First impressions
So I called Mum up on Thursday night while I was packing my bags.
"What are you wearing on Sunday? You know, to meet Thursday," I asked.
"Oh goodness me, Frangelita, I can't possibly decide that now," she answered impatiently.
Solemnly, I replied: "But I'm packing my bag for the weekend now and I have to decide. I can't bring my entire wardrobe, it would be too hevay."
A few moments of silence.
"Well, you can't really wear one of your floaty nonsense dresses."
More consideration.
"No."
More silence.
"How about a skirt and a top?"
I silently consider the fact that my legs are desperately in need of shaving. And opt for a selection of three different outfits. One of which is a floor-length skirt.
***
I have been basking in the very complimentary (and indeed complementary) reviews of Sunday's blogmeet on my mother's and Thursday's blogs. Before being struck by a sudden fear and paranoia. Well, duh, she knows I read the blog. So if she was secretly thinking "goodness, if this is what Frangelita looks like after she's lost 2 stones what on earth did she look like before" and "how vulgar, she said wanker", she's hardly going to say so.
(For the record, I only said wanker once, and I wasn't referring to any particular individual.)
Anyway, I've decided not to review said blogmeet in quite the same way.
So instead, here are some lists.
Things I did do:
- Pace up and down the room while obsessively checking the clock and my mobile phone (before she arrived).
- Stare enviously at Thursday's beads.
- Make inane conversation and nod sagely when I didn't understand when they starte discussing Joe Brown again.
- Try to decide how Thursday compared to pictures (much prettier, super-glamorous, and without an ounce of discernible unnecessary fat) while trying not to look like I was staring.
- Suggest we eat cheesecake and then proceed to be the only one piggie enough to consume any.
- Spill a small amount of houmous on my leg and surreptitiously wipe it up and eat it.
- Banished HF for the duration of the visit.
- Gratefully accept and drink the yummy wine brought as a gift.
- Get round to washing my hair before Thursday arrived.
- Warn her about the horrendous traffic related to the county show likely to make her journey almost unbearable.
- Contribute in any way to the cleaning of the house or cooking of the food. Apart from putting the ciabatta in the oven for eight minutes. Woo.
- Spill on my boobs (result! That almost never happens).
Anyway, she was very nice and very glamorous. Did I say that already? Oh, and quite tall. She said we weren't as small as she imagined.
In other news, I've decided to give blood for the first time in a couple of weeks to write a feature about it. I'm already getting the cold sweats about it.
More on that story later.
posted by frangelita @ Monday, September 18, 2006
9 Comments:
Do you mean I was the only one not to spill???? Wow!
Mind, I might have done without noticing.
You did pace up and down quite a lot didn't you.
I don't remember you saying wanker - I think I said the F word. I didn't eat cheesecake for the simple fact that I don't like it. Glamorous? The hem of my trousers on one leg were sellotaped and I wore trousers to cover the unshaven, lilywhite legs and hideous feet.
Just added you to my blog-roll by the way, loving this blog, lady!
You don't like cheesecake? I may have to seriously reconsider our burgeoning friendship...
Actually, that probably works quite well because it will mean I can eat more cheesecake. mmmm.
There's something strange going on with this comment box ...
If it had been chocolate cake, I would have stabbed your hand with a fork for the last piece.
Don't worry about giving blood, it's all rather 'discreetly' done, you don't really get to see much red stuff, they're always jolly nice people and you feel awfully pleased with yourself afterwards.
I know Thursday, that's why I'm doing it. It's just the thought of all those fluids being drained away from me that makes me feel a bit nervous.
So does sellotape work on hems, then? I tend to go for the uneven-edges-which-will-indubitably-trip-me-up look.
I think it's great that got to meet one of your fellow bloggers in the flesh. As for Thursday not liking cheesecake? That's the sign of a great friend...as you mentioned it means you won't have to share with her!
I had a bad experience giving blood but it was my own fault and it wasn't until after they removed the needle. It's not that bad, just remember to put enough pressure on your arm after they remove the needle otherwise you'll start gushing blood like an uncapped oil derrick. I would have been okay if it hadn't been for the nurse completely lost all control when she saw my arm and the blood dripping on the floor. I then proceeded to faint and had to be kept at the donor clinic for 2 hours until I recovered and someone could fetch me home.
I haven't been back but it's not due to the experience (I would like to do it again now that I know what I'm doing). Silly me keeps getting tattoos and I have to wait 12 months before I can donate - however, I usually end up getting more work done in that time. More waiting...more tattoos...more waiting...more tattoos... at this rate I'll never give blood again, at least until I run out of places to ink.
Old fashioned elastoplast used to be brilliant ..and quite permanent (on hems that is, not needle holes)
I was almost totally held together wih safety pins from the waist down. We should have discussed this! Next time, and chocolate cake :)
You want to get some wonder web...its amazing stuff!!
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