that matter) that she and her sister were the prettiest girls in Kyogle (country town in northern nsw for those who haven’t a clue where it is). I also can’t forget to mention her other most repeated story – she was related to Dame Elizabeth Taylor. Regardless of the topic (usually about her), there was nothing she wouldn’t talk about. My mother-in-law was a similar type of person to my Nan – she could talk till the cows came home about anything and everything. I thought I knew everything about her too – then she died.

I’m obviously not blaming her for dying – I’m no saint but that is one step too far even for moi! I just happened to be at her funeral (as you do) a few weeks ago when I found out something shocking about her. No, she didn’t have a secret life as a Granny drug dealer nor was she working for the MI6 (although I’m sure she would have made a splendid M in one of the Bond films or failing that a very good Mrs Mangel if Neighbours were to ever recast that role). But she did have a secret. Apparently, she was part of the team that developed the contraceptive pill. Like wow – how did this topic get superseded by all those other stories about her going to the local shops? Am I that self absorbed (or so into shopping) that she didn’t feel I would want to hear all about it?

The moment that I heard this new bit of information, I sat and contemplated lots of things which centred pretty much on why didn’t she talk about being part of an amazing medical advancement? After thinking nasty thoughts of myself (oh and multi tasking at the same time - I was still at her funeral!), the picture got a little worse. Her own children didn’t even know! Yes indeed, so it’s fair to say that I don’t feel so bad now but still the question remains - how did this information go unnoticed? Why would the woman I had known for almost 15 years neglect to tell me, let alone her own two children, something as cool as this?

Now don’t go and conjure up a picture of me not listening to her stories or even neglecting to talk about things that mattered to her. I think I heard a million stories (loads of repeats but still I listened). From who was doing what, her social outings, who was the most recent person to peeve her off, her shopping expeditions, her travels around the world, her old partying escapades, and the list goes on. So how can someone I had many conversations with not think that being part of medical history wasn’t worth boasting about? Then it got me thinking – how can you be expected to really know someone if they don’t fill you in on everything?

Well, I have the answer – you can’t, it’s not my fault and I’m not a bad person. She should have told me and the rest of the family what she did – you can’t go around thinking everyone is holding out on you with interesting information, can you? I have only used probing questions in interview scenarios (oh and for girlfriends who are notorious for not sharing gossip), but it never ever crossed my mind that I should also use the technique to extract the most inner thoughts and experiences from friends and family. Then the story turned a wee bit worse recently. After discussing my mother-in-law’s contribution to medicine with my father-in-law last weekend, he decides to add another guilty blow to my already injured ego – he was part of the team to develop the first ever foetal heart rate monitor. Yep another bit of information I seemed to have stumbled upon by accident, and so the seed was sewn for this post.

I have been known to turn up with a list of questions when catching up with certain friends (the ones that are very very good at changing the subject). I have only had to resort to this a couple of times as I believe that I can’t expect to be a true friend if I don’t even know who they are dating. One friend comes to mind (Kate) who I took this exact approach with (she is probably still in therapy at the experience) – think turning up on her doorstep with an A4 sheet of paper full of questions double sided. Needless to say, I knew Kate was holding out on me with said information but I never had any inkling that my in-laws were as well.

I used to think that there were two types of people: (i) people who constantly talked about their favourite subject - themselves (the anal boaster), and (ii) people who didn’t unless there was something worthy to boast about (the considerate boaster). I have now added a third category I’d like to label ‘the vaults’ (for obvious reasons).

For the record I’m one of the ‘considerates’ (unless I get a book deal then my behaviour might resemble an ‘anal’ for a short period I promise!), but it feels like everyone else at the moment could be a potential ‘vault’. Do I have to resort to turning up on their doorsteps with prepared questions so I don’t feel so rubbish again for not knowing vital information about them (forget their blood type I’m talking about their own involvement in global domination etc). My friend Kate is probably going to change her address upon reading that I might have take 2 with her (funny to do but not the long term solution I’m hoping for). So I guess the solution will have to be in the form of this three stage approach:

i. when next catching up with friends and family I will ask them straight out what amazing things they have done so far in their lives (ending with a warning similar to those used in financial advertisements – if they hold out on important information it’s their fault and not mine);
ii. hope they get the message when they read this post and know that I’m on my way; and
iii. if I feel I’m not getting the necessary information I want from them, the only thing left to do it spy on them. My abilities at this will most likely resemble a really bad version of Maxwell Smart but a gal has to do something if she is to find things out.

