The Joy of Life

It feels like I've been insanely busy over the last month. But now I've come to write about it, I can't think what I've been up to. Let's see ...

Work has been better (if a lot more uncertain and precarious). I've steered things my own way on the next issue of the magazine and, as a result, I think it's looking like the best one yet. I've also been expending a lot of time and effort on my 'chocolate-dipped carrots' mission to show other areas of the company how to improve their communications and write things that people will actually take notice of. (I had originally planned to go down the road of 'big stick' mission, until my boss told me - repeatedly - that there were no sticks.)

I'm also getting to go on a scriptwriting course run by the BBC, which I'm very excited about.

After four weeks off allowing the eyes to recover, I've been at the pool every morning. The snogging couple have mysteriously disappeared and seem to have been replaced by touchy-feely dive-bombing couple. The new eyes are brilliant under the water and I don't have to faff about trying to get my eyes to accept contact lenses at 6:30 in the morning.

I wear a swim cap because the chlorine was ruining the colour of my hair. I look thoroughly mingin' and think I'd die if someone actually recognised me. Last week, when I'd been swimming for about 10 minutes, I stopped at the end, ran my hand round the back of my head, and realised that I hadn't tucked my hair into the cap. It must have looked like I was wearing it for reasons of fashion rather than necessity. How embarrassing. (Though still not as embarrassing as the time I failed to notice my swimsuit had ripped itself open across my chest until I was out the pool and walking to the showers.)

Talking about hair, Emma cut me a fuller fringe last weekend. I've been growing my hair for over three years now and I get really bored just asking for the same thing, so I thought a fringe would give me a bit of a change without getting in the way of my Rapunzelesque plans. I really like it and think it makes me look younger. Two people have complimented me on it on Facebook and Kirsty at work said it was "much better" - which kinda made it sound like it was awful before, but she clarified that she didn't think it was bad before, it's just "much better" now. (Kirsty is very honest. She'll actually tell women she doesn't know whether or not something suits them in the changing rooms. Harsh, but helpful.)

I've been out to see Leanne, Ella and baby Holly a few times. Holly is cute as a button but does scream her head off a lot more than Ella ever did. I was saying to Leanne that Holly cries with such force that her features disappear and she looks like Cartman in South Park when he gets angry - just a face with a cross on it. It must be really, really exhausting for Leanne.

The woman at my work who kept telling me to hurry up and have kids has abated her efforts somewhat. I found a successful way of getting her to shut up was to answer her truthfully whenever she asked what I was up to at the weekend: cocktails with friends at Harvey Nick's, long weekend in Berlin, girly-weekend up North, dinner cooked by 'date-guy', long run on the beach, shopping for new boots, coffee and a book in Waterstones, etc. And then wait for the golden silcence that always follows. I realise my existence my seem shallow, but it's always really good fun.

I still assume I'll feel like I want to have kids at some stage, but it does seem like there's ever more to compromise, sacrifice and risk. Someone recently told me about their experience of giving birth and having to be stitched up again. There was concern that she'd "ripped right through", so the doctor stuck a finger into her ass, wiggled it around and said "No, no, we're fine". Then she heard them saying things like: "I'm not sure where this bit goes", "well, you won't be quite the same as you were before", and "There won't be any blood getting to this bit, so we may as well cut it off". She still doesn't know what they cut off. I reassuringly told her it was probably her clitoris. I swear, I almost fainted when she was telling me this story.

What else ...

I've started fitness training with the army twice a week. Outside in the cold and dark. My experiences with this merit an entry on their own, so I'll write that up soon. I've also signed myself up for a 5K in January, a half marathon (yikes) in April and a 10K in May. I've also bullied Louise at work into running twice a week at lunchtimes with me.

Oh, and I'm just back from a family trip to Berlin (again, I'll write this one up more fully on its own). After all the Christmas markets, I feel distinctively 'Christmassy' and sent out the invitations to my Blessing of the Tree parties, booked in my boozy lunch sessions and will shortly be getting the tree down from the attic. Well, after I've had today's chocolate from my advent calendar.

