HELLO ISABELLA!

OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG!!!! She is so beautiful I can barely breath. Her name is Isabella and she is my new little baby girl.

Cordelia gave her a full once over, reluctantly gave her the thumbs up (after an extensive lecture) and waved us farewell.

Goodbye Cordie… thank you for everything! Welcome to your new home Isabella, you will be loved, I promise!

GOODBYE CORDELIA

It’s been a big running week for me this week. 3 x 5am starts, 15kms each, in a row and a happy face to show for it. My knee seems to be holding up and not complaining quite so loudly anymore, so all in all, I think I’m on the mend. However all this running seriously takes it out of you, not to mention the 12 hour work days, so I barely have enough energy left to muster the excitement about my new car. JOKES! Seriously, a new car people! It’s like buying the most gorgeous pair of shoes in the world that you’ve been eyeing for 7 years and that you know will make your legs look 2m tall, but better! Yes Peeps, after talking about it for ages (as is this Crazii’s way) I finally did it. I took the bull by the horns, or in my case my bank manager over the knee, and purchased a new little baby to step into the shoes of Cordelia.

As yet, I have not had the courage to tell Cordelia, but I think she definitely suspects something. Every now and then when I indicate, she’ll just keep the ticker going long past the corner has been taken. She’s even been known to stall at the robots and once she jammed the steering wheel in position mid drive. I’m not sure how to tell her, I was going to pull a ninja and just drive her to the garage, lovingly kiss her goodbye… and then RUN! I’m definitely sure she has Herbie genes in her and wouldn’t be surprised if I found myself looking very similar to the roadkill I saw this morning.

Of course, I’m not actually going to do that. Cordelia has been my little blue guardian angel over the last 7 years and I would never leave her without saying goodbye. My new little baby has some seriously big shoes to fill and I fully expect Cordelia to give her the once over and a big lecture… it’s a big sister’s job after all! As a farewell present I got Cordie washed and sparkling clean, bought her some lovely flowers and left a little present in the cubbyhole for her new owner (a long letter detailing her moods, how she should be treated in certain situations and a full breakdown of cleaning instructions as well as birthday dates and other cars she likes/dislikes).

Farewell my beautiful blue angel, we’ve had an incredible 7 years together and I can’t believe we’re at the end of our journey. We’ve done some very exciting things (some scary as hell, some crazy, but all memorable) and I can’t thank you enough for keeping me safe all these years. You’ve been a safe haven, a joy ride, a party animal and a friend and I can only hope that in 24 hours time you make someone else as happy as you have made me. Goodbye Cordelia, my beautiful baby girl.

50 AND LESS THAN EXCITING

Whoop Whoop, this is my 50th post! But unfortunately I have nothing note worthy to say other than I’m off to The Big Smoke for work, wish me luck; for as sure as death and taxes, I’m going to need it!

WIT AND CHARM

We made it! Pop Tart and I, feeling melancholy and far away from each other, made it. It is officially Tuesday (on my side of the planet, Pop Tart is peacefully sleeping still) and I’m glad. I saw it in this morning in true Crazii style and took the bull by the horns and ran 15kms. I know, I know, but it was glorious. The fact that I am unable to walk now is a small price to pay for the wind needed to blow the retched sad cloud away! Of course, I’m not sure my physio will feel the same way but I’ll charm her with my wit and good mood and all should be well.

Me: Hello my lovely, favourite physio in the whole world.
Physio: Oh no Crazii, you went running, didn’t you?
Me: Not really, more of a brisk walk.
Physio: So why are you limping?
Me: I’ve suddenly developed Polio.
Physio: And this sudden bout of polio came on at about…?
Me: 4kms
Physio: During a run that was…?
Me: 15kms
Physio: Sorry Crazii speak up, I don’t understand mumble.
Me: Ummm, it might have been 15kms…
Physio: I’m going to kill you!
Me: I know, but at least I’ll die with a smile on my face.
Physio: (Sigh) heaven help me…

So, she wasn’t as amused as originally anticipated and said something about more rest and taking it easy and all the nonsense for sissies and people NOT training for Oceans. I,of course, promised to listen and take all her advice. And I will, in my head, visualizing myself lounging on a deck chair drinking a strawberry daiquiri while actually hill training up Chappies and cursing God’s inability to create perfect specimens of biomechanics!