For the interim, it looks like I have to take a business plan approach to my personal life and address what things people have been holding out from me. I can’t do anything about those that have gone to the pearly gates (bless their cotton socks!), but I can at least give it a go with the ones still kicking around on this lovely planet. Who knows, I may even be able to turn some of those ‘vaults’ into ‘considerates’, but hopefully stopping them just shy of turning into an annoying ‘anal’. BTW – avoid these people like the plague, cross streets to avoid bumping into them – you get the drift!

So who’d have thought a death of a loved one could cause me this much emotional turmoil (forget being six feet under, it’s all about me remember!). I guess because of her though, I am on another mission (Santa’s list is nothing compared to mine) to turn things around and make me a better person. So try what you like to avoid me, but I’m on a mission and God help you if you get in my way! Tx

Dedicated to all those friends and family I’m about to annoy

A Mother’s Love

When you were born, what do you think your mother’s wishes were for you? I’m not so sure my mother’s wishes were for me to be so honest, but nonetheless, I am the product of her wishes (hopefully) in some way shape or form. And so are you – all of you that are as charming, sophisticated and charismatic as moi that is!

Now let’s not forget those people that you want to forget - you know those people that you avoid in the streets (don’t you dare pretend you haven’t!). I’m sure that their mothers didn’t wish for them to be social outcasts (unless they have warped senses of humour). Then there are those people you meet who are so off the scales (you know the ones that you say white to and they immediately say black to piss you off). I used to think what were their mothers thinking when they were just babies? I can’t even contemplate that there are mothers out there that would wish for their offspring to piss as many people off as possible in their pursuit of life. That was until I was proven wrong - I met my partner.

Let me be completely upfront – his mother (my mother-in-law) did not wish for him to piss people off – she just wanted him to do as he was told. Period. And he did exactly the opposite to piss her off. Period. Oh the joys of family.

So his next pursuit in life has officially turned me into a ‘widow’. Before you send your sympathy notes, please hear me out. My ‘widow’ status has nothing to do with my loss in a technical sense – more of a ‘play on words’. He is just not around anymore. Haven’t seen him for days. Okay, so that’s a slight stretch of the truth, but pretty much everyday he has to do this thing that takes up most of his spare time. It’s been driving me crazy for a very long time and on reflection (okay so after a few glasses of bubbly) I have come to the conclusion that he is addicted and I’m officially a ‘widow’. AND my mother-in-law was right - how many of us can say that?

He hasn’t dumped me for a younger version (he wouldn’t dare) and I haven’t sent him outback for some space – although some days the thought of that suits me just fine (never said I was perfect!). First it was rugby, then it was cricket (mixed in with poker but thank goodness that was just a short lived fling). Then it was mountain climbing and now it’s running. Yes, I’m an ‘exercise widow’ and for most days it pretty much sucks. Like a Dyson. I was only self classified as an ‘exercise widow’ a week or two ago, when he made another announcement which went something like – “are you still okay to help with the food stops for the Oxfam thing?”

I heard him talk about the Oxfam charity race he entered with 3 other guys a month or two ago, covering 100 kilometres from Central Coast NSW to Sydney. Apparently, when I wasn’t listening, I actually offered (don’t ask what the hell I was thinking) to help with food stops. Seemingly (my mother-in-law loves this word) depending on how fast (or slow) the group is going, the food stops could be as early as 2am or as late as 11pm. So it’s official - karma has come and bit me right on the arse for doing that man thing called ‘selective hearing’. Not only do I have a 20 something hour time period coming up where I am going to miss my beauty sleep (forget that he has to trek through dense bush land and hilly trails no matter what the weather conditions – it’s all about me remember!), I have to provide warm food to the team at the right spot (and with my sense of direction –heck!!!!).

