An early update as I am going to Bunbury for a rowing regatta – lets hope the conditions are as perfect as they were last Sunday!

Sunday – cycled to rowing and back, rowing.
Monday – nuffing
Tuesday – rowing and then a short erg session in the evening
Wednesday – 1 x video (with my daughter) – the fatblasting one.
Thursday – nuffing!
Friday – rowing, walked to train
Saturday – I’ll be rowing in two races I think.

Have flannel shirt and ugg boots – I am ready for Bunbury.

On a technical front – I’m feeling a bit meh about my rowing.

Couldn’t get the legs right, now can’t get the arms right. Crabbed badly today and now my boob hurts where the oar struck it.

Sigh.

Maybe just a bad day…

You know when famous people say “my mum is my greatest fan”?

Well there’s a chance they’re right.

My son now creates a podcast every week.

On gaming.

And religiously I listen every week.

Yes. Because I am his mother.

What? You think I am interested in DOTA2??!

No.

But I am interested in him. He’s my son.

And here’s something I didn’t realise after nearly 25 years in radio.

(Well I kind of did but it’s only as I write this that it’s really crystallised it for me.)

You reveal A LOT of yourself on radio.

Sure you think you’re just talking gardening/politics/cars/economics/surfing/fishing/gaming… no.

I listen to Podcast Confirmed and I hear about my son’s life.

I hear his relationship with his friends.

I hear his growing independence and confidence.

His sense of humour and his kindness.

I hear another side to this person that I’ve spent the last 18 years with.

And I’m glad to know this person.

Okay, I’m also learning a bit about gaming.

Of course the poor boy does have a mother who works in radio so he gets some feedback…

Weekly.

I think he knows I’m proud of him.

Probably his greatest fan.

Crumbs it’s dull isn’t it – all this exercise posting… well interwebs sorry… but you did agree to keep me on the straight and narrow.

Well maybe not agree exactly – but you didn’t say no.

This week:

Sunday – social row in a quad
Monday – 3 x 10 min videos (arms with newly purchased weights, pilates and fatblaster)
Tuesday – Training row
Wednesday – nada
Thursday – 3 x 10 min videos (full body, butt workout, scupted arms)
Friday – nothing – very bad but I played bridge the night before and slept badly
Saturday – social row in an 8

So two days with nothing and no cycling although on the cycling front I did pick up a great bike rake for the car from a fellow rower who was looking to get it out of his boot! Win.

Slipping a bit on the old exercise front but next week is another week… Go me.

As far as the videos go I am finding more and more on the internet. Sometimes the person is just too thin and perky for me to cope with, but mostly I find them to be good and even though I say I’m only going to do one, I always get to the end and go… ooooh that looks good maybe I’ll just do one more.

So if you struggle with doing exercise maybe try one of the videos. You might surprise yourself.

Right for those who’ve just tuned in here is my plan:

1. Cycle to rowing 1-2 times a week
2. Row 3 or 4 times a week
3. Do ten minute youtube exercise video on other days

So in the interest in engaging the interweb gods… here’s this week’s exercise:

1. Sunday – race at Mettam Head Race (5 k race and about 5 k paddling – we came 3rd)
2. Monday – SLACKED OFF – things weren’t looking good for The Plan
3. Tuesday – rowing training
4. Wednesday – 2×10-minute video (arms and yoga) Partly to make up for Monday
5. Thursday – 1×10 minute video (legs)
6. Friday – rowing training
7. Saturday – rowing cancelled but I cycled to Nedlands and back for bridge game.

Overall – thank you.

Putting it out there working so far.

Also new bike (newer bike loaned to me by kind friends) with better gears working out well. Did I tell you I changed the inner tube by myself? Just me, an inner tube, a spoon and this video.

And tip from cyclist at work to ride down Princess Road rather than Stirling Hwy is great. No traffic lights, and fewer cars.

Still waiting for my fit and cut body.

Must stop eating chocolate peanuts.

Sorry? Is that the pizza arriving? Gotta go!

