Wish List

Despite being poor at actually commenting on other people's blogs (or getting round to replying to comments you guys leave me), I do actually pop on over when a link pops up that peaks my born with nosiness. 


One thing I always enjoy, when finding a new blog, is what the owner has gracing their sidebar. These, to me, are the first indication of the person who writes there- the person who took the time to hand pick a background and other adornments.



I have noticed a fair few who also add a wish list to the side bar too- a list of things they would like, or people they'd love to meet. Or books they might read next. Some of these are "if I had gazillions of pounds" items, some are far more obtainable.


So, what would be on my personal wish list?

• I wish I could look like Beyonce does on the cover of her "Sasha Fierce" album.

I like Beyonce, and have done since her Destiny's Child days. The mix of feisty songs and the fact she refuses to follow the "celeb so must resemble a lollipop" body trend, makes her someone that, if I was able to, I'd love to have a good natter over some wine with. The thing is, with Beyonce, and her mega gorgeous curves, I actually think that our bottoms are about the same size. Yet, what puzzles me is that, when Elder sees her on the TV, he is rather appreciative of her bottom. When I dance around the living room (FYI-not for his enjoyment, but to lose weight using my Just Dance game), he has a face that says "woman, if you keep doing that, you may cause an earthquake". See, Be (as I'm sure she'd be happy to let me call her) has wobbly bits. She has long legs too, and on the cover of that particular album, she looks amazing, despite having little slap on at all. 

• I wish a night of drinking made me feel fine 

After Saturday's Cybermummy, I got home at round about 8.30, and immediately launched into my gin cocktails (trying to remember what was in the one's at the Graphic Bar after Blog Camp). I had also had a fair few freebie wines at Cybermummy, and to be frank, when I finally rolled into bed 24 hours after I got out of it Saturday morning at 4.30am, I could be accused of being jolly. Or p**sed. Either/or frankly.

I'm not one for drinking on a regular occurrence. For one thing, the odd times when I feel my anti-depressants are a good idea renders it impossible, and I really hate being drunk too doesn't help. More often than not if I drink wine, I spend the next day hugging the loo. Its not like the old teen days when I could drink vodka like water (and did, on many occasions). Or I end up with a cracking headache, which, when mixed with the Bratlings, does not make for a fully operational Mummy. 

I wish that, rather than like this weekend, when I felt rotten until Tuesday, and now have a spotty face and stinking cough, alcohol would actually make me feel fine and dandy, with a clear complexion, shiny hair and in tip top emotional condition.

• I wish I had a more soppy relationship 

Take this week. Elder, on looking in the freezer on Monday morning, asked me to buy some particular foodstuff as the party had cleared my cupboards out and I was off to Iceland. It wasn't this that made me over analyse. It was the fact that he said "thanks, Darling". This was met with me nearly shouting, eyes wide "what the hell did you just call me?" and Elder coughing wildly and saying he was joking. Or still drunk. He was trying to give as many excuses as possible for referring to me as darling. Which is frankly ridiculous. I do sometimes wish we could be the hand holding couple. The nicknames couple. The ones everyone refers to as "smug". Alas, its not to be. So much so that when, about 10 years ago, Elder sent a text asking me to pop to the bank for him and signed it "thanks poppet", I kept that text for 2 years, and was quite sad when the phone died and took my message with it. I found out, some time afterwards, that he had asked the lady who he lived with as a lodger to write it as he was running late for work and she had called me poppet. So, a darling after 10 years, whether accidental or not, will be cherished.

• I wish chocolate tasted like Brussels sprouts

I have now not eaten chocolate in nearly a month. But I now stand in queues and feel the Dairy Milk is begging me to buy it from those annoying (yet previously welcomed) stands at the till. I dream about rolling in chocolate. I miss it more than I miss eating fatty foods. I've discovered I prefer healthy "see how many veggies I can find to chuck in them" dinners and lunches. I love grapes. I thought I hated cucumber, but I love it. Chocolate though- there is no alternative to chocolate, not healthy alternative. If, then, it tasted like Brussels Sprouts, I wouldn't want it so much. Maybe I could suggest to Paul McKenna that as a way of hypnotizing people skinny?

So, what do you wish for? If you blog it, let me know, and comment below with your link!