Ready To Go
Well I didn't get the clays out yesterday. Instead I packed my suitcase and got myself almost totally organised for my trip. Call it productive procrastination, or call it living proof that I have learned some lessons about Being Ready Ahead of Time. I don't leave for my trip until early tomorrow.
The only thing I haven't done is complete the partner for this sock. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending how you look at it, my Mum has two feet. Since I have nothing else to do today because I am SO organised (!), she may never know...
I'm so excited about this trip. I may be odd but I relish spending time with my parental units. I spent a week in the Lake District with them last year and we had such a great week we seem to have made this an annual occasion. This year we are somewhere on the edge of Loch Ness because apparently this is closer to Aberdeen and easier for a mad dash sprint should my sister decide her bun is oven baked early. I don't care - it's Scotland and it's beautiful and I'll be thoroughly chuffed with photo ops, bonnie views and tranquility.
I love my parents, my Mum is Groovy and once we got past the traumatic teens and the terrible twenties we discovered that we are both humans and actually quite like each other. I do not think this deep affinity is really linked to the fact I lived 200 miles away, but who can tell. My Dad is my Dad by default ~ he sort of got us as part of the package deal. Obviously his Karmic debt was in the red. I love him too ~ I figure that whilst the sperm donor pretty much failed in the fatherhood department, and I suspect pretty much failed in every other relationship department, my Dad's appearance in my life indicates my Karmic debt must have been in the green 
I had cause to think about the sperm donor this morning and acknowledge something that he did actually give me, something that I like ~ the ginger gene. I found a spiky little chin hair and when I plucked it, the ginger tones glinted in the sunlight. I am not particularly invested in the whole *how I look* thing. I like to think I don't subscribe to fashion, I trail-blaze it. Fashionistas parading on Princes Street may have a different opinion when they are confronted by the vision that is I...
Anyway, the chin hairs pose a dilemma to my feminine instincts ~ do I pluck and appear as a natural beauty? Or should I be a woman and sport the first signs of what may in forty years be a ginger beard? As much as I like my ginger genes that start at auburn on top of my head and do a dip dye effect gradually becoming more ginger the closer you get to my hobbit toes, I am not ready to trail-blaze the female beard as a fashion must-have. I'm a coward, I plucked.
or
Does My Bum Look Big In This?
So that's me all ready for a week in the Highlands. I will be experimenting with blogging from my mobile. Of course Blogger don't make it simple - I can't just send an MMS from my mobile like people on other networks can so I have to do a workaround which involves the Flickr box I've installed top left. My intention, network coverage permitting, is to send you the odd snap here and there live from my journey. I may even post some writing. It will be fun to see if it works.
Note: I am not a mobile phone obsessive and much appreciated the scene in this weeks' Sarah Connor Chronicles where she wanted to buy a phone and the salesman went into overdrive describing all the features and plug-ins... She looked at him askance and said something like ~
"Tell me, if I press these numbers in a sequence and hold this end up to my ear, will someone talk to me?"
"Yes."
"I'll take three."
Classic.
So me, my mobile and my sexily hair free chin bid you a fine day and we may be in touch over the coming week.
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Tags: age, diary, family, ginger, knitting, navel gazing, quotes, socks, stray hairs, technology, travel
Posted on March 14, 2008 in Ponderings, Travels.
Bum? What bum? That is one humongus chair. Did you get a nose bleed fromm climbing up that high?
My dear, it is not vanity to not want a ginger beard! Pluck away.
I have three horrific black ones that appear just under my nose.
Could they BE anywhere more sensitive? Tears are streaming down my face every six weeks or so when the buggers grow back.. I fear I may look like Tom Selleck if I don’t do it!
I have two horrific black ones and one strawberry blonde on my chin. I pluck them, though I do think they are kinda fun and I would never have them electrolysed away forever.
However, my left eyebrow has gone grey all by itself, and that is rather distressing. I am going to end up looking like Alistair Darling in reverse quite soon…