don't worry, it’ll grow back

The Boy knows me well enough to know that I have expensive taste. The budget may not always match, but the taste is always expensive. So, while we were looking at engagement rings, the odd comment passed his lips about having to sell a kidney to pay for what I’ve been calling The Rocks.

Never mind the kidney, baby, just sell part of your liver. After all, that grows back!

you're kidding, right?

I’m the sort of person who likes to have all their ducks in a row, to know exactly where they’re going and how they need to get there. I describe it as being organised. Being more of a ‘free spirit’, The Boy would be more likely to describe it as anal.

So, being an organised sort of person, I’ve started to do a bit of research into this whole wedding gig. In the course of that research I’ve looked at a few different weddings websites… Never mind Nightmare on Elm St, some of those wedding sites are the scariest things I’ve seen in my life. And the forums – oh my god! You’d think deciding whether the bridesmaids should match or contrast was a matter of life and death. Or that the world will end if you choose the wrong flowers. It’s all so over the top and somewhat ridiculous.

I know a wedding day is important, as it should be, but why do people go so overboard with it? Whatever happened to small, simple and elegant? Shouldn’t there be some element of fun in the planning? 

I’m really looking forward to marrying The Boy. If my nerves survive the research, that is.

mrs boy

After so many years together, it’s relatively rare for The Boy to catch me completely and utterly unawares, to do something that really shocks and surprises me. He managed to do so a couple of weeks ago, though.

Yes, completely out of the blue, and not exactly at the most romantic of moments, The Boy asked me to become Mrs Boy. After checking that he was actually serious (was it rude of me to ask that twice??), I said yes.

So there you go. After many years of singledom, and quite a few years of happily living in sin, PJ Inthecity is going to become PJ Boy. A scary thought, but scary in an “I have to jump but I know he’ll catch me” kind of way, not a “this shower is good, but I wonder why this place is called Bates Motel” kind of way.

hey, I’d forgotten I had that…

Well, it has been a while, hasn’t it? So much for posting at least once a week. I’d actually forgotten I even had this site, until an email about it reminded me. It’s kind of like going through old storage boxes. As you wade through the accumulated junk, some of it makes you think “why on earth did I keep that?” but a few things make you think “hey, I’d forgotten I had that. I should take that out of the box and start using it again.”

I suppose I ought to try to resurrect the site, huh?

evil net-nazis

Well, it has been a little while since I managed to post on the blog. I'd like to point out that it isn't due to a lack of interest on my part, though.

Unfortunately, the evil net-nazis at work revamped all our hard- and soft-ware a couple of weeks ago. They also updated all the web-marshall prohibited sites. Guess which was one of them? Yep... blogger.com.

So now, in order to post, I need to try to find a time at home when The Boy isn't already occupying the computer. Easier said than done...

So please bear with me. The Little Black Rocket and I will do our best to post at least once a week. More if we can.

back to the grind

Supposedly, taking a break means you come back to work refreshed, revitalised and raring to go. Well, having just taken a week and a bit of holiday, I can say it ain’t so. I like lolling around the house, reading books, playing with the kitten, going shopping etc. Work pays the bills, and it could be worse, but give me a winning Big Wednesday ticket and I’d quit tomorrow. No doubt about it.

going gold

The Boy and I went to the movies last night, but with a bit of a difference. It was part of a function being hosted in the Gold Class Lounge at the VillageSkyCity cinemas, so it also included an open bar and yummy nibbles.

For those who haven’t heard about them, the Gold Class theatres have full-on reclining armchairs and on-call service throughout the movie. It’s certainly an excellent way to watch a movie – curled up in a recliner with full bar and snack service just the press of a button away. As an added bonus, the function’s hosted bar continued throughout the movie, so the copious amounts of Shiraz consumed by The Boy didn’t break the bank (well, not ours anyway – maybe the host’s!). I was driving, so could only have one, which was a bit of a bummer.

It was just as well the seats were comfy, because the movie was a whopping 2 hours 50 minutes long (and not terribly gripping). The hardest part of the whole experience was trying not to fall asleep.