Don't cry for me Argentina

Now I am the lynchpin of the organisation (refer to December 21), the only person who has to work these three days between Christmas and New Year. *Sigh* Naturally, I am wearing a hair vest while doing so.



Add to this, I have a toothache because I have been living on sugar these past few days. It's one of my real teeth too, one of the ones I want to keep. :(

But I digress... This is the picture of the painting I had done of Carney and I. It's is nearly complete - the artist is just changing the words in the roof. It should read: Go pladidly amid the noise and haste... I think she has done a great job!

wordplay

Here's a word that ought to exist:

Ignoranus - someone who is both stupid and an asshole (nod to Australia Post).

Grrrrr,
Kitty x

Ding dong, merrilly on high...

Some things are best bought late. Calendars mainly - advent and the page-a-day Far Side ones (although these are probably a bit passe now) are cases in point. Not only are they bargain basement, you get the concentrated pleasure of 'catching up'... Either inhaling 20 mini chocolates (you've effectively been putting these in the bank since December 1) or reading months worth of cartoons without actually scrolling forward. Win-win. Actually calendars are the only example of something best bought late I can think of... Last Christmas Carney bought about about six kilos of Salmon 'still good but only a day or two to go' - Carney's shopping weakness is a cut price bulk buy. Anyway, we froze it and ate it over a period of time that seemed to go forever... I can't eat Salmon anymore. Ditto caramel buds, but that was a seperate incident.

It's Christmas! But tell that to my angry 'ba humug' co-worker who is a martyr disguised as a mean woman who loves cats. She must be the lynchpin of the organisation, certainly the only one doing any work. The devil may care me says: 'Get off the cross! Jesus needs the wood!'. But, the devil may care me is all (imagined) talk.

Completely, completely unrelated yesterdays news - Tony Abbott - why? why? why? I had the hideous experience of listening to him being interviewed this morning. What a buffoon.

Kitty x

look at moi...

We're forever away from the professional photos, but here are some snaps from the big day... Ooh, it was great - all our favourite people (bar a few that couldn't make it) together in the same room...

Getting ready. The hair and make up lady Justine arrived at the crack-o-dawn and it was the four bridesmaids and yours truly lined up for back to back preening. Boy would I be more attractive in real life if Justine was at my beck and call... She had promised to 'air brush' on our make up; I'm not even really sure what this means, but it sounds a bit 'Homer Simpson make up gun' to me. Anyway, the airbrushing machine broke so she did it the old fashioned way.


This is the bridesmaids and the bridesman (yes) having a few cheeky sherbits and doing some backyard posing before the limo arrived.

Not shown here are the many small children my mum invited over from around the neighbourhood (only one of whom I'd ever met before) to come and watch me get ready... One the one hand, cute, on the other, weird.

We don't have any photos from the ceremony yet, but here's the cake cut and a shot of Carney and I 'dancing' (swaying). Froydis and Lars 'the Norwegians' taught Carney the fundamentals of waltzing the night before the wedding. I had to 'wing it' on the day (you could tell).

Other highlights included the speeches ending (they were lovely lovely but long long), my cousin Hudson crowd surfing and everybody dancing to the Proclaimers '500 Miles' song - that's a bit of a house rule in my family. Anyway, we're three weeks into wedded life now (is there a anniversary pre-paper?) and so far so good. I've even started the lengthy process of changing my name... (and not in a manner of a former colleague who took getting married as license to change her first name from Amy to Simone. True story, quite bizarre).

Kitty

snowcones...

the wedding post is coming, but in the meantime, life is depressing because it is all over. it's just eternity now stretching before us...

