Category Archives: Modern Life

Don’t say we never get anything done…

Back in 2008, this happened.

Remember this back in 2008?

Now you might not remember it (so go to the link to refresh your memory), but our solution at the time was to board it up with a bit of plywood.

An unsightly solution to be sure.

It’s not as if we didn’t know the frames were rotten.  In 2005 when we had the house repainted the painters had refused to waste good paint on clearly rotten wood.

We did nothing.

Then the door broke.

We moved our beer fridge to in front of the window for added security, and handy access to beer and wine.  And it was handy.

Over the next two and three quarter years we said to eachother often: “We really must get that door fixed.” and “If we were ever to sell, we’d need to get that door fixed.”

We hardly ever go out the back so we really didn’t notice it too much – except from the other side when getting beer and wine.

This year though it was hot.

Damn hot.

And we spent a lot more time in the pool.

In particular, Groover spent time outside. (a rare event)

One day last week, while swimming, he looked up and noticed that the bit of plyboard that had been nailed in again a few times by now, had come off again.

This time the nails fell out of the rotton wood.
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He got quotes.

And today the door is in.

Don’t it look pretty?

The new doors from the outside

 Okay the wood has to be sealed somehow.

Suggestions?

Apart from “don’t take another three years to seal the wood!”

I’m thinking a clear varnish myself.

The new doors from the inside.

I can’t believe it took us so long.

They look so good.

They feel so secure.

And so… not-rotten.

Yay Groover!  …and Nick from DoorSTOP.

Only thing is… where are we going to put the beer fridge?

How to save water

Congratulations, our water bill said, your water use is below average for your suburb.

Our water bill
Our water bill

Which would be saying something if we didn’t live in the suburb with one of the highest water usages in Perth.

So I guess you want to know how we saved so much water?

What the secret is to our success?

How we managed to go from 312,000L to just 170,000L?

With a pool.

By the way, the target set by the water corporation is to save 60L per person per day – which in our household of four would come to around 50,000L – give or take a few thou.

We saved 142,000L, nearly three times the goal.

Well, how did we do it?

The simple answer?

Here’s a clue.

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Poor sad garden

Yes that’s right folks, we didn’t water our garden.

Green is over-rated don’t you think?

The lawnmower man has asked if he can check our reticulation.

Because, and this is the other bonus of not watering… your lawn doesn’t grow!

So you also save on lawn mowing costs.

Win win.

It must be said, the garden is looking a bit bleak…

On the other hand, this summer it’s been too hot to sit outside anyway.

Win win win.

Of course the cost of water has nearly doubled so unfortunately our bill is nearly the same (slightly cheaper).

Oh well, you can’t win them all.

A story from my first trip to Bali

Cocktails at the swim up bar - deluxe

Ah back in the day when I thought flouro pink was an acceptable colour to wear on your head (in the early 1990s) Groover and I went to Bali.

White water rafting

We went white water rafting in Ubud and banana boating off Nusa Dua.

Monkey forest

We went to the Holy Monkey Forest and suffered Bali Belly – at the same time.
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Yes that was a fun trip.

We bought fringed leather jackets that we never wore.

We bargained for copy watches that we didn’t want to see who was the better haggler (I was).

Groover dived into the swimming pool, banged his head and had a huge egg on his head for days.

It was my first ever overseas holiday with a boy.

Through the glass

So much grafitti

The late afternoon sun came through the graffiti on the way home yesterday and I really noticed it.

This morning, as I write this on my way to work the glass is gleaming and clear.

The clear glass

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It makes me wonder whether they put some sort of covering on the glass that they can replace occasionally to bring the windows… excuse the pun… up to scratch.

And if not, maybe that would be a solution to a problem all those security guards and cameras don’t seem to be able to solve.

What do they do in Washington DC? They would have the best kept metro I’ve been on.

Alison’s vagina

I was witness to a very special moment this weekend at a barbecue celebrating our storytelling success at the Blue Room… watch out for Barefaced Stories at a pub near you soon!

