Porridge

I have been making a lot of porridge lately. Dad has always made us kids porridge, for as far back as I can remember. He makes the best porridge, with lots of muesli! It's so much better with muesli as well as oats.

Everytime I stand infront of the stove and make our porridge, I think of my Dad, and how he taught me to make it just right. With the right balance of each of the ingredients, spooned into the saucepan. Then after it's served, adding a raw or brown sugar sprinkling to the top of it. Mmm yummy.

At the time you learn these things, you don't realise how special those moments are. When your parents teach you something, that becomes a tradition through out your life. Treasure the moments.

Farts and Marriage

Husband: Oh dear god! Do not breathe through your nose!

Wife: You are so lucky that I have a cold. (As she walks away from the stench at the couch to clear the table) Else you might be signing some papers about now.

Husband: Oh my god, my nose is burning!

Wife: Well you brought it on yourself!

Tulips

On the weekend I bought some beautiful tulips, the same ones that we had at our wedding in the bridesmaids boquets and at the reception. They are a lovely brilliant orange with yellow tips. I love them. They are so perfectly rounded and structured, they are living even after they are cut. They continue to grow in the vase, like the cream ones in my boquet that grew about an inch during our wedding day. They also continue to react to light after they are cut, they sleep in the dark and open up when exposed to light.

Hard to beleive that we have been married almost a year.

Bus trip turn around

A few days after my bad bus experience post I had a great bus day! The morning didn't start that well, the guy at the newsagent still stared right through me, and my first bus driver did manage to drive into the trunk of a tree! Oh yeh, I am not joking! But that resulted in a lovely walk to the next bus stop with the little 75 year old lady who was sitting next to me on the 'tree' bus. She was visiting her daughter and was heading to central to go on a little day trip to meet a friend. She was sooo cute!

On the way home from work that evening I met another lady, she was wearing the same perfume as me and was visiting a friend in my subhurb. I also met a little old couple who required bus advice, which I am not that good at giving, but I managed this one well as they needed the same bus mine. The old guy was born in my home town and grew up on Rottnest Island! His Dad designed this open air cinema in the middle of Perth, that has now been torn down. We had a lovely chat on the way home, and I was actually dissapointed to get off the bus, when I normally rush of there like a drug addict running from the cops. (Too politically incorrect? Ok maybe, I'm sorry. I have been trying sarcasm on for size, I think that in the right scenario's that it fits.)

Colour my Betty

Two posts in one day! It must be Christmas!

I stumbled across this on the Mighty Goods online store, which has some hilarious wares. At first I couldn't beleive what I was seeing, then it all sunk in and all hell broke loose on the hilarity front.

Make sure you hang on this site long enough to read all of the clientelle endorsements. My paticular favourite is, "I didn't know I still had a Betty, thankyou for reminding me..." (Haa haa haa haa)

(P.S. Betty is such a polite name for a woman's anatomy, much more polite than my cheeseburger label.)

Terrorism Finger Puppets

For when you require that great political gift for someone special.

Find them here at mossonline.com

My public transport journey…

AM

• Usually begins by missing the green man at the traffic lights and waiting a whole cycle before I am able to cross.
• Moves on to trying to buy a “travel ten” from the newsagency, and perhaps the daily paper. From a man who appears to be blind and doesn’t see me standing right in front of him dangling the paper and a $10.00 note. He could also try smiling once in a while so he seems more like a human being and less like a terracotta warrior.
• Continues with me standing at the bus stop, either being sprayed by a high pressure hose seeking to remove last nights vomit from the sidewalk, and/or being harassed by the possible owner of said vomit as he looms in front of me and try’s to crack on to me. Me responding to his dribble by saying, “I do not want to talk to you” Sounds cruel I know, but you have to cut him off at the pass because if you smile politely he may follow you to work.
• Then I get on the bus and stand like a sardine, pressed up against a rather unattractive male who attempts to look down my top, or read the newspaper over my shoulder. If I am lucky enough to get a seat it will be next to a high school student yelling at her girlfriend down the phone, “Oh my God, did you see what Chantal was wearing yesterday? Oh my god, we so can’t talk to her anymore.” (Please tell me that I didn’t sound like that in high school!)
• Another passenger yelling at the bus driver, for no reason other than they haven’t had their morning fix of coffee yet, and the bus driver didn’t think to read there mind and stop when they didn’t physically push the stop button.
• I then depart bus A and head for bus B, which I squeeze onto amongst throngs of uni students. Though this trip is getting easier the further into the semester they get, and realise that they don’t want to go to uni anymore, or don’t want to sit in that lecture. Yay for me!
• Get off the bus and grab a coffee before getting to the office and scrubbing the public transport germs off my hands. “Aaah, get it off, get it off, get it off, get it off!” (aka Eliot from Scrubs style)