BUT! we've still got the honeymoon mark 2 - Froydis and Lars' wedding in Norway and travels either side - to look forward to. This is a picture of the farm they are getting married on, a couple of hours from Oslo. It was taken in Feb, about the same time we will be there next year! It is a far cry from a community hall in north fitters! Apparently the Norwegians will all be in national costume and there will be the pulling of sleds by large dogs. I am thinking it is really Narnia we are going to. Hopefully I will look like the Ice Queen as opposed to an out-of-towner in borrowed MC hammer-style ski suit as has been the case previously... (but I guess this one's not all about me, eh?). Exciting!

Kitty

a retrospective: the hens

Ooh, I've too much to twitter! (Alas twitter followers of strange Indian man and sexy Califorian 'lady'...). A hens night! A wedding! And now the honeymoon (mark 1) is over...

First up - the hens: This was two weeks ago now, the Saturday night before the big day. Carmena organised the women’s only event of the year – it not only had a pizza with pumpkin AND anchovies (my first and third favourite foods), but also a plethora of plastic pensis’s (peni? Penis’?) and, mysteriously, many straws shaped like women’s bottoms.

My mum told the black condom story (I’ll cross reference this by TENT; RUSSIA; PREGANT WITH FIRSTBORN and 6 MONTHS INTO A 2 YEAR TRIP... for the three people in the world that don’t know the story, you can connect the dots).

Probably the high point was at the club after dinner, when a man in police uniform approached the group; I was all ready to jump on my soap box - who would lower the tone so by hiring a stripper? (Actually, the tone was pretty low on the back of all the plastic penis's) But the defiance proved unnecessary... It turns out the man in the police uniform was, in fact, a policeman. A great disappointment, I assure you.

Even so, good times had by all. Photos pending. I'm particularly looking forward to the one of me pouring myself into a very small nurses outfit. I am sans arms - miaow!

Stay tuned - next post I get hitched!

Kitty

Animalia

How cute is this - animal sillohettes for your bookcase - they are by a Japanese designer called Hiroshi Sasagawa:

http://www.greenergrassdesign.com/eastern-d420.html

the bucks weekend

This Saturday was Carney's bucks night, I was exiled from the house for the duration. I went out for dinner with Carmen and Liz and Nat, we ate Thai food, had a few sherbets and half walked (rolled) / half taxi-d the three minutes home. Carms and I crashed out within milliseconds of walking in the door... I must say for a small person she sure can snore.
That said, I was the very picture of virtue:










returning home the next day, having showered, brunched, done important wedding stuff and been to the gym (all before noon). The house was boiling hot, had a funny smell and was crawling with boys in various states of undress. I've been assured it was 'all very civilised'. Tried chatting with Carney about our long term plans - babies, houses, superannuation, but all he seemed interested in was a hamburger and a good night's sleep. :(

Next weekend the hens!

No. 1 Fan

I'm officially my own number one fan! I've managed to become a follower to my own blog - bugger, bugger, bugger, how did I do that? (don't answer, my stats have just increased 1/6th-fold).

Anyway, look at this:

http://www.springwise.com/retail/passthebaton/

It's a second hand store in Japan that tells you the story of the seller and the journey of the good. I love it! It lists the previous owners and gives you a bit of a bio about them. No more speculating on where something came from... It has limited application of course, sometimes in op shops you hit a gold mine: a number of items in the same size, similar style. e.g. a sudden influx of size 9.5 shoes. If you join the dots (I think) it means a little old lady about your size and shape has passed away and the family have dropped off all her clothes. That's probably something I'd rather speculate on...

On a similar theme - the provision of additional information - I've often thought it would be helpful if people post scripted signs. As in, your 'lost dog' notice was followed up a week later with a friendly 'We found him! A kindly neighbour came across Rover in the park'. This would be particularly interesting for the more ambitious signs - one cited in a fish and chip shop in Tasmania (circa 2002) read something along the lines 'Wanted: 3 bedrooms (for myself, and two children and our large unsociable dog). Willing to do odd jobs and occasional dishes for board'. How did that work out I wonder?

