WINE… & MUCH MORE I always thought i was the control freak in our relationship, but i think the Hub may have taken that honour yesterday. We finally got around to tackling most of the packing for next Friday’s housemove. It was tedious and i hated every minute of it, but it wasn’t complicated. We had boxes galore and bubblewrap and paper, tape, scissors, black marker pen. We were pretty organised. I didn’t realise, however, just how organised we were about to get until the Hub insisted that we pack the entire contents of our kitchen cupboards. All the crockery, the pots and pans. He allowed me to leave out a couple of glasses, and the cutlery. The condiments, too, could stay on the bench but that was it. Even the toaster was packed away. “Why can’t we leave a few things out? Are we eating takeaway all week until Friday? I mean, i’m not even going to be able to have breakfast at home next week.” “I eat my breakfast at work. You’ll have to do the same.” “But –!” “Just do it, honey. I’m off to dismantle the bed.” Could somebody tell me who took my husband away and put this control freak in his place instead??! So, there is no pleasure for me at home for the next few days. All the dvds are packed, as are the magazines and the music. We are sleeping on our mattress on the floor - how cute (not!), it reminds me of when i was a poor student. Arrgh! I got my own back later that night when the Hub came home with a mate after the Australia v. France football match. He wanted some wine to go with the takeaway he’d brought home. “Oh no, where’s the corkscrew?” he exclaimed after turning around several times in the bare kitchen. “You didn’t, did you?” Out of all the bottles of wine in our collection, the only ones that were screwtops were the expensive ones. “Open the bottle, go on,” i jeered.  “It’s only wine.” Hah!  The wine was only the beginning; wait ’til i tell him he’s paying for dinner every night next week. KEBABBAGE I don’t know what does[n't] goes through the Hub’s head sometimes. He had an industry dinner to attend last night, and although i was invited as his guest i wriggled out of it because i was simply too tired by the time the sun had set… I didn’t relish changing from my work attire into my gladrags, and slapping the face on, and sorting my unruly hair out, and clambering into my going-out heels… just for a dinner with a bunch of people i didn’t know, for a cause i had no clue about. Anyhow, i extracted a promise from the Hub that he would be home at a decent hour. He assured me that he would because he had a nine o’clock meeting this morning. I woke at half-past midnight to sound of him stomping around the apartment… then gambolling into the bedroom. “I’ve bought you a kebab!” he announced proudly. “Hmhfffhggh?” i snuffled. “Kebab, honey! I got you a kebab, come on!” “What? Kebab?” Fully lucid now, the horror of what had been said having hit me. “Yeah, come on!” “But… didn’t you have a big dinner a few hours ago?” Disbelief. Incomprehension. “Yeah, but i’m starving. Come on, it’s getting cold.” “Pass. I was fast asleep a couple of minutes ago.” “Come on, honey. I got us one each.” “What the hell did you do that for? I don’t even like effing kebabs.” “What do you mean? I can’t believe you’re not going to get up to eat your kebab. I can’t believe i came home when i could’ve stayed out with the boys.” “Oh, for Pete’s sake. Go eat your bloody kebab.” I’ve never been a big fan of kebabs. I mean, i would eat them but only because there was nothing else available at 2 ante.meridiem. and i’d been on the turps for the last seven hours. But they’re like McDonalds, Subways, and Burger King/Hungry Jacks - i can live without ‘em. Especially kebabs because they effing repeat on me. A kebab will stalk me for half a day, sometimes more, if i’m stupid enough to eat one. Actually, i don’t know which is worse: the gut ache or the repetition. I try to stay away from the bastards at all times. The Hub and i have been together since 1994, this October we will celebrate our eleventh wedding anniversary. You’d think he knew that already, huh? Funny guy. (You know i don’t mean funny ‘ha ha’.) He ate his kebab and bits of ‘my’ kebab. He was rancid when we woke up this morning. It was definitely not funny ‘ha ha’. WINEHOUSE INSPIRES CLEAN LIVING I‘ve been listening to Amy Winehouse’s Valerie on repeat this week. I don’t know what it is about the girl, but i’m yet to tire of her, although i wish she would just pull herself together. What is the point of having talent if you’re only going to smoke yourself to an early grave*? Foolish thing. At the age of 24, Winehouse