These boots...

...are NOT made for walking!

But as you can see, the Polish brothers got it all sorted in the end.

I got to spent Saturday night in the bush. There was a full moon and refreshingly clean air. I was inspired (as I find myself often these day) to write something about it and sat out bu the pool and wrote the following;

Moonlit Night

It’s daylight now
the moon is bright,

the shadows stretch,
long fingers creep.

Ruffling feathers
in tree tops height,

cicadas hide,
hidden from view,

frogs chorus loud
crescendo deep.

Bright eyed bunny
with rays shining.

Stillness surrounds
crystal clean air,

crisp with freshness
sends chill to bones.

Nocturnal beats
scurry and hide,

ground dwellers run
aware of flight,

mosquitoes bite
feasted on flesh.

Interrupted.
By none and some,

Stars dimmed for once
lunar out shone.

It’s back , It’s season seven …

…of American’s Next Top Model!

Yes... and my apologies in advance for mentioning it once in a while or more often.

I know that we are a few weeks or months behind when it was originally broadcast and the season is probably already finished…I can’t give you a link just yet ‘cause I don’t want to see who makes it through the first couple of rounds.

Cyndel from LA was one of the first 33 to go when they did the first cut down to 21. She stood in front of Tara, and the two J’s and said that her job as a stripper was just like modeling.

From the 21 girls Evita, wife and mother of two went home, as did Ginger. Just 18 and from a strict religious background, she wouldn’t pose for more than two shots in the buff. The next cut left us with the final 13.

So the playing field looks like this;
Amanda 18, tall skinny and blonde, one of twins
Anchel 19, tall skinny and dark, Indian in fact, she has a problem with self esteem and cries a lot.
A.J. 20, not so tall skinny and very short dark spiky
Brooke 18, tall skinny and blonde.
Caridee 21, tall skinny and blonde. Possibly this years Jade.
Christian 19, tall skinny and dark
Eugena 21, tallish skinny and dark.
Jaeda 18, tall skinny and dark
Megg 18, tall skinny and wavy blonde. A rock chick.
Melrose 23, tall skinny and blonde. Her name is Melissa Rose, but she don’t need the issa! Possibly this years Jade.
Megan 22, tallish skinny and short blonde.
Michelle 18, tall skinny and blond, twin number two.
Monique 19, tall skinny and dark, the youngest of four children and her mother has always made a point of telling her skin is too dark.

All together now...frame the face!

(306 words)

Birthday Pictures

I spent the day doing nothing but dreaming and taking photos of flowers and things around the house. Prehaps my buddie Edna is correct...I am get sentimental in my old age...or maybe it's just mental!

Pink bottle brush

Waratah

Charlotte - is a house spider, she will do you no harm and has taken up residence next to and on the loofer that never gets used.

Bertie was one month old yesterday, so I thought you might light to see an updated picture of him.

For my bithday I got a leather desk blotter, 'cause I do a lot of writting on paper with a fountain pen as well as here. A massive book of all the stuff ever written (that we know about) by Shakspeare, 1001 Movies you must see before you die, I've been through and marked the ones I've seen already (it didn't make a dent in teh amount I still have to see) and a 2GB USB key. I also got something I never wanted in my house 'cause I am of the belief that even Brad Pitt and Angelia Jolie would look crap on one, but somehow my repeating this over and over and over didn't sink in, so I also got a Webcam.

I also wrote a poem today...it's a work in progress, but please feel free to tell me what you think...

Going Bush

Light

City smog
Blinding lights
Honking horn

Out of the city
Driven to remove
myself from the noise
the lights and hussle
bustle. Freeway north.

The lights fade to nothingness,
rumble of the road beneath,
the window down, air flows free
country road winds to the left
winds its way deeper into dark,
dark that sees the shadows dance
floating on wheels, mopoke sings

Jasmine floats in air, clearing the mind.
The city left behind tonight, to
escape the bonds of the day to day.
Relax with the rustle in the trees
wallabies and possums freely bound
under the moons watchful light, sweeping
breeze watfs chinese tea from the bushes
smells of burning wood invade, clearing,
thoughts of tranquility here tonight.

Music and Feelings

Over the last few days I have spent quite a bit of time in the car and have been listening to CD’s and the radio. I’m stunned and at the way the songs seem to speak to me a lot more than they used too. Maybe it the poetry stuff I’ve been doin’ but maybe it got something to do with my state of mind at the moment.

Some songs speaking to me are ; ‘Sorry’ by Madonna, U and Ur Hand by P!nk, This is How a Heart Breaks by Rob Thomas, Bad to the Bone by I’m not sure, She’s always a Woman by Billy Joel, Feeling Good sung by Michael Buble and Oh very Young by Cat Stevens. But then anything by Cat Stevens is the best…so that’s not new.

What songs are speaking to you?

Update 10.50am 5th October : The Worst Hangover Ever by The Offspring seems to be meaning more to me too...I'd forgotten about that one!

Happy Birthday

...to me!

At 10.40am on this day in 1972 I was born in Chertsey, UK.

Well done Muv for giving birth to such an absolutely fabulous chick!

I'm the cute chickie wearing the hat in the bath! I think I'm 3 in this shot...a style guru in the making.
The other one in my older, smelly footed brother.

The First Results are In!

I just got my results back from my Poetry portfolio handed in for marking. I handed in 6 poems (including the ones on here in earlier entries) I got a Credit. No quite a distinction, but better than a Pass and way better than a fail.

Blogging Development Opportunities

1. It always takes longer to write an entry than you think.
2. You can never think of that perfect word to describe something, just right…
3. …and the 50 year old man sitting in the next cubicle will choke if you say ‘come f*ck me boots’.
4. Your work colleague will come over to chat just as you’re logging in.
5. You always end up having to explain to that you keep a blog, they ask if they can read it, you have to edit or delete entries to take references to ‘the prat/wally/idiot etc’.
6. If you say No, they sulk and give you rubbish jobs or tell everyone in the team, including the boss (more entry deletions/editing).
7. Blogger will have a hissy fit and flash like a super nova every second, but not allow you to collapse the window.
8. When the entry does post, it will appear 20 times…
9. …which means you have to individually delete each extra entry.
10. By the time you finally tidied it up, you realise the last entry just isn’t funny anymore.
    
    These are the 10 things I have learned about trying to sneak a blog entry at work!

Red Boots

For some time I have wanted a pair of red ‘come f*ck me’ boots. For no other reason than I have never been able to buy boot in shops (I have hockey players calf muscles despite not playing for some time) and I like red shoes.

Earlier this year, I went to see the Polish boot makers. The Perkal brothers have been making shoes and boots in the same place for over fifty years. A and M have over 10,000 shoe lasts scattered over three floors in a corner house where they work from 7 in the morning to 3pm in the afternoon. Both of them have sons, but neither has someone to take over the business.

…Anyway, I went to see them in mid June this year to have a pair of Red boots made. I asked for a two and half inch heel with a little width, a classic toe shape and a flap that could be folded down or up depending on the situation they were being worn (down with skirt at office, up with short skirt at club).

There have been various dramas, too tight, not red enough, funny flap…lots of fittings and many lunch hours spent wedging my chunky arse legs into sexy red boot shells. Two weeks ago I went back to pick them up to be told by M ‘I don’t like them and I’ve started making a new pair, come back in a week’.

Fast forward to today. The flap is wrong, again, and resulted in the stitching being unpicked with a blade while my leg was still in them. I stood there, one boot on, one boot off, my trouser leg rolled up to mid thigh, thinking, at this rate they’ll be out of fashion before I pick them up, good job I asked for classic!

(305 words)

Alcohol, Silliness and Sleep

The first line of ‘Forth Day’ proved to be correct. I did indeed go forth and live yesterday, although to be honest, I want to die today!

Let me set the scene for you. Belly Dancing class was full to overflowing and a different teacher not telling us what to do, saw Bella and myself leaving the class early and walking a little way down the road to a less than salubrious establishment for a ‘quick half’ before heading home. Lots of chatting took place, not sure about all conversations I’m pretty sure we had the odd meaningful conversation in between the boll*cks. And I clearly remember revealing my soft spot for Dennis Quaid (I know, I know!) shortly after she spotted that the real Billy Idol is far better looking than the LookyLikey she picked up a couple of months ago. More than a ‘half’ was imbibed.

