Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Love the ways bees make honey. Find the pollen, pack it in their bees knees and then fly back to the hive to do a groovy figure 8 dance to tell the other bees where to find the source of sweet pollen. I mean, it is amazing stuff.
Recently I saw a honey product that said it was spreadable as opposed to runny.
So I bought it. Spread it on my toast - it was very sweet so I looked at the ingredients and they were honey, sugar and pectin.
Sugar with honey. No wonder it was sweet. And it has to be kept in the fridge - so I tossed it out. Not right having sugar and honey in the one jar - somehow seems to fly in the face of decency for all those bees that danced for me to have pure honey in my cupboard.
Go you bees!!! Only honey for this honey!!!
However, there is a type of time wasting we do which is a bit naughty and that is going on the internet more than we should.
So, there is a little thing you can download free from the internet which enables you to check just how much time you spend on the internet and how much it costs your boss.
Here is the link:
It sits as a little screen on the desk top and each time you stop work/housework etc, you click on the timer and it times you until you then click it off again.
A bit of fun but also interesting to see that maybe you are not as bad as you think - or worse perhaps???
By the way - I never have lunch breaks so it justifies the fact I just wrote this post at work!
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
They are so huge I am unsure if I am meant to swallow them.......or something else.
Maybe I ordered them from a Vet supply by accident and they are for a HORSE.
I had to break them in half before I could take them.
They better be good because my gag reflex is working overtime to get them down.
Monday, August 20, 2007
Then, without thinking, rubbed my face, my eyes and nose with chilli covered fingers and my eyes are still smarting and puffy three hours later.
Also, so much chilli in the stir fry that it made my mouth and tongue puff up like I had a dose of collagen. Even S looked at me and said "what happened to your lips".
Stomach is not happy.
Am now worried about what is going to happen on the exit journey if that is what happened on entry.
Shouldn't really share that thought - but it is quite funny in an ouch kind of way.
Sooooo, I look up the stats of celebrities. Yes, I am ashamed to admit this - I google things like Angelina Jolie's figure statistics to see how thin she is. And Elle McPherson's, Cindy Crawford, Christie Brinkley etc etc. I want to know how much thinner they are than me.
It is a very childish thing to do I know, but I do it anyway. My guilty little secret - which I have decided to share.
Does anyone else do such silly things? What are some of the stupid things other people search for.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Today, S asked me to play Monopoly and I said "yeah, why not".
Once again the whole aim of the game for him was to buy Mayfair, put four houses on it and then one hotel so I would have to land on it and pay $2000.
Well, what do you think - I buy every other property I can and snigger each time he lands on one and has to pay a measly $10.
Then I landed on Mayfair, had to mortgage everything to pay him the $2000.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Currently I am reading Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf. This is a favorite of mine. I like the intensity of it, the emotional movement, the sense of regrets and longing and the depressive tone of the story. And that it all happens in one day is interesting to me. To break down a persons day in that fantastic detail says so much about what it is to be human on a daily basis. Some people just move through the day whilst others crash through whilst they navigate their head space.
One character that is intertwined with Clarissa is Septimus Warren Smith who is a shell shocked war hero struggling in a world of chaos - suffering greatly with his depression.
Having experienced different grades of depression throughout my life, there is a small sentence in the novel that really says it all for me. It is something like "The world has raised its whip; where shall it descend?". It describes the look of chaos and apprehension that was with Septimus. It reminded me of times when I have been in that fearful frame of mind and still had to conduct life. There was always that feeling of the world being a noisy and angry place looking around for places to strike. It does not mean self-pity or sadness within - it is a fear within, a lack of understanding and comprehension.
The world has raised its whip; where shall it descend? Only a person who had been through it could come up with that sentence.
Obviously there is so much more to the novel than just that sentence - but I just think the expression is very well worded.
Back to work for me - being a bit slack today.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Anyway, tonight I bought this magazine called Notebook and, of all the crappy magazines I read, this one has somehow managed to make me feel like the most inefficient in all areas of my life. I am actually a bit depressed after reading it. When I write down why, surely it will make me change my mind. And here is why:
It bangs on about how to make one's house gorgeous. Fabulous flowers in the rooms. Big bunches of lovely roses that burst open like a big puffy cloud - white and begging to bury one's face into. Polished and shiny dust free floorboards on which shabby chic furniture is placed. Then, on that fab piece of furniture (for which instructions on how to give it a fashionably distressed look are also attached) one would place wonderful photos of one's beautiful family. Black and white photos of course - no common colour pics on display in this house!
Then amazing and easy (huh?) recipes that one just whips up when one comes home from work. Things like "Pork and cabbage gyozas" and "Duck with apple cider red cabbage". Great little recipes on making all sorts of home made goodies to give as gifts presented in the most wonderful little jars that have hand written labels tied on with raffia ribbon. Delicious toffees with little sprinkles that nestle in little pink paper patties that one can glue paper stars onto to "stand out". I cannot begin to tell you my experience with making toffee - I ended up with some in my hair and had to cut it out.