probably thinks/thought she is/was invinsible. I know i certianly did, at that age, and continued to feel that way up until i turned thirty, i reckon, maybe thirty-two… I don’t remember exactly. It’s funny how the realisation hits you: it might be a gray hair or a line on your face or an ache in your left knee every time you take the steps down to your favourite restaurant. “Where did that come from?” you wonder, and then you realise that this is the same ache your mother or grandmother used to complain about when you were a child and you just wished they’d shut up about their creaky bones; why did you care, you were never going to feel that way! I seem to recall seeing my mother standing in front of the mirror with a pair of tweezers and yanking out her gray hairs strand by strand - or maybe that was me? I went for my fitness assessment at the work gym yesterday and was fully prepared to do dismally. The fact is i’m not that motivated about my fitness these days, i go twice or three times a week and usually grimace and grit my teeth throughout and complain inwardly the entire time i’m there. I search for excuses not to go, and whilst i’m there i’m fixated on “How much longer do i have to suffer?” (Case in point, when i fronted for my assessment yesterday, i realised i had forgotten my socks and would have to get sweaty without them, which was enough to make me seriously consider calling the whole thing off. Pathetic, isn’t it?) But still, i do go, and do allow myself to admit that, almost always, i feel much better afterwards. However, if i had to choose a reason for my going to the gym, i would say it was all vanity-, rather than health-related. I really am that shallow, i’m afraid. So, anyway, i was saying… the assessment. Surprise surprise, i didn’t flunk. Turns out those half-hearted sessions have paid off after all. Most of my scores were in the healthy/fit range, and the instructor even asked if i had been ‘training’. When i told him my age -because he asked- he asked, “Are you sure?… Because you’re scores belong to that of someone much younger.” I laughed so hard i almost fell off the stationary bike. Anyway, i’m looking forward to starting my fitness regimen again; i’ve not been working out for a month because things have been all over the place in between quitting the old job and starting the new job. It’s really handy that the gym at work is two floors down from me, too. I’ll have no excuse now… although given a half a chance, i’m sure i could come up with one! Weird how i started off with Amy Winehouse and ended up with my so-called fitness. I guess she serves as a reminder that the party lifestyle isn’t necessarily good for you, that you’ve only got one body - so don’t f*ck it up! _____________________________ * Okay, okay, no one says she’s on her deathbed, but you know what i mean… There will be no singing with an oxygen mask clamped over her face, is what i mean. Yeah, yeah, you got it. POINTLESS PREACHING I was standing at the traffic lights just by Paddy’s Markets yesterday afternoon; the lights were red.  The man on the loudspeaker four or five metres away from me was pleading with passersby to “Accept God into your lives.  Because God loves you.  Because God is here to save you… if you allow him into your hearts…  God LOVES you!”  And so it went on, the man repeating himself in a sort of demented sound loop.  The lights were particularly slow to change.  The traffic was too heavy for me to try to dodge cars, run across the road to escape the noise God pollution.  When the man started on again about God being here to save us, and about how lucky we were to have him in our lives, i shouted out, “Stop repeating yourself!”  I didn’t mean to… didn’t want to… but couldn’t help myself.  The Hub nudged me, “Ssshh–!”  How anyone can be so deluded as to think they can convert people by ‘pavement preaching’ is beyond me. WINTER, SUPPOSEDLY We’ve had the most glorious weekend here in Sydney.  Hard to believe it’s winter, in fact yesterday was The Shortest Day of the Year.  Met friend, K., late-morning yesterday for a viewing of Taisho Chic at the Art Gallery of NSW.  We ooh-ed and ahh-ed over the paintings, prints, textiles (including a collection of amazing kimonos) then made our way to Woolloomooloo to the Tilbury.  Alas, the pub’s restaurant was booked out for a function so K. and i downed G&Ts and leapt into a cab to Paddington to meet our other-halves at the Four In Hand for a bit of pub grub: a burger for the Hub, fish-and-chips for the rest of us.  Later, it was Burrito Night at R.’s.  