Monthly Archives: January 2012

Tiggy* Oz style

Posted on by
Reply

Note… this blog post actually came from my diet blog. But… as I’m quite not ready to share that life with the world at large, I thought I’d cross-post – with a few amendments (ie. who tagged me, who I tagged, my questions etc, which have all been deleted. I hope!)

Oh dear… I’ve been tagged. And not in a tagged-and-set-free-into-the-wild kind of way, rather in a way almost akin to a chain letter. Oh, except there are no promises of love, fame or fortune for responding. But then again, butterflies will not die and bad luck will not ensue if I fail in my task. Or so I assume!

I was tagged by a blogger who was herself tagged by someone who had previously been tagged. And so on and so forth. Much ado about tagging I realise. Hee hee!

Here are the rules:
1. post these rules.
2. you must post 11 random things yourself.
3. answer the ques tions the tag ger set for you in their post.
4. cre ate 11 new ques tions for the peo ple you tag to answer.
5. go to their blog and tell them that you’ve tagged them.
6. no stuff in the tag ging
7. don’t talk about the fightclub

I must confess, I don’t quite get No. 6, and I quite possibly added No. 7 myself, but I’m pretty sure I can handle the rest.

So, first for some random things about me (which will be hard, as I’ve shared pretty much every single little thing in my life on this blog, plus I’ve done something similar before!):

1. I did jazz ballet (badly) for about seven years while in primary school
2. I broke my arm aged 8 when standing on a baby’s tricycle to look at my neighbour’s budgerigar in its cage
3. My favourite subjects at high school were maths (of various kinds) and accounting
4. I used to drink instant tea at every meal before I hit my teenage years. Often two cups
5. The first ‘record’ I owned was a single of a song called Elizabeth by Oz artist Normie Rowe (in 1975, I discovered following extensive research – aka Google). The second was ABBA’s Tropical Loveland
6. As a kid we had a boxer dog called Digby, who I named after seeing a Disney movie called, Digby the Biggest Dog in the World. He replaced an ill-fated briefly-owned boxer called Dino (who moved to a farm in the country. Speaking of which, I wonder how he’s going.)
7. I loved Tang (the sugary orange drink, which I think I assumed to be healthy until I learned to count calories)

IT'S...1959! Tang Breakfast Drink

8. As well as Australia, I’ve lived for some time in Mozambique (Africa), Cambodia and East Timor
9. At one point in my life I wanted to be a sports psychologist
10. I grew up loving movie musicals – anything with Doris Day, Judy Garland, Debbie Reynolds etc
11. My first car (while at Uni, in 1986 or 1987) was a bright yellow Holden Gemini. His name was Bevan.

And now my responses to the questions Karen posed for me:

1.        What is the most memorable meal you ever ate?
It would have to be a (shish) kebab I ate at a favourite cafe while living in Africa. It resulted in the first of four times I contracted salmonella poisoning and the only time I could pinpoint the illness’s origin. As I later writhed about in pain in between dashes to the loo I remembered that I’d come across a kitchen hand in the (waterless) cafe bathroom who was sick (from every orifice) and later I realised I’d chosen something which someone had to thread onto the skewer by hand. BIG MISTAKE! (And one you only make once!)

2.        What TV show(s) are you embarrassed to admit you watch?
As it happens I have impeccable taste in television shows (ahem). Well, mostly. HOWEVER, I must confess to a few ‘tragic’ faves: firstly I used to LOVE ‘Murder She Wrote’, plus the Agatha Christie Ms Marples, with the really old Ms Marple. I own the boxset of ‘As Time Goes By’ starring Judi Dench, along with every season of ‘Buffy’. (I actually own A LOT of boxsets!)

I mostly refuse to watch reality TV shows, though do partake in ‘So You Think You Can Dance’ and watched the last series of ‘The X Factor’ on Oz TV. 
so you think you can dance

3.        Would you rather hire a trainer, chef, house cleaner, or personal shopper?
Most definitely a house cleaner. And I already do. Next would be a personal shopper cos I hate hate hate shopping of any kind, but particularly grocery shopping.