Shortly before closing we gave ourselves a dancing class with a shimmy to Shrakia’s Whenever, Wherever, then I placed Bella in a cab and very sillily walked home (I live in one of the less than safe a night areas in Sydney).

So today I am in work, and I was a mere 5 minutes late and bit shaky. Actually I’m quite proud of myself after all I had only three and half hours sleep.

Ohh…the unplanned ones are always the best!

(232 words)

Body Language

I had to interview someone the other day. Not job interview, but an interview for an assignment at Uni. The interview was with a published author here in Sydney. The book he wrote was a memoir of being out of work at a certain age and over weight. A great book, I think, and I really wanted to know what he’s been doing with himself over the last couple of year since returning to work and being published.

Anyway…one of the stories he wrote about was his childhood as a boarding school attendee for the age of five. I was a house mistress when I was twenty at the sort of school he writes about. So…the conversation had been going fine, he was waving his arms about in an extravagant way, laughing and generally being very open and frank.

So I asked him how he felt about his school days and if he would consider doing the same with his children (it was I confess a little unfair, I figured he wasn’t quite as open about this particular subject in his book as he liked to think he was). His arms went to his sides and his knee peeked appeared about the table top, as he spoke. A minute more and his arms were folded across his chest and his knee was higher. A couple more minutes and his hands were folded up and under his armpits; his knee was touching his elbow. He continued to speak about those days.

I changed the subject. It was a few minutes of talking about up and coming projects before he relaxed back to waving his arms around once again. We continued talking for another thirty minutes before my time was up and he had another appointment.

The body (and mind, really) is an amazing thing. When happy and comfortable it exposes itself openly but revealing the chest (the most venerable spot). When trying to make someone else comfortable it mirrors the other person (when out, you’ll take sips of your drink or bites of food at the same time as your companion), but when feeling threatened it can give your true feelings away so traitorously, in the guise of defending itself. Surely by showing a need to close itself off like that would show a weakness to be picked at until the barriers fell away? Even better, you don’t know you’re doing these things…unless of course there are pointed out to you.

(407 words)

Forth Day

…a day to go forth and live life and the fourth day at my new job. Sorry I’ve been remise in my duties as a blogger and as a friend recently (Miss E), but life pulled me down for a while there.

All at once I had to finish a job, but not before finding my own replacement (hope you’re happy with my choice Edna), finish and hand in two poetry assignments at Uni, take Arabella Beckham to a show and start a new job. Ohh.. and finish yet another alpaca newsletter. So as I said…not enough to do!

I would like to tell you a little about my new job. But not too much, as it is in Government and if I tell you too much I’ll have to kill you ;-) I’m working for a highly visible department that is failing to put any sort of control on expenditure. I have been brought into the fray to do a little change management (the word EXPERT was used at one point, but I think that’s going a little far) to the process to stop the less than honest people defrauding the fine people of their resentfully given tax money. Enough of the boring bit…

…there is no talent here! None, nada, zilch, diddly squat, there is insufficient funds in the hottie account. Remember that word I used in the last paragraph that began with a capital G. Well all the guys here, must be in there 50’s and have been working here for at least twenty years. I mean…I got in the lift the other day and was followed by a man with green flannel trousers, purple shirt, paisley tie and a brown crunchy leather jacket with plaid patches on the elbows. He also had a grey Monk do, with a major comb over. That, I am sad to say if fairly typical.

The youngest guy here is a graduate student in the Finance department, but I’m really not in admiring jail bait. The next one that could even come close to eye candy, well I’m pretty sure he’s gay!

(351 words)

Last Day at Stateside Speedy

I’ve have an eventful few days in my last week here. First, straight after resigning I was asked if I knew anyone who could take over from me. I didn’t, but I said I knew a few agent that may be able to help. A couple of day later I found myself interviewing my own replacements.

That’s weird I can tell you. Sitting across the table from a Aussie/Italian bloke with small silver earrings in both ears thinking, you’re annoying me, so there is no way you’ve got a chance in hell of sitting in my seat. The next day, I interviewed a lovely lady from Wakefield, UK (but that’s not her fault) who is now sitting in my seat on the 27th floor. In fact, I am perched on the end of my own desk, using my laptop while she cruises the work network.

Also, there was a fire drill this morning. I was so excited, that by the time I got to the bottom of the fire stairs my legs where trembling. Ohh hang on...it had nothing to do with excitement it that I had just walked down over 300 steps!

Drinks tonight…Shark Hotel, Liverpool Street. $3 beers, wine and champers!

Ohh I'm Good!

Uni went well last night. First I received a glowing review for my poem Pigeon and Friend from a well known Aussie poet who just happened to be the guest lecturer for the last two week. He reported to me that it was near perfect, but he wasn’t sure about the line ‘safe in the sky’ because it was the only one that rhymed with anything else in the poem. He suggested I think about changing it, or the first line so it doesn’t rhyme. My new and improved version is below.

Then in Non-Fiction I did a seminar/book review of Join Me by Danny Wallace. That also went down well and I received good marks.

I’ve been having a bit of a panic this semester because I haven’t been feeling as if I’m ‘getting it’, but by all account I have been. I was so chuffed to get good feedback from well known and well respected authors.

Pigeon and Friend (v2)

On high flight
Grey streak above the sky
Secure aloft
Looking down
Scavenging for food
Racing for life

Sitting high
Grey safety on the city’s walls
Watchful sentry
Eyes observe
Looking for foul play
Strives to save life

Rest at height
In harmony they sit as one
Bird and camera
No one sees
Nesting safe and sound
A life that’s safe

Growing Up

Hubby went out to see young Bertie today as well. He is now one week old and well and truly used to his legs.

Wet Feet

Hubby and I helped out on an Alpaca Information stand today. It was the last day of four very wet days. One retailer had to leave on the first day ‘cause the tent that was sheltering them from rain, got blown away by the wind that soon followed.

Last year the same show had four days of glorious sunshine and twenty six degree days. This year rain, wind and grey skies accompanied with fifteen degrees days. We were lucky today because it got up to eighteen, but it rained all. Not just showers and the odd bit of spitting wispy rain, but serious down pours that caused rivers to run in gutters and puddles to turn to ponds.
In the time I spent ‘helping out’ I think I spoke to a grand total of ten people all day. My feet sank deeper and deeper into the mud as the water rose and I even needed to put my gloves on as my finger tips started to chill. I did do a mad dash around the show at the end of the day and picked up a few bargains, as well as some stuff that I got, partially because I felt sorry for the poor sod who had been coping with the rain for four solid days, in marquees lined with straw but still squelching water up your trouser legs.
After packing up and escaping the mud, driving down the freeway I was amazed to see a beat-up station wagon hogging the middle lane, well, that bit didn’t really amaze me but the fact he was drinking a bottle of Tooheys as he drove, did!

(276 words)

A New Beginning

I’ve got a new job!

I was interviewed on Monday, told on Wednesday and I start a week Wednesday. This means I’m going back to working with tradesman and I get to inspire people to change. For once, a recruiter/client said they needed some urgently and they actually meant it.

Yeah me!

Exercise and Bellies

I started my ‘get fitter’ plan last night. A week ago I weighed myself and discovered that I had put on 7kgs in the two months since I broke my arse bone. My tailor made trouser confirmed it when I couldn’t get the zip shut the other day. I have to lie on the bed to do my jeans up, even when they haven’t been tumble dried. I have been trying to eat healthier (salads, veggies, lean meat etc…) and so far I think I’m doing OK.

Exercise in the next hurdle. I’m sure I’m not the only one to have expressed an intense dislike for the gym. I find it boring and un-motivating, so I try other thing to stimulate my urge to firm up my flabby thighs and tummy. The last thing I tried was Fencing. Yes, the type with sword (foil, epee and saber). It involved lots of knee bending, hip works and ankle swelling. The last one was a result of weeks or effort and investment (I purchased a foil). I really enjoyed the activity, but the resulting pain wasn’t so good.

Swimming is an old favourite, but after a while swimming up and down starts to lack something. The rippling blue of the chlorinated water loses its poetic inspiration.

So last night I went to a Beginners Belly Dancing lesson. I was in a room full of sticks apart from the teachers who had a lovely shape and even a tum on her. A few girls had on jingle jangle scarves and one even had one of those back of hand covery things that also jingle’s when moved. I was by far the largest lady there. So imagine if you will, me red loose pants (trousers), fitted turquoise singlet (from Supre, so even thought the label says XL it isn’t really any bigger than that worn by a 6 year old) and bare feet shaking my hips and booty to the sounds of Middle Eastern groove.