It Gets Cold in the Desert

About an hour outside of Vegas, I was sitting on the plane's emergency chute storage box rotating my ankles and looking out of the window at the land below. I've never seen anything like it before. The landscape was just so different, I felt a million miles away from home. Result!When the plane landed I couldn't contain my giggles. The Las Vegas strip was in plain view and it looked mental. A pyramid, Eiffel Tower, New York skyline and a rollercoaster. Brilliant!

We caught a cab to our hotel and the driver pointed out some good eateries, bars and shopping malls. Bring it on. He also told us we could drink cocktails in the street and in cabs if we wanted to.

Our hotel, the Flamingo, is in a prime spot - just across from Caesar's Palace and the Bellagio. It's also hilariously kitsch. Faux marble and gold circa '62. We queued to check in and checked out the guests. People were dressed very casually - in jogging suits and pjamas - and the staff really weren't wearing much of anything. The women serving drinks and cigarettes were walking about in suit jackets, flesh coloured tights and stilettos. And nothing else! "You'd have to be really confident to walk about wearing that," Sinead offered. "I mean, they must know they're just wearing jackets. It's not like you'd ever leave the house, get to work and go 'oh look, I've just come out in my tights!"

We got to the front of the check-in queue where we met Michelle. "Would you like 2 queen beds or 1 king?" Michelle asked. "2 queens please," I said before turning to Sinead and saying "sorry". Michelle started laughing, but Sinead had been unprepared for my mischief and looked stunned. Michelle suddenly stopped laughing, obviously thinking poor Sinead had been unceremoniously dumped in reception. As we walked off to our room, Sinead said "you're a total bitch. Michelle thinks I'm some kind of bunny-boiling lesbo now." Mwa ha ha ha! Though I'm now holidaying in fear of retaliation from Sinead.

We opted to stay up and try to go the distance rather than falling asleep. Feeling refreshed after hot showers, we got dressed and went out for food. We immediately became aware of a number of things:

• It was absolutely baltic!!! like 6 degrees!!! Totally didn't pack for that and had to go to Gap to get a hoodie and a scarf. This also meant that I could pretty much only wear this for my whole time in Vegas. Nice!
• Nobody dresses up (no bad thing considering I'm too cold to take my hoodie off. "Hello Vegas, here are my nipples."). The slot machine junkies all wear velour jogging suits or pjamas. The hotels encourage this by selling them in the gift shops.
• The hotels are massive and it's impossible to find your way out. We regularly spend 20 plus minutes just trying to get out of the casino areas.
• We're so used to there being no smoking in public places that we take some sort of chemical reaction to it. Gambling and smoking seem to go together so we spend most of our time coughing and squinting our way through the casinos looking for an exit.

Anyway, we headed out to the Fashion Show Mall as we both fancied steak and I'd read about a good place called the Capital Grille (it's fancy cause they've added an 'e' on the end). We found it - eventually - though I could no longer feel my hands or feet. My medium-rare fillet mignon was perfection and a bottle of Frog's Leap zinfandel was smooth as you like. By coffee, we were both wilting and needed some sleep. "I can't walk back without a coat, hat, scarf and gloves," I said. "Me neither, let's get some clothes in the mall." It was 10pm and the shops we all still open. I love this place. I got a massively thick Hollister hoodie but we decided to get a cab back anyway.

We got up at 7am the next day and headed to the Bellagio for a buffet breakfast. We stocked up on loads of fresh fruit. I got a made-to-order omellette, followed by more fruit. Thoroughly stuffed, we set off. First stop was the Moroccan-themed mall where I bought a big man's scarf from Gap. I added this to the Hollister hoodie I was wearing. At least now I was able to go outside. Sinead saved me from foolishly buying a new camera by suggesting it was probably the batteries on their way out. So I bought new batteries instead. Whadda ya know, it now worked fine.