The furniture is beige, beige couches with throws tossed nonchalantly across the back. Cushions plumped up like big fat hens just defying to be sat on. Beige carpet!! Yes, beige carpet on which a freshly laundered Samoyed dog sits looking - well - very clean. Great pictures adorn the walls - paintings done by the amazing woman who happens to have four children, runs a successful business from home, keeps the place spotless and has a vegetable garden where she gets her herbs from and is a size tiny. She wears great linen pants that are BEIGE and has a Theodore and Scanlan white t-shirt. Her children all help in the garden and wear little gum boots with painted flowers on them.
The beauty section just ensures I feel UGLY with the smooth skinned airbrushed translucent women. In fact, I cannot be bothered going into detail as it just repeats itself in every magazine a woman will read.
So, I had this feeling I just do not try hard enough. And yet another feeling I don't feel I should have to. I mean, after 40 one does not do "shoulds". Now, I know that the magazine has an agenda - it wants me to feel that I want to be that perfect and go about and buy the things it advertises or suggests so I can achieve the perfection it so heavily promotes. And I know that and accept that is part of the cycle of life now. But despite that knowledge I still mange to feel a bit inadequate because I don't come up to scratch in my own head.
There is a lot to be said for reading comics.
Now that is how life should be!
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
My dad must have had a thought in his mind of what a man should be. He drove a big, blue Chevy Impala. All four of the children could fit in the back seat. My memories of that big car are of embarrasment, nauseau and the smell of orange peel. Each time I sat in the back seat of that I remember the urge to vomit was always there.
Anyway, this big car was attached to a 28ft caravan and we travelled the journey over a few weeks. My brother had what I suppose we now call ADHD and bounced back and forth in the back seat of the car the entire way saying out loud "mummy, mummy, mummy, ma" and each time he said a syllable he would bounce his back against the cream, sprung leather seats. So that was 7 bounces over and over and I mean OVER the entire trip. Almost 35 years later I can still hear him doing it. My dad kept yelling at my brother to shut up. But honestly, what are four kids in the back of a stinky hot chevvy meant to do for hours on end. The radio crackled on AM and mum and dad argued over stations to listen to, their hostility towards each other was palpable in the car. But we were so used to it we thought it to be normal.
As the trip became boring and we started to bicker my mum would reach over and slap our bare legs telling us to be quiet. When things got too much we would park the car and van along the side of the road at some deserted picnic spot in the middle of nowhere. Brown grassed paddocks dotted with ring barked gum trees and surrounded by barbed wire fences. There we would sit at these concrete picnic tables and benches and have some lunch that mum had made. Liverwurst sandwiches on black rye bread. Sometimes mum would spread the bread with lard first (rather than butter) and the lard would soak into the bread and leave a salty and soggy flavour.
We would drink warm lemon cordial from coloured anodised cups that packed away into a little leatherette case when we had finished with them. Mum and dad would maintain the rage between each other in frosty and disapproving silence.
Always, and without fail, our picnicking was joined by flies. Where ever they lived when no-one was around I do no know, but once you stepped out of the car and into that open space the flies descended like a plague. They sat on your back, crawled on your face and eyes trying to get the moisture from any open orifice.
That trip to Queensland was a selfish one really. Dad pulling us out of school to follow his dream of owning a caravan park and making millions - which, incidentally ended up being owning a fibro cement milk bar opposite a high school in Caboolture. He blamed his lack of success on everyone else. There is more to the story of course, and much more detail - but every now and the snippets of it come to mind and I think I must jot them down for my sake.
Really, some people just never realise that wherever you go and whatever you do there is one person you can never get away from - yourself.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Mostly I listen to music on my tiny Ipod Shuffle - you know the one that clips like a matchbook onto the waistband of jeans. Music is a great way to give me a rhythm to stride to. I can cover a long distance to the sound of a good tune. My step is not just fast, but it is very long. K has to jog to catch up on the odd occasion he may join me. If I am feeling extra fit I will jog maybe 1km on and then walk for 1km and so on.
When the strange, cyclic melancholy descends on me I can only listen to music by Ministry of Sound. Cold, impersonal and full of tribal rhythm that just propels me from point A to point B. I cannot listen to music that may invoke some sort of emotional response when I am on a downer. Should I do that, the purpose of the walk would be lost. And that purpose is to take me out of my head and let me be free of thoughts. It has taken me a long time to discipline myself to not feed the emotional calling of my egoic past and bad patterns of thought processes. Over time I have learnt to place my mind in a very tidy place when I feel even remotely depressed. I am just too aware of the consequences of not doing so.
