Stopping to smell the flowers

Not that south west orchids smell – well not that I know of – but it occured to me today that I haven’t seen even one orchid in the wild this year.

In fact at all.

And I love these little treasures of the bush.

It makes me feel good to find them.  Feel good to know that they are there.

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Are these the indicators that tell you your life is out of balance?

Maybe it’s the holiday season or maybe it’s Groover’s change in work.  His change becoming my change?

Or at least forcing me to reassess my life.

What are the indicators in your life?

The perfect Christmas card

Sent to me by a colleague who knows me too well.

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To go with maybe this tee-shirt as a present?

Good thing you can’t read my mind

Don’t you hate it when someone asks you:  “Well what do you think?”

Be it a new car, tv, dress, pair of jeans, website, quality of card play or haircut it is a minefield most of us fear to tread.

Cars for instance.  For me they are a form of transport.  Sure I love that new car smell and shiny leather uphostery.  I especially like blue dashboard lights and expandible cup holders but I’m hard pressed to tell a Honda from a Mazda from a Mazerati (they are the flat ones aren’t they?).

I’m not one for appreciating the line of the spoilers or whatever they are.  I’m never going to fall into that “pimp my car” category, no neon lights under my chassy baby.

Same with television sets.  I like them big and flat but do I know the difference between a Panasonic and a Sony?  No.  Can I really see better definition in one over the other?  No.

So don’t ask me to comment on cars and tellys… or computers – can I tell what graphics card you’ve installed?  No.  

Does my bum look big in this?

When you don’t have the jargon and you don’t want to hurt the asker’s feelings – what do you do?  

It’s the classic – does my bum look big in this scenario?

Frankly you don’t want the answer – you just want appreciation.

So that’s why you’ll hear me comment on the sleek lines of your turbo charged machine, the definition so crisp you feel you could pull a hair out of that actor’s head, the lack of lag time in that grisly-so-violent-I-can’t-bear-to-look game you’re playing.

Do I really have an opinion?  No.

But I care about you and I want to be enthusiastic about the things you like.

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My new haircut.

It’s a little… short.  But just think of it as always-having-my-hair-up.

Groover has an honesty in comments policy – which is good because I know when he really likes something but it’s bad because I also know when he really doesn’t.

I’m a little nervous.

So here’s my strategy:

I’ve texted him from the hair salon: “Don’t freak out.  I’ve got short hair!”

My plan is to get him to imagine the worst – some scary Prisoner (Cell Block H) style – and then when he walks in the door the reality will be a relief.

That woman up the back looks scary doesn’t she?

I don’t look that scary…

Update:  he’s either a very convincing liar… or he liked it!  (my strategy worked… bwah ha ha!)

By the way, the title of today’s post comes from a great song by Christine Lavin – check out the lyrics!  Classic.

Caught in the act

Since November 2006 I have carefully avoided my former gym, across the road from work in East Perth.  I had been a member there longer than any other gym I’ve been a member of.

I used to find it quite convenient to pop out during lunchtime for a quick half hour workout.

But then I went on holiday to Ireland (yes I’m blaming the Irish) and after that I never really got back into the rhythm of regular exercise.

Hence joining the team at Club HASAY.

So yesterday I had to walk to the bank at the end of the road to get coffee money.  It was a beautiful morning and I was quite pleased that the rediteller downstairs at the cafe was out of order, forcing me into the fresh air.

I got my money and almost skipped along the road to my favourite coffee pot – Punch.

As I neared the corner where my gym is, I blanched.

I’d forgotton to swap to the other side of the street and there, eyeballing me, was my former personal trainer – Dean – who remembered my name…

“Hey Cellobella, how’s it going?  Doing much exercise lately?”

Of course it was obvious that I hadn’t been.
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I couldn’t get out of there quickly enough and I came up with the perfect exit line.

“So Dean, when is the next boot camp?”

“Not til January…”

“Oh,” I said, “What a shame… well, better go.  Bye!”

As if I was going to do boot camp.  *snort*

So how is the exercise-diet thing going?

Well I’ve been walking 3-4 times a week but the diet is a bit of a worry… apart from lunch.  The Lunch Club at work is still going strong and really works well.

I’m sitting here now, waiting for my lunch to arrive, waiting for the surprise!

Now if only I could organise a dinner club…

Happy Birthday Hugamuga!

My baby is 14 today.

And, poor thing, is lying in his unmade bed today.

You see, Groover and I had birthdays in the last couple of months and the kids did not think it necessary to make a fuss.

No cups of tea, no homemade cards, no thought on the morning of our birthdays.

To be fair, Hugamuga did make a bowl of soup for his father for his birthday but failed to tell him it was his present and it sat, congealing on the stove until Groover chucked it out, not realising it was a gift of love.

