No, I’m not turning this into a permanent bridezilla blog.

But you’d be forgiven for thinking such.

But my brain is fried with dealing with life atm.

I miss you.

But really, I did find my wedding dress:

I probably haven’t mentioned this before, but I love Momversation. Apart from seeing some of my favourite bloggers in video form, the topics and resulting conversations are interesting. I even find the “mommy” topics interesting, when I haven’t even got offspring yet.

This Momversation was posted a couple of weeks ago:

And given my current pre-wedding state, this really struck a chord with me.

This is a topic that has come up over the years with me and Dan. My surname will end if I get married and change it; there are no more boys on my dad’s side of the family to carry on the Kane family name. Same thing happened with my mum when she married Dad.

I feel a connection to my surname given I lost my Dad when I was 8. And Pop, Dad’s dad, was a Senator involved in the creation of the Democratic Labor Party. I’m proud of my Kane heritage and proud of what Dad and Pop did in their lifetimes.

Dan had even said years ago that he would consider changing his surname to Kane if we got married.

That said, now that we’re engaged, I’m planning to take Dan’s surname when we get married.

For me, the last eight years with Dan has been my transition from being a sheltered, wide-eyed, innocent and gutless victim of my own life. The person I was before is unrecognisable to the person I am now. Not to say that I’m done with my transformation – because there is still SO much of me that needs repairing.

But there have been steps in recent years that I see as real progress in reclaiming “me”. Starting and completing a TAFE course. My 2007 UK Christmas holiday. Starting to take better care of my health. Stepping away from friendships that caused more harm than good. Starting my own business. And getting engaged.

“Me” is evolving. And I see that changing my surname is a continuation of that evolution. Accepting my past for what it was, how it got me to where I am and how it got me to this point where I’m ready to make a life-long commitment to my future husband.

So on Saturday I went back to my nutritionist, who effectively whooped my ass for slacking off in the healthy eating/exercising more departments.

Also: I popped in to see my beloved Dr Joe and he confirmed a second set of high blood pressure results, so I’m on blood pressure tablets. Like an old lady. Fetch me me lap blanket, will you?

I needed some motivation, and I think it was just handed to me on a platter.

So on Sunday morning we popped along to Ikea and I bought some extra containers to take healthy foods to work. My new plan is to prepare as much as possible for the week ahead on the Sunday to minimise my excuses.

AND LOOK AT MY EFFORTS!! So much rabbit food!

So all I have to do is add yoghurt/salad dressing/proteins/cheeses and VOILA! I can has be healthy!

Please be to Ceiling Cat, let me get my healthy mojo back. Kthnxbai!

I heard a story recently, of a woman who hadn’t had much luck with finding a man.

Even though she had been successful in her career, she felt there was an empty space without someone to share her life with.

She reached her late 40s and had virtually given up hope.

And then she met him. Her love. Her life. And he loved her, too.

Life was perfect.

And then he was diagnosed with cancer. The type that was inoperable and left him with only a few months to live.

Life was falling apart. Her life that was perfect for a few, short months.

They decided to get married before the cancer advanced too much further. An intimate ceremony with only immediate family, followed by dinner at the restaurant where they had their first date, just months before. He needed an oxygen mask to help him breathe.

But they were in love, and they both described it as the happiest day of their life.

After the marriage, his health seemed to improve. Everyone was hoping that the worst was behind them and maybe things were looking up.

But then he got pneumonia.

His doctors and specialists told them the worst: that there wasn’t much time left for him. But he was allowed to stay at home, away from the sterility of the hospital and the hospice. A nurse visited twice a day to assist.

And the family came together. To say their goodbyes to him. To laugh and reminice about the old days. Everyone who played a key role in his life were there.

And she sat on their bed, next to him.

And then he was gone. One month to the day since they got married.

She managed to arrange the funeral and the wake. She received flowers, fruit baskets and sympathetic arms and ears.

She’s still grieving the loss of her love, but I’m told she keeps reminding everyone how lucky she was to find him just in time.