4.        Share a favorite childhood memory.
In winter during school holidays, my brother and I would watch Sesame Street, Magic Roundabout and Play School (the only kid shows on TV before lunch in regional Australia) wrapped in blankets and eating off little Skippy serving plates that also held a space for our hot drinks. (We normally had to eat at the table!)

5.        What destination would you love to visit?
I’ve always dreamed of going to Italy and hope to soon. (I keep deferring because I’m apathetic, plus don’t want to go while I feel fat and revolting!)

6.        What’s one food you think you don’t like but you’ve never actually tried?
Umm… let me count the ways…. cauliflower, broccoli, eggplant, lettuce (etc)

7.        What modern technology that you didn’t grow up with could you now not live without?
Hmmmm…. computer vs mobile telephone. It’s a big call. Probably the mobile phone because it makes EVERYTHING so much easier. Particularly now we have Smart phones and can do almost anything on it!

8.        List the 5 websites you visit most often.
Facebook, Twitter, Google Reader, Hootsuite, My Fitness Pal

9.        Who would you like to meet (living, dead, fictional character, blogger, anyone…)?
Aussie bloggers Mrs Woog and Kerri Sackville; TV personalities Graham Norton, Craig Ferguson and Chelsea Lately; authors Agatha Christie and Jane Austen. Oh… and some hunky actors like Richard Armitage and… umm…. I should probably stop there.

10.     What’s your favorite spot in your house and why?  Where in your house do you spend the most time?
I love lying in my bathtub reading as it means I’m completely at rest.
But I probably spend equal amounts of time: sitting in my lounge chair in front of the TV; at my desk on my iMac; and sleeping in my dusty pink sheets. (Note that the sheets aren’t actually dusty, that’s the name of the colour… just in case you were wondering!)

11.     How long on average does it take you to write a blog post?
Eek. It very much depends. I write quickly, but then I rewrite and rewrite it to death. More so in this blog than my diet one, which features ‘streams of consciousness’ blithering and oversharing. A first draft takes less than 30 minutes, but I come back to it and edit it a few times, so it’s hard to work out. I also have MANY half-written draft posts floating about at any one time.

So, there you have it. Some stuff about me you really didn’t need or want to know – but now that you do, I’m sure you are relieved and will sleep better at night. Plus, there’ll be a test later!

* Here in Oz (well at least when I was a youngster) the game ‘tag’ was called ‘tiggy’ so I decided I should try to remain true to my cultural heritage. Or something!

Hairy business

Posted on by
5

I had a hair appointment on the weekend. At 8am. Yes, it’s true and I have no idea why on earth I made an appointment for 8am on a Saturday, I mean, WTF was I thinking?!

Nevertheless I made it there on time (unlike their other 8am client. I know, I know… no need to boast and all that; but, I’m just sayin’…) and settled in for some costly hair therapy.

Now I know my hairdresser isn’t one of the more expensive around. I read the articles and know that those-who-can-afford-it pay exorbitant amounts of money for someone to  play with their hair for an hour or two, but the $255 I pay for a cut and colour, given my hair is 2-3cm  long all over is quite enough thank you very much.

As I go every six weeks, I occasionally ‘do the math’ and contemplate the notion of ‘leaving’ my beloved hairdresser for cheaper pastures. But then I go elsewhere and something scary happens, tears ensue and I go running back to my (obviously-bereft) Ex, all apologetic for my infidelity. She forgives me and we continue to coast along… until the next time.

In case you needed it, here's definitive proof I've not had botox.

Occasionally though, in those moments of infidelity, I’ve discovered places who give good hair. Of course they are usually even more expensive. I’ve luxuriated during lengthy scalp massages, relaxed in vibrating chairs, dined on cafe-prepared food, and lolled about in thick fluffy gown thingies (as if I was at a spa rather than a hair salon).  But none of these were able to permanently tempt me away from my beloved.