Anyway, it's cup day today and I've spent most of the afternoon on the couch (claiming to do 'wedding stuff'). Best resume the position,

Kitty

Friday Funday

Being an athlete is hard. I got up this morning and pumped iron at the gym before coming into work (but I’m writing this in my own time dad). That, coupled with the fact I finished a big project yesterday makes me think I should be able to put my feet up and/or sleep under the desk with some sort of effigy in my chair (‘Weekend at Bernie’s’ – style). I’ll just to have to rest on my laurels instead. I should say I do think the 8 hour work day is a fairly inefficient way to work, great for factories, less so for offices.

Anyway, it’s wedding central at the moment – four weeks, one sleep and counting! We're being pillaged left right and centre - a million dollars for this, another hundred thousand for that... It’s flowers, earrings, shoes, hideously functional underwear and some far less interesting stuff Carney needs for the big day (a suit or something).

I’ve been searching high and low (small exaggeration) for some variety of wedding shawl – Melbourne weather is so unpredictable. I am just hoping it is not 40 degrees and I look like a sweaty betty in a moo moo. Anyway, I’ve managed to get two separate people, one from work, one our friendly jeweller/jeweller friend, knitting me shawls. Neither knows about the other (this was not intentional). On the one hand, this is great. On the other, I am a little guilt ridden and will need photographic evidence of using both....

This is semi-wedding related, but a secret (given the readership or lack therof, I think it's pretty safe) check out this artist, I am commissioning her to do a piece of work, I think she’s fantastic:
http://www.alijart.com/


Kitty x

stop two

Last weeks post went awol - a pity really, I'd put in the formula for solving world peace and included some remarkable insights from Hamish Blake around eating in the bathroom*.

In any case, it's wedding, wedding, wedding at this end. Without going into too much detail, a point of considerable debate has been the alternating food drop, namely: do you need a white meat? Nobody really likes getting chicken (nor, I would argue pavlova).

Anyway - food for thought (boom boom), rather than bore the pants off you with wedding talk, we'll continue the underwhelming tour:

Stop two - the Paris end of Collins St.

The Paris end of Collins St is part of Marvellous Melbourne mythology. In the 1880's and 1890's post-gold rush Melbourne was booming. It was the second largest city in the British Empire after London and growing fast.

The top end of Collins St (close to Spring St) was the place to be and the place to be seen. 'Doing the block' - i.e. walking Collins, Elizabeth, Swanston St - was the 19th century version of cruising Chapel St (the 'when it was cool' is implied).

But that was then, and this is now. These days the 'Paris end' is pretty much indistinguishable from the rest of Collins St. Indeed, the only reason I direct people there is because of how it sounds... It gives the city a European air and, more pertinently, implies I am well travelled.

As does this:

au revior,

Kitty x x

*Basically, you can finish whatever you've started, but can't start something new.

...and then I found $20

On Saturday night, I found $20. This is great news, not only because I found $20, but also because a friend of mine, Barker concludes any story that is going nowhere "and then I found $20". As in:

Barker: and then this happened... and then that happened...

Person Barker is speaking to: *blinks and hopes long winded, aimless story will end, considers poking self in eye for the entertainment *

Barker: ...and then I found $20.

Person Barker is speaking to: Wow, $20. Great.

This was not all that happened though - Carney, my bro Liam and I also went to a Grand Final Day spit roast and pizza oven extravaganza. The photo attached doesn't really capture the mood, but it was this or another I would call 'anticipation', and looks a lot like the back of people's heads in a living room. Spoiler alert - the Saints lost. Other than that, good times had by all. Sunday was spent harbouring ambitions of becoming a yoga/vegan type and wearing a hair vest.

And then I found $20.

Look at moi

I am sure I heard on the radio yesterday that as part of MI5 or some other spy network in the UK in one of the wars, female spys communicated morse code on trains while knitting - as in the 'click click' of the needles spelt out words and secret messages. Now, googling this, it seems I made it up... I am brilliant, this is a great idea.

