Schmelentines Day – Valentines day tomorrow, big whoopsy doo. I’m not bitter, nope not me. Did you know I NEVER got one Valentines day card in Highschool? Not even a note. I had one particular friend who’s Dad nearly had to bring a bloody trailer after school to pick up the goodies left by admirers at her locker. (She shall remain nameless- last name started with a H…?) Huge stuffed teddy bears, roses, admissions of forever love… you name it. Me? Zilcho, diddley squat, nadda, naught, Tengo cero amigo y chupé- (Spanish for it sucked). –google translate that one!
So when I finally found my blue eyed Lothario and let him marry me I presumed this would be the start of a gloriously romantic chapter of my forever love. NOPE. Tengo cero amigo y chupé, yep its worth repeating. Not a romantic bone in the man’s body. I shouldn’t say that, he did take me to KFC that time, slipping that little heart chocolate under my sweet and sour sauce…
So anyway, I AM a romantic, an epic one. And as much as I hear people whine and whinge about the commercialism of it, I think its ONE-day of the year where you get to declare your love. It’s nice to get a Valentine. So I have gone out and bought lots of cool presents for Blue eyes. I wanted to snag him into going to see the movie Fifty Shades, but I don’t think that’s going to happen. He wants to handcuff me sure, but that’s probably to the kitchen sink to stop me eating his Rocky Road, not because he desires my ridiculously sweet ride, again…. Tengo cero amigo y chupé!!!!!!!!! (I didn’t really like the book anyway, cos I am a bit of a closet feminist and it riled me) and I think I should milk this getting sick thing and get a big teddy bear or something? LOL.
A few people have touched base the last week to ask how I am. I am ok. Other than the whole Valentines day thing that is. I have resorted today to cutting out love hearts with a sharp knife while wearing lipstick smeared across my cheeks like William Wallace singing Alanis Morresette (I’m kidding)
Am I ok now? Well if this all had happened 18 months ago I wouldn’t be here. The fact that I am here writing this blog is a miracle, so I dare not complain. People see me and think I look normal so I must be ok. But its not all ok, some days I wonder if it will ever be “ok”, the aneurysm is still there, still bulging, if its pops I am dead in under 10 mins I have been told. So I walk around every day with this little fragile balloon in my head, side effects that make you queasy and dizzy, but its reinforced now with Megatron H-man steel Titanium thingy’s that will not let me down. And if you sat around thinking about the balloon thing, well you would lock yourself away and bury all pins and needles. Make the most of what you got and get on with it I say!
I am on immunosuppressant’s and blood thinning meds. So I have to avoid snotty noses, coughs and bench corners. The bruising factor is so bad! It looks like I’ve gone 10 rounds with Ali or Tyson from a mild bang to the body. Gorgeous shades, there’s fifty shades of Duck egg blue, faint hues of Atomic Tangerine, Deep Saffron, Cadmium Gree, Deep Koamaru and Calf shite yellow with just a touché of Taupe and Eton (if you don’t mind)- colours people, know your colours! Seriously, someone hand me the Pantone swatches…(Tanya B? J) I’m so bruised I look like I need to go into witness protection, seriously…
I’ve had a few spills this week thanks to a couple of episodes of dizziness and crazy-not-watching- where- I- am going stuff. Minor. One involved a catastrophic spill on the ground outside. I was running, (no Ma, I am not sposed to but I needed to ok?) too fast in the pitch black night outside to the studio. What should be ready to betray my speeding ostrich legs? A Shipping Crate, big, flat, black and ominous lying on the ground and in my path. I was airborne in .2567 of a second, that fast I nearly defied Quantum physics, face planted with a possible broken foot swelling up quicker than you can say Viagra prescription.
No-one inside could hear my pleas for assistance (I couldn’t move) so I encouraged our Schnoodle dog Charlie to make like Lassie and “Go Get Dad”. To his credit he ran to the door, little trooper, but couldn’t quite muster the furry paw sign language required to indeed capture the man of the house’s attention. I was eventually heard, by which stage I had a severe case of the giggles as I could only imagine what I would have looked like flying through the air, arms and legs going everywhere. And I had gravel stuck in my cheeks which made me laugh even more for some bizarre reason. It took Little Bro and Lothario to both lift me and get me inside, (I may or may not have put on a few Kg’s since surgery just sayin…) and got the foot on ice.
Needless to say, it was badly bruised not broken, I gave Lothario a heart attack, Little Bro and my children had the giggles, because for some whack reason we share the same sick sense of humour. All is well.
I am a shocker for laughing at people when they hurt themselves. Its not the hurt bit, I don’t find that amusing, its awkward stuff. When people fall awkwardly or slip over. Have you seen the youtube clips with the super models that wobble and fall on platform heels? Well I have, left me slappin my leg and guffawing till I couldn’t breathe or see straight. If you’ve ever heard a spontaneous laugh from me it truly resembles a cross between a Hyena and a trumpet. I would love to titter and tutt like a lady, but nope, its so momentous that if I didn’t let it come out of my mouth it would wiggle down through lower intestines and come out the other end with explosive gusto. Trust me, don’t want see that. Not ever. Nasty.
If anyone has a Faux Pas, I find it hysterical. It can be really socially unacceptable too, not good for maintaining relationships or invitations. Like one time I was at this packed out party and the host went to run inside, and ran smack bang into the glass door in front of everyone. She hit it that hard there were fog marks left on the glass in the shape of her nostrils. The whole house reverberated with the sound of her face and body smacking into it, and she fell on the ground in shock. I let out my explosive laugh, I nearly split something only to realize seconds later the room was silent. Silence in that moment was in Nooo way golden. I went bright red, looking at shocked disgusted faces around me which left me running to the aforementioned fallen victim trying to help her up without hyena/trumpeting. Ok, so the lady might have been my mother-in-law, but she was ok, she wasn’t badly hurt and I know for a fact that my sister in law is a trumpeter too, and she got away with crouching down behind the sink and biting her fist (yeah I was so onto you Kim…).
So its Valentines Day tomorrow, hope you all get a heart, someone tells you they love you and all that mushy stuff. Thats another week of my nutbag ponderings done. Thank you to everyone who read the few chapters last week of my little novella Short Naked Latte, I got so many encouraging emails, it was just beautiful and uplifting and made me feel like a real growed-up-writer! For those that have asked below is another two chapters. If you missed the last ones peeps, they are at the bottom of last weeks blog. Short Naked Latte is a collection of short stories where all the characters are linked. These ones a bit less gentle that the last just giving you the heads up.
Much love xx Kirst
In the Beginning
‘A Faithful friend is the medicine of life’
-Bible. Ecclesiasticas 6:16
A melic of cicadas shrills in the warm night. Clumps of fescue and mounds of dry cow dung populate the paddock. Barbed wire; rusting and twisted over fallen fence posts stand like ancient soldiers in the summer night. Small shadows move within the green glow of the paddock’s centre.