I was feeling tired from the exhaustions of the week by then (out Tuesday night until 3 a.m.; out Friday night with sake and vino) but perked up thanks to a couple of Margharitas and a burrito or two.  We sat around talking until 2 a.m.  And to think i had been thinking of taking it easy for a while. As for today… we’ve done a spot of packing - the house move happens on 4 July - but mostly i’ve been sitting around marvelling at the sunshine (as seen from my apartment balcony, below). Cold, dark, damp winters of my England days are a distant memory. GANGLION The human body is an amazing thing.  Because the bump on my wrist has disappeared, simply vanished, overnight.  It was there for about two or three weeks, and was annoying me because it hurt -just a little-, as well as freaking my friends out because it was protruding and they’d never met anyone with a ganglion before. “I always used to get them when i was younger,” i said, trying to reassure them that it was not a cancerous growth.  “Can i touch it?” a friend asked, before giving it a poke, then making a face. “You’re a freak,” the Hub said.  (I’m sure he wanted to say “but you’re my freak” too, but he forgot to do that, huh?) It looked exactly like the ganglion on this person’s wrist.  (The ganglions i used to get when i was younger used to be on the inner side of my wrist, this outer side version was a new development, so to speak.) So, like i said: gone.  Just like that.  I’m ‘normal’ again. MONGOL It was a cold and blustery day yesterday; a perfect day for the movies.  I wanted to see ‘Sex and the City’, but the Hub had other ideas.  “Let’s go see ‘Mongol‘ first, then we can go see ‘Sex and the City’.” I could see right through his cunning plan.  He probably thought that i would have had my big screen fix and be happy to go home after two hours of ‘Mongol’.  There was only one showing of ‘Mongol’ for the day so there was no way i could manipulate the plan to my advantage; we couldn’t go to an earlier showing of SATC as the Hub wanted to check in on one of the bars -newly opened on Thursday in Parramatta- and he wouldn’t be back in time.  So i didn’t fight it even though i really wanted to see SATC, and didn’t want to see a film about a Mongol warlord who fought and pillaged his way to conquering most of the Asian continent. Much to my surprise, i enjoyed ‘Mongol’.  The film was pro Genghis Khan so although there was plenty of fighting and fake blood, the film also tried to show the main character as a charismatic and thoughtful human being who rose from the challenges of his childhood and slavery to greatness, as a family man, and as a faithful lover and husband.   What i loved about the film, though, was the stunning imagery.  The landscape scenes, in particular, were awesomely beautiful.  I couldn’t get enough of the eye candy, and was glad to have seen the film on the big screen.  (I must confess to shielding my eyes from one or two fight scenes, though.) As soon as i got home, i raided our library* to find ‘Kublai Khan; The Mongol king who remade China‘, which the Hub had read and raved about last year, and made a start immediately.  The author, John Man, also wrote ‘Genghis Khan‘, which i will buy as soon as i’ve finished ‘Kublai Khan’.  __________________________ * Was fortunate that we’ve only packed away half of our books, and that KK was in the unboxed half! Poster image from IMDB Landscape image from Mongol Official Movie Site YOU KNOW, BPB? Another thing about working in a large firm to which i will have to accustom myself is the acronyms.  There are so so many acronyms. On my first day, i was issued a list of useful acronyms, five or six A4 pages of ‘em, in font size ’small’.  I would be referring to those pages, rest assured, and in fact there would be conversations in which acronyms would be bandied about and i would have absolutely no idea what people were talking about but not to be shy, to just ask, because “people simply forget that others may not be familiar with their acronyms.” I seem to have embraced the concept with no problems.  Hub: “Gee, you wolfed down your dinner.  What did you have for lunch today?” Me: “Nothing, hence.  I did say i was hungry before we sat down, didn’t i?” Hub: “Yeah, but still.  Wow.  Did you have any breakfast?” Me: “Umm, oh yeah, i bought a BPB from that place on the corner as i was walking past on my way to the shops–” Hub:”BPB…?!” Me: “Yes, honey, you know, ‘barbecue pork bun‘*!” Hub: “Bloody hell.” _____________________________ * For the record, i had a baked BPB, not a steamed one.  WEEK ONE The first week at the new job has been fine, albeit exhausting.  