PM
Usually much of the same, yet in reverse, but sometimes deviates slightly to involve the following:

• Bus driver not letting me and a 75 year old man on the bus because he has decided that he doesn’t want a full load, and also can’t be bothered opening the front door for us, only the back one to let people off. (this happened today)
• Large man with no elastic in his tracky dacks, singing on to his very loud portable radio (think he may have had a few screws loose if you know what I mean?) poor guy I felt sad for him, radio is probably his only friend. I stopped feeling sorry for him when he exposed his large butt to me as he alighted from the bus, and I “Vomited in my mouth a little.” (aka Dr Evil style)
• Speaking of vomit; realise I am beginning to feel a little car sick on the bus, and can’t figure out why, realise that a previous passenger has left a little vomit present at the back of the bus that has not yet been cleaned, stench is nauseating. Perhaps it was the same guy from the morning.

Luckily you do find enough nice bus drivers, passengers and non-butt exposing people on the public transport system that keep you from stopping taking the bus.

Snakes on a what now?

Occasionally my husband makes me watch action films, often bad ones. Let’s face is most action films are bad ones. There have been a few goodies, like Bad Boys 2 was ok, the most recent James Bond I found enjoyable, in fact I like most of the James Bond films, and so was Fifth Element (actually I love Fifth Element).

We made a visit to the dvd store on the weekend and after some browsing time, he wandered over to me (meekly) with a dvd in his hand, which one you ask? Well it was the mutha of all cr*p action films, Snakes on a Plane. When he showed me the title my entire body cringed, like it never had before. Not unlike the kind of cringe you may experience when you watch something really embarrassing happen to someone, like when they have a giant booger hanging out their nose and they don’t know it. I felt embarrassed for my husband, who was standing in public with it in his hand, recommending that we watch it (poor guy). I also I felt incredibly embarrassed for the people who made it, cause even though at the time it seemed like a money maker, just how many people are going to take them seriously now? Come to think of it, there are a lot of people out there who love sh*t movies like this, so the producers will probably be able to make something of a similar floor scraping calibre, and manage to make another truckload of cash. If only they were donating that truck load of cash to a third world country instead of buying themselves a new Mercedes, I might be more inclined to go and see more of their cr*p movies.

So Snakes on a Plane more than lived up to its reputation, as you have probably guessed by now. It was cringe worthy from beginning to end, and the song in credits, well that was the absolute icing on the cake. Which was possibly the most hideous thing that my ears have ever had to experience, even more horrible than Paris Hiltons contribution to the music industry.

The only highlight for me was seeing Samuel L Jackson, Which made me think of Pulp Fiction, all the great scenes that Tarantino constructed, how great the character development was, and how d*amn funny and memorable it was, (I have already begun forcing Snakes on a Plane out of my consciousness). I am still a little confused as to why Mr Samuel L. Jackson agreed to be in this film. Was it only to say that totally forgettable line, “I am sick of all these *beep *beep snakes on this *beep *beep plane!” (rude words are replaced with beeps so I don’t get kicked off blogger). Perhaps they should have cast Michael Jackson in his part, I definitely would have seen it at the cinema then, if only for the laughs alone. They could have had one of the snakes flick the end of his nose with it’s tongue and knock it off, like a chip from a porcelain tea cup.