In other non-news, Carney has had an i phone for about a month now. He manages to work this into pretty much any conversation he can. If he was Nudge off Hey Dad, his catch phrase would be 'What's that? Let me check my i phone...'. Anyway, probably the only application worth mentioning is one that is the digital equivalent of something I will call 'face in a hole'. In the real world, this involves putting your face through a hole in a picture board, thereby providing the face for a scene depicted on that board (and creating the opportunity for an amusing photo)... The online version (depicted) streamlines the process and is worringly realistic.

And that's all the news that's fit to print for now... Stay tuned for next week's insight into a woman who has adopted me as a mentee (through no fault of my own).

Kitty

A tour of melbourne

Bill Bryson said in his book 'Down Under' which was about his travels in Melbourne (and I am paraphrasing) when Australians meet tourists from overseas, they send them to the most out of the way, middle of nowhere places, the outback, and tell them that's where the real Australia is.

This is a canny observation. I thought so when I first read the book, and it's come back to me recently when I realised I am guilty of this. I tell out of towners and overseas visitors all sorts of things they 'must' do in Melbourne, most of which I have never done, would never do or have done and dislike.

And so, quite rightly, it was a case of karma recently when I did some of these activities I'd been recommending and realised exactly how much of a bum steer I'd been giving people.

So in this post, to continue the trend, I thought I'd take you on my soon-to-be-revised, Underwhelming Tour of Melbourne.

First stop, the Danedongs and the Dandenongs are pretty nice. I should say, there is a real distinction between the Dandenongs and Dandenong... Probably a distinction I have not made clear enough in the past. Dandenong (Dandenong caravan park specifically) is not such a desirable holiday destination... as one family now back in Florida would probably agree.

In any case, the Dandenongs are a day long trip. My hot tips are the Thousand Steps (at the foot of the dandenongs) that's a pretty good one, if you can find it. Misleading in that there are probably not 1,000 steps, but even so...

The other tip has been Miss Marples tea house. This is a coffee shop in Sassafras, it's namesake is the Agatha Christie detective.

Before having gone to Miss Marples, I described it as a cosy, old, cottage where they did devonshire tea, and served scones like my grandma used to make. I would mention the long queue to demonstrate just how popular it is.

Having now been, it strikes me that this is not a great recommendation for tourists for a number of reasons. In the first instance, Miss Marples is a quintessentially English character, and devonshire tea is equally English. Secondly, after a long walk a long queue is not a redeeming feature.

Add to this the peculiarities of Miss Marples itself. I had believed it was authentically old, quaint. Not so. Less old, more 'ye olde'. It is pretty much a devonshire tea theme park. And the food was not at all what my grandma used to make.

It is - for a few reasons - not a great example of the 'real' Melbourne.

Next stop, St Kilda.

Stay tuned - this is a snipet from a speech competition I am doing on Tuesday...

Kitty x x

the doogie howser post

This one's verbal (awesome, eh?)*.

*In case the audio (scroll down) doesn't work - and it takes about ten seconds for the voiceover to start - you'll have to imagine me speaking (making this post indistinct from all other posts).

It is better not to get old, Carney's Nanna Elina told me yesterday. About three thousand times. She has dementia and was stuck on a loop involving a clock that told her what day it was, her diary and the pills she has to take after breakfast. We went around to bring her supermarket shopping and tidy up her garden. It was hard work - mainly because she didn't want her garden done... In Shakespearean form:
Elina: "Don't cut the lawn, having long grass and plants growing makes the air cleaner and better for the lungs...". Repeat one million times.

While that part was bleak, without sounding trite, it was lovely to be around a Nanna-type. It really made me miss mine...

Anyway, and this is tenuously linked, when I was about 19 I took up tap dancing. It was in a beginner/intermediate class and the only other person as useless as me was this older woman who looked a bit like Shirley Temple only about 70 years older.