Last night (or rather early this morning) I dreamed my thumb was cut off.

Then there was a lot of faffing about to get to a hospital eventually ending up in Charlie Gardiners with a very reluctant plastic surgeon who tried to be unavailable to sew my thumb back on.

Meantime I’d stuck my thumb onto the stump and it had kind of stuck.

When we got to the hospital the surgeon went into this room with an enormous screen and looked up a diagram of the human body – presumably to make a plan on reattaching veins etc.

Then I woke up.

Everything I have read today about the meaning of thumbs in dreams freaks. me. out. eg: scroll down to thumbs

Why can’t I dream of something nice?

Like puppies.

Do you ever have stress dreams?

Apparently a common one is not being able to find your locker/classroom at school which relates to feeling uncertain about your career… apparently.

I’ve worked in radio for a long time and usually my stress dream goes like this…

I get into the studio and I have to present a program and I have nothing to say.

No interview to go to.

There are no CDs in the system.

Our electronic playout system doesn’t work.

I just have to talk and I have nothing.

Well I had a new stress dream Saturday night. The night before our race.

I dreamed I couldn’t find my white singlet.

All I could find was a frilly white shirt. Clearly not very sporty.

It was very stressful in the dream but in the cold light of day… a little tragic.

But I wonder what it means…

First of all – we survived the race. I know you were wondering.

One crab, one almost crab, one collision, one stop and one fin later.

It was a beautiful day on the Canning River and I think we all felt great that we’d finished and not disgraced ourselves.

Next time we’ll be in zooties – those most unattractive garments – which, unless you are an Olympian – just don’t do much for the figure.

There will be no photos below head and shoulders whilst I am wearing a zootie. That’s what secret groups on facebook are for.

Anyway as discussed yesterday, there is some way to go to improve my fitness but that hasn’t stopped me invoking a “fat bonus” every time I make a food decision.

Do I really want that chocolate? Hey… I exercised this morning….

Hmmm that was delicious… seconds? Why not! I went rowing today.

Dessert? You don’t even need to ask.

Problem is I’ve spent my “fat bonus” two or three times.

And I suspect it isn’t that big a bonus anyway.

Sigh.

UPDATE: We came third in our class WE4X+ (out of 6). Yay.

Ahhhhh see this is why I get up early in the morning on a Saturday to go rowing.

So beautiful.

And today I rode my bike. Well Evan’s bike but he’s got lots and the gears aren’t so great on this one so he doesn’t miss it (I hope).

I got up at 6am. And left the house around 6.15 with my brand new Moon lights on and the wind on my face.

Well there wasn’t much wind, it was the speed of my pedalling.

(that was a little joke)

It took me about 35 minutes to get to the UWA Boatshed and I was surprised to see so many cars in the carpark.

Damn it! I thought I’d missed rowing altogether. That everyone had showed up and gone out, locking the shed behind them.

I checked my phone and it was 6.50. Yay. So I took the shot above.

Coming back was a bit more of a struggle.

Scary too. People in their big 4WDs and trucks!!! A truck beeped at me as I wobbled up the last hill and scared me into wobbling more. Yikes.

Also I was tired.

But I imagined my cut body. Fit from riding to rowing and rowing and riding from rowing. This will get easier each time I do it I said to myself as I reached the crest of the last hill.

Anyway this is my plan – and I’m hoping by declaring my hand on the interwebs Ii will be honour bound to follow true.

(even though this has never worked in the past… you never know)

So I row 3 or 4 times a week.

I will ride to rowing 1 or 2 times a week.

And on the days inbetween I’m going to make sure I at least do one ten-minute video from PopSugar.

Now how hard can that be?

*Famous last words*

The other night we hung out with young people.

When I say young I’m guessing early 30s to mid 20s.

The Groover works with a couple and it was their home we went to.

We made art, and played pictionary… as a warm up of course.

Totally fun.

And I didn’t feel that old…

Maybe hanging out with younger people makes you feel young.

I suspect our hostess would have appreciated my Christmas activities.

