Who’s got time for blogging when there’s shopping to be done?

So I’ve been doing some real-life shopping (like spending $200+ at Target) and some online stuff too.

Including Peter’s of Kensington, Threadless and ePet Supplies, and the orders arrived today:

I swear, most of these are Chrissy presents!

To save you from a long and only-interesting-to-members-of-this-household story, we scored some free treats with our cat supply order.

Within about 15 minutes of me brining the shopping upstairs in the giant box from the Peter’s order, Elvis and Bear cottoned onto the fact that there were treats in the courier bag stashed in the packing box, ripped through to the bag of treats and ripped two giant holes into the bag of treats.

I busted them with their snouts in the bag, nomming on the treats. Hell knows what’s in the treats, but they smell like fish food to me. This is why I wouldn’t make a very good cat:

They loved these treats SO much, it’s actually really cute, so I’ve given them a couple more and they’re now licking the floor where the treats were. Kitty crack!

An open letter to Burwood Westfield

Dear Burwood Westfield management, their web team and the nice girl who orders your stationery,

This morning when I woke up, I thought I would pop along to your establishment and spend some money at Target.

I thought I’d go there early, before getting on with the rest of my Sunday. Of which, there was a lot of Sunday to get through, thankyouverymuch.

And because, as a general rule, shopping centres in November/December should be avoided after 11.00am on weekends.

And because of this information on your website:

I drove in at 8.57am, got a good parking spot and headed towards Target.

Only to find Target wasn’t anywhere near opening. Not even the internal lights at Target were on.

So I did some laps of the shopping centre, got a start on my grocery shopping (though I prefer my Woollies at Marrickville Metro, thanks). Walked past Target numerous times (9.12am, 9.34am and 9.51am—to be precise) AND THE STORE STILL WASN’T OPEN.

I even tried shopping at K-Mart, but we all know it doesn’t quite cut it compared to Target. BUT AT LEAST K-MART WAS OPEN AT THE CORRECT TIME.

Ahem.

Also, your stupid 2-hour free parking (who are you? Bondi Westfield? Jeebus) meant I was moments from having to actually pay for my parking because I TRUST THE INFORMATION YOU HAVE ON YOUR WEB SITE.

So please fix the info on your damn web site, or hang some shit on Target. That’s what happens at Eastgardens Westfield when stores open more than 5 minutes late.

I was so distressed by this interruption to my planned schedule, that spent almost $200 at Target. And bought a coke from the vending machine near the parking ticket machine. Can I send you the receipts for reimbursement?

Kthnxbai.

I found my wedding dress

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:

A no-brainer

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.

You’d think I have a rabbit

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!

The Woman Who Found Her Love Just In Time

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.