I loved it, it doesn’t hurt today (although last night I felt it) so I’m going back with Edna on Monday!

(352 words)

Weather Warning

A week ago today…spring arrived in Sydney. It was a glorious day with sun, no clouds and a nice 24/25 degrees. The next day was the same, and the next. Sunday brought a few light showers (and my Great Grandson ;-), but the temperature stayed nice and high. The sun put his hat on again during the early week and even yesterday morning it was fine.

Last night however, the weather took a turn and plunged us well and truly back into winter. According to the Bureau of Meteorology’s website there was a storm front over Sydney and up to Newcastle (160kms) pelting us with rain and bringing winds to gale force. Today a lot of beaches are closed and the woolly coats are back on. Apparently we have this weather to look forward to at least until next Monday.

I love it, storm fronts, wild winds, rain and it’s still 20 degrees!

(151 words)

100th Post

I just realised when logging in to post more granny pictures of Bertie, this is my 100th anniversary of being a blogger.

Anyway, the purpose of my post… You may have guessed by now, but I'm very proud!

Bertie with his Mother, Wispa

Having a feed at the same time.

I'm a Great Grandmother Again

My granddaughter Wispa had a little boy today. He was born sometime between 6am and 2pm and weighed in at 6.2kg. He has a brown fleece and this is the only photo so far, as it was dusk before I go to see him. I suppose that is the problem with living so far away from my alpacas.

It was a bit of a surprise as she wasn’t due until the middle of September, which explains his small size. He was having a jolly good time running about so he seems healthy enough. Wispa is being attentive and not leaving him too far behind and the rest of the herd is being superb and sheltering both mother and baby from any outside intruders.

More pictures after I spend a little time with the herd on Tuesday morning.

(137 words)

Pointless Fun

The Other Andrew had a little thing on his blog today about his Life Path Number. It's from a site called Blogthings. I went there, found out my Life Path Number is 6, but even better I found out my vampire name (Magdalena of the Far North), I have a 56% chance of being a millionaire, I’m only 67% Libran, when I always believed I was typical, I'm 25% fake 'cause I wax my eyebrows and if I were a flower I would be blue. The best, in light of my chronic high blood pressure problem is that I appear to only be 47% stressed!

Anyway…check it out, if only for a little time wasting.

You've Changed 64% in 10 Years

Compared to who you were ten years ago, you've changed a great deal. In fact, you're probably in a completely different phase of your life - and very happy about it!

How Much Have You Changed in 10 Years?

Pigeon and Friend

Yesterday at Uni, my poetry class homework was set for the week, we had to write a new poem for workshopping next Tuesday. On my way to my next class I saw a pile of pigeon poo at the bottom of a pillar. Looking up I saw a grey security camera and tucked in between it and the roof was a pigeon, safe and sound in the dark (one of the few dark places in the city) for the night. Straight away I wanted to write my poem about it. This is what I came up with today. As usual, feedback welcome about how yummy or crappy my poetry is!

Pigeon and Friend

Flying high
Grey streak above the cityscape
Safe in the sky
Looking down
Scavenging for food
Racing for life

Sitting high
A grey box on the cities walls
Watch for safety
Eyes observe
Looking for foul play
Strives to save life

Resting high
In harmony they sit as one
Bird and camera
No one sees
Nesting safe and sound
A life that’s safe

Beauty Abound

I travelled north over the weekend and stayed in one of the most mediocre hotels I have ever stayed in but the location made up for its decoration (see tap picture in previous entry)/facilities/heating failings.

Falls Forest Retreat was sitting in the bottom of a valley surrounded by mountains and natural bush land. So despite being awake at 0700 on a Sunday morning (I had no idea this time existed on a Sunday) I went for walk in the dew covered grounds in my open toed sandals. Here are a couple of the pictures I took…and they don’t come even close to showing how beautiful and tanquil it was.

My reason for being in Taree was an alpaca meeting, but that only took up six hours of my weekend, so I spent the rest of the weekend in the car mostly, driving. It's a long way to Taree, via Gloucester. I did however get the chance to take some super photos of alpacas and moo cows apart from purdy flowers at sunrise. It was a very visual weekend!

Drainage Solutions

Miss Eudoxia fixates on Loo Roll and Pegs...this weekend I discovered mine while staying in a hotel/motel.

What is the point of having a tap that pours the water directly down the drain?

$10 Question

It would appear that I gave my mobile number to someone whilst out last Friday night. The guy, I have met him before and both times I have found myself supremely un-attracted to him. Well, that may be a tad unfair, he’s dark with a pretty good body, only he’s foot nothing with heels on. Height is important to me, not sure why but I find looking up when talking to a potential boyfriend (I’m married, so it’s been a while, going on memory here ;-) is much more comforting than looking down.

Anyway back to the phone number. On Monday I received a text message from him saying (and I’m paraphrasing) ‘Good night on Friday, wanna catch up for a drink sometime.’ I didn’t respond immediately as I was to sick to think about anyone but myself and my cats who appreciate a good temperature to keep them warm. Today I replied with…’what do we need to catch on up on, exactly? Risotto’

He fired back within 10 minutes a response of ‘anything really’. Not phased at all by the strange, weird even, Risotto comment. If I had received a message like that I would have run for the hills and deleted the number from my phone, but he totally ignored it. Must be keen!

So the question is…should I go for a drink with my little Garden Gnome to find out if he has the secret to a good Risotto?

Not a Hangover

One of the nastiest bugs to cross my path in a long while has landed on my head. At first I thought it was a hangover, come to think of it, I think it snuck in, while I was hungover on Saturday after a rather fine evening on Friday with my mate Edna.

We went to Hellfire, dressed as school girls up for no good. Lollipops were sucked and champagne drunk. No dancing took place as Edna had worn shoes that her feet were not used to, so they looked something like the reddened arses on the St. Andrews Cross in the corner. We got chatted up by a lesbian, an Ozzy Osbourne look-alike, a short but rubber obsessed hunkie. Edna seemed to catch the eye of a very short Billy Idol impersonator. At three forty five am, we assisted each other home before passing out in our respective beds.

Saturday morning passed in a coma like state, before walking to the local ale house for a giant fry-up. I was feeling somewhat tender in the stomach and the head. Edna, being a few year younger seemed to be handling the effects of eth night before somewhat better.

I spent my evening on the couch, gathering no sympathy from my Hubby ‘it’s self inflicted’. Edna I was to learn later, spent it in the company of other friends, drinking hair of the dog.

On Sunday I woke feeling as bad if not worst than Saturday. I read a little, most of my Uni readings for the week. Truman Capote, really isn’t any better be read about as reading his book In Cold Blood. I know it’s supposed to be a master piece, but I find it wordy! Is that fact that I have just been listening to it in audiotape, showing in this blog entry at all?

Monday has come and gone with me in a state of complaining tummy and stuffed up head. Sleeping at the drop of a hat and waking groggy.

Today, Tuesday, I have had to blow off my Uni classes ‘cause I’m still feeling crabby and crap. My nose is running like a tap, my whole body aches, I’m having trouble focussing on anything for more than a moment and I still have the sh*ts…in more way than one.

I hope I feel better tomorrow, ‘cause I’ve got an job interview!

(396 words)

This morning

I'm feeling a bit better now I've got it off my chest!

In line with my studies, there my appear the odd blog entry in poem form. Hopefully it will make it just a little bit more interesting. Off course, if it get on yer tits, please tell me;-)

Breakdown

Today, I’m having feelings
of rejection, loss and hurt
I’m not quite sure of meanings
but I know I’m feeling sad

First, the poem reading
then, the meeting for a job
it’s a sucky feeling
That makes me feel so sad

I know I should be tougher
that it is all in my head,
I really must seem so fragile
but I want to go to bed

Forgot, I almost did
the prat that still insists
on spelling my name with an I
when E appears on lists!

These feelings, sad, they come and go
depending on the week
they’ll past by most un-noticed
‘til laughter, again does tweak.

Found in Translation

In the process of doing research for my Poetry homework, I was looking for sites that would do some translating for me. I need to translate a sentence (I have picked ‘the cat sat on the mat’ for consistency) and I stumbled across Geordie.org.uk.