Recently I have started to not listen to any music when I walk. So I walk and just focus on my surroundings. The trees, the dark sky, the smells in the air of lit fireplaces, the sound of my heavy step and breathing. It is not easy for me to walk in silence and the sound of thoughts in my head is loud and intrusive. If I am feeling strong that is okay but if I am tired, vulnerable or unsure of myself the silence is a scream to me. On those days, by the end of the walk, I will put the music on just to zone out and stop my mind from searching for meaning.
Many, many years ago, the way my mind used to work was such a stressful event for me. It was as though I was standing still and the world was racing by compelling me to make sense of it all. When I first went on anti-depressants I was in wonder of how still the world could be. I realised that this must be how other people saw the world. It was like I had left a war zone and found peace. That was only able to be maintained for a short time as I had to relearn my approach to the world. Medication was only a short term answer to a long term condition. My head had to have a break, my mind needed to be retrained.
Now, I have been off anti-depressants for over 2.5 years and whilst my mind has not changed, how I deal with it has. The world is still moving at 100 miles an hour but my mind looks beyond that and I am mostly able to ignore it. Accepting how I think and who I am has been the most liberating thing I have done. I enjoy being me. Being told I am strange or different no longer baffles me and, most importantly, I feel no obligation to change that.
I see S has a similar demeanour to me and I do my best to give him good emotional tools to cope with it. And these days there is much more consideration given to those to whom the world is not a straightforward place to live. When S says to me things like "I am who I am and do not feel the need to change that" I think to myself that it is funny how it took me many years of being a grown up to work that one out. However, he is safe in his world right now. No hormones racing through his young body, parents who look out for him and a strong sense of security - all that certainly makes things easier.
So, the walk I go on most nights is such a good way to bring my mind down from space city and get it ready for bed.
i have my mind tied to a string
like a balloon
in a child's hand.
tugging every now and then
I bring it down
to safely land.
precariously it hovers above
until it feels the surface clear
from unknown fear.
close it comes
full of silent thoughts
then rests in peace to let me walk.
when i am done
and reach the front door
i let it go
to drift once more.
Friday, August 10, 2007
This time I got under my EYE BROW.
Like, what the fuck is that.
I look like an insect bit me. I admit that had I left it alone it may not be so obvious.
But really, every other aging process is happening to me - grey hair, sun spots, easily tired, unwanted hair - you get the gist.
But when are the pimples going to stop?
Hmmmm. Also ate two bagels today and now feel like I may also have ingested TWO HUGE BALLOONS since I feel like I may explode.
S is also home sick. Cannot speak due to sore throat and claps his hands for my attention. I feel like a slave.
Cup of green tea - here I come.
And then there is "The USA Food Shop". Now, I am not quite sure why the word "Food" is in the name of the shop as I personally would not eat or drink anything that comes out of it. They import foods that are pretty much specific to the USA. Things like tinned sweet potato, Dr Pepper, Hershey chocolate and some other indescribeable sweet products. They are lovely people in the store. A few years ago they managed to get the whole trader's association involved with Halloween and now each year many children dress up and then visit each shop in Bentleigh to get some lollies and all that. But what I cannot help noticing is the odour that comes from the open door when I pass the place. In other food shops, the smell of cheeses, fresh cut watermelon, garlic, hams or fresh bread drift out to tempt passing traffic. In the USA store the smell is that of a giant bag of sickly sugar. A great big blast of sweet and totally unatural stink hits you when you get near that place. Summer is worse as it seems to coagulate in the air.
It does make me wonder about what exactly constitutes food in America. Surely it is not all about packaged, tinned and excessive sweetness? Even S cannot eat the chocolate from store - he says it is too sweet! I have friends who have travelled to the US and said that it was pretty hard to get good, healthy food from take away places. Surely this cannot be true. I looked up on the internet and I know that there is great traditional American fare to be had.
You really do have to look beyond what is shown to us as reality. I just do not believe that America is only a junk food nation. Surely not.
Monday, August 06, 2007
But, all I can think about at the moment is what I am going to wear! Hmmmm.
In September we are having a short trip up to sunny Noosa for a break and again I am thinking what I will wear.
In fact, when I wake up in the morning I think about what I will wear to work. Then, depending in the severity of PMT and other things, it is quite normal for me to change my clothes three times before I leave the house.
I have a very bad relationship with clothes (does not stop me buying them) Truly, I just to wear jeans and t-shirts and school shoes. Add a cardigan when chilly. Then I wear something girly and think maybe I should make more of an effort with my clothes. Although last week I wore the same jeans for 7 days and I may have worn a t-shirt THREE days in a row.
But I do buy dresses and skirts in anticipation of having the urge to dress up. Then I spend the day wriggling around and fussing about with my clothes and cannot wait to get home and change.
