boyracer

I think I may be a boyracer.

New car is a brand new Hyundai little hatchback thingy - ok I can't be a boyracer as I can't be bothered to;
a) remember what kind* of Hyundai it is,
b) get up and go out to the garage and check.

You'd think I'd make an effort to remember, as my workmates are the kind of people who remember the model (man! *I had to really think what the word was there, I was going with edition, kind or issue, model wasn't not on my list) and they are girls (except for CEO and Dunc that is it, though I haven't seen them around scary things like mice or snakes. Did I tell you I love working in an agricultural environment (Officially I'm an agricultural manager) because the gender roles are blurry in reality but we play at pretending women are girls and men are men). Mind you I just learned what a header is - Oti I blame you for not teaching me that one.

I'm impressed by my workmates.

They remember all sorts of things that are kind of blokey. And one does nice things for me like making my hair appointments and reminds me when it is and then rebooks it for when I forget to go (I was in a very important meeting with my CEO at McDonalds (not with McDonalds, just AT McDonalds and it was in Christchurch so about an hour away from Methven), my first executive lunch with NZYF!). I love that she did that, even better was she did it without asking. That made my day. Thanks so much C-Lo!

P.S. Had an interesting blogging experience the other day, actually a while ago but I've been digesting it. A long, long time ago I was going to blog about something really personal but that some (read: five) of you know about. Mainly because, according to my theory, the person I was going to blog about isn't likely to waste time reading my blog or blogs at all. But it turns out they do. That could have been unfortunate, really unfortunate for a multitude of reasons.