Archive | January, 2014

feeling it on friday…

24 Jan

“I understand what it’s like to work all week, and on


Friday night you just want to go and leave your brain at the door,

buy some popcorn and be thrilled by something”

Don Cheadle


size does matter …..

23 Jan

As my fingers begin to tap out today’s reflection …I suddenly realise that it is a combination of several earlier observations. …How could eyebrows, handbags and toilets possibly collide in one blog I hear you ask…well, let me explain.


This afternoon I travelled into the city by train for a meeting. Now, despite my “bag management strategy” from a few days back, I found myself carrying both my oversized handbag, and a bag full of meeting papers (to keep me amused on the train). Predictably, as soon as I arrived at Central Station my first stop was the loo…and this is where things got interesting.

I don’t think any of us are  huge fans of public toilets, but let’s face it ….they are a necessity…However, they need to be BIG enough!!   

I found an empty (and reasonably clean) cubicle, but as I tried to manoeuvre my way inside…. I struggled. I mean really STRUGGLED!

Juggling the two bags… I found myself needing to straddle the loo backwards in an effort to get in far enough to turn and close the door. Now I admit that I am not ‘delicately dimensioned’ …BUT I don’t consider myself to be in the ‘oversized’ category either… It was ridiculous!!

Anyway, after I eventually managed to get back out of the cubicle; I was washing my hands and I glanced in the mirror, only to see an ‘afternoon face’ (missing lips & eyebrows… and in desperate need of a ‘freshen up’). The problem was that there was NOWHERE to hang… put…or perch my bags while I did the paint job… I ended up with bags jammed between my legs, clutching tight with my thighs while I did my best to draw on some eyebrows and throw some colour on my lips…

Who would ever think that a visit to the loo would be blog-worthy?



a dying business…

22 Jan

In keeping with one of my early ponderings about death and dying (‘the lighter side of life, death and friendship’), it seems that at the moment, all roads lead to the crematorium.

Late last year I noticed a run of commercial radio adverts for Liverpool Cemetery. While I thought it was quite odd, the days soon passed and so too did the incessant commentary on why I should bury my loved one @ this  “location to die for”.  images

BUT… this morning on my drive to work, I heard not one, but 3 upbeat advertisements for “the Catholic section at Rookwood Cemetery” and I couldn’t help but wonder what’s going on?

I can’t imagine that the funeral business is that slow…..or that people have found a better option….

As far as I’m aware, burial plots and cremation walls are NOT normally on one’s list of must-have consumer items…I don’t know too people saying:  ‘Oh I heard them advertising a good price on graves this morning … let’s go and have  a look before they sell out, at this sought after location”.

On the other hand, the idea of pre-paying and arranging the ‘send off’ ahead of time  makes complete sense, and saves those who are left behind from needing arrange things in their moments of grief (plus you have the fun of choosing what YOU want… ….and it’s hard to beat ‘location, location’)


the need to pee ….

21 Jan

Over recent years I have noticed a very bizarre phenomenon… the need to pee as soon as I pull up in at home and the keys are removed from the ignition.loo2

This strange situation usually happens at the end of the day, when… with great relief I wheel into the garage and begin to unload the shopping (along with all the sundry bags and items collected throughout the day). It’s a though a switch is flicked, and I have to pee….right then and there.. !!!

It quickly becomes a mind game, as I employ every single muscle fibre of my well tuned pelvic floor (at least it once was)…  to buy myself enough time to at least get all the stuff as far as the kitchen before rushing full speed into the bathroom (God help me if the backdoor is locked and my hands are full while I fumble for a key).

But here’s the puzzle…the normal trip home is 30 mins, yet on the odd day that I am travelling from the city it can be up to 2 hours …it makes NO difference how long or short the trip is. Nor does it matter that I make  a conscious habit of going to the loo before leaving the office, it’s just an automatic response to arriving home (mmm what does THAT say?).

I cast my mind back to the 80’s when I worked as a Childbirth Educator… coaching couples in the care and fitness of their pelvic floors, drilling them in their exercises like it was boot camp. I wonder just how bad things would now be without the benefit of all that training.