I’ve gone from being the go-to person to being the Newbie Who Knows Nothing.  Because everything is unfamiliar -from telephone system to Lotus Notes*- even the simplest tasks require thought.  Most of all, there are so many processes and procedures to get used to - all part and parcel of working in a large organisation, i know. I’m not complaining though… it’s a refreshing change to switch from auto-pilot, and i’m relishing the realisation that i have a long way to go, it’s a great motivator. ______________________________ * I miss MS Outlook, though.  I wonder why anyone would choose Lotus Notes over Outlook.  Lotus Notes seems so clunky, out-dated and less user-friendly.  The fact that i can’t use keyboard shortcuts is something i will have to get used to - i feel like i’m working at a snail’s pace, though, sans shortcuts. THIRSTY? Here is what happened at the pub yesterday evening.  The guy on the right (in the white t-shirt and cap) is a friend of the Hub’s; the guy on the left was a random punter… who only won the contest because he spilt half his drink down himself by not doing it right. It’s amazing how stretchy the human jaw can be. UGGLY SIGNS I‘ve been ‘unemployed’ since Wednesday and have spent most of it at home.  The weather has been majorly shite and immensely uninspiring, and i’ve never been a winter person besides.  The only thing i did on Wednesday was go to the post office, whilst on Thursday i bought the dvd series of Underbelly which i managed to miss when it was on television recently.  Yesterday morning, less than 24 hours after beginning -and finishing- Underbelly (13 episodes), i went out once more to drop off my drycleaning -two dresses, a two-piece skirt suit, two jackets (all black)- only to head out to pick them up at about two p.m. but after wandering for about two hours managed to arrive home without so much as remembering to collect said items of drycleaning.  It’s official: brain has turned to mush from three days of not being at work. It’s a long weekend in NSW so i will be starting the new job on Tuesday.  Hopefully, i’ll still be able to string a few words together by then, a few words such as “Hi, my name is…” (I should also mention that each time i ventured out of the house, i did so wearing my Ugg Boots.  If that is not a clear sign of mental decline, i don’t know what is.) ________________________ I have not done a scrap of packing. DON’T HOLD BACK The name of the band is a bit dubious, but this track is infectious and a guaranteed foot-stomper.  Enjoy.   LONG LUNCH My last day at the office was memorable for the fact that i was there only until lunchtime.  The bosses insisted on taking me for a long lunch and who was i to argue? I chose Cafe Sydney because i wanted to go somewhere with a view, and Cafe Sydney has one better than most.  The restaurant faces Circular Quay front-on with the Harbour Bridge on one side, and the Opera House on the other.  On a sunny day, the terrace is the place to be for a long lazy lunch, but my ‘last day’ was all rain and gray skies which meant that we sat inside.  Even on a rainy day, the view is still something to behold. Seafood, and lots of it: we shared the platter of oysters, crab, yabbies, bugs, scampi, prawns and marron on ice with mayonnaise and cocktail sauce ($135.00) as an entree.  The seafood was deliciously fresh and sweet and it took us longer to tackle than expected.  It was almost two p.m. by the time we were ready for mains.  I chose the Grilled tuna with salt cod brandade filled zucchini flower, kipfler potatoes, peas and salsa verde ($38.00) for my main.  One of my bosses had the Tandoori roasted salmon fillet with chana masala, pumpkin chutney, preserved lemon, watercress, radish and buffalo yoghurt raita ($35.00), the other had one of the specials which, of course, i don’t remember (i think it was wagyu beef).  We must’ve had three, maybe four, bottles of wine.  Our long lunch finally ended at about six p.m.  Unsurprisingly, our table was the last to leave from lunchtime, with the floor staff setting up the tables for the dinner service around us.  Despite all that wine, i was still standing, which was a good thing as the bosses wanted to carry on with a few more drinks.  We ended up at the Shangri-La’s Blu Horizon Bar*.  The Hub came to join us, and we carried on until about nine-thirty.  We don’t do things by halves, do we? (Somewhat astoundingly, i woke up without a hangover today.) ___________________________ Image from Your Restaurants  * Previously mentioned here MESS I‘m all out-of-sorts at the moment.  The picture above is of our spare room, but it is a good representation of how i feel on the inside.  