This story still breaks my heart – and how, even with all the turmoil she’s gone through, she’s talking about how lucky she was. It’s definitely given me some perspective on what’s happening in my life at the moment.

I’ve got a big bush of Jasmine in my backyard. I was here when we moved in and all I’ve ever done to look after it is water it occasionally. It keeps wanting to CLIMB and since our backyard is fenced in by brick walls, the only way it can climb is UP.

Since last spring, it’s climbed up to our Nightshade Tree and now resembles something more like the remains of a tin of paint thrown up against a horizontal surface:

When the Jasmine’s in flower, my favourite thing to do is stand in my backyard and just SNIFF.

Me: You can tell that Sam and Dean haven’t had botox – look at all that eyebrow movement!

Dan: Um, we’re older than them, they don’t need botox yet!

Me: No way are we older

Dan: [checking Wikipedia] Okay, Ackles is one month younger than me, two months older than you.

Me: Wait, so Ackles is 31, too?

Dan: [nods] (I’m sure he knew where this was going…)

Me: Woo hoo! I’m in with a chance! I’m off to the States to hook up with Teh Ackles!

…

I mean, really:

Pic courtesy of F*ckYeahJensenAckles

Can’t talk, perving.

Normally I mention my new hair pretty soon after the fact (usually because I’m so excited after letting my hair look like crap for far too long).

But my brain hasn’t been able to deal with too much lately.

But I have to tell you about Shazza, my new love. She, of the hairdresser Glitterbox in Newtown.

Loved the whole experience… the salon, the people, the cut, the colour, the other customers. LOVE!

Shazza was recommended to me by a friend and I’m never going anywhere else.

Best part? Shazza explaining her bargain prices: “If I keep the costs affordable, people will keep coming back”. Damn right we will!

When I got home from my first date with Shazza, I tried to get a photo of the back of my head, and failed:

Did a bit better with the second attempt, but not a whole lot:

Either way, Glitterbox = love

My notes from a client phone call last night:

Good god my handwriting’s a mess

Also filed under: Work-is-kicking-my-arse-and-all-I-can-manage-are-lazy-posts-like-these

Can’t believe it’s been almost three months since I got the promotion from girlfriend/defacto to finace.

I can’t string enough words together to explain what I’ve put myself through in terms of planning The Event – and we still haven’t made any real decisions about anything. It reached the point where I’ve banned myself from thinking about it for the time being. (Smart move, Rah).

One thing I’ve tried to do is stay on the healthy wagon. Which is going pretty damn well considering I haven’t done much more than try to eat better. I’m down 3kg overall, including the 1.2kg I lost in the last week.

So while I’m stoked that I’m starting to get a bit more room in my work outfits, the downside so far is that my Beautiful Handmade Diamond Ring doesn’t fit the Correct Finger anymore.

I think it’s also to do with the cold snap in Sydney this week (can Mother Nature please turn up the heating now, kthnxbai). But when I attempt to do the little housework I do and The Ring falls off three times? Yeah, time to keep it in a safe place for a little while.

I hate not wearing it, so after a few days I decided to wear it on the wrong finger – but it’s too loose even for the ring finger on my right hand – so it’s back on my left hand.

Eventually we’ll get our gorgeous jeweller to weave her resizing magic, but I’m in no rush just yet.

I’m not very good at housework (yet another thing I blame on being an ACOA). I listen to friends and colleagues talk about their housework antics and I’m always left feeling incapable of even trying to keep up with them.

I often leave the washing up for “tomorrow”. I did that last night, for instance.

Hello, cockroaches!

Anyways, I’ve been feeling motivated lately and I’ve been doing a bit of spring cleaning as well as being a bit more “regular” housework. The dust storms of this week has heightened the need for… cleanliness.

So today I’ve been frantically working to clear out junk (and donating it to the CPS Op-Shop) and sweeping, vacuuming and mopping all the floors.

It’s a bit of a big deal.

Thankfully, our new security camera captures movement at the back of our place and snapped me MID-HOUSEWORK:

Now, if you excuse me, I need a lie-down…