We got chatting in one of the breaks and she said she'd grown up an orphan, lived in foster homes, had a pretty tough childhood all round. She'd always always wanted to tap dance but it really wasn't an option. So she was thrilled to be at these tap classes, didn't care how bad she was (and she was an awful dancer, I have to say), it was that fulfilling of a life long dream. I kind of imagine that in the movie of her life, this would have been the closing scene.

The tenuous link here is 'the end'... And I can't help but think I want the tap dancing movie version, rather than the dementia-d one. But really, I guess that doesn't make me the most unique person in the world.

Kitty

the week that was...

This is to celebrate the highs and lows of the week that was (fairly uneventful)...

The high - Saturday night Carnaby and I went with friends to Rockpool (restaurant) at Crown casino. The casino itself is incredibly depressing (we lost $20 in about 30 seconds on the pokies), but the restaurant was pretty wonderful. It is expensive - seafood and steaks, the latter from $50 to upward of $150 (they are partially made of gold).

Anyway, we looked at the menu once or twice online before we went in (Read: Carney committed the menu to memory and can recite the mains verbatim. He even printed a copy to read on the tram in, threatening to tell the waiter he did not need a menu as he had brought his own - he was strongly advised not to do this). Anyway, the food was fabulous! I have done a complete 180 on the whether or not trifle is a good desert (it is! it is!) and dream about eating brussel sprouts with a german ham/bacon-type small good (starts with 's').

The week's low point was waking up Sunday morning... The dog had spewed on his mat (and most of his left leg) and it was less then impressive to wake up to. There was a theory that tie-ing him to the oven at night - this sounds far worse than it is - would mean if he desperately needed to pee/other he would do so one the lino and not the carpet. Not so.

Kitty

happily ever after...

This is a tardy, tardy post - apologies internerds.

I've recently re-discovered fairy tales... serious, serious fairly tales (repeating things makes them even truer) aimed at children, whose basic message is: be good or die.

Case in point, the book (published in 1907) 'Cautionary Tales for Children', which includes the stories of Matilda 'The Girl Who Told Lies and Burned to Death', and George 'Who Played With a Dangerous Toy and Suffered a Catastrophe of Considerable Dimensions'.

I love the thinly veiled message (and the non-catchy titles... there's also a Charles Augustus Fortescue 'Who Always Did What Was Right, and So Accumulated an Immense Fortune). There are also a couple of German ones that are same-same but much scarier... e.g. the story of the scissor man, who comes in the night to cut of the thumbs of children who are thumb-suckers (depicted). Ouch! It is made very clear the thumb does not grow back.

In other news - house headline - the much revered estelle saute pan has been scratched by the use of a metal soup spoon for stirring.

That's if from me,
Mud.

my two cents...

Kyle Sandilands, offensive, offensive man – Why that Stare-y McLarey look? - but I must admit he makes pretty compelling reading... He’s been everywhere (except Channel Ten) in the wake of the lie detector scandal, and while it’s hard to go so far as to like him, I'll begrudingly admit he can be entertaining (not in the context of the lie detector scandal itself, obviously)...

A snippet from yesterday’s Age:

"Rove. Fk you, Rove. You're dead to me. There's also Merrick and Rosso, but no-one gives a fk about them,'' Sandilands said. When asked if he ever hated himself, Sandilands replied: "Of course not. No one ever hates themselves, unless you're a fat biscuit eater.''

Such defiance!

And here is part of an interview with Andrew Denton:

Kyle Sandilands won a lot of awards last year - Who Weekly Most Hated man, FHM Tosser of the Year, Fugly Awards Worst Male Personality on TV - whether it's as a judge on Idol, himself on his radio show or a house intruder on Big Brother, he always manages to rub people up the wrong way. And yet his audience continues to grow. How does someone end up playing Australia's number one jerk and why does it work? Ladies and gentlemen, Kyle Sandilands.