What fun! ‘I'm having a great time’ becomes ‘Ahm having a geet time’

The cat just turns into a moggy ;-)

Btw. I still looking for translations (with the verb sat, highlighted) in Sanscrit, Farsi, Japanese and Chinese if you can help.

The Results are in

Out of 53,669 finishers I was 51785 at 205 minutes.

City2Surf

My Sunday mornings in bed are precious to me. However, like many slightly odd Sydneysiders, I got up yesterday and made my way to Hyde Park in preparation of walking the annual run/walk from the end of William Street to Bondi Beach, via Vaucluse. Trust me when I tell you, that this is not the most direct route!

We started walking at 9.45, having been hanging around in the park since 8am. We didn’t even get a little red baseball cap to wear to keep our heads warm, but lots of pictures were taken though of people doing warm up stretches and generally prancing about.

It wasn’t the hardest walk I’ve done (that would to the 26 miles of RMP March in 1997) but I felt it. I felt it in my hips going down the hills, I felt it in my feet from checkpoint 11 and I felt it in my bum bone when I finally crossed the finish line 3 hours and fifteen minutes after starting! I even got a little medal, I was dead chuffed.

Fun was had during the walk and after, courtesy of the six bottles of bubbles drunk by Edna, hubby and myself in the SwissGrand hotel while waiting for the hoards to disappear so we could travel home.

And inline with doing Poetry at Uni I even wrote a little ditty.
Feedback (as always) appreciated.
(390 words)

Ode to the City2 Surf

I would like to make a case
As to why exercise is bad for you

The other day, I walked
(a long way, I might add)
Into it, I had been talked
For all the fun that could be had

It started in the morning
With dew still on the ground
After waiting, and the sun soaring
The pavement we did pound

Along the street with thousands
Some weaving in and out
I set pace of charging fans
I’ve never been a lout

Heartbreak hill made me puff
My hips protested some
Not one to give up in a huff
I never dreamt to run

Down the other side I went
The sun rays hit my back
The sun block I’d been lent
I missed spots, as is my knack

Liquid was given along the way
Lots plastics laying
Later my feet were to pay
For all the water spraying

My buggered hip did start to groan
After checkpoint ten
Made from plates, bolts of chrome
Home, I did wonder when?

The finish line I did cross
With blisters and much pain
My Sunday morning lost to me
And thoughts of being sane!

Long Meeting

I’ve been in a meeting all day today. But, to be fair it was a special one. It was a meeting full of VP’s, Directors and me, currently a humble ‘low’ level instructional designer. The eight people present included the lady from ‘Those that can’t do, Manage. (from here onward referred to as Idaho)

All morning I listened to get a feel for why I was there, by lunch time I knew why I was there, supposedly it was to give advice and suggestions on how to write and deliver training. However, the Director of Training was also there and seemed to get an awful lot of credit for things he said that seemed to me to simply be versions of what I said twenty minutes earlier, only reworded from the Buzz Word Bingo sheet.

Anyway…at lunch I was standing in the queue for free lunch, when the plate containing hot food was uncovered. The guy directly behind me (who turns out to be the director of something important) says ‘Oh, hot stuff’.

Forgetting where I was and having lost the will to live, I immediately fired ‘Why, thank you very much!’

The room went silent.

Before the target of my comment started laughing one of the heartiness laughs I have heard in a very long time, followed rapidly with the rest of the room.

The downside of this, Idaho, spent the rest of the day sending daggers my way when I spoke. I resisted the urge to tell her what I was truly feeling, and resolve to return for part two of the meeting tomorrow with the silent knowledge I made an impression on people much more important than her. (You’ve gotta have something!)

(281 words)

The Light Bulb!

I may or not be right, but I get the feeling that the title of the poem gives you a clue as to what it is about. The actual poem expands the theme further with flowery langauge and metaphors. So here's a little attempt I had tonight.

I've called it Australia Post (late note 11-8-06, after some feedback, the Title of this piece is now 'Mail')

my rectangle of feelings and devotion
scribed with haste and fervour,
slides into
the mouth of loneliness,
the pillar of blazing fire
To be consumed
Now!
And again, later

(leave a comment please with feedback and what you think I'm talking about, ta :-)

Poetry - I just don't get it!

I’m doing a poetry class as part of my post-graduate studies. I know most of you would rather eat your own hair than do poetry, but I’ve always kind of enjoyed it in ignorance. I have read a bit of e.e.cummings, Robert Frost and I’ve even given Beowulf and Dante’s Inferno a go, among others. I enjoy them and have never felt a need to analyse or examine the form, because quite frankly I never understood how some of it can be called ‘poetry’.

I’ve also had a go at writing a stanza or two. One I remember clearly (and I now know was sh*t, I still have it somewhere) was a little number about a man called Jock who drank a bottle of Hock while looking at a hole in his sock. I was eight and writing by fading light ‘cause I’d been sent to bed early for some forgotten misdemeanour. Further attempts have been laughed at (not ‘cause they are funny) and generally ridiculed by all and sundry.

So…when given an opportunity to study ‘Writing Poetry’ I jumped at the chance.
Well, two weeks in I still don’t get it. Worse still, I have to write 1500 words about a poet and his poetry, which has been published in the last 10 years by the 22nd August.

The problem, I don’t get it! There seems to be no rules to some of the stuff. I was reading a perfectly logical little number relating verbs to cooking lastnight (3 stanzas of 6 lines) when at the end was the seemingly throw away line, all on its own which said ‘the boiled egg curdles the bacon’. Or some such nonsense.

Somehow I have to find a way to write an intellectual essay about it this poem in two weeks. I’ll keep you posted on the progress.

(295 words)

Readie Meme

On Monday, The Other Andrew had put an entry called ‘The Bookish Meme’, this is my reply.

1. One book you have read more than once:
A few – but the one I’ve read a number of times is 101 Dalmatians. I just can’t get enough of the black and white haired baddie, Cruelly De Vil!

2. One book you would want on a desert island:
Cook your own coconut for Dummies or maybe a empty book so I could write the ultimate diary. After all, in the words of Oscar Wilde ‘One should always keep a diary as one should always have something scandalous to read.’

3. One book that made you laugh:
Fat Forty and Fired by Nigel Marsh, read it last year and loved it. In fact it could almost fit into the next question too, I laughed so much.

4. One book that made you cry:
The Bridges of Madison County by Robert James Waller. And that was even before I saw the film, that really made me cry. Other would include Harry Potter 6 The Half Blood Prince, Watership Down and In Cold Blood by Truman Capote (because I hated it and had to read it for Uni!)

5. One book you wish you had written:
Dracula by Bram Stoker. An enduring Classic, it may not have made as much money as Mr. Brown has, but it will be around a lot longer I think.

6. One book you wish had never been written:
Ohh.. do I have to just pick one… there are so many! (see question 4;-)

7. One book you are currently reading:
A couple of books as normal. I never have just one on the go.
How to Understand Poetry by Margaret Cutler-Stuart, The Journalist and the Murderer by Janet Malcolm and Erotic Tales by Alison Tyler. The first two are for Uni, the last one is all for me!

8. One book you have been meaning to read:
So much to read, so little time!
However, I have a lovely 1910 edition of Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy that I brought in a dusty old south Australian second hand bookshop for $20 a few years ago. I’m sure one day I’ll get to read it.

9. One Book That Changed Your Life:
Ken Hom’s Hot Wok, he taught me to cook Chinese food and the best wontons on the planet.

10. Now tag five people:
Five people would have to read my blog for that ;-)

If you want to play, leave a comment or a link to your blog with your answers. But most of all…have fun!

21st Century Girl

My hubby went to retrieve my USB key from my handbag the other day and when he came back he said, ‘You truly are a 21st Century girl!’

I asked him why and his reply was, ‘Well, I had to get past the PDA, the IPod, the digital camera, the mobile phone, the Mylanta and blood pressure pills!’.

(58 words)

Alpaca Pride

The Hubby and I spent our day on Saturday amongst the warm smells and humming sounds of alpacas. It was our regional Spring Show, yes I know it’s technically still winter, but some bright spark thought it would be good to move the venue two months out and we could only get this date. Better planning might be in order for next years show!

Anyway…I took three of our four animals to the show. It’s been a while since I pranced around the show ring struggling to keep an animal in-line and get it to walk the way it needs to for the judge to have a good look, but it brought back a few memories (the one other show I attended with Wispa) and some pain to my arse bone.

