We have what you might call a 'temp' staff member with us at the moment. She's an Irish lass, travelling Australia doing her 'trade' and she found herself on our doorstep some two months ago. Things I know about young Irish... she's a very funny drunk, strangely fixated on finding her soul-mate, loves chocolate, hates tomato sauce and adores the TV show 'Grey's Anatomy'.
We have had some interesting and comical conversations centered around the show - and admittedly, it's nice to have someone to talk to again, about silly stuff. Irish wants to be Christina Yang... and she also wants to find herself a dishy M.D. In a state of drunkenness a few weeks ago, Irish pointed out that while she wants to snag herself a Dr Sloan... I'm a Dr Derek Shepherd kinda gal. How is it that someone I've known mere weeks, can condense me down, to that? Strangely, she's right.
Sloan is sexy, sometimes crass and mean, and truthfully I just wouldn't know what to do with that. But Shepherd is the one you make a home with - still charming and sexy with all his cerebral knowledge - he's a protector, a virtual teddy bear with all the right words.
All of this recent talk about weddings - not only the royal wedding, but also with some recent engagements at work - it's hard not to think about that great big question mark hanging above my 'almost-30' head. Torn between accepting the idea it might not happen for me, and participating in desperate creative visualisation exercises - I'm more than scared about 'what next'.
Vivid dreams about faraway men, reliving pivotal moments I wish I could change; suggestive emails to a seemingly stupid-stupid man, God, I even looked at RSVP.com the other night - to check out my options. What is to become of me??