ANDREW DENTON: Welcome… how are you?
KYLE SANDILANDS: Wow… all those awards.
ANDREW DENTON: Yeah I know it’s and, and not a Logie in sight.
KYLE SANDILANDS: No.

Cut to his diagnosis of his girlfriend (now wife?) being ill:

KYLE SANDILANDS: She’s living sort of half in this country, half overseas um and she’d got some weird dizzy fainting spell and you know that, that was quite a few weeks ago now and we’re still not a 100% sure what, what that is. So it’s a bit of a worry. I’m, I’m not sure exactly what’s wrong with her. I told her I think she’s mental but um apparently ah that’s, that might not be it so she’ll have to have scans and tests.
ANDREW DENTON: Yeah. That’s comforting though that you told her that.

There’s more but that’s the idea... He does, I should mention, go onto talk about having been homeless for a year as a fifteen year old, which is somehow a bit redeeming.

Anyway, that's probably only one and a half cents worth, you should dwell on the picutre - it's a shocker (that was intentional - score 1 me).

Q & A

I am sure they have gotten rid of a question and answer section in the Sunday paper. This was one of my favourite bits - I collect other people's words to describe myself and am very judgemental about the books people read. Given the chance, I would make sure to mention my 5 star rating system for date scones, that I would invite Stephen Fry to dinner, and some of my family's more unusual holidays (notably, the camp we went on for kids with intellectual disabilities... a curious choice, given none of us had intellectual disabilities*). Now who to tell showercaps are not fashionable but I love them?

Speaking of love, love... Love is in the air! Carney and I are planning our wedding vows/ceremony tomorrow night. It is hard - how personal to go? Brad and Jen (Pitt, Aniston) mentioned one party bringing the other cookies in bed. Should I mentioned hanging our underwear on the line in pairs - one his, one mine - so that they can 'do it' in the wind? I think that's romantic (though, maybe not Church romantic).

Stay tuned,
Kitty

*Interestingly, I rated this holiday very highly and had completely forgotten that all the other kids had intellectual disabilities until years later. Unfortunately, I have an elephant-like memory for another bizarre camp I went on at age 16, an un-advertised element of which was the presence of hundreds of naked women and being made to sit in a kitchen sink and sing 'row row row your boat' (but that is a whole other post).

glass half full...

Feeling pretty under the weather today... I was attacked by a bottle of wine last night and am less than sparking. I met my friend Dan this morning for a dog walk and a bizarre breakfast of 'coddled eggs, bread sticks and carrot pieces'. I thought it might be one of those strange-sounding-but-surprise-its-delicious breakfasts, but alas... carrots are not a breakfast food, and poppyseeds with brown sugar maketh a strange crumble topping.

Onward and upward though! Franks Sinatra said he felt sorry for people that don't drink, when they wake up in the morning that's the best they feel all day.

Today's theme is optimism! I started thinking about optimism looking at the internal, electronic noticeboard at work. Two ads caught my eye: one was a woman offering to housesit in the suburbs of St Kilda, Richmond, Windsor and South Yarra - pretty much anywhere east/south side and within about 5kms of the city - for a minimum of 6 months, no cats. The other, advertised a second hand ankle brace 'designed to be walked on if the ankle needs support' for $30. On the optimism continuum, these two are tending toward delusional.

At the 'beautiful' end of the same continuum, yesterday I saw the sweetest thing. Just around the corner from my house some kind souls have planted a community garden on a nature strip. It is a gorgeous concept, relies on strangers or passersby to help with the weeding, watering and share in the harvest! It was heartwarming - glass half full (and of delicious organic juices). I love the idea (though I can't help but wonder if anyone has peed on the vegetables - it is opposite a pub).

The Paper Towel Fiasco

Today at bikram yoga, a woman was drying herself after her shower with large sheets of butchers paper that she had bought along in a big roll. It was very strange, I struggle to imagine what had driven her to do this...