Guess it’s just another one of the joys of being ‘50 something’ !



fear of the “bag lady”

20 Jan

I returned to work today after a fabulous few festive weeks and I must say that getting back into a routine is a mixed blessing… one that (at this stage) I am choosing to embrace. However, while sorting myself to get out the door this morning, I stopped in my tracks as I realised with horror  that “I’M ON MY WAY TO BECOMING A BAG LADY” aaargh. I need to get this under control before I end up becoming the little old lady with the pencil thin eyebrows that we met earlier in “The Meaning of Eyebrows”  baglady

By the time I had: packed my lunch in my gorgeous cooler tote bag (part of the decision to take lunch rather than buy it)… filled my lap-top bag with everything except a lap-top ( documents that I should have read over the break ,but didn’t)… grabbed my handbag with my personal bits and pieces (you never know when you will need make-up, panadol, glasses, sun-glasses, rewards cards, perfume and money), then collected the 2 bags of clothes for the charity bin (from yesterday’s ruthless draw cleanout)…. I could barely get out the door, let alone in the car.

I struggled and it’s only day one!

Over recent years I’ve started to notice that I carry stuff back and forth to work each day ‘just in case’, so I’ve decided it will stop…right here… right now;  I plan to take a minimalist approach to commuting and literally ‘lighten my load’.

That said, I’m not sure what it is about us women, but there is something bizarre about piling stuff into handbags, yet never stopping to fully empty them… (meaning that you then need a second bag to cope with the overflow). I’ve never been great at swapping bags to match outfits….it would mean actually decanting stuff back and forth with the ultimate worry that just when you need them, those 10 pens you have been carrying ‘just in case’…won’t be there.


Before putting fingers to keyboard tonight I emptied my handbag …lo and behold, I discovered a map tucked in one pocket, when I checked it out I found it was a relic from our trip to New York in Sept 2012, complete with our travels around the fabulous city marked in pen.P1120581

Sentimental? Maybe…

Necessary every day in Penrith? …Hardly.


feeling like a quick enchilada?

19 Jan

There is very little that frustrates me more than rushing to do a quick grocery shop stop, and then not being able to easily locate the things I need.

I reckon I did 3 laps of Coles today scouring the shelves for salad dressing. Nothing special, new or different… just regular Paul Newmans, but do you think I could find it…? In fact I found things that I didn’t even know Coles sold, but for some reason the salad dressing remained elusive.

When I eventually resorted to actually reading the signs above the aisles, it made me wonder who decides what product is worthy of signage. There seemed to be very little rhyme or reason to the items that got top billing …but salad dressing was not one of them.  There were all sorts of things listed, but one in particular had me stumped and more than a bit amused… “Mexican Food”.

I would love to know how high the demand for enchiladas, guacamole or chimichangas  is in North Richmond, but my guess is that more people want salad dressing. Don’t get me wrong, I love tacos and burritos as much as the next person, but I just can’t see how Mexican food got it’s own sign. (I didn’t see anyP1090159 for Italian, Chinese or  French food…)

Anyway, you will be pleased to know that (after a good 15 mins) I eventually located what I was after, without a scrap of help from their store directory;  but at least I will know where to go the next time I get struck by the need for a quick enchilada!


it’s all in the numbers

18 Jan

numbersThere is no doubt it’s hot… in fact one could say REALLY bloody hot. But what is it with the need to know the actual ‘number’ that tells us how hot it is?

I admit that I am not a ‘numbers girl’ … I hate sudoko but love crosswords, hated maths but loved english. There is no way I could tell you the price per kilo of any meat or vegetable… (if I need it, then it’s the right price). Nor could I tell you exactly how much I weigh; if (like now) the muffin top begins to appear, then it’s time to stop eating. I prefer to not think about the number of years I have been around, and I struggle with having way too many numbers to choose from in order to find the right TV station.

On the other hand, Mr ‘50 Something’ is like The Rainman…give him a measurement or phone number and he can retain and recall it forever..In some ways I’m envious, but the thought of cluttering my brain with all those meaningless digits (then maybe needing to find them again) just freaks me.

With this numbers skill comes a fascination with all kinds of measurement…the speed of sound, the speed of light….the speed of speed !!! But then there is the temperature, ‘how hot is it going to be?’… ‘how hot is it now?’… ‘how cold was it?’.  For him it’s all about the numbers, whereas for me it’s simple…. ‘do I feel hot?’, will I get cold?’, ‘do I think I’ll need to take a jacket, and if so, what colour?P1120574’.

It wouldn’t do for us all to be the same … (as he says, between us we can count AND write) but watching the outside temperature gauge in the car flick up or down by a degree is not really enough to capture my imagination (on the other hand, if there was a scrabble board built into the dashboard …. I’d be there in a heartbeat).