Things are all over the place, lots of changes in my life.  Last day at the old job tomorrow, about a week off in between, and i begin the new job on June 10.  We move house at the beginning of July.  Job, house.  (I need something else to happen to make it a trifecta… OK, perhaps not, i don’t think i’d cope very well!) Seriously, this is my attempt at explaining why i’ve been so pissweak at posting lately.  The words are obscured by the mess. TAGGED, THUS… Belongum tagged me, which was a good thing as i have been wallowing for the last couple of days in “ummm, i dunno what i wanna say…”  Cheers, Belongum! The rules of the game get posted at the beginning. Each player answers the questions about themselves. At the end of the post, the player then tags 6 people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know they’ve been tagged and asking them to read your blog.  Let the person who tagged you know when you’ve posted your answer. a) What was I doing 10 years ago? I was living in London.  Working hard during the week and partying a little too much on the weekends.  b) What are 5 things on my to-do list for today: (i) Tidying my desk in anticipation of my last day at the firm (next Tuesday)… It’s amazing how much junk accumulates after three years.  I’ve been chipping away at it every other day or so for the last couple of weeks. (ii) Tidying and filing for one boss whose office looks like a bomb has gone off in it.  (iii) Deciding on a restaurant where the two bosses can take me for my last supper lunch next Tuesday.  (iv) Looking forward to dinner at Pier tonight with a group of colleagues.  (The Hub and i visited the restaurant’s Tasting Room last year and it was terrific.) (v) Thinking about a few words that i might be able to string together if a small speech is required at my leaving drinks tomorrow afternoon.  (Unlikely, but better to be prepared.) c) Snacks I enjoy: Sometimes it’s Wasabi Peas.  Other times it’s NongShim Shrimp Crackers.  (For the last week or so, it’s been the latter.  I know they’re bad for me, but i love ‘em.) d) Things I would do if I were a billionaire: Travel.  Invest in property.  Buy the boots - obviously! e) Places I have lived: Petaling Jaya (Malaysia), Perth (Australia), London (UK), Sydney (Australia) … i reckon that’s it.  f) Who am I tagging: Anyone who fancies a meme.  G’arn!  You know you wanna!  ALL OR NOTHING It’s All or Nothing for me.  Friday was Nothing.  I declined offers to go out that evening, instead did a post-work session at the gym, then went home and piled some laundry into the washing machine.  Was in bed at a decent hour. Saturday was All.  Left the house at half-eight in the morn.  Meandered slowly through town then got on the ferry to Manly for brunch with a friend.  Afterwards, stalked the shops looking for a pair of boots* for winter.  Arrived home at half-three, then headed out again for a meeting at the house with the soon-to-be ex-owner.  We didn’t get out of there until six p.m.  (”You can tell she lives alone,” the Hub said as we got into the car afterwards, “Yack yack yack.”  I couldn’t disagree.)  Home again for two hours during which time there were three outfit changes, and no glasses of wine…  I left the house at eight.  I didn’t get home until seven a.m. Sunday. _______________________ * The boots were also Nothing.  The ones i wanted were $1,410.  I can’t have them so i won’t have any boots at all. WHERE? So, i had another one of those “I can’t believe i said that out loud” moments today. Here’s the scene.  I was with the chiropractor, lying on my front as he was pummelling and prodding my back.  I was complaining about how hideous i’d been feeling lately… how the cold had been bugging me… in fact, how i hated the fact that i was always cold regardless of the season.  (And in case anyone is wondering if i was just having a good old moan, i wasn’t really.  Mr Chiro had asked the question, so i was merely answering.) He continued to ask a few more questions about the cold and my intolerance for it, felt my fingers even, which were like ice blocks; my feet were, too.  “Do you have a history of thyroid problems in your family?” he asked. “Yes… my mother…” i said.  “I think… she has… hypothyroidism,” i said, all the while trying to remember if my mother’s condition really was hypo- versus hyperthyroidism.  “Yes, i think it definitely is hypo.” “Aha,” Mr Chiro said.  “You could do a little test actually…  You get one of those old fashioned thermometers…” “Oh, one of those mercury ones?” “Yup, one of those, and have it by your nightstand so that you can take your temperature upon waking -before you start moving around- for a few mornings in a row.” “And then…?  