Being relied upon by him to provide warm nutritious food is somewhat hilarious considering that when we moved in together it timed with his university exams and he didn’t want me to cook for him in case he got sick. For the record, I haven’t killed anyone yet with my cooking. So how things have changed - from ‘almost’ being accused of cooking lethal foods to being asked to put something together like soup and stuff to help keep him and the team nourished for 20 plus hours.

So it goes without saying that I am one tolerable gal (if I do say so myself!), but I can’t let this venture of his go unnoticed – that’s the optimistic in me. Not only have these guys trained hard (from marathons to iron man competitions and 100’s of kilometres training per week), if I have to have interrupted sleep then it has to be for a damn good reason – hell it’s a long time before I have the money saved for my nip and tuck you know! Therefore, if you feel for my situation (boo hoo) AND have any spare cash, please donate via http://www2.oxfam.org.au/trailwalker/Sydney/team/257. The funds will help needy children all over the world and also, it will make the noise of my alarm going off at some ungodly hour on Friday 27 August a little easier to bear. Tx

Dedicated to the lovely Sheila – a mother who really did know everything! RIP…

The art of gift buying

Gift buying is apparently an art - for some they are very good at it whilst others, let’s just say they have room for improvement (that’s the optimist in me!). I was reminded of this vast gap recently and remembered exactly why I am one of those people who dread receiving gifts from those people who just don’t get me. I always think ‘it can’t be that difficult to get something for me’, but apparently it is as every year (well almost) I receive something that I deem appropriate for the ‘shite gift room’. You know the room you really want to have in your home where all those useless gifts can be stored and only taken out when the giver visits? I can’t be the only one who has this problem – can I?

Sale time has just finished and for some reason this year it has brought back years of crap gift memories. Maybe it is to do with those annoying people who rear their smugness around this time, telling me that their Christmas shopping is ‘done and dusted’. Personally, I can’t stand it when someone tells me that in November let alone in July (oh please!). How do they know what people want in advance? What about buying for people that might not be around when gift opening happens – I’m not thinking about dear ole Nana (that’s awful!) I’m referring to partners of your siblings or even step parents.

Whatever it is that makes people buy crap gifts, I think I have finally had enough of it and it’s the next thing I need to change in my life (an end to receiving hideous fluffy slippers, yeah!). My issue with the gift buying process is the ‘thoughtful’ part. It’s gone amiss. I don’t really mind how people buy the gifts – hell they can drop them out of a plane and land on my door step for all I care – it’s the why. Do people who buy months in advance with a quick whip around a store really get it right for that special someone? I love a sale, but I’m not convinced it’s a good recipe to avoid the ‘shite gift room’.

This may not come as any surprise, but I have stuffed up on the odd occasion, particularly when it comes to very rich people and ‘secret Santa’ type gifts. Okay, so I don’t technically know (yet) very rich people like Bill Gates, but I have stuffed up on some ‘secret Santa’ gifts for office Christmas parties. Unless you get someone’s name you work closely with, this area is so difficult, therefore it doesn’t count towards your record for being a good or crap gift buyer. However, the same cannot be said for buying for your friends or relatives. These scars last a lifetime (for the receiver that is – I should know) and it’s not like you can tell the person that you don’t like the gift (heavens no!). So if you empathise with me in any way (no matter how small), I think it’s time to help us by helping the gift buyer.

Some helpful tips for the lovely (and very generous) gift buyer:
1. Classify and understand your shopping stress levels:
a) The thought of shopping brings a smile to your face (happy to shop all day without a hint of perspiration). If this is you, that’s great! No excuse for you then – you can shop anywhere and your options are limitless.
b) You are someone who is just glad to get the buying part out of the way as quickly as possible (almost stress free). If this is you, just remember not to sacrifice gift quality for time restraints. Research so you end up getting what you set out to.
c) You feel slightly awkward (shopper who doesn’t like asking questions for fear of looking ridiculous – medium stress). If this is you, you need to practice asking questions (face to face or via the phone). Remember that asking questions may lesson the time you spend at the shops or online. Also, there is no such thing as a silly request/question unless you are me - I have paved the way for you with all of my confusing and ridiculous queries to shops in the past (no thanks needed).
d) The thought of shopping gives you the shivers (high stress shopper). If this is you, you are a definite candidate for shopping online. If you really need to go to the shops, find someone who you can shop with or get them to do it for you (just like the Queen but with less funds).
2. Think about what the person you are buying for wants. If this person hasn’t been precise (or you didn’t ask them), think about their interests.
3. If you are still stuck for ideas and asking them or someone close to them for ideas is out of the question, get some help using the ‘gift suggestions’ on most gift internet sites or enlist the help of shop sales assistants – they are paid to help you so make them earn their money.
4. Still stuck for that ‘perfect’ gift – why not get a specialty store voucher or go generic and get shopping centre vouchers. The idea that this is impersonal is rubbish - an ideal way to get them something that they will want and use.
5. Still stuck – cash gift. Who doesn’t like money?