My hypothesis goes like this: there’s some median range on a bell curve* (representing the cost of hair appointments) where you get some personalised attention. If you pay too little, you are akin to a can of pineapple on an assembly line and the person affixing the label frankly doesn’t care if they ever see you again. But if you pay too much (unless you are sufficiently famous or important) you are expected to fall at the feet at those wielding the scissors as if before God. Or Lady Gaga. Or similar.

Not 8am Saturday morning. Obviously.

My hairdresser mostly does a good job and despite my occasional waywardness, I continue going there because I know what I’m getting and she loves me (and why wouldn’t she?!). Like the bar in television’s Cheers, everyone knows my name (well… she does, as does the poor trainee responsible for washing my hair and massaging my scalp).  Given my over-sharing habit, my hairdresser has been (undoubtedly) a most-willing confidante over the past ten or so years. And she remembers the important things. She knows I like wine or champagne if I have an evening appointment. She knows I prefer WHO Weekly magazines to Vogue. And she’s never surprised when I’m sucking down diet coke at 8am and lugging my new laptop so I can tweet and blog while she’s painting my tufts of hair.

I try to think of my visits, less as appointments, but more as little 2-3 hour ‘outings’ involving a lengthy (and delicious) head massage, some salacious gossip and the opportunity to debrief with someone who really only has to give a shit about my life once every six weeks. And all for the princely sum of $255. Priceless.

* My scientific prowess amazes even myself!

A room without books…

Posted on by
6

Now…. I’m not usually one to own up to being wr-wr-wrong, and it’s rare that I am confronted by my own prejudices (generally believing anyone capable of anything); but that is exactly what happened a couple of days ago.

kindleI could possibly blame the ungodly hour, as I sat slouched on a hard metal seat at a train platform waiting for a 6am express train to speed me back home after Christmas with my mother. Or I could blame the trauma of having my early morning diet coke spill throughout my satchel thingy and soaking everything in its path, although thankfully only slightly dampening my (brand new) Macbook Air. Either way… I discovered (yet again) on the trip that the internet connection is very hit and miss throughout regional Australia and the inability to pfaff about on Facebook and Twitter while awaiting the train meant that I was forced to entertain myself by examining my fellow train passengers (well, those at the end awaiting the business class carriage!).

And in doing so, I smiled to myself at an older woman nearby clutching her bag, as if one of the other passengers was going to snatch her knitting or Women’s Magazines from her at our first opportunity.

So, it was with some surprise that (once on the train) I watched her delve into the ugly patchwork bag pull out a Kindle, fire it up and start expertly flicking through controls to (presumably) open her latest book. I mean, WTF?! What’s the world coming to when the grey-haired brigade are reading eBooks and playing Suduko on iPads and the like?!

I must confess that I’m a bit behind the times when it comes to online ‘reading’. I’ve raved on a bit about my new Macbook Air; am a ‘mad’ blogger; and rabid user of Facebook and Twitter (etc) on my iPhone… but I’ve only downloaded one book EVER (which was something I won from the delightful, Rebecca Bloomer).

The only other thing I read online (which is even more embarrassing) is the draft fifth instalment  (Midnight Sun) from Twilight author Stephanie Meyer, who released an electronic copy of the first few chapters after they were leaked; and I must say I found it most perplexing that I couldn’t print the bloody thing and had to read the PDF document on-screen!

So as digital literature garners more and more support across the globe, I can’t help but wonder if I’m behind the times when it comes to eBooks and readers and the like.

Although… I must confess, the bigger question is: Do I care?  I mean, I’m obviously not (COMPLETELY) technologically unversed. And I don’t think I am e-Book-phobic; although I’m sure a well-train psychotherapist could uncover a few neuroses through only superficial probing of my psyche! However, I am loath to move away from the tangible hard copy option to something more virtual… and I’ve decided it’s something to do with the comfort that books offer me which I think comes from their physical presence.

