You've lost that bloggin' feeling

Like the best romances, blogging in the early stages is a heady business. Well, once you get past those awkward first dates where you're not really sure what to say and you're worried you'll put spaghetti all over your face, it is anyway.

A few months in and you're mad about it. Obsessive. Or maybe that was just me. Checking in constantly just to say hello, whispering sweet nothings all over town, public displays of affection on Twitter. The whole shebang.

As you approach your first anniversary, the excitement is palpable. You've made it. One of those blogs that's actually lasted a year. The champagne corks pop, the bubbles fizz.

And then fizzles. Cue: post-party hangover. The honeymoon is over and the real work begins. Nothing has really changed. It's not them, it's you. You've just realised that, like the best marriages, blogging takes work. Things you wrote about with freshness and vibrancy the first time around, come around again.

You're at the point where you're a Cosmo coverline made in heaven: "Put the romance back into your romance." "Love him like it's the first time." "Hot monogamy!" Etcetera.

Your mind starts to wander. Perhaps your energy would be better placed in a new blog! A book! A visit to an ashram in India! Oh wait...

Suddenly, the distraction you've been looking for appears. A dirty weekend. Full of passion and excitement. A little me time. A chance to walk hand in hand with your blog.

Just what you need to rev up your Blojo.

So I'll see you on the flipside of the Aussie Bloggers Conference. Who knows what thrilling new moves I may have to show you. Bet you're quivering in anticipation.

No Weekend Rewind this week. Will miss your mixed tape of fabulousness, but I'll be back, raring to go next week.

[image: mounted print by VelvetImages/Etsy]

We need to talk about Kevin

Had you once told me that I would be seriously enamoured of a serious, balding man named Kevin, I would have laughed in your face. But I am.

Not, I hasten to add, Kevin Rudd, former PM and man who took out last week’s award for Worst Week At Work. Possibly ever. He seems like a nice enough chap, serious it is true, but lacking somewhat in…passion.

The other Kevin, my Kevin, has passion in spades.

In light of my recent posts about the delights of Monster Movers, Trawlermen and obscure Danish television series, it will come as no surprise to most of you that I am a Grand Designs fan. As in fanatic.

I love Kevin McCloud. He has been described as Thinking Women’s Crumpet. I do not think of him in this way (but do not get me started on Todd Sampson from The Gruen Transfer). I just think he is one of the most engaging personalities on television, and the fact that he can turn a home build into grand drama with his ‘secretly I think they’re nuts’ tone, makes him must-watch for me.

Yes, I am married to The Builder, so I admit to a lifelong penchant for utes and men with hammers. But Kevin is not that. He reminds me of an academic who wandered onto a building site and decides to write his anthropology honours thesis about it.

The first night I met The Builder’s friends, one of his BFFs told me that when he thought of my new man he invariably thought of Joists. It made me laugh, but as time went by I realised there was more to the story than met the eye.

The Builder is a details man. Ask him a question and prepare yourself for a full answer. Ask him if a roof needs fixing, for instance, and he will take you through it joist by joist. He wants you to understand because he has a passion for what he does. But he brings that same enthusiasm and attention to detail to everything.

Kevin is the same. Earnest, funny and keen that you get what it is that he loves about his work.

Grand Designs is what reality TV should be. All the drama, humour, tragedy and fun of real life, without the machinations and the terrible product placements.

And Kevin. Always Kevin.