But I have good news today, in fact, FANbloodyTASTIC news, dear reader, between them they brought home FOUR ribbons. Alto was the first of my animals in the ring (Intermediate Male Grey/Roan) he came second and I was more than a little chuffed. Then, a little later Wispa, Alto’s mum got a turn in the Senior Female Grey/Roan class; she also came out with a red ribbon to hang on the wall. But our recent addition to the herd made me very proud. Between Alto and Wispa, Arabella (nicknamed Beckham because of her funky fringe) strutted her stuff in the Mature Female Grey/Roan class and came out with not only a blue first ribbon, but a Green Reserve Class Champion ribbon too.

So today, I feel really good, if a little sore, but quite frankly the celebratory drinks last night have that covered!

(274 words)

Alto - waiting in the line up before winning a red ribbon for second in the class

Arabella 'Beckham' wins first in her class and class reserve champion

Wispa wait patiently while the Judge shakes my hand after rewarding her a red second in class ribbon

Those that can’t do…manage!

I currently work as a contract instructional designer for a very large world wide charge card company. I’ve been here on and off since October last year, they like my work so much, they keep asking me back. So when the team leader told me she was leaving and that I should apply for her job I gave it thought. When her manager came to me and told me that she would like me to apply for her job, I gave it a little more thought, then did.

I figured after 10 years of contracting a little stability would do me some good and to top it off I actually quite like doing this job a lot more than project management.

So, I applied, as requested. That was 6 weeks ago.

Until today I had heard no more about it until sitting in the team meeting, with all my colleagues and the new Director of Training and the Director who asked me to apply when she announced that from the many resume/cv’s received, they are currently interviewing ‘external’ candidates (I’m classed as external, ‘cause I’m a scum-bag-contractor) and that next week they will start interviewing Internal candidates.

Why to tell me I hadn’t been selected, even though you asked me to apply!

I think I held it together quite well, although Edna did inform me (she was sitting next to me in the meeting) that I lost a little colour. The Director though was worse by all accounts, the instant she started speaking she realised she’d fucked up, but rather than cutting it short she continued to explain more details.

The longer I contract, the more the title of this entry proves itself to be true.

Not being a smoker, I immediately consoled myself with a whole bag of Naturals Jungle Animals and a Boost juice.

(306 words)

Sushi and Leaning

I love Sushi, I may have mentioned this before, I may not have, but I love the stuff! I could quite happily sit with one of those little conveyor belts going past me for breakfast, lunch and tea.

Roe Boat, Seaweed ship, raw salmon on rice, raw salmon and tuna, gyoza, miso soup and a cuddly toy.

I was having lunch today at an establishment, the aptly named ‘Sushi Train’ which is very close to were I work, it was full as it always is at lunch time, when the one thing that disturbs me about sitting at a jam packed sushi bar happened.

The man (tall, dark and grubby with a touch of body odour) to my left reached his arm across my placemat, shouldered me out the way and grabbed for the Wasabi.

It’s a god-damn moving belt, it moving towards you. Wait for it to get to you!

Now…I know this comes down to manners again and I know I keep going on about them, but I figure it’s may be because I put a higher value on them than others seem too. To me it seems rude to lean over a stranger whilst they sit and eat. I was taught never to even do that to someone I know, so why do people feel the need to do so when in the company of strangers. Maybe it’s because they know the chances of ever seeing the person they offend again are slim to none.

Anyway…I’ve had one of the day were I feel the need to go home and go to bed, because surely it cannot get any worse.

(273 words)

Edna demonstates a finer example of Sushi selection!

Boredom

I believe that as you grow older you should be able to occupy your own time and stop bugging others.

I can quite honestly say that the only time I have ever been bored is when I’m at work. Maybe there has been one or two occasion were I’ve been bored at home. At work, you may have quite times between projects, but it would be inappropriate to whip out the embroidery or other such crafty past-time. Now, that I have writing in my hobby bag, boredom happens much less, even at work.

My hubby is less able to stop time passing at a crawl. He watches telly, plays his computer (be it, game or generally) and … well really that’s it!

If I ask him ‘how ‘ya going?’ He will reply that he is OK, only to announce a little time later that he is bored! Over the years we have had the ‘Get a hobby’ conversation a few times. He’s tried drawing (he wrote his name in the front of the drawing book I brought him), reading (he can only read before sleep, NEVER during the day), gardening (he pruned things until they died, so I had to stop that), playing the guitar (I got him a ‘teach yourself guitar’ book and tape, he wouldn’t go to lessons), remote control boat (the battery died) and puzzles, the jigsaw and mental book type, he got bored.

Help me please, I’m running out of ideas, have you folks got any ideas for hobbies for an unmotivated, prone to boredom male.

(259 words)

Hunter Daze

I spent my Sunday driving around the Hunter Valley with Hubby, Edna and her Mum.

Our day started with Hubby and me getting trapped in the garage of our building. Some bright sparky had started to install a new roller shutter the day before and had failed to reprogram the keys. So for the first time in forever we were late through no fault of our own. Follow that with a brief trip around the western suburbs due to poor sense of direction and we hit our first stop thirty minutes late.

Edna’s Mum got to hand feed an alpaca before we moved onto lunch at Peterson Champagne House (picture of Fern frong was taken there) in the heart of the valley.

Then the real fun started. Hubby handed me the car keys and started enjoying himself sniffing, swilling, tasting and spitting…ohh hang-on that last one didn’t happen at ALL! That would explain why I had a car load of port, Chardonnay and Semillon dessert wine and people singing ‘Lilly the Pink’ and ‘I’ve Got a Brand New Combined Harvester’ on the trip back to Sydney.

(179 words)

Walking Tour

We went for a little walk today (14 kilometres) around Sydney and back again via Yum Cha, the Chinese Gardens, King Street Wharf, the long way to Millers point and the Botanical Gardens. I took a few pictures, some of them quite cute, some picture postcards and some observational art. I hope you enjoy, ‘cause my bum, hips and knees, now ache somewhat!

So, please let me talk you though the pictures I have chosen to share with you.

1. A classic tourist shot from the Chinese Gardens being over shadowed by the city behind.

2. A mother duck with one of her babies. There were 8 of them and they all looked extremely cute. They reminded me of the day I saw a mother and babies on my dam. They were quite happy swimming along until a kookaburra swooped down and gobbled up the one slacking behind. Two days later, there was just the mother left ;-(Luckily, there are no Kookaburras in Sydney!)

3. The sun was shining over King Street Wharf, next to Darling Harbour.

4. The sun shining over wharf three on Hickson Road. We had just walked around a rather confusing exhibition of ‘Installation’ art. Quite frankly, I never get that stuff; give me Kandinsky or Jackson Pollock any day over ‘Flags with fan and hair’.

5. A crevice in the rock wall along Hickson Road filled with a neat line of Tooheys Extra Dry bottles.

6. A pair of feet in wore leather shoes on the escalator in Darling Harbour. I just thought this would be a good idea at the time, we all have our moments.

(264 words) PS. Sorry about the formatting of this post, but I just can't seem to to get it right.

PPS. If you click on the pictures, you can see a bigger version. If you download them, please leave a message in Comments so I know, after all, that's the polite thing to do ;-)

Back to Learning

I enrolled in classes today. I’m a uni student again.

As of the 1st August I will be attending two classes a week for fourteen weeks. Non-fiction writing and Writing Poetry, I’m hoping to find out if I have the talent be a poet and know it.

(47 words)

$13.99kg

I went shopping the other day and saw these lovely lush cherries for sale. I felt my cells screaming out for fruit and veggies, so I proceeded to purchase pears, mandarins and bananas. The Queensland bananas cost $13.99kg. Before Cyclone Larry, early this year you could pick them up for just $2.99. My hubby debated the value of bananas these days, I say Support the poor buggers up north.

Btw… they are yummy, both the cherries and the nanabanas ;-)

(80 words)

Hairy Legs

I have a lovely lady (S) I go and see to rid my body of unwanted and unsightly hair, as most girlies do. I spoke with her yesterday to say that my eyebrows are starting to look like the Yetis and I would like an appointment.

She was quick to point out that she was getting busier and it must be due to sun poking it’s head out for 30 minutes last week. A date was set for my appointment before she went on to say that she was amazed how some women wait all winter before coming in with hair to their knees. ‘Don’t they have sex in winter?’ she asked.