We went to New York New York - one of the hotels further south on the strip. It's hip and funky and it has a roller coaster. We paid our $15 and waited for the front seats. As the safety harness came down I said: "I've just realised it's five years since I've been on one of these. I feel older. I feel like I'm going to have to scream." "Don't be a woose Lis. No screaming OK?" As the car started its ascent I looked around. All I could see was mountains and desert - how surreal. Then came the massive drop. Suddenly Sinead started screaming and I couldn't stop laughing. There was a loop, a hang, a barrel-roll and a vortex. Excellent.

From there we progressed down the strip, going into all the hotels. We found it difficult to take it all in. Everything is huge and sumptuous and busy and noisy and totally fascinating. We realised that neither of us get the gambling thing. Maybe if I could play poker or black jack or something, but definitely not sitting at the slots constantly feeding coins in and hitting random buttons. Some people are literally plugged into the machines (they have little cards on extendable chains). I don't get the appeal but millions of people do so maybe I'm missing something.

We got half price tickets and went to see Legends in Concert. Free cocktail on arrival - quality. Ray Charles, The Supremes, Tom Jones and Elvis. The guy playing Elvis was totally hot and the guy playing Tom Jones was a sleaze and grossed me out, but not as much as a picutre of the real Tom Jones squatting in a pair of black speedos that they showed on a big screen while the guy was singing. I'm still having nightmares! Put it away Jones.

Get this, we took an early morning helicopter out to the Grand Canyon for a champagne breakfast. The most amazing experience of my life (and I've done a lot of drugs). We landed beside the Colorado River and took in the views. I can't even begin to do it justice. Awe-inspiring, spectacular, humbling, mad ...

Also went for a luxury spa at the Paris Hotel. Crazy experience which I will write up in more detail when I get a chance. Went to see the dancing fountains in front of the Bellagio. Totally beautiful. They did it to 'O Holy Night', nice and Christmassy.Went to the Celine Dion Shop. Hilarious. What a lot of shit. I can't believe that anyone buys any of that trash.

Loads more to tell you but in short it was totally surreal. I loved it. Not a fan of the gambling or casino stuff, but thought everything else was ace and had a blast.

Oh Christmas tree, oh Christmas tree

My Christmas tree has arrived. And it is spectacular. For the last few years, I've bought a real tree, but this time I've gone artificial. There are two reasons for this: First, the unavoidable pine shreddage that happens when trying to evict the real tree from my flat was something I didn't want to go through again; and, more importantly, real trees just aren't perfect enough. I like all the lights and decorations to hang exactly where I want them to and real trees just don't play ball.

I scoured the internet for the perfection I was seeking. Unsurprisingly perhaps, I found it at www.christmastreeland.com. The 'Fraser Fir' - "New to Christmas Tree Land for 2006, the Fraser fir is a truly stunning tree with a traditional Christmas tree shape. It's sure to bring the 'wow' factor into any home." I had to have it, but at £102.00 plus delivery - I wanted it for less. Xmas Direct came to the rescue with the same tree at £89.00 plus delivery. Nice.

Five minutes later and I'd ordered my tree for delivery on Saturday. Everything was going swimmingly. Chatting to my mum later on, I proudly told her of my purchase. "Yeah, it's 6.5 feet and 57" in diameter," I explained.

"57" in diameter? Lisa, that's pretty enormous. Are you sure that won't be too big?"

I got out my tape measure and realised that the tree I'd ordered was going to consume about half of my sitting room. Fuck. That would give the 'wow' factor alright. "wow! I can't believe you were dumb enough to order a tree too big for your house." "wow! I'm being suffocated by your enormous tree."

Back onto Xmas Direct. Yes, yes, yes! They had a slimline version for those with 'space issues'. 6ft, 39" diameter, £25 cheaper. I called and asked them to swap my Fraser Fir for a Fraser Fir Slimline. Done.

The tree arrived yesterday at 0930. And I'm very pleased. I suspect I will be even more pleased when my lights and decorations are all hanging perfectly, and my feet are free of jaggy pine needles as the new year begins.