Alison with her newly discovered vagina

The backstory:

A few weeks ago, Ali and I signed up for a storytelling course… you remember that nude beach story… that course…

Anyway during that course Alison told this fabulous story about how as a 19 year old girl fresh from the country she met an artist (read: picked up an artist from a bustop) and how he was keen to sculpt her vagina.

The story is fabulous and when the podcast is out I will share it here.

So I won’t go into details… but after she told that story, two other participants decided they HAD to find the sculpture.

I had the same idea and I was going to use social media to find it but they were far more practical.
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The guy who found it – lets call him Sean – just went round to the house and asked the guy living there if it was still around. The guy said he’d look and three days later Sean drove past and saw it on the verge ready for him to pick up.

Alison had no idea.

And no one told her.

For hours we watched and waited for her to notice the small “half-a-carton” sized piece of limestone on the grass.

When the moment came, her reaction was priceless.

Witness for yourself.

The summer of our discontent

Now this is the way to read in stupid hot weather

I tried to avoid a weather post, I honestly did.

But more than three weeks of stupidly hot weather, hot and humid weather, finally broke me.

Jeez Louise – how long is this going to last!

It’s more than a koala bear.

Up to today we’ve had 21 days over 30 degrees celcius… and the day before that was 29.6, and before that were another three days of over 30s and the day before that was 29.8… all this can be better seen here.

The last day approaching anything close to bearable was the day after Australia Day.  Humphhh!

And it’s not so much the temperatures… which are bad enough… I can handle me a few days over 35 because I am Australian and climate control is for wimps… it’s the HUMIDITY!

OMG does Perth suddenly think it is Sydney?

Are we now in the tropics?

Hello?!

Mediterranean climate… read it weather gods… DRY heat!

The climate is characterized by warm to hot, dry summers and mild to cool, wet winters. [wiki]

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I am so over it.

I spend my day in barely there bikinis and I don’t care that they barely cover my flabby bits.

I drape myself over couches with a fan directed up my fanny and drink long cool glasses of water from the fridge or Sav Blanc if I think it is past wine o’clock.

I dip myself in the pool at all hours just to cool my body temperature.

And we eat cold foods or take out.

I might be reading “The Winter of Our Disconnect” (very good btw and an interesting choice for the year 12 English syllabus) but I am living “The Summer of our Discontent”.

Bah humbug!

 

As a sidenote:  When my son started reading the aforementioned English text he said to me:  “I’m scared. She is just like you. Works for the same place, loves The Moth and This American Life and makes her kids listen to them in the car (I would add Radiolab), and writes LOL in capital letters to appear cool…” ouch!

When I told Susan via Facebook (What?  You thought she remained disconnected? lol), she replied: “The thought of that conversation has been making me lol (lower case, mind you) for the past two days.”

The bottom line is though I may yearn for the ability to pull the plug on my family’s electronic lifelines – there doesn’t seem much point now that she’s actually done it.  And besides… how would I blog the experience???!

Affect versus effect

As seen on the inside of a lift door at a City of Perth carpark

I’m not going to hold myself up as a grammar guru or a spelling bee queen – no.

It would be too easy to find an example of where I’ve made a mistake.

For instance the other day I was updating my facebook on my new phone and the autotext chose the wrong stationary/ery and I didn’t pick it up.

So… mea culpa.

But then, I’m not a signwriter, a copywriter, where my mistakes are writ large.

(I am a journalist though so I should bloody know better)

Anyhoo, the other day I was in town and I saw this sign.

I was outraged!

“If your behaviour is EFFECTING your family”

Surely a signwriter  would know that “affect” is the verb and “effect” is the noun and therefore in the tradition of other “ing” words – wouldn’t you use the verb.

Jump – Jumping

Run – Running

Shout – Shouting

Affect – Affecting

So indignant, I decided to write this post and to support my argument I thought I’d look up some online resources.

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Then I discovered that there was a whole website just on the confusion between affect and effect.

And then I got really confused.

And now I think I was wrong.