Did she forget her towel?
Did she not know they hired towels? Did she not have $1 for the towel?
Was she being 'environmentally friendly'? - she had an awful lot of hair, and appeared to have shower gel in a jam jar...
Would that even be more environmentally friendly, to use butchers paper?
Why were other people not looking?

It was bizarre. I could conceivably use paper towel to dry myself if I had had a shower and forgotten a towel, but the bringing along of butchers paper required forethought - consideration that one would need to dry off after a shower, the belief that an ordinary towel was not up to the task and then procuring an alternative... She was also completely nonchalant about it (as was the rest of the changeroom). There were little shards of wound up paper bits everywhere. (In the absence of a charged camera, this is difficult to find an image of on the internet. I have attached an image of a cardboard paper towel roll - it is the closest thing.)

In any case, I guess it's not the weirdest thing I've seen in a changeroom (I've been to the Melbourne City Baths - once).

Kitty

We have lift off!

The manifesto went live at the (virtual) launch yesterday...

Good* times had by all*. Party on, Wayne.

*mediocre.
**Carney and I.

Slank you very much

This is a bit 'how 'bout those knicks', but 'Slankets' and 'Cuddlies', must be one of the strangest developments / revivals in fashion in some time. Based purely on this picture, I can only conclude they pre-date the ads that are currently on TV. I have been a bit of a sceptic - surely they are only for comic relief - but a friend of mine swears she saw a family wearing a matching polar fleece version at the football, MCG no less. One can only hope they got waylaid en route to a opus dei meeting.

In other news, no word from lawrence.

Kitty

pre launch planning

i'm laying the foundation for a kabbalah-style cult following and am looking for some celebrity buy in to this blog.


i sent the following letter to lawrence leung in the hope he'll attend the virtual launch. I'm fairly sure he lives in Melbourne and that was the main criteria.


dear lawrence,


i've recently started a blog and wondered if you would like to attend the virtual launch planned for saturday 1st august. it will be at my house and my fiance will probably make some pikelets (jam but no cream, we are both on strict diets). I'm on a pretty tight timeframe so it would be good if you could get back to me quickly. If you can't do it, I might try Chantelle Barry (but I'll probably have to have her wear mittens or get someone to watch her in the bathroom - we have some pretty nice stuff).


i am willing to donate $15 to a charity in recognition of your involvement (but would like to keep the receipt for tax purposes). I'm not able to cover transport costs but we live very close to the 112 tram line.


Many thanks,
Kitty


PS - well done on the tv show and if you bring some nibbles, your parents can also come.

Sunday, bloody Sunday.

This week has been marked by the rise and rise of a cold saw. Those with the virus may be able to sympathise - having a cold saw feels much the same as having a slice of bread stuck to your lip. I have simulated this using a wheet bix/bick (singular) (see photo).
In other news, I went to Bikram yoga this morning before meeting Zoe* for lunch. Bikram yoga is 'the hot one', and involves a lot of sweating (read: detoxification of the skin).
Most people come pretty scantily clad, but a number of men are brazenly pushing the boundaries and coming in underwear. I've frowned at them a couple of times now, but I think this is probably a bit subtle. I may send an annon. email to the studio (I have a couple of other observations they could benefit from - including reasons to start on time and why the teacher should stay on the podium and not drip sweat on my mat).
Read an article in The Age 'Sunday Life' magazine today about a movement of people who are taking vows not to complain for 21 days (and probably once that's been acheived, even longer). Oprah and her book club have something to do with it. Am considering doing this, but will probably have to wait until


Kitty
*her real time.

Cherry Popping

Hello internet friends (most of whom are from the real world and quite possibly related to me),

This is my blog. It is mainly for posterity, but also for self indulgence and to allow me spread my idea. Once I have this idea, I will probably have others, so be prepared (world domination could ensue).

Kitty