I mean, what’s the typical temperature range for a person with a normal thyroid?” “Well, i can’t tell you, or you’ll probably cheat.” I couldn’t argue.  He was right, i probably would’ve cheated.  “Okay, i’ll be patient.  So, where does the thermometer go?” “Not in your mouth.”  “Vegemite Valley?” i said (before realising that i’d said it). “Where?” Mr Chiro asked. I was still lying on my front, which was a damned good thing, because i think i must’ve turned deep red.  “No, you put the thermometer in your arm pit,” he said, all normal, and for a moment i thought he might’ve missed what i’d said, that he’d only heard a muffle of something from me and was asking ‘where’ in general terms.  But then he said, ”Oh, you Aussies*.  Hah, i hadn’t heard that one before!  …I think i’ll just write you a referral for a live blood analysis at the lab instead…” Crap.  (Pun intended.) ________________________ * Mr Chiro is Canadian STUFF OF AWKWARDNESS Would you point out to someone that their fly was undone?  Or that they had a bit of pesto stuck between their teeth?  Or that their hairpiece was askew?  I’m only asking because i was talking to someone the other day and he had some white ’stuff’ on the side of his mouth and i did nothing.  Well, no, i kept talking… whilst studiously ignoring the stuff, focusing intently on our discussion -which wasn’t that interesting- instead.  All the while, i was thinking, “Cappucino froth?  Toothpaste?  Shaving foam?”  For all the so-called focusing, i may have come across as a tad distracted. I mentioned it to a friend later and she chastised me for not saying something.  “I’m bad at that sort of thing,” i protested weakly. “Yeah, but you really should’ve said, or done, something… Just a little tap on the side of your mouth and a quick wiping motion - he would’ve gotten it.” “You think so?  He had half of his ablutions on his face.”  (By then i had decided it was either remnants of toothpaste or shave foam.) “I still think you should’ve said something.”  She continued for a few  minutes longer about how if it had been her she would’ve been appalled afterwards when she realised i had seen her that way and not pointed it out… about how, for future reference, i should always always say something if she were in a similar situation… and about how in the world did his girlfriend let him walk out of the house in that state?! …Oh.  Well, maybe next time then. 5:55/GAINSBOURG This is an oldish, in other words not current, that is to say more than a year old, vid.  But i adore it. INSTANT ADDICTION Help.  I am back on the poison. … And not just any old coffee.  The really bad instant coffee with extra sugar, skim milk powder, coconut oil, lactose, maltodextrin, flavour and artificial flavour, cellulose gum, sodium caseinate, dipotassium phosphate, sodium metaphosphate, sodium citrate and salt.  What the other ingredients (the ones after the flavours, naturally occurring and artificial) are doing there, i don’t know, but i am now hopelessly hooked.  So hooked.  I don’t care what they are doing there. It began with one sachet.  I found a box of the things in the kitchen at the office, and thought i’d try one, just for fun.  Before i knew it i’d finished the communal supplies and was buying my own.  It’s been two weeks now… A sachet a day.  Sometimes, two.  I like the way it smells more than the way it tastes.  But combined, the scent and the flavour really get me going in the morning.  I know all that sugar and lactose and whatnot are bad.  I suffer the bunged up lactose-nose for an hour post-consumption gladly, just so my tastebuds get to party, and my brain gets the caffeine hit.  There’s no way back now.  MISS PUSS She’s the boss of the house, and well known in the neighbourhood.  She comes and goes as she pleases, likes a bit of roo meat for dinner.  She’s chosen the house, and if you’re nice she might let you stay there (like she has the current/soon-to-be-departing owner). I spoke with the lady vendor yesterday.  She was relieved when i said we were cat lovers.  “Thank goodness!” she exclaimed, “I’ve been so worried about Miss Puss.” I reassured her again.  “Her name used to be Tabitha, but when i moved in i didn’t think she looked like a Tabitha, and started calling her Miss Puss…”  She rambled on some more about The Cat, the roo meat, etc. I didn’t mention my allergy and the massive 15-minute sneezing fit i had after we’d left the house when i first came into contact with Miss Puss.  I wish i were kidding.  