Love on the Internet

Only once in my life did I dally with love on the Internet. I was looking, and I knew exactly what type I was interested in; my list of requirements was not long, but I was being very choosy.

I read his advertisement, and my eye was drawn immediately to the photographs. It was the eyes. Those eyes captured me immediately. He lived in a different state. The ad requested applicants from his own area, which disappointed me, although I could understand. After all, there are enough complications in love without adding distance to it.

Still I felt compelled to answer the advertisement. It was the only ad on the site that appealed to me. Did I mention I was being choosy? I said upfront that I lived in another part of the country, I knew this to be a difficulty, but wondered whether I could be considered in the unlikely event that there was no other response to the ad.The answer was affirmative, but within a week I heard that there had been interest shown from someone living locally.

I was unreasonably disappointed. We hadn't yet met or even spoken but something about that advertisement made me feel, strangely, that he was "the one". It's embarrassing to admit it. After all what did I know about him apart from a few written lines and a couple of photographs. And what did he know about me? Nothing. I hadn't included a lot of details in the e-mail I sent.

He had children & was still living with their mother. The kids had all moved out & didn't have much to do with their parents.

I found myself thinking about him a lot. I'd saved the photographs to my computer and occasionally got them out to look at. I know it sounds a bit stalker, but he was extremely handsome, there was no doubt about that, and those eyes still caught me. And then one day I got an email. He was mine if I'd have him. The other "interest" had fallen through: After their initial meeting there had been no further contact.

We were both busy, me a little more than he, so it was 3 weeks until he was on a plane to Melbourne. I arranged to pick him up at the airport & we were to go back to my place. We'd arranged for him to stay there. I had the space after all & it made sense. I tried to break the ice by chatting to him in the taxi on the way home but I could tell he was nervous. Very nervous.

The nerves didn't settle on reaching my place. I'd arranged dinner, but he didn't have the stomach for it. I have to admit that although he was exactly like his photo, he looked like a stranger. For the first time I began to have my doubts. Imagination is one thing, reality is another, and all I'd had up until now was photos & emails - and the ad. What if he didn't like me? He'd not even had a photo of me, I doubt it would have made much difference.

He spent some time going over the apartment & had a rest in his room. He settled a little after & we had an early night. The next day it was obvious he hadn't slept a great deal. But within a short time I was sure this was going to work out.

It did work out. We spent a lot of time getting to know each other & as weeks turned into months we developed a deep connection.

Five years on & he's the love of my life & my husband adores him also. He has been my best online purchase & makes me happy every day of our life together.

Voice recognition software

my cat is sitting on my lap. He's just put as poor out to touch my hand which I think is pretty cute.

Today my voice recognition software arrived. My concept of voice recognition software is that it is bound to put billions of typists out of a job. And apparently as long as I'm talking about voice recognition software this seems to be proof to concept. But as soon as I go to start talking about my cat things change.

For example I want to start talking about is poor as you can see my voice recognition software needs to have further education about Cat S. Apparently it also has trouble with plurals occasionally. You see I want to say is Paul reached out to touch my hands firmly so spend some more time educating my software… Firmly? We have family coming from? I will now run to family. Of course I'm not running to family. That is my voice software I can hardly call it recognition as it's not doing that.

actually its interest in seeing what voice recognition software thinks I'm saying.apparently it will learn although I doubt it will learn patience.you see it doesn't need to.that's my job.quite a big job.

as I was saying the cat is sitting on my knee.he has curled up.and I am talking to my computer and learning terms such as scratch that for delete.although I can say delete.and it will. I think the cash enjoys this.I wouldn't swap him for money .I get the impression that he had Like the sound of my voice I wonder if he thinks I'm talking to Ham.what's fascinating me at the moment are the redundant capitals.I haven't yet learnt how to start a sentence with a capital every time.I'm not sure what the trigger is for this.

I gather that the software will learn as we go along.but nowhere on the box is the mention ( and I think this is a fair comment), that I think of the two of us I will be doing the most learning.

Apple Bandit

We're on the lookout for suspicious characters in our area after I found our trees plundered of the lovely braeburn apples we were set to harvest this weekend.

Yes, I know, it broke my heart as well. I went down to the garden on Friday afternoon to check on the apples & the strawberries. The strawberries are going great guns & were untouched but on inspection one tree had not a single fruit left on it & the other looked as though it had less than it previously might.

The perpetrators left one fruit carved with a smiley face on the second tree as a mark of their misconduct.

The trees are dwarved so we haven't ruled out hobbits, though we're fairly certain that the Very Hungry Caterpillar is not implicated since there were no signs of fruit with holes through them. Clearly there's no point in doctors looking for them as the thieves took enough apples to keep the doctor away for many, many days. We're checking into whether this includes PhDs, but so far my thus beknighted husband has not had any issue with apples nor apple eaters (as far as we're aware).

If it were possums that took the crop them they must have been dextrous & brought their own bag(s). Normally possums will take a bite or three out of dropped apples but we've not previously seen such thorough possums.