When I do wear a dress S will say "mum, why are you wearing a dress" and he does say "wow" but usually the former and not the latter.
And as for high heels - ah no way. Give me practical shoes any day. I have one pair of high heels in my wardrobe (4") that shall never see the light of day. Apart from the fact I will end up just over 6 foot in them, I am not exactly sure how women walk around all day in them. Interesting indeed.
My clogs are as high as I need to go. Not as sexy as a pair of couture high heels, but sexy enough for me.
Sunday, August 05, 2007
Yeah, I know that all of the above is trite and shallow and there is so much more in the world happening that rates way above all of this. I have all that negativity being throw at me via the television, newspapers, radio and magazines. I don't have to bring it home or even comment about it. Concentrating on my small world is what matters to me. Being nice, polite, kind and thoughtful is what I try to instill in my son and also what I try to be.
Well, that time of day now where I have to organise dinner - rather excited about the "Red Chilli Dal" I am about to concoct. I suppose S will have pasta again - so I am making a carbornara sauce variation. Hmmmm, what cake tonight? I think a chocolate one this time - S does like that the best for play lunch at school.
Then, after all that cooking I am off for a long walk followed by a plonk on my gorgeous day bed to watch Midsomer Murders and have a nice cup of green tea.
Friday, July 27, 2007
This past year I have just made the effort to actually slow down and make myself follow the recipe correctly. Plan ahead, be patient, get ingredients ready etc etc. There have been some very inedible items produced - but I am almost there.
This Sunday I am making banana cake, chocolate chip cookies, bread, Lasagne, a beef curry of sorts (always a worry) and some nice roasted tomato and capsicum soup. The problem in our house is that we all eat differently. S likes pasta, pasta and pasta (but not if it looks like spaghetti), K likes curries, cottage pies, dahl and I like soup (vegan) so generally we eat three different meals each night so I find it so much easier to make most of it on a Saturday and Sunday and freeze some and so on. S will eat pasta every night without fail. Last week he had lamb fillets and said he found it too meaty.
As long as I am left alone and not put under any pressure I can cook happily. I just enjoy improving on what I learn each week and it has taught me to bring my head to my own space and relax. Being forced to cook from scratch and to not use any packaged, process and chemically laden foods has brought about the change.
Oh, and reducing the risk of toilet blockages has been another benefit.
It is eco friendly. If I were to always buy new, then I would ultimately be contributing to more cotton farming, sheep whatevering and factory pollution and then land fill.
Maybe I will feel less of an eco vandal.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Having said all of the above, I do get the impression that school not any easier now. Different pressures coming from so many other areas of life. Twenty five years ago the things that may have been deemed as teenage problems would have been bullying, passing subjects, difficult family life going on, teenage drinking and having a ciggy behind the toilets, teenage pregnancy and fairly mainstream concerns such as that. Now it seems so much more complicated. Feeling unattractive, bullying in the form of sms texting, my space msn, physical and manipulative bullying, drugs of a wide variety, divorce, single parent households combined with seriously low income. Feelings of low self worth and the lack of good mentoring to help children through that. Eating disorders are so much more widespread, feelings of not fitting in with mainstream "fashionable looks", being fat, not liking sport. Sexually transmittable diseases are on the rise in teenagers which can render the female sterile in later years and she will only know when she cannot conceive. Promiscuity which in itself is not so bad, but what drives it is pivotal to the long term attitude towards relationships which are filled with jealousy, mistrust and insecurities.
Parents not being at home so much with their children because lifestyle choices somehow dictate the pursuit of money has to be the most important factor in having a good life. The more money one has the more the idea of happiness via material goods is perpetuated. Often it is not until someone "has it all" that they realise that they may not have what makes them happy. By the time that penny drops, children have drifted away from the family unit, spouse may have had enough and is planning a life elsewhere or, worse still, the huge debt via credit cards, personal loans and mortages becomes the biggest monster of all in the life of someone who started off with the best intentions. Big house, triple garage, private school, big tv's, chef's kitchen, pool, latest fashion - the list goes on and on along with the debt of maintaining it all. All of it based on some sense of having to be validated via ownership of stuff.
So, is school better now? Not necessarily. Is being a teenager easier? I wonder. Are we happier in society? Apparantly not. Do material goods make one happier? Not always.
Is happiness truly found within? Ask the Dalai Lama.
Are sausages and mash on a Friday night as yummy as a pizza? S tells me yes.
Are children really, really important creatures in our big and overcrowded world? Yes, yes and yes again.
So, why don't we make them feel that they really are? Maybe because no-one bothered telling us and we have forgotten how much more meaningful being a child would have been if someone had all those years ago.
Am I blabbing? Yep. Do I care what anyone thinks of my blab? Apparantly not since I am just about to upload it.
Fat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, FatFat, Fat, Fat, Fat, Fat
I am having a fat day.