I sneezed and sneezed and sneezed… and sneezed so much, the Hub told me to go some place else -we were viewing another property at the time- and the agent at that house looked at me with such a mixture of concern and bewilderment, i could just about hear him saying “Are you okay, you… freak?  I hope it’s not catching.” I’m sure i’ll be fine.  I’m going to have to be, aren’t i?  Miss Puss won’t care, and as we’ve seen she’s chosen the house, so the people in it simply have to get used to having her around. ENOUGH ALREADY I‘ve mentioned colleagues on this blog in the past, but i’m not going to link to the specific posts now; in fact, i’ve made some of the work-related posts private or password-protected.  I know it’s not smart to blog about work but sometimes i need an outlet so i allow myself to hammer it out in black-and-white… only to panic later, and subsequently convert the posts to private etc. Which brings me to this…  I know i’m leaving soon, i know i should block out the awful atmosphere, the cattiness, the bitter feuding between my colleagues that will see them both attending an all-day mediation session next Monday.  An all-day session which is destined to fail, i might add. Some people are simply awful and beyond help, i feel.  When a colleague tells you she hates the sound of your coughing and she wishes you would “just shut up”, how is that supposed to make you want to work with her?  Or when she messages you when you are on the phone to tell you that she doesn’t wish to listen to your personal calls, and could you please take it elsewhere (and this is immediately after you have both been in a two-hour session with the mediator, mind).  And then proceeds to make/take personal calls herself. Thankfully, it’s not me who’s been at the receiving end of this colleague’s attrocious and unacceptable attitude, but i’m finding it difficult to ignore.  The atmosphere is toxic and hateful and i can’t wait to get the f_ck out of there. Just over two weeks to go.  Give me strength. REALISATION I know my life doesn’t revolve around work, but i’ve realised with part amusement/part annoyance that my GPs (both of them), chiropractor, hairdresser, gym, and dentist are all situated close to the current office.  Changing jobs in early-June means that i will be leaving the north end of town; my new location will see me at the Chinatown-end of George Street (yes, it’s within “coo-ee” distance of the apartment) so i’ll probably have to find myself a new set of personal service providers.  (Except for the hairdresser and gym, the others don’t open on weekends.  Typical, isn’t it?) My life has revolved -geographically speaking- around the office. SIMPLE PLEASURE I‘m yet to decide which is the more satisfying: the process of completing a Samurai Sudoku… or simply beholding the completed Samurai Sudoku.  The one above was from the ‘Good Weekend’ magazine of last Saturday’s Sydney Morning Herald.  My friends were kind enough not to insist that i joined them in their game of Uno, rather allowed me to sit beside them with my pencil poised over the page as they went about their favourite card game, arguing about the cards, banging on the table, noisily calling out “Uno!” from time to time. All that aside, i must say that i’ve tried playing Sudoku and Samurai Sudoku online, but it’s not quite as enjoyable as the paper version.  I reckon i’m simply an old school paper-and-pencil person.  It’s simple, but heck, it’s good. COOLER PIX Finally cracked the sh*ts with our little Nikon CoolPix 775 on the weekend.  I was midway through snap-happy mode when the gadget stopped, flashing the dreaded words in red “MEMORY CARD FULL”.  What?!  It had only just gone midday.  I didn’t have a spare memory card, no, of course not.  Later that evening, friend, D., whilst scrolling through the camera checking out my pics, commented, “Your camera is really slow, isn’t it?… I groaned.  “I know.  And the screen is so teeny-tiny.”  At that moment, i decided it was time for an upgrade. So, thanks for the memories, CoolPix, but make way for the Canon Ixus 80 IS.  When i got to the office yesterday morning, the first thing i did was call a camera shop to check that they had the camera in stock and by lunchtime, i had it in my hand.  I can’t believe i lasted so long with such a clunky, slow gizmo.  I mean, the CoolPix was purchased in 2001, and there have been so many improvements to digital handhelds in between.  For a start they look so much sleeker and, dare i say it, sexier.  I suppose the way they look has evolved much in the same way as mobile phones have done.  