MONDAY AGAIN...

Right, so I’m still feeling a lot melancholy today and don’t know how to shake the feeling. It sort of feels like a very dark and ominous cloud is hovering just above my reach and I don’t have enough energy to muster the wind needed to blow it away. I’m contemplating draining my whole body of blood ala the dark ages cure for such a feeling, but think that might be taking things a little far. Peas, Shiny and PopTart are also feeling this way so could it be we're projecting it digitally onto each other?

Obviously this feeling is greatly exaggerated by the fact that it is The Dreaded Monday and I actually have a crapload of work to do, not withstanding the very nerve-wracking, career make or break trip to The Big Smoke on Thursday and Friday, which I have to do. Maybe we're all a little Monday shy, that's all.  If Monday’s could just be abolished I feel I may be able to take a step in the right direction to actual happiness. Although then I suppose Tuesday would become the new Monday and I would start taking a disliking to it as well. I suppose, on the bright side, Grey’s is on tonight and I’ll be eating chicken, mash and mixed veg like I did in the days when smiles abounded.

HUMP DAY

Today is Hump Day. Ordinarily a rather exciting day because it indicates that the week is not as big and scary as it was on Monday and can therefore be managed and beaten. Except, it doesn’ feel like Hump Day today at all. It feels like a big and treacherous Monday that won’t go away. I usually like Hump Day, it gets Thunder all excited and usually means we’re doing something to glide us into Friday. Not tonight. Tonight I will be mainlining cigarettes while sitting on the kitchen floor cursing the fact that I didn’t buy 100ply tissues and smartie eggs.

MONDAY vs. SATURDAY

Monday and I have resumed our fight to the death once more and today it feels like Monday is winning. Monday usually wins, so that's nothing new. Monday's a lot bigger than me and has a lot more experience in defeating others than I do so I'm not ashamed of the defeat. I've worked out that (if all goes well and nothing CSI-like happens) then I have about 54 years left of challenging Monday. That's 2 808 more Mondays left to face. Next week makes it 2 807 and counting...

I will win yet.

On a happier note, The Chef and I, plus 3 other dashing young men, found ourselves dressed up to the nines and experiencing the Met in a way this Crazii has never done before. I’ll be the first to admit I am a Met snob. I do not picnic, I do not find myself on the picnic side of the track crossing, I am never sitting at a height lower than 1m above the ground. I like perching on a high back (preferably bright) bar stool, champagne in one hand, canapé or ciggie in the other (depending on if there is smoked salmon or not) and being my blissful bitchy self about all the other posers surrounding my little bubble of heaven. Not this year. Oh no, The Chef was hell bent on making sure I experienced the Met the way he does it every year, quietly sozzled sitting under a tree drinking vodka and cranberry out of a plastic cup…

The Chef: Crazii, we’re going to the Met on Sat.
Me: Fab, whose tent are we in?
TC: Um, we’re not in a tent.
Me: A box, even better!
TC: No Crazii, we’re going to picnic.
Me: (Sharp inhale of breath, seeing spots, feeling very dizzy)… um, what?
TC: Yip, we’ll take a picnic and perch in the shade under a tree and people watch.
Me: Sweet lord.

I did it. Picniced I mean. I sat on a blanket on ground level and people watched. I drank vodka out of a plastic cup and even used the communal porter loos. I survived. I even had fun, quite a lot actually. I also won on the races and snuck into 5fm tent where the Chef found me a bar stool and there was champagne, it was awesome. We danced the night away, lined our stomach’s with nik naks and pies and found ourselves in bed by 12:30. All in all, a really great Saturday!

So Monday, although you’re a bigger and meaner than me, I will always have Saturday on my side and together we will eventually get the better of you!