Later in the day a girl in to office was showing me her leg and the cat scratch she had running from knee to ankle. (She has a pet cat who is her world and she lets get away with murder) She apologised from having hairy legs. Thinking back to my earlier conversation with S, I told her the story of hairy ladies and the beautician. Her response was ‘Ohh no, it’s far to cold to have sex in winter’.

(192 words)

Fish Ice-cream Fruit

My friend Edna has her Mum visiting from Germany at the moment. She is staying for 3 weeks; so far one week has passed.

Last night, by chance we ended up going out to dinner together and fun was had by all I think, I say think, ‘cause Mum speaks not a word of English and Edna quite rightly got tired of translating. Not to mention, some things just don’t translate, ie. all the Father Ted references.

On the way to dinner, Mum had revealed that she had seen some strange looking fruits in the Chinese supermarkets and would like to go back and find out what they are. So we ended up in a supermarket, trying to understand what the lady behind the counter was saying to us about the fruit Mum was holding in her hand. This fruit was browny green, the size of my head, covered in spikes and smelled like a pair of used football socks. The little Chinese lady explained in broken English ‘it is good, nice than mango, cut like (here she demonstrated cut up like melon) scoop (another demonstration) and eat’. We also discovered it was called a Julian fruit. Only later, after a search on Google was it revealed to be called a Durian fruit.

Dinner was ‘all-you-can-eat-fajitas’ at a lovely little Mexican place in North Sydney. My hubby and I have been before and the owner seemed to recognize us so we asked after copious amount of meat, guacamole, salsa, cheese and tortilla if we could try our mystery fruit for pudding/dessert.

He was very obliging and whisked it away to the kitchen. It came back, cut into 4 on plates with little napkins and spoons. Edna was first to try and then exclaimed ‘It’s just like ice cream’. Mum followed and I don’t know what she said. I reserved judgement until about 6 or 7 spoonfuls in. ‘I think I’ve got it, it’s like ice cream, but it’s something else as well that I can’t quite put my finger on’. At this point, Edna pipes up ‘Fish!’

(347 words)

Politeness

I’m sure you all know by now, but I am a fan of politeness and manners. Every morning on the way to work I have to walk past the front door of a lower level lodging establishment that does not seem to allow smoking inside or in the rooms. They also seem to be a central hub for bus tours, for every morning there are at least two coaches waiting outside, with luggage strewn all over the pavement and smoking patrons waiting to board the conveyance.

Normally, the patrons are of Japanese or American decent (please bear in mind, these observations are a generalisation and not a rule). The Japanese tend to be quite happy to let the locals weave their way to work while they chain-smoke 7 cigarettes so the blood in the body doesn’t dilute the nicotine levels too much during the trip to wherever. The Americans tend to have the stereo-typical look and sound about them, white socks with sandals, money belts and ‘I heart New York’ t-shirts stretched over a beer belly that would put Father Christmas to shame. The volume of their conversations about how weird the food is in Ozztraalia could also be reduced to a dull roar.

You can image my surprise, when yesterday I was approaching said establishment and two such Americans when they stopped, moved to the side, waved a hand in the direction I was going and said ‘After you ma’am, and have a good day’.

Surprisingly enough, I had a very good day.

(254 words)

Nastiness and Bad Behaviour

My weekend was OK, How was yours?

Mine started on Friday with a quite drink after work. At 1am I found myself taking twice as long to walk home ‘cause I was unable to walk in a straight line. Broken bum had nothing to do with it. A good night was had by all, plenty of drinking, hilarity and good clean fun (J) was had by all. The unplanned nights are always the best!

Saturday saw resting and grocery shopping. It has to be done, we don’t have to enjoy it.
Sunday was a day in the car and at an Alpaca AGM. Once again I am on the committee of the Aussie Alpacas. Hubby and I spent the weekend travelling the countryside so we could go to a farce of a meeting to be voted in as an ordinary committee member (so I can be editor again) and treasurer (hubby). The car trip was painful, but not as painful as the meeting. I won’t go into to too many boring details, but the ‘Carnation’ tried to take me on by criticising content and I did my best to shut her down while being polite. We were after all sitting in her backyard.

The meeting and subsequent battle with ‘Carnation’ made me think again about why people are like that? Nasty and malicious I mean. They don’t get anything out of it, surely? Does it make them feel good? Does it make them feel big or clever? If someone can explain this behaviour to me I would love to hear it, it may enable me to handle it better.

(268 words)

Hooligans

In the midst of the last weeks drama, I have failed to tell you about a couple of things.

The first being ANTM. It finished last week with Jade, Danielle and Joanie in the top three. Jade got kicked out (much to my relief) leaving D and J to duke it out for the title. In the end, Danielle’s stoic nature (breaking her toe in platforms and walking away, posing on a elephant just after collapsing from exhaustion) saw her become America’s Next Top Model. Woo Hoo!

The second thing, I was accused of being a traitor on Friday night/Saturday morning by a complete stranger whilst watching yet another Germany (v Argentina) football match. It happened during extra time, after the bar had closed and Edna was in the loo.

So picture this, me having had a few drinks, in pain from perching all night, alone and being abused by a bunch of largered up lads. I wasn’t really as polite as I could have been. I pointed out that it was silly that they seemed to be supporting Argentina, just because it wasn’t Germany. They then said the ‘krauts’ were a war making nation. I then felt the need to tell them they were talking out of their backsides and had they forgotten about the whole Falkland Islands debacle, plus it’s only a game for Christ’s sake. Get a life! Once Edna got back, it settled a bit, but not a lot and it all resulted in us leaving with 10 minutes and the penalties to go. I have off course cleaned up the language used somewhat ;-) (In case you're wondering the match ended in a draw, but Germany won 4 - 2 on penalties).

I still find it amazing that people get so worked up about a game of football. After all the idea of the World Cup is to bring nations together and play a game or two of football. But the world over fans divide and abuse each other. Really, and I may have mentioned this before, but I just don’t get it!

(347 words)

Comedy Injury

I’ve got a broken arse bone.

On the 27th of June I wrote about dropping a telly on my knee (long story, read the entry) I briefly mentioned landing on my bum too. Well, as it turns out my knee if fine, but I broke my bum.
I was kinda OK all last, it was sore, but I coped. Then on Friday I went out with Edna for a few beers and to watch the football and promptly spent the whole night perched on wooden stools. Saturday I woke up to pain. More pain than had been experience since the great rollerskating incident of ’98 (another story for another day).

Today, I went to the doctor. She asked me what I’d done, I explained. She asked when does it hurt, I explained when I walk, sit, stand, laugh, all the time really. Then she did one last test. She asked me to stand with my back to her, she placed her left hand on my tummy then gentle pushed with her right fingers flat on the top of my bum. After she peeled me off the ceiling she wrote a referral for the X-Ray place.

The radiologist didn’t like what he saw and told me it wasn’t good, but because he not a doctor he wasn’t allowed to tell me it was broken. The Doctor does that ‘officially’ tomorrow.

There is nothing they can do for this type of break, just rest and take it easy while it heals. When I look back over my injury record, all my breaks have been the same;Aged 13 – broke my left little toe on a door frame, treatment none.Aged 20 – broke my index and middle finger on right hand, treatment strapping and lolly stick.Aged 30 – broke the bone on the side of my right foot, treatment none.Aged 331/2 – broken arse bone – treatment none

Not a cast or sympathy gathering crutches in sight, just a bruised and broken arse!

(329 words)

Red Lights!

I cross the road when the little man is red…but only on one way streets or two way streets with a safety island. Yesterday I saw two girls cross a two way street without a safety island on red.

This was a bad plan on their part. They ended up going over the bonnet of a Sydney taxi. I watched in horror as they both rolled over the bonnet then bounced to the ground. They both got up and were helped to the side of the road. The cab driver had stopped and was hanging about and the police and an ambulance were called.

I do know that the one of the girls had hurt her hand as she was having trouble moving it, but she and her friend left before the ambulance arrived. Tut...tut, but I get the feeling they wanted no part of the Police part, as the whole thing was their fault.

Anyway…back to me. I didn’t learn anything from my visual experience and only half an hour later, Edna and I were crossing a two lane road (with an safety island, mind you) before returning to the office.

I really should think back to my school days and use the Green Cross Code.