She calls it “forced fun”.

You know, where you organise activities – games, painting Easter eggs, painting, tie-dying teeshirts (which we’ve TOTALLY got to do for Christmas one year)…

I just call that awesome.

Speaking of hanging out with young people.

I competed in my first ever rowing race the other weekend. That photo above is post race. As you can see I survived.

I was in a boat with four under-26ers, and four masters women (aged 28 – pictured, 33, moi and 53).

We get to the line, the whistle goes and the four open women go nuts!

Seriously fast.

We’ve not done more than 20 strokes in a row at that pace and we’ve got SIX KILOMETRES to go.

I thought I might die.

My strategy was to hang on and try not to crab. (get the oar caught)

Do you remember that episode of The Goodies where they are trying to make cricket interesting and they get out these ACME power boots which make their feet move fast (all the cricketers are super old)?

I felt like I was in a ACME Rowing Machine.

(here’s the link – the boots make an appearance around the 4 minute mark)

Meantime I hear there are sharks in the Swan River… I suspect our time this weekend will be fast.

A couple of months ago I noticed a 20 cent coin had been glued to the steps leading to Cottesloe Train Station.

Watching people stoop to pick it up no doubt provided endless enjoyment for the folk working in the overlooking offices, and possibly for the observant on the platform as well.

Today it is gone.

Times are tight.

So this weekend, my son is getting ready for his second year of college and University.

That’s not my son.

That’s his friend.

They went shopping yesterday to buy some clothes for my son who lets just say is “sartorially challenged”.

My son likes looking good, but has no idea and because of that (I think) opts out of worrying about it.

He’s resigned to not being trendy, or even being slightly well dressed.

And yet, I know he likes looking good.

He came back with new shorts, new boardies, new shoes.

And then went through his clothes and items were allowed to be packed only if they passed inspection.

The shorts pictured were rejected.

This morning I listened to part 1 and part 2 of Harper High School on This American Life.

At this school all the kids are part of gangs.  They don’t get a choice.  The gang they are in is dictated by where they live.

To not be in a gang means never to leave the house.  Never to have friends.

Last year 29 current and recent students of this school were shot.

Not at the school – that might have made the news – in the neighbourhood.  One on the porch while talking to a friend.  The friend’s brother on the pavement also got shot.  He was in a wheelchair, paralysed in an earlier shooting.

And look at the people who work at this school –  all so young – you listen to their stories and they care so much.

I can’t stop thinking about them.

I feel like I live in a parallel universe from Harper High School.  (and they are by no means an isolated case)

The  fears I have for my children – will they make friends, will they study, will they get jobs, will they wear the right shorts – all seem small.

I am, we are, so lucky.

And I want to do something to help, but part of me is angry.

Angry that the most wealthy country in the world can’t sort this out!

How can they let this even exist?

How can they spend money on the military “saving other countries” and not spend it on saving their own society?

Why is it that 15 year olds can sit around discussing where they get handguns from and how much they cost?

It shocks me to the core of my white middle class existence half a world away.

I know we have tough schools in Australia.

Schools where “going into Lockdown” is a relatively frequent occurance.  Where principals stand outside the gates in a high vis vest ready to protect their students as best they can.

At least they don’t have to face guns.

…

…

Lecture over.  Class dismissed.  Getting off my soap box now.

The scenario:  I pop into a major department store on my way home in order to spend my birthday and Christmas vouchers.  I’m looking for a pencil skirt so I can recreate the “Newsroom” look. Second from left.

It’s the end of the day.  I’m not feeling uber-sexy – no make up, dowdy dress – but I am prepared to spend the cashola.

I flick through the selection in the Country Road section – slim pickings – and pull out a skirt.

Sales assistant bubbles up to me.   Early 20s.  Good looking young man with enthusiasm to burn.

“Oh you know what looks GREAT with that skirt…. this top!”

He pulls out a bright red and blue silky number… well probably polyester but you get the picture.

Maybe I looked a little doubtful.