(I know… hard to believe)

This is what the affect vs effect website says:

So, nearly every time you use the –ing form of one of these words as the main verb, unless the meaning is “accomplishing or producing an effect,” the choice to make is affecting.

An example of when to use effecting is this sentence:

The manager’s new plan was effecting a remarkable change in morale.

But… it still looks wrong to me.

What do you think?

UPDATE:  It is wrong.

I wrote to the Standing Committee of Spoken English and got this reply:  The wording in the statement you’ve quoted is definitely wrong. Any style guide would discuss this matter.   It’s a very common mistake.  I practically expect to see the wrong one.  Sadly, a lot of journos get it wrong.

From RH on Facebook:   “I’ve got the answer in simple terms.  When writing a sentence if you can replace the word with “bringing about” you would use “Effecting”. If you can replace it using the word “influencing” you would use ” Affecting”.  Therefore the sign is definitely incorrect.”

And from my dad…”The managers new plan was effecting a remarkable change in morale.  I was also affected by the plan in that the staff were all smiling at me again!”

So the rant stands!

And I would feel very put out if a sign company allowed it to be printed although I’m sure they would take no responsibility.

Train etiquette: grooming

You will agree that polish removal was in order though I suspect.

So the other day I was about to leave for class when I noticed that my toe nail polish was, really, unacceptably chipped.

It was too late to do anything about it so instead I popped my swisspers (premoistened nail polish removal pads) into my bag and left.

On the train with no book to occupy my time and with my unkempt toes shouting “look at me” at me I thought well I may as well clean them off.

So I did.

Half way through the first big toe I realised that I might have been crossing an undefined but known train etiquette rule.

But by then my polish looked even worse and as I was already across the socially correct line I figured I may as well stay there and at least end up with more socially acceptable toes.

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I don’t think the same rules apply to finger nails.

I think you could definitely get away with cleaning your nails on the train.

Filing them is okay too.

And of course applying nail polish would also be okay if a trifle tricky giving the moving nature of the train.

There’s just something icky about toes.

The train is a No Toe Zone.

Nudie Rudie

Generic beach shot because taking out a camera at the nude beach is probably not the done thing

I am doing a storytelling course (Barefaced Stories) at The Blue Room Theatre with Margot Leitman (check out one of her stories on The Moth).

Eight sessions and at the end we will have a polished story.

Each session we have homework.

The first assignment – “do something outside your comfort zone”.

This required some deep thought.

Then I remembered the time Groover and I  – in our 20s when we had hot (ish) bods – stripped off and drove naked down West Coast Highway – at least until the adreniline wore off and we thought about all the what ifs… what if we broke down? What if we get pulled over by a cop? And we quickly scuttled back home.

So I thought okay, let’s up the ante and go for a swim at Perth’s favourite nude beach – luckily not far away – Swanborne – public nudity.

First question… what does one wear to Swanborne because clearly you can’t rock up nude – does one wear bathers?

I decided to wear my bikini, as it seemed appropriate, and with towel and sunblock in hand casually strolled down the beach.

OMG!  There are naked people there!!

First thing I saw from a distance was the silhouette of a man and let me tell you he was hung.

Second question… where do I sit?

I don’t want to sit too close to anyone else but I do want to get the Swanborne experience so I don’t want to sit completely on my own and I don’t want to sit up by the dunes as I figure the creepy guys hang out there perving, so I plonk my stuff down in the middle and undress.

Well that feels a bit weird and as I slide my bikini bottoms off I’m thinking some trimming might have been in order but it’s too late now.

Lying on the beach I’m conscious of what everyone is doing.

People are moving between groups chatting, there’s a very tanned girl to my right doing a job interview on her iPhone, and there are people – clothed people – walking by all the time.

But I can’t lie on the beach forever – for one thing I can’t stay out in the sun too long and for another – well a swim is part of the challenge.

So choosing my moment I stand up and walk into the surf.

The water is cool, the surf a bit dumpy but this is no time to get into the water gingerly.

Before long I am enjoying my swim and getting chatted up by a tanned fellow in his mid forties who turns out to be the pilot of our flight home last Sunday – I kid you not.