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So this morning was a pretty lame affair.

And Dippity is likewise looking at a fairly quiet day in April.

It’s not like we’re asking for much.  Some fussing, a homemade card, a cup of tea perhaps, presented in bed on the morning of our birthdays is all that is required.

Trust me kids, it’s worth sucking up to your parents.

🙂

Behind every successful man…

I read/heard recently (now who said it – was it Gerry Ryan?) is a very surprised woman.

I love that line… but I digress.

At the moment in Redsultanaland we are going through a bit of change – Groover is leaving his last job to go into business with a mate.

Yes I do know there is a global financial crisis on at the moment. 🙂

He makes much of my support but what choice do I have?

Since the topic has been raised, I haven’t seen him so excited and I know that if he doesn’t run with this opportunity he will forever wonder – what if?

I don’t want to live with that!

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If it goes pear-shaped he’ll find another job and we’ll have to take a few more years to pay the mortgage.  

That’s not much to pay for a chance at happiness.

The other day on our daily walk he said to me:  I hadn’t realised how intoxicating it is to work for myself.  To realise that yes, I can make money for me, not my boss.  And once I did realise it, it feels like I have no choice but to grab this opportunity.

So yes I’ll say you’re welcome gracefully when he thanks me yet again for my support but darl,  I don’t have a choice either.  How could I say no to your enthusiasm. 🙂

And if you are successful, well, I won’t be surprised.

(and I will be asking for some time off!)

Vision boards and horses

I’m not a great fan of Oprah but my mum is, and not long ago she insisted we sit down and watch an episode in which Oprah advocated vision boards.

On these boards you put pictures of things you want to happen in your life. It’s like an extension of The Secret.

Today I decided to take a photo of a block that Groover and I have lusted after for about twenty years. We drive by it and say – that’s our block. So far it hasn’t manifested for us probably because we don’t have the multi-million dollar savings plan required to buy it.

But why should financial reality get in the way of a dream?

This my friends is OUR BLOCK!




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Not a bad view huh?

In walking around the suburb I came across this:

What the?

Some kind of creative visualisation maybe?

I’m guessing the residents of this house like horses.

Should you wear a wig to an outdoor concert?

I’m sure this is a question that’s been on your mind for some time now and luckily, right here on Redsultana, I can advise you with some experience.

The pros:
You don’t have to wash your hair, no one can see your greys, it remains effortlessly neat.  When the temperature drops after dark, your head stays warm.
The cons:
It’s a bit hot and uncomfortable. As the hair was lighter than my natural hair it did fly about a bit. And it was difficult to know if all my natural hair was remaining undercover.

In short, I probably wouldn’t again.  Grey hair?  It’s distinguished.  🙂

And don’t you love the guy in the background getting into the shot.  It’s a close community up there in picnic blanket land.

I was at the John Mellencamp concert, supported by Sheryl Crow and another artist called Toby… who, now I think about it, I think is a friend of my cousin.

It was quite warm out there in the country and there were a few flies… and a few fashion victims.

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I think it’s the skull socks.

Teamed with the little halfway booties they are a picture… but then add the white tights and wow.  Who was going to beat that?

Certainly not me in my wig.

And what do you think happened here?

It’s just not a good look.

And no.  That’s not my blanket.

Surprise! I’m behind you…

I nearly wet my pants when I saw this guy outside my window!

He and a mate were cleaning the windows at work on these dinky little swing things – very athletically it must be said.
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But I must say I did feel a little exposed.

btw – that little cone thing in the foreground is part of an Artopia exhibition we had in the foyer at work. Artopia was this great program where artists created installations in various workplaces in Perth. Unfortunately it has been discontinued. 🙁

First birthday parties

I went to a first birthday party on Sunday. It was a bit weird.

I didn’t go with my family, just me, and it did feel odd going to a baby’s party without a… well… baby.

I was out of that space.

It made me wonder about how the people I invited to my first born’s first birthday felt because we had quite a big party and a lot of the guests didn’t have kids.  I even had nametags.

That’s my dad holding up his one-year-old grandson.

Of course for your first child you want to have what’s really an adults party.  To thank your support group and to celebrate surviving the first year.  

It’s more about you than your child – and really – now I wish I’d bought Miss Lithuania and Smartrider a present rather than their son – who, let’s face it – is highly unlikely to hold it against me!

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Next first birthday party I go to – the present will be a “well done, you survived the first year” gift.

Miss L looks happy she survived huh?

I learned a new tradition – not sure if it’s Lithuanian or not – but at this party the birthday child was allowed to grab his first birthday cake.  Apparently his mum and sister got to do the same.

Have you heard of that tradition?

I think it’s kind of cute… if a bit sticky.