Maybe he panicked.

Maybe he was trying to relate to someone twice his age.

At this point my tip is… STOP TALKING… because the next thing to come out of his mouth was:

“You know I got my mother to buy this and she looks great.  She always gets comments…”

*cough* *splutter*

Now I don’t care how old I look or how young he is, or in fact how young and sexy his mother is – here’s the thing – NO ONE buying clothes wants to think of themselves as a mother*.

Or, more to the point,  in the same age bracket as the mother of a sales assistant.

DON’T MENTION THE WAR PEOPLE!**

It’s bad enough that they put “fat” mirrors in the changing room***, without being made to feel as unsexy and old as “someone’s mother”.

Needless to say I didn’t try the top on and I didn’t buy the skirt.

*Possible exception if you are buying maternity clothes

**The war against age.

***Also a stupid idea if you want to sell clothes

Rottnest Island.

Expensive but if you are there for more than two days you fall in love all over again.

And you truly relax.

You just have to block out how much you are spending.

2012 wasn’t too bad for me. I had some great opportunities at work and in my personal life discovered rowing – which I love.

But I don’t want to repeat it.

Sure it would be lovely to watch season 3 of Downton Abbey again as if for the first time but hey – maybe there’ll be season 4.

But how do you change your life when you’re so busy with work and family and the hobbies you do have and the obligations you make?

See the thing is I’m not really sure how I want my life to change.

But I know I have to make space in my life for it to happen.

Last year I played less bridge and took up rowing – no regrets there although my bridge is slipping a bit.

I think my family life is pretty much in balance.

And work is going well – bloody hell – 25th anniversary coming up in October!

So really – I don’t want to change much.

Things I have on my activity wish list for 2013 include:

• Learning how to screenprint
• Training for masters rowing – maybe going to Turin (maybe not)
• Getting a team together for the Lord Mayor’s Cup
• Maybe some ukulele lessons
• Get my medal for 25 years at the ABC – corny I know but now I’m so close!
• Do the 3 second video thing everyday!
• Hang out more on our decking with family and friends.
• Host more parties (as we only held one this year… not a stretch target)
• Go down south more often.
• Visit Ennuin

Gawd – what will I drop to fit all that in?

The drop list:

• solitaire on my ipad  (better delete now while I’m feeling strong)
• 50% less TV
• 30% less bridge
• less live storytelling?  Not that I did much this year…

Not a very long list…

The other thing you can do is say no to stuff.

I feel I can say no if I’ve tried/done something 3 times.

So this is my last year of doing the bridge club posters for a while.  Just saying.

What will you change in 2013?

Is Christmas really over?

I’m out of the habit of blogging regularly and finding it hard to get inspiration… so I thought I’d do that old trick of just typing away – stream of consciousness like – and see what happens.

I love hosting Christmas but I also love my house back to normal the day after Christmas after all the empties have been taken out to the recycling and the dishes finally done, extra tables hidden away and the crunchy floor cleaned.

In the days since we’ve been chilling out the back lolling on the couches under the patio we built last year, occasionally jumping in the pool to bring down the core body temp (it is over 40 every day for the next four), lighting the candles in the evening and enjoying the odd glass of wine.

It’s been lovely having my brother and his family to stay too.  Their little one is uber-cute.  Just the cutest 3-year-old ever.  And even though I know I’m going to be approached again and again to play animal matches, or go for a swim, or watch the spelling game stars I don’t care because she is so adorable.

They’ve gone down south for a few days now and the house seems strangely empty.

This year we did a couple of things to encourage “groupness”.

Groupness is a term I picked up from a facilitation course this year.  Basically when you have a new grouping of people it’s important to get them to interact quickly and share.  Sharing is more likely if the peeps feel part of a group.

Groupness can be created in any number of ways…

For example… name tags… not really appropriate for family dinner…

This year we did souvenir holiday teeshirts designed by my artist brother…

And a dancing video.

If you’ve seen Where the Hell is Matt? you will know the inspiration.

