I was going to call this blog “My week: kinda sucked” but I thought it might turn people off.
Being gazumped and packing 23 years of my life up weren’t the most awesome ways to spend a week, although I DID manage to buy the most awesome pair of cowboy boots as a divorce present to myself. So all was not lost.
A little obsessed with the western theme, I shared a photograph of myself on Facebook yesterday dressed up as a four-year-old cowgirl (my mother, bless her, reckons I was the most gorgeous child EVER, but I think this photo proves I was SO not). The fetish has stayed with me. I remember mum almost DYING when I returned from a holiday at my grandmother’s with a black cowboy hat perched on my head. Good God, what if the neighbours saw me???
In my early 20s I invested in my first pair of real cowboy boots. I freaking loved those cowboy boots. Six weeks after I met Husband we went on holidays together to Malaysia and Thailand. I’d never been overseas before, so I didn’t realise cowboy boots and the equator didn’t mix. They stayed in the backpack the whole time. Geez they were heavy.
Somehow over the years, I lost those beloved cowboy boots. I’d been hoping they’d turn up in the attic but no such luck. Which brings me to these babies currently winging their way from the US of A …
As for the blog, here’s what went down …
>> The week started (and ended) with tears. I cried on Monday in a post called I Am Loved, as I spent countless more hours clearing out the freaking attic. The tears weren’t about the mess – though that’s worth a weep – they were about the discoveries. So much love for me in all the old cards and letters momentos. And I never really trusted in it. As for the boys I am perched upon in the pic, they were a cute posse I met on Fairstar The Fun Ship with my sister and I. Upon reflection, my sister has realised Fred, the one who fancied her, wasn’t too bad looking after all.
>> Then I posted an excerpt from My Wedding Speech.
I also did a thing at the gym called “Rip”. Rip involves a metal post with elastic things hanging off it. Each elastic thing has a metal bar attached and you do strange exercises with it, like pretend to play hockey. When I saw it I thought it was ridiculous. Afterwards, I couldn’t walk properly for the next four days, as my muscles screamed “Holy mother of god, what WAS that?”
>> Then House Narrowly Avoided Homelessness by renting this little semi. Gawd knows what it looks like inside, I can’t remember. But it will be home sweet home for at least the next six months.
>> On Thursday, I pondered whether I was Invincible or Loony. I’ve been feeling that the Black Knight is a kindred spirit. Although after later reading the scene from the Anthrax Palace, I’m wishing I’d pressed rewind on it after the kids went to bed – the eldest had heard it was rude and anxiously insisted I fast forward – because it sounds hilarious …
Dingo: Yes. Yes, you must give us all a good spanking. And after the spanking, the oral sex.
Galahad: Well, I could stay a bit longer.
[Sir Lancelot crashes in, grabs Galahad and rushes out of the castle]
Lancelot: We were in the nick of time. You were in great peril.
Galahad: I don’t think I was.
Lancelot: Yes, you were. You were in terrible peril.
Galahad: Look, let me go back in there and face the peril.
Lancelot: No, it’s far too perilous.
Galahad: Look, it’s my duty as a knight to sample as much peril as I can.
Lancelot: No, we’ve got to find the Holy Grail. Come on.
Galahad: Oh, let me have just a little bit of peril?
Lancelot: No. It’s unhealthy.
Galahad: I bet you’re gay.
Lancelot: No, I’m not.
>> Saturday was another weepy one, with Tips For The Newly Separated Selling Their Houses (don’t do it with PMT, waaaaaaah).
And over at escape.com.au …
>> In honour of the Commonwealth Games, an Insider’s Guide to Glasgow.