Anyway I go back to my towel and air dry.

I notice that I’m possibly one of the younger women on the beach – hard to tell as all the women have VERY dark tans – and also, I’m not that uncomfortable.

And I notice the men – it’s hard not to.
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One guy I swear has more metalwork “down there” than the Bunnings tool section.

Another guy has tats all over his body – except “down there” and frankly who can blame him.

There are men of all sizes – and that’s when I realise that actually there are way more men than women.

Why did that surprise me?

I get dressed and get up to go and as I’m leaving the pilot starts chatting to me.

Now that feels a bit weird… chatting to a completely naked man while fully dressed on the beach.

Anyway we chat for a bit and I’m thinking well this will make a great addition to my story when…

Groover walks by!

OMG and I’m chatting to a naked man!

Anyway it takes me a while to catch up with the groovy one because by the time I noticed him he was about 20 metres away and the wind is whipping away my voice and hey, I’m not that fit so running in sand isn’t very fast but eventually I catch up with him and we walk back  and I tell him about my experience and he remembers the pilot’s name and I suggest that he might like to go in for a quick dip.

He (surprisingly) agrees and we have a little swim and then start to get dressed.

Do you want to meet the pilot I ask?

The pilot is now under his umbrella – still nuded up of course – but Groover says no.

I guess meeting a naked man on the beach is outside his comfort zone.

So this is the story I tell at my storytelling class and it goes down quite well.

The next day I decide to go back to the beach – because it was fun, there was quite a nice community feel to it and I was still on a high from the day before but it’s different.

For one thing it is much windier so there are fewer people and there are only two other women.

That friendly community atmosphere has blown away with the wind and what is left feels somewhat seedy.

The pilot is there and comes over to chat but it all feels a bit wrong.

I go home after about 20 minutes and shower.

If I go back – I won’t go alone.

Besides – I had my next assignment to do – ” to stray from my routine”.

Ah but that is another story.

A scary couple of days

View from the 20th floor

So having played bridge all day at the apartment where the photo above was taken, I come home a bit hot and sweaty – it was so humid – and decided to have a quick shower.

Groover was out at Kareoke for a friend’s birthday.

So I get out my nice Chanel soapy stuff lather up and touch my right boob.

Um…

That feels odd.

There’s a lump taking up what feels like half my breast.

How did I not notice it before?

First thought – breast cancer.

Second thought – breast cancer.

Third and continuing thought – breast cancer.

I bundle into my pjs and try and go to sleep but I can’t.

Groover eventually comes home.

Hi.

I think I’ve got breast cancer.

Yeah right.

No really.

Let me feel.

Um…

Eventually I fell asleep.

But in the morning the lump was still there and my boob is throbbing.

Of course it’s in the middle of a long weekend so I can’t immediately get someone to scan it, but thanks to a friend who is a doctor I manage to get into an imaging clinic on the Tuesday afternoon.
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The last time I had a mammogram was May 2009.

So at 2.15pm I have a mammogram, and an ultrasound.

Jan – on the ultrasound – shows me these big black blobby things on the screen.

Those, she says, are cysts.

It feels like my entire breast is cysts – there are heaps!

So, she goes on, you can leave it or get the big ones drained…

I go for the Fine Needle Aspiration.

Ah well we might as well check out this area as well… unlikely to be cancer but while we’re there.

They give me a local anesthetic and then the needle goes in.

It bloody hurt.  A lot.

Apparently they don’t numb everything as it can interfere with the testing.

They suck out what looks like about 40 mL of dark pinkish liquid.

Then they go to another area, and jiggle the needle around a bit to pick up some cells from the fibro-thingy.

[Edited to say… er it’s a fibroadenoma.]

They seemed pretty confident so I told my friend the good news and champagne was drunk.

I got the all clear today (no worries says my friend) and I’ve got a slight bruise.

God.  What a relief.

I was so upset and it was a false alarm.

I can’t imagine how bad it would be to get the alternative result like a friend of mine did recently.

My heart goes out to you.

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