I asked my invited guests and extended family that weren’t coming to the evening to send in snippets of video of themselves so that I could mash them into a video to play on the night.

That way peeps who couldn’t come would still be part of the group… and those who were there would feel part of the group – having gone through the shared experience (pain and humiliation?) of dancing in public.

I guess I’m an extrovert because I loved doing the dancing videos, others felt it wasn’t such a cool thing, but everyone sent something in.

Unfortunately I ran out of time but I delegated (another management technique) to my niece (not the 3-year old) and the video was lovely.

Even the too-cool-for-school teens admitted it was fun in the end and I think – should I ask them to participate in one of my crazy groupness exercises next time – they might find it easier to say yes, lets!

UPDATE: Here is the link to the video.

OMG.  I’m at the end of a post and I had something to say after all.

Maybe the habit is stronger than I thought…

Two sleeps before Christmas. Before the hoards arrive. Bearing gifts and wine and food and Christmas cheer. Three sleeps and it’s over.

This year, 25 for dinner.

Which, Groover constantly reminds me, is a lot.

But it doesn’t seem that many to me.

Not many more than the 18 or so we had last year… And we had a great time.

Anyway, everyone is pitching in with food and drink… So really it’s no more effort than having say 12…

I know it will be a bit squeezy.

But we have air-conditioning and a pool so really, we’ll cope with the 39 degree day.

It’s going to be evening and some of the 25 are really quite small.

I think maybe I was a Bedouin in a former life.

I love this hanging out in a big “tent” with all my extended family.

My favourite holidays have been where we’ve shared houses… Christmas 2007, parent’s 40th anniversary 2005 and even Bali last year with friends. (Part of our unofficial extended family also coming on Tuesday night)

Bring it on I say!

I’d invite you too but I think Groover would freak out. Freak out more…

I hope your Christmas is full of happy chaos and unexpected joy.

I haven’t been here for a while and there have been some problems… down there…

Well not my “down there” but the “down there” of this website… the back end.  The engine room.

But I think we’re back on track and as soon as I work out how to fix the images on this thing we might even have a proper working blog.

Sigh.

My “down there” was much easier to fix.

Just saying.

(Too much?)

For nearly three years I’ve been on a protein regime. An omelette every day. Hardly any carbs.

Except wine of course.

Sure I have my lapses but mostly I’ve been avoiding carbs.

At first I lost HEAPS of weight, but lately it has been creeping on.

And the protein diet doesn’t seem to be working.

(of course the wine and not much exercise might have something to do with it)

14 years ago, just after my second baby, I went on the Fit For Life diet.

I lost heaps of weight.

Fit For Life is basically fruit until noon, then food combining after that.

ie don’t mix proteins with carbs

It’s kind of what I was doing with the protein thing as you don’t eat carbs.

Yesterday I started back on Fit For Life.

OMG

I had forgotten how much I LOVE fruit.

So nice to have fruit for breakfast.

Loving it.

Scales wise – too early to tell.

One thing though, I’ve remembered how hard it is to buy lunch (or any meal) that is not a mix of carbs and protein.

Sigh.

Looks like I’ll be making my lunch everyday too.

I just realised that commenting had been restricted on this blog.

How did that happen?

I love your comments so feel free…

So you find me dear reader, comfortably ensconced with a glass of wine (St Clair Sav Blanc), some olives, and opera in the background.

I feel piously exhausted having rowed and then gardened all day.

Proper gardening today in addition to hours of weeding our “vacant lot” inspired verge.

Yes. Plants and everything planted.

So I’m tired and bone weary.

My daughter is at work, my son at college, my husband on a work trip in South Africa.

I am alone and enjoying the peace.

The wine is helping.

Since The groovy one left last night of course things are falling apart.

The drinks fridge, a temperamental old thing at the best of times on a permanent lean, decided to short out the power.

I decided that what she needed was a good defrost.

So as I sit here on my decking, sipping my wine, occasionally I hear a crash as another lump of ice falls to the ground.

The wine is fine though so life is good.