In Real Life (tm)

I can sing a rainbow...

A little while ago I told you that the Internet is my religion. And it is. I wrote a whole blog about it so it must be true.

But let me tell you a little something about real life.

Real life is where hugs happen. It’s where hands can be held, faces can be squished and group huddles can be formed.

In real life last weekend I got to see my dad and my mum. I got to cuddle with my mum and talk about life at 11pm and have breakfast with her the next day. I got to encourage my dad to flush my brother’s fish, Anakin, down the toilet, and encourage my mum not to buy a new fish and try to pass it off as Anakin. In real life, my brother named his fish Anakin, because in real life, my brother is a hero.

In real life I went on a roadtrip with an old friend and a new friend. The old friend’s name is Tim, and the new friend’s name is Beth. Beth and I met on the Internet a few months ago, but in real life on the weekend, we got to meet with our faces. Once again proving that the Internet is awesome, sure, but nothing quite beats real life. Tim and Beth and I went to a place called the Macadamia Castle.  It is a castle. It has a giant knight out the front. It sells macadamias.

In real life we bought hats from a castle

Beth's hair is masquerading here as my beard

In real life I went to Grafton, and drank tea, and saw people I met in Newcastle, and drank tea, and met new people, and drank tea, and got to meet most of my internet friends, and wished Alex a very happy 21st, and talked and laughed and drank champagne. At the tea party I got to meet people who I follow on tumblr, and twitter, and people who like the same things I do, and people who are into things I don’t understand (like Eurovision) and people who make me laugh and… people. Someone said, “it’s the internet in real life!” – and they were right.

In real life I got to watch Muppet Treasure Island with 20 other supposed adults, and lay on the floor in a big heap of blankets and pillow pets and cuddles and was happy. I got to sleep on the floor with the same 20 people and giggle hysterically at Charlie saying “now Lizzy, don’t get any ideas” and zipping himself tightly into a sleeping bag. “If you try anything my sleeping bag will protect me”.

In real life there was bacon. And more tea. And quiet morning chats in the garden. And collaborative kaleidoscopes.

There was more roadtripping with Beth and Tim and now with 100% more Noni. There was new music to discover, and old music to sing along to, and harmonising with one of my favourite friends. There were silly chats and serious discussions and introducing Noni to Queensland.

There was seeing Boyfriend again after 9 days of Boyfriendlessness. And Indian food. And late night drives with The Hobbit audio book and chocolate.

But all of this is overshadowed by the first point: in real life there are hugs, and the Internet, for all its glory, will never be as good as hugs.

Country/Girl: Roadtrippin

The thing about living in the country is that pretty much any drive further than Woolworths can be considered a roadtrip. Literally 4 minutes out of the centre of town you hit sorghum fields and windmills, cows that stare at you and potholes that could swallow you whole.

I’m still 2 weeks off actually living in Dalby, but I was there for the weekend visiting Boyfriend, and we went on a bit of a roadtrip for our friend Tom’s 21^st Birthday. That is to say, we went to go see Tom for his birthday, we didn’t just drive into the countryside in celebration of his birth or anything.

It wasn’t *that* far, but upon reflection, except for one big day of driving in New Zealand once, I think it’s the furthest I’ve ever driven in one day. I think I’d convinced myself it was going to be easy, given that I now regularly drive the 2 hours, 40 to Dalby. I thought, 4 hours to the coast? Pfft, easy! Well…. It wasn’t excruciatingly difficult, but my bum did go numb and by the time I got there I felt moderately incapable of speech.

Fun things about our roadtrip:

I discovered what a windmill is. No, that makes me sound like an idiot. I KNOW what a windmill is, I’d just never thought about the word wind… mill… it’s a mill… driven by wind. DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE I’M AN IDIOT. I bet a bunch of you had never thought of that either. I like words that do that to you. SHUT UP.

I didn’t kill any birds.

I did scream a lot whenever we came near a bird until Boyfriend freaked out and asked me to stop…. I still did it anyway.

I bought petrol in a tiny town called Cooyar. The pump didn’t have an electronic dial, just the kind with the numbers that flip down like an old clock. It was awesome.

Blackbutt. It doesn’t matter if you’re both adults and one of you is a teacher and everything, that shit is still funny.

The creepy little shop in Kilcoy makes REALLY good food.

Boyfriend’s students are literally everywhere. Even when we’re in some random town hours away from school. They. Are. There.

They are always watching.

No one knows how to pronounce the D’aguilar highway, but we have started calling it “The D’ag”.

Despite both being wordsmiths who love language, hours of driving will make us both stumble when trying to play word games.

Word games are still a good way to avoid napping while driving.

We should have been able to think of a lot more Australian towns starting with D.

Our own town SHOULD have been the first town we thought of.

This is the route we took:

We did it twice, obviously.

And this is the route I take to Dalby… I also did it twice.

So over 4 days I drove for about 13 hours. Effort!