Now relax, it’s over (till next time that is!).

Some helpful tips for the long suffering gift recipient:
1. Suggest that your crap gift buying culprits read this post.
2. Hinting what you want is so underrated these days. Make your hints count. Ask for anything and everything you like or need (months in advance if necessary) – eventually it has to sink in.
3. If all else fails (and to make sure the crap gift buying culprits don’t waste any more of their hard earned money), request vouchers or cash.
4. Try to control any anxiety by thinking positive in the lead up to your birthday or Christmas – positive thoughts will hopefully attract good things.
5. Anger management if all else fails.

Now with my personal views out there, hopefully those crap gift buying culprits have some ‘food for thought’ for any future purchases. I realise that there is a pretty good chance my post will backfire on me spectacularly when my friends and family read this. What is a certainty is that I will no longer have a need for the ‘shite gift room’. 2010 will either be the year of fabulous gifts or a year of receiving zilch, zero, zippo, nil, nada, null. Bring it on! Tx

Dedicated to all those long suffering receivers of useless gifts

Flatulence - the uncontrollable type

Hello, konnichiwa, bonjour, hola, buon giorno and ni hao. Welcome to my first ever blog. Although I had grand ideas (the grandest!) for the first topic, it has ended up taking on a very personal twist - to you and to me.

It’s one of those things that makes me cringe or giggle depending on the circumstances (and I'm sure I'm not the only one!). I used to say ‘ladies don't do it’, but everyone has done it (even my 2 year old does it and believe me she does it lots). Then the day came when I found out it gets worse. It will happen to you, to me and to everyone else we know and worse of all, there won’t be much we can do about it. Not a sausage!

Uncontrollable flatulence. There, I've said. Flatulence - the uncontrollable type. Passing wind itself is part of life in some weird way, but it's the uncontrollable bit that makes me cringe. To be honest, I have been cringing ever since a friend shed some light on the ageing process.

My friend witnessed a group of elderly people stepping from their bus after an outing; when, in a procession fitting of an in tuned orchestra, one by one they took turns to do you know what, without a hint of humour or embarrassment. None!

So my friend ended up being half in hysterics at the experience and the other half of him was feeling a bit uncomfortable at the thought that at some point it will happen to him and everyone he knows.

I have the utmost respect for the elderly - they have lived long and hopefully happy lives and have worked damn hard for everything they have. Also, the amount of knowledge you can gain from an elderly person is priceless. Not forgetting though, they were just like us once, with probably the same shaded view of what to expect later on in life than what actually happens. So it goes without saying that I definitely have a new found respect for the elder generation. With everything else they have to deal with that comes with ageing, what’s the point of adding something onto that list that’s not relaxing or fun (maybe the latter is questionable)?

So now, not only am I working my way through whatever life throws at me in my thirties (whilst planning my list of beauty fix-me-ups for my forties and fifties – just incase!), I now have to put another request to the universe. I hope by the time I experience anything of the ‘uncontrollable’ type, some research lab will have developed a fancy pill that will spare me and everyone else I know from all those things that people don’t like to talk about but actually happen.

Now that I have put my request out there for the future, there is still the present. When you are next in the presence of an elderly person who passes wind, farts, pops off, bottom burps or whatever you call it, think again. Avoid screwing up your nose in disgust, laughing loudly or giving them a telling look. They deserve everyone’s respect, uncontrollable flatulence or not. So please just giggle on the inside (I’m certain that’s what they’re doing) and remember to donate generously to any future study on controlling flatulence (I’m counting on it!). Tx

Dedicated to Mark who is still in recovery from the experience