And as for their functionality, well, the user manuals are much fatter these days. Happy snaps days ahead.  Now, who wants to read the manual for me? _____________________________ Images from www.canon.com.au, www.shutterphoto.com and www.dcresource.com THIS WEEK’S MUSICAL OBSESSION Wow wow wow.  Some people just don’t look the way you imagine them.  No matter.  Sam Sparro is rocking my world this week. WEEKEND AWAY A couple of girlfriends and i had planned a beachside girls’ weekend about a month or so ago.  Little did i know at the time of planning that i would be desperate for the getaway, that i would be buying a house and quitting the job all in the same week. Hyams Beach’s claim to fame is that it has “the world’s whitest sand”.  I don’t know if this is true, even though i examined the sand at close range yesterday.  It was, admittedly, very white… But the whitest?  Whatever, it was beautiful.  Because it was off-season, there were very few other beach-goers about.  We were lucky with the weather, too - the sun shone brightly yesterday, and the sky was as blue as blue can be. We spent hours yesterday walking in the bush as well as on the beach.  It was lovely not to be in the city; mobile coverage was patchy, too, which meant i really had no choice but to switch off.  I took my cue from the ‘locals’, like this roo, who was quite comfortable to relax in the sunshine…   RE/SIGNED… GO FORWARD It’s been quite an eventful week.  Yesterday, the Hub and i signed the papers for the house.  On the same day, i resigned from the job*, with four weeks’ notice.  I’ve gone from being certain [that i'm doing the right thing] to doubting my decision to leave to back to certainty.  I’m told that life’s big decisions can do that to a person.  First you’re sure you’ve made the right choice, then an hour later you’re second-guessing yourself… By the time the sun sets on your day, you will have repeated the process a hundred times. Yesterday afternoon, when i arrived at the chiropractor’s for my fortnightly adjustment, i was in yet another doubting phase.  On the noticeboard was written the following: My message to you is this: Be courageous Have faith Go forward. ~ Thomas Edison That, i’ve decided, will be my mantra in the coming weeks. _______________________ * I start my new job on June 9. SMUG MARRIED*, ME… SCARY SINGLE, YOU I don’t know if anyone else experiences the same but for those of us who are in relationships, do you ever find it difficult to balance your twosome status with the needs/wants of your single friends?  I struggle with this on a regular basis. Single friends who want to go out to bars where they can pull… and you just want to go somewhere where you don’t feel like a serving of something on a kaiten sushi conveyor belt.  Single friends who keep bugging you for introductions to other single friends in your circle… when all you want is for them to leave you out of it, because if it goes badly you don’t want to feel responsible.  Single friends who want to do weekend activities which hold no interest to your partner so you invariably decline the invitation… because you only have the weekend to spend time with your partner so if he doesn’t want to do whatever it is, then you have to choose him otherwise you don’t see him all weekend.  Or something more or less complicated than that. In the end, i simply go into hibernation/hiding for a couple or few weeks, anything to ease the weight of expectation, to forget the desperate looks, the not-so-subtle hints.  Which brings the messages, “Haven’t heard from you in a while… are you okay?”  The emails, “Where are ya?  What are you doing tonight?”  “When are we catching up?  Can you bring so-and-so [single friend] along?”  May i say now that the question “What are you doing tonight?” on a Saturday late-afternoon never fails to hit me with the weight of expectation although i don’t know why i allow myself to feel that way. I wonder if it’s only me who finds singles-doubles socialising tricky.  Maybe i’m not evolved enough to handle something quite so elaborate as my single friends doing the rounds when i’m around them.  Blatant ‘being on the pull’ behaviour makes me uncomfortable.  I especially dislike witnessing packs of singletons on the hunt.  What can i say, i’m a work in progress.  And it’s going slowly, my dear [single] friends. ________________________ *With apologies to Bridget Jones/Helen Fielding Image details: Woman holding a piece of sushi in chopsticks served by picapp.com ROBYN’S ‘COBRASTYLE’ Her style was da bomb, yes it was, on David Letterman’s Late Show last week.  And i love the oversized bear heads.