I have to admit, I know it's only apples, but I was quite annoyed at this one. I've been looking after these trees all year, feeding them worm castings & other compost & watering them over the dry summer. They put out beautifully last Autumn & I was looking forward to eating our very own apples again. We were left with a few, hubby is in the kitchen lazily peeling, chopping & cooking the smaller ones while I do all the hard work of blogging mindlessly about them. The large ones are sweet enough for eating, so I hope the pilferers enjoy them.

Keep an eye out & if you see any apples that look like these, the brothers of the nicked apples, let me know immediately, or dial 111 & tell them it's an apple emergency.

Sheepish

Well...now we all know which underwear I'm wearing, what is there left to talk about?

What about the lovely visitor we had over January? Some of you will have already heard about Sheepy the Sheep (so imaginative) who decided to spend her summer holiday at our place.

Sheepy came to see us on multiple occasions & was so friendly that she would alert us to her presence by walking up to the window of the room we were in & vocalising quite loudly, any time of the morning or afternoon. But as you can see, she's so cute it's hard to get cross about being woken early by a sheep.

And upon one occasion Sheepy even brought a pal around to introduce us. Sheepy's pal was a little shy but quite happy to come & hang out at our place.

Having sheep visiting your home is a great way to meet the neighbours."Hi, have you by any chance lost a sheep?". We learned to trade technological skills (using the print button on a computer & retuning a television) for shepherding abilities. And hubby has learned quite a lot about rural living. That's in spite of us living in an urban area.

Over January Sheepy became quite a frequent visitor, and eventually we cut a hole in our back fence to make it simpler for us to help her home. I have to admit that I considered returning her with sprigs of rosemary & mint tied to her hooves, but it just seemed too unkind. We were concerned for her safety (and possibly more so, the safety of motorists & cyclists on our winding road), so we did chat to the owner about fixing her fence. Bo Peep seemed less than concerned, however magically Sheepy has stopped coming to see us. While we miss her we are happy she is safe (for now).

I've been tardy in keeping up my blog due to some difficulties from the hypermobile joint syndrome. Or alternatively from the spondylitis. Pain is pain & it doesn't tend to matter what's causing it. Rheumatology clinic next week - they haven't seen me coming!

Brassiere geoeconomics

My cheap bras have had it. I went to Arthur Barnett, thinking it was the safest bet for getting in & out again quickly.

Approaching the lingerie service counter I was faced by 4 women standing around not doing anything, who all looked at me, and stood silent while I waited to be served. Finally the furthest away & eldest of the group realised I was in fact a customer & came around to ask whether she could help. What followed was a geoeconomic discussion on why it is impossible for a woman in New Zealand such as I, to buy a bra made in China with cotton grown in Pakistan, India or South Asia.

I really only want a cotton bra, that is it. But not one bra in the store is 100% cotton, has cotton lining, or in fact any cotton in it whatsoever. Not even the sports bras, the maternity bras or the bras for elderly women contain a fraction of cotton in them.

I am frankly amazed. Back when I began wearing bras cotton was the only option. When I was in my 20s I was wearing what I now realise was essentially the last of the cotton bras. It was by Bendon & called a "Cotton Capri". It was later updated with a synthetic version that looked much the same but more sophisticated. And from then cotton bras no longer featured anywhere in my underwear drawer. And of course knickers must match the bra, so against advice from doctors & mothers everywhere I, & probably a large number of women in the western world shifted into synthetic underthings. As sales of Canesten (or equivalent anti-fungal) sales increased, cotton appears to have vanished from the racks of both women & of intimate apparel departments.

The lady serving me explained that the current lack of cotton in their range was due to the recent flooding in Pakistan, which had rotted the cotton crop leading to scarcity & subsequent price rise in cotton sales. Bra manufacturers were therefore shifting their production into cheaper synthetic fabrics. While she was informing me that I really had no option & ought to consider giving up the cotton idea right away, I began to take quite an interest in the geographical economic lecture she was giving me. As I became more enthusiastic at seeing the connection between the complete lack of cotton on her sales floor & a serious weather event in a usually far more distant country, she became irritated as it became clear I was far more interested in the whyfores than in giving up my nouveau-hippie dream of cotton, switching to synthetic & marching out of her store owing my credit company a further $200.

Her irritation was slightly quenched by me leaving with a pair of 100% cotton boxer shorts & armed with the information that I would not find a cotton bra anywhere. "You'll be back - and in synthetic too" her look seemed to say.

I am currently wearing a gorgeous 100% organic cotton bra (organic cotton being a different market, and apparently one currently unaffected by economies of climate vagaries). This cotton has probably come from India or the United States, who provide most of the organic cotton.

www.faeriesdance.com, or, depending on your choice & your abilities in the langue française, www.peau-ethique.com.

Next week: Cotton futures trading. Actually not really. Nor another post about my underwear. Not one more. This is the last. Promise. Maybe. Maybe I'll actually start posting about spondyloarthropathy or EDS. Needs Assessments. That sort of thing. But this is just so much more fun!