For all the smokers out there...

For all the smokers out there, this site is worth a look. The Art of Quitting

Long ago I was a little bit of a smoker, what I mean by that is that I was in a foreign country and I smoked whilst I was there, in café’s, on the train, in super markets, in the snow, whilst drinking coffee in Amsterdam. It was all very romantic, but in the end I came home, and I decided to stop. I haven’t smoked in ages, years now and I will never smoke again, it was a romance for a while, but it wasn’t meant to last. Also how romantic is it to wake up one day and have self inflicted lung cancer.

There is something about France…

There is something about France and all that is French (well maybe not all) that I find so attractive and enjoyable. I just finishes watching a movie set in France and it made me want to listen to Edith Piaf a much loved and admired French singer, who became a sort of icon I suppose for the French. I was introduced to Edith’s music by my Mum’s partner, and I love to pop it on and listen to her and imagine that I am sipping hot chocolate in Paris. Not that hot chocolate is particularly French, but I loved sipping hot chocolate when I was there, after visiting galleries with my Mum. Other things that I love about France are the galleries, the architecture, the history and even the people (well most of them).

My favourite movie ever is set in France, though it is directed by a Polish director. Trois couleurs: Bleu by Krzysztof Kieslowski is a magic film about liberty or as we mostly refer to it; freedom. Check it out, and whilst you are there watch the other two in the series Trois couleurs: Blanc and Trois couleurs: Rouge.

Aah, I want to go back to France for another holiday. I should learn the language first though, I am sure I would like it even better then.

International Women’s Day

Yesterday was International Women’s Day, so I thought that I should write something on this poor ole blog which is continually not being updated, due to me taking advantage of the rights and privileges that I have as a modern woman. I read an article today in the Sydney Morning Herald about women’s lib and how so many women fought for equal rights and opportunities for women in the workplace, in politics, in family life, and within society. It was a great article, and one of the things that shone out for me now is that women seem to be able to do everything, and achieve great heights in everything through pure dedication, and hard slog. We work hard to get where we want, and when we get there what do we do? We keep on working towards the next goal.

I know that in my group of girlfriends there are all high achievers, who seem to be incapable of not working hard every day of their lives. They constantly seeking perfection in all they do. They are amazing and fabulous women, and I am so lucky to have them in my life. But we all seem to have one thing in common, working so hard that we rarely give ourselves a break, and creating new dreams, goals and aims to live up to replace the ones that we have achieved. Are we incapable of resting a minute to reflect on all that we have achieved, and congratulating ourselves?

Sometimes I look at my life and I think, when will all this striving and working come to an end, when will I get to that place where all my goals have been achieved? It seems that keeping my house spick and span, having a first class honours degree, running my own business, freelancing, working part time in a studio, eating healthy, looking healthy, exercising, feeling great, looking great, being happy, striving to be the perfect wife, daughter, sister, friend, cousin, designer, woman is not enough?! Instead of just being happy that I can achieve all of the aforementioned things, I create these new goals in my head like; learning foreign languages, doing an PhD in Design and Fine Art (cause one is just not a high enough achievement), affording a great house in a great suburb, making a comfortable nest egg for a future family etc etc etc. This list grows every day, as if I didn’t have enough to achieve and manage already.

Maybe I just need to slow down, and stop adding to the list for a while, enjoy what I have achieved to date, appreciate where my decisions and hard work have gotten me, be satisfied today instead of dismissing satisfaction because I still haven’t achieved all tomorrow’s goals.

So this is my challenge to all who read this; take a minute to breath at the end of your day, and reflect on all the fabulous things you have done during the day, and all of the days leading up to that day. Remember all the goals you have already achieved, remember all of the great decisions you have already made, all of the hard work you have already done. Allow yourself to enjoy the satisfaction.