Over the years I’ve gone through stages where I’ve purchased many-a-book although I’ve cut down considerably over the past 10 years. After moving back to Australia a decade ago I made the conscious decision to reduce my book-purchasing habit in favour of paying the mortgage! And I’ve been pretty successful; only buying books I really really want; those which are part of a collection; or something a tad crappy but allowable because I’m on holidays. I’ve done two big culls twice on moving, although even then I’m reticent to get rid of things that I really shouldn’t be seen dead with. Just because… well, because… they’re mine.  But don’t get me wrong; I’m not a hoarder, in fact my mother will vouch for the fact that she’s practically forbidden from buying me ‘stuff’ as I like clean surfaces and am a bit of a minimalist in nature.

I am, however, inordinantly anal about my books. My best friend will attest to that fact. I’d trust her with my life but just recently she was staying with me and asked to borrow a book. Because she knows me well, I’m sure she chuckled at the fact I had to take a big swallow before saying, “Yes, of course!” Similarly my mother keeps diligent records of the many books she takes away from, and returns to, my shelves.

I read a lot. Like everything else it’s something I occasionally do quite obsessively racing through a half-a-dozen books a week.

My highly organised and technical borrowing system

I’ve always loved reading and both my brother and I had HUGE collections of everything from Little Golden Books to Trixie Belden to Enid Blyton to the Sweet Dreams teenage romances (well, that would be my collection rather than his). And, even then I was a tad obsessive about my books and I suspect it was more the need to ‘keep them close’ rather than any librarian aspirations that had me set up a borrowing system used by local libraries at the time, for when my neighbour wanted to borrow a book.

Many who favour hard copy books over the electronic versions talk about the smell and texture… but it’s hardly like I’m talking about first editions and leather-bound tomes here (as I glance at my myriad of paperback novels occupying my bookshelves!).

I joke that I do most of my reading while lolling in the bathtub – an environment not exactly conducive to non-water-proof electronic goods.  But, in all honesty, I don’t think that’s what prevents me from downloading the virtual versions.

I think it’s because my books are ‘precious’ to me. Even the crappy ones, as they offer a glimpse into my life.

While at University with short bursts of available time I devoured Agatha Christie and the like. Just after Uni and as a youngster, I liked Patricia Cornwell (before her books really started to piss me off!), Elizabeth George and Thomas Harris. Then in the early 90s there was my spy and espionage phase and I still have almost all of David Morrell’s and Robert Ludlum’s collections (and a few John Le Carre) from that era – which I delve into every so often for something different.

There was a brief foray into Anita Shreve, Jodi Picoult, Alice Hoffman before going through my “Literature-with-a-big-L” phase in the late 90s and early 2000s. And no, I don’t mean Dostoyevsky and Tolstoy. Rather just those books you find on the ‘You Must Read’ lists rather than the Oprah or Women’s Weekly Bookclub list.

And since then it’s been whatever takes my fancy but again I tend to latch onto an author and read everything they’ve written while waiting on their next installment.  I’ve already blogged about a few fetishes, including Jane Austen, Robert B Parker and JD Robb, but there’s also Martha Grimes, John Sandford, Karin Slaughter and the like. I even seem to have accumulated quite a few James Pattersons though I will swear to never having bought any!

SOME of my Golden Books

Books offer me solace in the way certain television shows or movies give me comfort. There are many I’ve read again and again. In fact I can see similarities to my blog reading habit which I was describing to a friend recently. I explained that there are some I read because the content is of interest to me. And then there are others that I read because I just LOVE their writing. They could be writing about anything… I don’t care… I will read it anyway.

Perhaps things will change and I will be ‘turned’ into a lover of the electronic word… or perhaps I will adopt some hybrid of the two whereby I download things I want to read and buy books I want to keep.

However at the moment, having my books in a room upstairs or down the hall gives me a level of comfort I cannot explain. It’s not like I visit them, stroke them, or worship at their altar (*ahem*). But, ask me to part with them and it will be like a little piece of me has died.

“A room without books is like a body without a soul.” ~ Marcus Tullius Cicero