(168 words)

Scary Hairy

I got stuck in a lift last night…it was not a nice experience and the reason I don’t really like lifts in the first place.

I got in at B1 (the basement) and pushed the button for level 7 (were I live). The doors closed then it started moving. Suddenly it shuddered and shock for a second of two then stopped. I waited, then jumped up and down a bit (I’ve heard that can get ‘em moving again) then I pressed the alarm. After a brief conversation with the disembodied male voice on the other end I sat down and waited for the ‘engineer’.

Forty minutes later the thing moved and the doors opened were I had started. It was a tad surreal it was as if the last forty minutes hadn’t even happened. A vortex of time that will never be returned to you.

I suppose I should be thankful, it didn’t pause on a high level and if the break thingys did fail completely I only had a few feet to drop before hitting the ground.

(151 words)

Ohh Ohh!

I just got the call that tells me another newsletter has been printed and is ready to be posted. I get so excited every time this happens. I can’t really explain the feeling, but I’ll try.

All my hard work over the last few months is finally finished. The compiling of news stories from around the world, the convincing of people to write articles, the convincing businesses to part with hard earned cash to advertise. Then comes the waiting…waiting for all this stuff to land on my desk, normally it requires chasing up, but sometimes I get lucky and it just arrives. The layouts come next, paper strewn across the floor for what seems like days on end, the cat help sort of course! I mull thing over, move things about, lose sleep, move things about a bit more.

After it is all said and done, it gets printed. 225 copies get stuffed into envelopes with letters and whiz their way across NSW and indeed the world (we have subscribers in Europe and an American contributor). Still, after this effort I still have people who complain that ‘this is needed’ and ‘that was a waste of space’ etc. The saying you can never please everyone and it’s very true. But really what makes all my volunteer effort worth it is when just one person takes the time to say ‘I really enjoy the newsletter and wait for it to arrive’.

(240 words)

Never drop...

…a telly on your knee.

I was helping my friend Edna move a washing machine and telly yesterday. We got the washing machine in its room and plumbed in fine. Then we started moving the telly. All was going well until I failed to miss the eight inch concrete step behind me as I was shuffling backwards. I landed on my arse (luckily it has plenty of padding) followed by the telly ramming into the side of my left knee. The comedy factor came in watching me try to heft the damn thing out of my lap so I could stand again. All was well, nothing broken, and the rest of the trip from the car to the flat was pretty much uneventful.

Later, when home I realised the damage that had been done when I got up from the sofa and seized into an ‘old lady’ crouch. My bum muscle hurt, my knee hurt and quite frankly I wanted to cry! Later, Puss didn’t help (even though, to be fair he was trying) when he jumped up onto the bed for a cuddle and landed on my knee. Not once, not twice but three times.

Picture of bruise available upon request!

(202 Words)

I'm Back Again

I’ve been away and lots has happened, here’s a quick recap;
Nnenna and Sara have been kicked Americas Next Top Model,
I’ve finished a major project at work,
My nineteen year old nephew died,
Bought an alpaca,
Bought Robbie Williams and Boy from Oz tickets,
I’ve edited my way through to the end of another alpaca magazine,
Had a bar-b-que in the pouring rain (very English)
I saw Germany win against Ecuador in the world cup,
And I went to a wedding

So… let’s look at the last two.

I’m English, but now live in Australia, so how did I end up watching a Germany football match until two in the morning? I have been asking myself that question all week while sitting at my desk feeling like death warmed up. Although the answer is really very simple, my good friend, Edna Wilt asked me to help her support her home team. Off to the bierkeller (pub) we trotted with hubby and buddy to have a few bevvies (we were actually served by a guy called Jurgen who spoke German) and grub followed by cheering on of the Germans. It was a good an Okay game, but the Ecuadorians were outclassed by the Germans and the final score was 2-0. It was only after the game we learned they had fielded their second team to save energy for when they play England.

In late May I took a very brief trip back to the UK (three and half days) to visit the folks back home, but most of all to attend the wedding of a very good and old friend of mine. If fact, so close, that we were first loves. Anyway…I turned up at the pre wedding drinks the night before to surprise the groom. After a big hug and a couple of drinks, I retreated to my hotel for much needed sleep. The next day I went to the wedding. Being the ex-girlfriend I decided to go dressed in red. UK fashions didn’t let me down and despite being spring/summer all the ladies were dressed in beige or pale blue, or even both! The wind howled, but the rain stayed away, I was freezing even though I was the only one who had come from winter.

The groom arrived, followed shortly by his family whom I hadn’t seen for years. They were really pleased to see me and I got hugs. We all filed inside for the service. The bride arrived wearing an ivory drop waist dress with beaded bodice and chiffon overskirt. The bouquet was made up from blue and white flowers, it was quite nice actually. The service came and went with little drama regardless of the girl how stood up and sang a song a capella. By the time she was only half way through many faces screamed ‘kill me now’. Anyway…the photos were skipped due to the wind, I popped out back to escape and caught up with the grooms niece (when I met her she was three, now she in her twenties, smokes, swears like a trooper and has appeared nude on a calendar). The reception, food and speeches followed (the brown rice broke my teeth). During his speech the Father of the Bride waxed lyrical about his daughter and how lucky they were to have a new son etc. etc. blar-de-blar then toasted them with the wrong surname. In fact, he toasted the new couple by her first married name (faux pas one). The assembled crowd giggled nervously.

After the speeches the Groom mother (who is in her 70’s) decided to make a graceful exit before the ‘youngsters started getting on down’. I popped out to say goodbye as well as the groom, his sister and niece and the bride. After we had said our goodbyes the Mother of the groom turned to the bride, took her hand in hers and said ‘Welcome to the family Jodie’. Now the bride is called Karen (faux pas two) I pulled a ohh-no face and slinked away, the niece cracked up laughing and the mother in law ignored it. The bride however had a face like a slapped arse and thunder clapped above her head.

I spent the rest of the day moving away when I saw the bride…it was only far I think…and catching up with the grooms family. At about ten o’clock I left, but not before the bride giving me a hug and saying ‘Groom is SOO happy you could make it’. The meaning of the lack of ‘We’ was not lost on me.

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Been Away

Sorry, I've been away.

I had no access to the internet and have come back to work and a daft deadline. I'll tell you all about my weekend adventure to the UK soon...I promise. But, here’s a sneak peek of why I went ;-)

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ANTM – Last two weeks

They had a runway lesson and were taught to swirl. The prize was a $25,000 diamond ring. Jade won. They did a photo shoot for Payless Shoes where they had to ‘crump’. The white girls felt uneasy. Nnenna hogged the phone talking to boyfriend John and Brooke called her a B**ch. Leslie was sent home.

The girls were taught about the ugly side of modelling and did a photo shoot as dolls and crying. Sara (Teen Doll) and Brooke (Glamour Doll) felt uncomfortable in boxes. Fronda came up trumps as a Rag doll. Joanie shone out as a Ventriloquist Doll. As a prize all the girls where treated to a teeth whitening session. Joanie and Danielle were told they could have done whatever they wanted (Joanie’s teeth were wonky and Danielle has a gap you could park a bus in) Joanie proceeded to spend 12 and 6 hours in the chair sorting her teeth out. She was thrilled with results and now she has to learn to smile. Danielle left her gap, the judges told her she couldn’t be a Cover Girl with a gap. We saw the softer side of Jade when her Mum came for a visit and Nnenna was unmoved by her fawning boyfriend John during his visit. Judge Twiggy tried to save the Girl with the most potential, Brooke will be getting no more chances and was sent home.

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Jade's Still in!

I was a bit late watching ANTM this week.

This week’s episode was all about acting. It started with Tara Banks fainting and causing distress to the girls. It was an act and how she introduced the activities for the week.

Furonda won the comedy inprov. challenge and picked Nnenna to share her prize, a chance to present an AIDS awareness message on PBS. Then as a bonus she got to be on a comedy program called ‘Veronica Mars’ (not yet in Australia).

All the girls had to improvise a Cover Girl advert as the task this week, no photoshot. They had to walk up some stairs, mingle then walk along the side of a pool and deliver the line ‘dermatologist tested. Easy, breezy, beautiful Cover Girl’. Nnenna did good. Brooke was terrified she stuffed up and cried after the director told her she was a ‘babbling Brooke’. Mollie Sue was stiff and uncomfortable and Leslie looked stunning, but fluffed her lines. Jade talked herself up then made the classic excuse that we hear every week, ‘the next time I would have aced it, I just needed a little more direction.’

