Does this make me a twit?

I've done it. I've finally succumbed to the monster that is Twitter.

I'm still not entirely sure about Twitter. Honestly, isn't it just one big great ego machine? Surely no one is so bored that they wish to hear all the ins and outs of other's lives as they occur? The one upside that I can see is that I can write my blog ideas down as they occur to me - but are there any others?

We'll see, I guess. I know Ling is a fellow twitterer - is anyone else?

My ego speaks here.

Try before you buy

I spoke to my dear Nan on Sunday. Seems the bush telegraph is working well and truly as she already knew that Thomas (as she calls him) and I were moving in together.

Normally I'd be worried about how someone of her age would take it, particularly given my Dad's somewhat traditionalist stance. Then again, it wasn't so long ago that Nan told a rather nosy man where he could stick it when he tried to upset her by asking about my living arrangements.

Still, I don't know that I was prepared for what she told me during our phone call.

Nan: So, darling, I hear you and Thomas are moving in together!
MD: Yes Nan, next Saturday. We found a place really easily.
N: Great news! I think it's a fabulous idea. Best to try before you buy, don't you think?
M: Well, yes, quite.
N: I mean, if I'd lived with my first husband before we got married, I NEVER would have married him. Would have saved myself a lot of heartache there. Oh yes, you're doing the right thing.
M: It feels that way, Nan. I'm really happy and he's a lovely boy.
N: Good, good. And you know what I've always said.
M: What's that?
N: Well, it's far more comfortable to do it in a bed than in the backseat of a car. And this way your mother knows where you are, too.

This from my 91 year old Nanna. Just when I think I have her pigeonholed in the crocheting, biscuit-baking, blue rinse set, she blows away all my assumptions.

That said, when I mentioned it to Mum afterwards her face quickly turned to thunder.

Mum: She said what?
MD: That I should try before I buy. And that in a bed is better than the backseat of a car.
Mum: Hmmph. She didn't have that view before your Dad and I got married. She would have killed us both if we'd tried it.

It must be so much easier to be a grandparent than a parent.

If you see me walking down the street

Aren't all of you lovely to post such good wishes about the move! It's truly exciting for me, but when you know others are excited on your behalf it means so much more.

I left work at lunchtime today. I'd had a funny tummy since yesterday and given the pig flu that's circulating of late, figured it was best to go home lest I infect the entire office.

Strolling through the Degraves St subway to catch my train, I noticed a figure coming towards me. Hmm. Looked a bit like Richard from far away. Certainly walked like him. Wearing a funny hat in an attempt to be avant garde, too.

Shit.

It WAS Richard. What's more, he'd seen me, too.

We each did an admirable job of ignoring the other as we crossed paths. Sitting down on the train moments later, I was amazed at my complete lack of feeling. I've not seen him since I left my previous job 18 months ago and had imagined that when/if our paths ever did cross again, it would be traumatic. But it wasn't.

Truth be told, it was like seeing someone that you might have gone to primary school with. You have a vague recollection of the face, but not enough to go over and say hi.

I told a girlfriend who'd seen me through the messy part this afternoon. She asked how I'd dealt with it and I commented on my lack of feeling - no anger, no pain, nothing. Her response?

That's good then. It has been placed where it should be - in the past.

Amen to that, sister.

Home and hosed

I've been back from my travels for almost 3 weeks now and am only just finding the time to sit down and write. So much happened whilst I was away - learnings of a professional and personal nature, weight gain (mmm, fika) and sightseeing to name a few.

Having time away from work gave me an opportunity to think about lots of things. Something about lots of forests and picturesque lakes encourages one's mind to wander. I wondered - what do I want from life, my job, my relationship? The time apart gave Tom time to think, too. Happily, we both reached the same conclusions - we want to spend more time together, not less.

So, once we arrived home from Malaysia - where everyone referred to us as 'honeymoon' with singsong voices and knowing smiles - we started looking for a place together. The Melbourne rental market being what it is, we expected the search to take several weeks. But the day after submitting our first application, we were accepted. We move in together a week from Saturday.

Looking to share our good news, I rang Dad to tell him that we 'd been successful. Dad asked where it was, whether it had off-street parking and how much we were paying. He gruffly told me that 'it's alright, I guess.' Right. Not the response I'd been hoping for.

I was upset. I've always looked for my parents' support and not getting it wholly makes me uneasy. I called Dad back and told him that he'd upset me and asked why he wasn't entirely supportive. It took a bit of pushing, but evenutally I got it out of him. Seems my Dad is somewhat of a traditionalist and is a little troubled by the idea of his daughter moving in with a bloke without 'a sign of commitment'.

Dad and Tom have a brilliant relationship and Dad's said how happy he is that we're together - his problem isn't with my choice of partner, but that I haven't a ring on my finger. He knows there are no guarantees in life, but he would feel more comfortable if we made our feelings for one another 'official' - to minimise the risk of my getting hurt.

Maybe I'm setting the cause of feminism back 20 years here, but I love that Dad cares enough to want a commitment for his girl. And it's good to know that if I'm ever dying to get engaged and Tom isn't quite getting the hint, Dad's waiting to be enlisted.