Month: May 2013

Do You Need A Vacation?

Remember when this blog was about (in)accessibility, travel and life on wheels? It’s kinda morphed into a wedding-planning stress-fest, which still includes all of the above. Stick with me here. In the midst of writing emails, being poked with dress-pins and sometimes sobbing over song choices, I have been doing some work. I’m part of a website start-up which will focus on listing accessible travel accommodation for disabled people, with an opportunity to read/share reviews on such places, book from the site and contact property-owners and other people users of the site. We’re trying to get an idea of the kinds of information to include on the site, and there has been a survey developed to let people to share their opinions. And I thought of all you wonderful people. If you are disabled, or if you travel with someone who is (say for instance, on a honeymoon. Or something.), please click on the link to let us know what you think: The survey is quick and powered by SurveyMonkey. Thanks for your thoughts! If you enjoyed this post, please consider voting for Gin & Lemonade in the Best Overall Blogger category at the Annual Bloggers Bash Awards here. Much appreciated, thank you!...

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How To Be Alone

I used to be really good at being alone. When I was single, I was perfectly happy to stay in by myself with only ice-cream, popcorn and my collection of Sandra Bullock movies for company. True story. I would dance and sing around my living-room. One particular Saturday night, I did all of that while drinking Baileys from a pint glass. That was special. OK, maybe that night I wasn’t all that happy to be alone. My point is this. I like my own company. I can read and write, and listen to Garth Brooks at full blast. And the remote control, after I figure out how to use it, is mine, all mine. Bliss. I had great plans for Sarge’s stag do. They involved Netflix and me. And then I was going to finish writing my novel. This was not a fake mission. Dad invited me to Skye, friends invited me to the pub. I had options. But I also had PMS, and it’s best not to inflict that level of genius on other people. And so. Alone time. Because really, when is that going to happen again? I was looking forward to reconnecting with my dancingsingingBaileysswigging self. These were moments to be savoured and remembered fondly when I am married with penguins/children who, if they are anything like their parents, will constantly demand books, hot beverages, and...

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Thinking Outside The Blog

Confession time. When I started this blog, I was angry. Angry about uneven pavements that may or may not have dog-shit on them. Angry about inaccessible buildings and accessible toilets being used as storage cupboards.  Because, if you keep a damn fridge in there, it becomes  inaccessible. Angry about being called a ‘wheelchair’ on the bus, and always having to say: There’s a person in it, too. I wanted to write about all of that, and my boyfriend and my cat. I wanted to write about the frustrations and the fun times and connect with people who could relate on any level. I also apparently wanted to post photos of coffee. I wanted to write stuff and always know where it was. I also have pages in filing cabinets, and purple notebooks and green notebooks and teal notebooks. I have five different novels on three different computers. I have lines on receipts and envelopes. The blog is less dusty. But maybe no less coffee-stained. I blogged when I got engaged, and when I gave my cat to my friend. I blogged when my Dad got cancer. I still wanted to connect with people, and now we have more levels to choose from (!) I’m not the pissed off person who started this blog. Sure, I’d like uneven pavements evened out, I don’t want to have to drag out a...

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Wedding-Planning Is An Endurance Test

Just when you think you’ve gotten through your to-do list, there’s another list. And damn if there isn’t more to do on it. People say that marriage is a marathon and not a sprint. I believe that. I’ve also started to think of wedding-panning as a test of endurance. To get you ready for the marathon. Last week, I failed that test. But I got a lot of reading done. In bed. While drinking coffee and pretending I was 12. The 12 year-old me was home sick from school with a cold, but without a wedding to plan. She didn’t care about cake-toppers or declines. Because really, those declines are like ripping band-aids off, and who wants to do that? Unless you’re 32. And planning a wedding. And it’s courtesy for other people to tell you they can’t make it. You get to the point where you don’t want to look at the postcards that come through the door. Your heart leaps with a yes, and the same heart is ripped out with a no. And then you eat a pint of Ben & Jerry’s. These are just some of the questions I asked Sarge last week: Did we tell the cake people I hate marzipan? Did we thank them for the gift? Wanna elope? Do we have any beer? That’s where we are. But at least I’m sharing...

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My Inner-Child Needs A Paper Bag

Picture it: Levittown, 1980-every-summer. A young girl is watching the sun sink lower in the sky and waiting for someone to take her to the carnival down the block. Her grandparents and her father have probably drawn straws. Who gets to hold her hair back this time? Because she’s gonna barf. But she’s too excited to eat. So it’s the dry heaves. And full on gagging, how attractive. And she’s barking. That’s a nervous cough. But she could be doing a duet with the dog. Because she loves him like a brother. Point is, she’s so excited, she’s gagging. How attractive. She leaves the house clutching a paper bag, breathing into it on the way. Except she’s not co-ordinated enough for counting and breathing, it makes her dizzy. She gags. Again. That little girl was me. Fast forward to a few nights ago. I’m sitting at the computer, kinda obsessively checking my email.  Impatiently waiting for a response from our videographer. Yes, we have one of those.   Because I’m American.  Apparently.  Who knew?   You can tell because the one thing I’ve insisted on is a wedding video.  Everyone has said ‘that’s because you’re American.’  It’s just that I want to remember everyone’s faces.  Especially my husband’s.  I want to share the looks and the thoughts and the moments with people I love who won’t be there.  That...

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