The two left on the podium at the end of judging?

Mollie Sue and Jade. I was of course hoping Jade would go home, but I was disappointed to see that she was reprieved once again.

I should expect to see Jade in till the end. She makes good television with her arrogant attitude. I just find I cringe when I see her on screen. I will of course continue to watch each week and hope that Jade does not become America Next Top Model.

(278 words)

To call or not to call

OK…it’s an unwritten rule and I know everybody is different.
I, personally don’t expect to receive phone calls before 9am or after 9pm (unless it is prearranged, like my folks in Europe). In return I do not call people before or after nine.

So this morning when I received a phone call at twenty minutes past seven I looked at the number and ignored it (several seconds later a message beeped). Luckily it wasn’t important. I only found that out when the same person rang back twenty minutes later (another message) to inform me they had found what they were looking for.

But of course, this pales into comparison when you consider the 2am phone call to find out how to send flowers to an overseas dearly departed. Yes… this really did happen. About 6 years ago in the middle of the night I was shaken from my slumber with a jolt of ‘what’s happened, who’s died’ adrenaline to find an older male voice (can’t say who, but I married into the family) asking how he would send some flowers to a friend who had died in the States. I can’t recall my reaction, but I would guess it wasn’t all that sweet and ran along the lines of 'try going to the florist, like a normal person'.

Moral : Just ‘cause you’re up with the birds or bats…doesn’t mean everybody is.

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A Tocally Terrific Weekend

The sun shone for the whole three days of Tocal this year, sending the temperature up into the late twenties. Some of us, who left the house in the morning wearing thick rugby shirts to fend off the cold, got a rude shock by 2 o’clock in the afternoon. However, being too warm didn’t take the enjoyment out of the days.

Once I had made my way up to the show from the car park on a Saturday, (tip: arrive early, if you arrive at lunch time, expect a 10 minute walk just to get to the front gate) my mission was to make the relevant vendors aware of the newsletter I edit… and the possibilities and advantages of advertising with us. I also managed to take in some of the sights and sounds of the fieldays (yes, that is spelt correctly;-)).

There was a reptile display on the main stage, telling the girls and boys in the audience all about the not so humble saltwater crocodile. ‘This little critter at only forty centimetres long and fourteen months old would quite happily bite your finger off’, followed by Russian dancing girls. It made for an interesting contrast.

Lunch and drinks were provided by one of the many Rotary and Loins Clubs vans in ‘Eats Street’. There was a choice of a steak sandwich, a hot dog or a sausage in a bun, one van had Chicken rolls with lettuce and mayonnaise, (but sold out just before lunch on Sunday). A little further on you could get corn on the cob. But, after a morning of walking up and down deceptively steep hills, a hot dog with fried onions was just what the doctor ordered.

After lunch I was back on the beat. I managed to exchange details with twenty six businesses who were interested in reaching a new audience. I spoke with water tank makers and suppliers as well as the man who provides the pumps to get the water to the troughs. Lawn and paddock care was also covered. Maybe, soon the alpacas of the my region region will be dazzled by the solar powered gates that were on display in D Street. Not only did I chat with potential advertisers, hopefully in the near future we will be seeing articles from the Rural Fire Service, the Department of Primary Industry and Land Care.

Sunday saw me helping out on the Raffle/Information table in the Alpaca Tent. One of our regional members was front and centre with three beautiful alpacas from the public to touch and ask about. The organisers extraordinaire also had some animals in a pen to the side of the pavilion. At 12.30 there was an ‘Alpaca Basics’ talk which was well attended by many of the people who had picked up show bags earlier in the day. The day was only spoilt by the wind picking up pace at about eleven. It brought with it dust and the need for rocks on leaflets to stop them blowing away. The hatches were securely battened down and things were once again more pleasant, but not as perfect as the days before.

On the way out, after my stint on the Raffle Table was over, I stopped to appreciate the Army band on the main stage, before making my way through the food halls. Yummy Tasmanian Salmon and local wines were there for tasting. In the Organics tent I made my first and only purchase of the weekend, lemon myrtle tea.

Despite the aches I feel now, the day after the weekend. I had an amazing weekend at the Tocal Fieldays. Even if you aren’t in the market for a tractor or a cattle crush a great time is to be had by all the family.

(647 Words - This is an edited version of the article I've written for my newsletter - I've taken out names and the cutie bit about the kids stuff ;-))

Confession

In general I steer away from reality television. But there is one show I watch. It is American and can only been seen on Fox 8 (cable/satellite TV) in Australia.

I watch Americas Next Top Model.

I have no idea why I like this show so much considering my general feeling about ‘reality’ television, I just do and I would like to have a go at justifying it to myself…ehh…you.
These girls are mostly under 25 and really want to be models. Now, undoubtedly they are beautiful, but at the beginning (we are 5 weeks in) most of them seem to have no talent, confidence or personalities. It is like a flower blossoming. They change and grow over the weeks.

Today, twenty-one year old Gina left. At the beginning she was sure that she could do it and become one of the few Asian models. With cheek bones up to her eyebrows it was looking good, but she was a mouse. She took great pictures, just from her natural good looks, but her poses lacked spark. Jade, ‘I am the undiscovered super-model’, the oldest at 26 and brimming with ‘I’m so gorgeous’ confidence, picked on Gina and even shouted at the house ‘This isn’t Americas Next Top Best–Friend’ when told to be nicer to her.

The other girls have divided into two cells. There are the chatty girls (Danielle 20, Brooke 21, Nnenna 24 and Furonda 24) you see a lot from and then there are the girls you hardly ever see anything off (Leslie 18, Sara 21, Joanie 24) when the film footage from the ‘house’ is shown. Mollie Sue is one of these. At twenty five, she is the next oldest after Jade. She is the picture of a Mod model from the early 70’s. In fact so much so, in the second episode during the make-over they cropped hair already short red hair even shorter. She has a wirey frame and clear skin, but according to the judges she doesn’t ‘make any effort’. So far I have yet to see her stepping out of line, bitching or ignoring lessons.

In today’s episode the girls were taught the difference between Editorial (high fashion) and Commercial (catalogue) poses. Then the challenge was to do a commercial photo shoot for Sears. The idea being, pose in clothes for the four seasons in four outfits as quickly as possible. ‘Time is Money’ after all. Nnenna won the challenge and all the outfits that had been used by the girls.

After this the girls were asked to reveal what they would like to be when their model career is over. There was only one girl who said she wanted to be a Mum. The other’s all seemed to want to protect the world from injustice or cure disease. Anyway, once this was revealed they were told they had to do another photo shoot in which they were to portray their future selves in high fashion style. Some of the photos were sensational, others not so.

Anyway…it all ended with the Judges (Twiggy, Tara Banks, J. Alexander, Nigel Barker and Guest) kicking poor ole’ Gina out. But before she left, she stood up to Jade. Something I don’t think she would have done 5 weeks ago.

I watch each week, seeing these girls go through so much heartache (Nnenna split with her boyfriend over the phone this week) and some joy, to do what…be a 3D coat hanger.

I love it! Can’t wait for next week…will Jade be kicked out or will it be Bro…

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Editor Pains

I’m so tired! My hubbies snoring could win medals. At times it is so loud that the whole bed shakes with the vibrations. For the last few weeks I have been sleeping on the sofa, on the odd night, which is about three inches too short for me to stretch out on. Couple that with two cats trying to fit on as well and it can make for an interesting night.

I say interesting, because I do actually get to think about things as I lay there looking up at the ceiling. Or lying on my side watching the Bluetooth flash its little blue light (I’ve stuck some blue-tac over that now). Last night (the second night in a row on the sofa) I had a hundred and one alpaca things running through my aching brain. Letters for advertisers, print out puzzles, print out mazes, don’t forget to pick up books…etc. I am the volunteer editor of an Alpaca newsletter/magazine and this weekend I have to go to a show and try and sell subscriptions. So, in the night all I could think about was the list of stuff I have to take with me.

Anyway…I’m tired, but I have a very comprehensive list of stuff to take at the weekend.

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Cult Calling

Exactly one week after I attended I got my first (of many I’m sure) follow up phone call from ‘the cult’ asking if I wanted to book on the ‘Forum’.

I politely declined.

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