Managed to squeeze in my weekly walk with a friend this morning, before heading off to have my legs, and various other body parts, waxed in anticipation of tomorrow’s Kids Business Bloggers Brunch, which I am not only attending but will be helping out at.
Aside from my eyebrows, no other waxed body part will be on display, including my legs, but that’s irrelevant. It makes me feel slightly more professional and in control and organised. Also, I suspect it will be warm, and long pants with a layer of pelt under them, given I will be running around a lot, I figured the additional layer would just cause me to overheat.
This enlightening (pardon the pun) experience was followed by some traipsing around in a futile bid to find a nice, new shirt to wear for the event. This season’s colours are a combination of bright pastels; yes, hard to explain really, but, in a nutshell, not my colours at all. They had the effect of making me look rather like a flavoured marshmallow.
(And trying stuff on in multi-mirrored fitting rooms just had me closely resembling the good old vanilla/white marshmallow. And having a fit … which I realise is now why they are called “fitting rooms” … but anyhoo …)
Home and mildly depressed to “pack lightly”. Which, I might add, is a difficult task for One Who Packs For All Scenarios including, but not limited to:
- cool weather
- cold weather
- frequent changes in weather
- “I might like to go for a walk in the morning” (but never happens)
- dinner at a casual restaurant
- dinner at a fancy restaurant
- keeping my options open for any and all scenarios
I manage to restrain myself, only pack five pairs of undies, instead of the usual eight or so for an overnight stay, and one pair of shoes.
I am doing well.
I have, however, left myself only an hour to shower, finish packing and be organised. Grumpy then advises me that the car is out of petrol and we need to leave some ten minutes earlier so I can actually get to the airport.
Arrive at airport. Meet fellow travellers. Get to hang around for an hour and a half, due to insane requirements of airlines re arrival time, set as a result of an annoying, self absorbed few. Get to hang around an additional hour, in the overstuffed JetStar gate area, which looks like a tacked on afterthought of Melbourne airport. There’s a fun place to be forced to wait around for an hour in.
Sleep on plane due to mild lack-of-suitable-clothing-for-purchase depression and sheer relief at having a break from the usual.
Arrive at gorgeous little boutique hotel, and ring the family before heading out for dinner with colleagues.
I do miss them when I am away. I like to think they miss me, too.
I spoke with Grumpy first. He then puts me onto Chippie, who doesn’t actually speak to me, but says to Grumpy, several times “Dat’s not, Mummy. No, is not Mummy” in a rather cute “you’re having me on, you crazy old man” voice.
Godzilla is quite content and has no actual need to speak with me, so doesn’t even pay attention.
“Do you want to speak with your oldest son?” Grumpy asks.
And I do. He always wants to speak with me when I’m away, and he always says nice things that make me feel good.
“Cos I’ve only asked him four times to do the dishwasher now,” he continues.
And I spend the next few moments listening to an argument between the two about how many times the dishwasher doing request was asked, and the responses given by Monkey Boy, negotiating when he would actually get around to complying with said requests.
Could have put phone down and come back to it later … instead did the “oh, look at the time, they’re waiting for me. Byeloveyouseeyoutomorrow!”
And went out for a fabulously scrumptious dinner with some very lovely people, safe in the knowledge my family would be perfectly ok without me.
The dishwasher on the other hand …