Uncomfortable conversations about comfortable underpants

 

Yes, these are The Comfy Underpants. Like men's underwear they come in only 2 colours: black & white. No pink, baby blue or candy stripes. Black & white, that's it.

The other day I was at my physiotherapist - my wonderful, fabulous physiotherapist who is absolutely the best ever. "Strip down to your undies this time I think" she says...and then we did the usual conversational dance: "Ha ha, I wonder what underwear I put on this morning ha ha". Of course I know what underpants I put on this morning. I might not recall which colour, but I am never wearing any other kind of underpants ever again until they stop making these ones, at which point I might stage a one woman riot. Or start going commando. Given what's to follow, let's not go there.

I climb up on the physio table & turn on my side as I'm directed by my awesome physiotherapist. And casually I say "Oh, that's right, I blogged about these undies the other day" *I just said what???*. "You what...?" says the brilliant physiotherapist. "Blogged. Blogged about my undies, I write a blog, just stuff..." mumbled before quickly trailing off.

In case you missed it, here's an example of a conversation never to have with your physiotherapist. Not ever. It's weird. No good can come of it. I'd go so far as to say it's an example of a conversation to have with no-one. Blogging about underpants is weird. Talking about blogging about underpants is freaky & people will think you are some sort of, well, freak.

"So do people read your blog?"

"Well, my mum does ha ha..." (weakly) "some other people..." Change the subject!!!

We did change the subject, but still it lingered around the topic of underwear..."yes, they do look a bit like the ones...(insert some All Black's name here)...advertises on the television".

Next conversation never to have, especially when you're trying to get out of an awkward conversation already: "Um, who? No, I haven't seen it. I don't watch television". "During the world cup?". "Um, sure, I watched a bit". 

Lies, all lies! I watched the haka, then I went to bed & listened on the transistor radio. For the semi final & final we recorded it & before we had any contact with the outside world the following day we watched it. I don't watch live telly & I watch virtually no recorded telly, except at the moment we're recording "Whose line is it anyway?" because it is tummy hurtingly funny.

After admitting that while you have a television you don't actually watch television, there isn't a lot to say. It's already clear that you are at least "odd". That's if it wasn't already made completely clear by the fact that you wrote about your underpants & that you talked about writing about your underpants.

Just to cement the image I thought the best way to tie it all up was to blog about having a conversation about blogging about underpants. It really can't go any further than that. Can it?

Comfy underpants

This one is a bit more for women who will know what I am talking about. Comfy underpants are a bit of a holy grail among women, so I wanted to share with you my story of finding a pair of truly comfy underwear.

For the uninitiated (by which I mean blokes) it's important to know there are only 2 kinds of women's underwear: 

Granny pants

Granny pants look like something your grandmother would have worn - heck, they look like something she might have made at home herself. They sit approximately 2 sizes too big. They come up over your belly button & extend to your knees. And they are not comfortable. The Bridget Jones movie got that wrong - they just aren't. Mind you the second type of underwear isn't either. 

Ooh la la undies

Ooh la la undies look really sexy on the rack, before you put them on. They might even look sexy on. They are a tiny piece of synthetic (awful itchy nylon pretending to be silk). If we could afford silk ones, I'm not sure we'd escape the next problem: Ooh la la undies feel 2 sizes too small & creep up your bum during the day so you end up having to "discretely" pick them out of your butt crack twice on the way to work, on all of your breaks at work and at least twice while you're at your desk. On the way home you've usually just given up & are ignoring it.

It's about this point some of us have given up & gone for g-strings. I'm not going to give them their own category because they are really just another version of Ooh la la undies for those of us who've given up. G strings already sit right up in your butt crack so once you get used to the fact that they're there it's just a case of ignoring it. You can pretend all you like that it's for fashion, or that it's because you don't want VPL (Visible Panty Line), but really, it's because you've given up.

I gave up once. For quite a while I wore those little things. They do dry quickly on the line. And I suppose in terms of resources you could say that the small amount of fabric required to make that piece of underwear is about 5% of what goes into the granny undies. So, they're environmentally friendly knickers.

Blokes do not seem to have the problems women have with underwear. You see the selection of blokes underwear - it's all the same. Basically you've got either jocks or boxers. As far as I can tell boxers are kind of like going commando & jocks are for the man who prefers a little "support". But they just don't have the same issues women do - it's basically white, grey or navy.

So this time I saw a pair of undies that were clearly for women but they looked like blokes underpants. They even looked as though they had stitched support for a *cough* "package". I walked away (actually I was online shopping, so technically I clicked away). I can't wear boys undies. It's just wrong. But I kept coming back. They looked just like boys underwear. Boys seem to be really comfortable. *I* want to be really comfortable.

After a while I began to cave. I knew. I knew they were going to be properly comfy underpants. So I bought a pair. Just one. Just to try.

You know what I'm going to say don't you? Of course they were comfortable! The most comfortable pair of underwear I've ever worn. And yes, I went straight back online & bought enough to never have to wear uncomfortable underwear ever again. And I don't care if they look like boys underpants. I just don't. I'm going to wear my boy pants with pride!