A person that I am very fond of is getting married. She’s lovely, so cheerful and full of life; feisty and red-haired, with the prettiest blue eyes. It’s taken her a long time to find the love of her life  – she’s almost fifty!

Hearing the news, I couldn’t help giggling. I’m so, so happy for her. She’s been so busy with her career and her travels and her nephews and niece that she hardly ever had time for herself. She started work as a teenager, went back to school at 40, and is now a bride at fifty.

So much for being off the shelf!! She’s totally renewed my spirit.

I wish you all the happiness in the world Jen, you both deserve it!

I’m a romantic. A cynic one, but a romantic still. I’ve found my The One, but it scares me a lot because it feels like the clocks are all wrong. But I’m glad for my friend Jen, because it proves that there is such a thing as perfect timing, and I’m sure that for my Sailor and I, the perfect time will arrive.

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I was reading through some old posts today, and it made me sad. It reminded me of cows and chicken and online tweef. Sad really.

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I met an old friend yesterday. She’s one of the toughest people I know. She lives with a condition – it’s a miracle she’s still here! Yet she’s all energy and smiles, it’s truly amazing. She’s like this ever-growing bubble of happiness that just sucks you in. Great hair too! When I grow up, I want to be just like her.

The thing with my friend Phie is that she’s real. She always says exactly what she means, firmly, gently, warmly; it’s hard not to laugh with her. What you see is what you get, and it’s up to you whether you like her or not; she doesn’t care. Or if she does, she hides it very well.

I still struggle with that. I feel bad when I realise that I don’t like someone, and worse when I realise they don’t like me. I know these are perfectly human emotions, so I don’t know why it bothers me so much. I mean, I love garlic, but I’m not too fond of hoho. There’s no particular reason for it – it’s just taste. So why would it bother me that someone is my garlic while another is my hoho?

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I’ve discovered another thing that bothers me: older guys. I’ve been dealing with a lot of them lately – prospective clients – so I have to handle them with care. The thing with these guys is … well … they’ve got game! I don’t know if these skills get better with time, or if they’ve had a lot of practice, or if it’s maturity and wisdom, or if I’ve just never been darted before, but meetings with these over-forties always leave me confused. I walk out of the venue in a daze with this retarded look on my face thinking ‘What just happened?’

It’s possible that the reason I react is that I can’t dismiss their words or swat brush them off – in my eyes, it’s like talking to my [grand]dad. Or it could be that they are so subtle that they can sneak up on you unnoticed.  It could be that they’ve been around long enough to learn the tacks that work; I have no clue. All I know is half the time I’m asking myself if this is business meeting or a date, and the other half I’m wondering whether what they just said was really smart or really inappropriate…

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Another thing that’s on my mind is green eyes. I’ve always liked green eyes. Mostly because everyone is so taken with blue. I’ve never actually seen green eyes in person. I’ve seen them in hazel, in contacts, and on Ben Ten; they always look really pretty. So I have always wanted to see real green eyes.

Yesterday I saw some on TV. It was on Master Chef – Thomasina’s. She’s this interesting-looking girl – a freelance writer, and she’s kind of gothish sometimes. She calls herself Tommy.

Looking at her eyes, I was disappointed. I mean sure, they’re pretty, but they’re not the super-magic fairy-telling breath-taking colour I imagined. They were really just an indistinct shade that’s not quite blue and not quite brown. They’re supposed to be very rare.

So I suppose that means I’m over my infatuation with green eyes. Maybe I can switch to grey – those are still hot. Or the deep-brown-type hazel. Apparently, hazel comes in two shades. There’s the reddish-brown hazel and the greenish-grey hazel. I’m going with reddish-brown, because it borders on burgundy.  I still wonder the green eyes so amazed me though.

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I had this gigantic mirror made – 6 by 3 and a half – and placed it at the foot of my matress. Now princess and I spend ages each day just staring at it. We’ll find any excuse to view ourselves, and sometimes, we’ll find no excuse at all.

I often work in bed, cross-legged, with my laptop on my knees, and I often take mirror-breaks to grin at myself or pull a funny face. Princess sometimes perches on the matress to watch herself eat.

What I’m wondering is … are we vain? Was this sudden obssession with reflections  recessive, or would any human being react this way if exposed to a six-foot mirror?

Oh well. I suppose these are mysteries to be solved another day. For now, the dishes. I’ve become fairly accustomed to cooking and cleaning. It’s not nearly as bad as I thought, and I’m almost getting good at it. Especially when accompanied by X FM.

♫ How far we’ve come ♫ Matchbox Twenty ♫