get outta my way, Granma

It seems yesterday was Old Chooks Day in town. There were grannies (and a few granpas) everywhere, in Jeans West and the supermarket and shuffling their way down the street.

And you know what made me mad?

Little-Miss-I'm-So-Busy-and-Important-Talking-On-My-Phone-That-I'm-Going-To-Push-Past-You-Silly-Slow-Old-Lady-And-Too-Bad-If-You-Lose-Your-Balance-Because-I'M-WALKING-HERE.

You know what, sweetheart?
You might be 20 now but you won't stay that way forever.
God willing, one day YOU will be the Old Chook with a cane or a Zimmer frame, shuffling round the shops in the cold and every one of your joints will be aching and your bones will be a lot more fragile than they used to be.
Your balance won't be crash hot and your hearing might be gone, and when some Important Young Thing goes swishing by you I hope she's a little more careful than you were today.

mad skillz babe

This is not a funny topic. At all. But two funny (ish) things happened to two women I know recently.

Both were applying for jobs they really wanted. Both are in their 40s. Both have been out of the workforce for some time.

Interview 1 with friend L went like this:

interviewer - so, L, can you tell me what your skills are?

L - L's brain picks this moment to take a break.
(silent)
(looks out the window)
(looks at interviewer)
(still silent)
Ummmm..... I'm sorry. I'm not sure what you mean....

interviewer - Well, can you tell me what you would bring to this job?

L just looks at her. Her brain is still absent. After a few more (very long) seconds of silence, she begins talking about how she thinks she can do the job, and manages to muddle her way through.
She cries in her car all the way home.

Interview 2 with J goes like this:

interviewer: So, J, can you tell me about your skills?

J : (brain freezes)......
..........................
........
pardon?

interviewer: Well, what would you bring to the job? What are your skills?

J : very flustered, bursts out in an accusing tone, Well, I don't have any! (not true, she does)

**********

Interviews aren't really fun for anyone, are they? But when you've been a full-time mum for years, recently divorced, worrying over a mortgage and how the kids are coping, and desperately need the job, the tension and stress plays havoc with your self-esteem.

Both these women could do the job. But they have trouble selling themselves.

I just hope both interviewers look past those disastrous replies, and see the real skills.

Gigi

I've thought a lot about writing this post, knowing that some people (like my MIL or my kids!) might be horrified, or feel too ill to finish their Weetbix.
I'm going to be talking about sex. Feel free to click away now, if you think you won't ever feel the same about me after reading this.

A while back, I was asked by the lovely girls at Love Rouge if I'd be interested in a product review.

I think most women have a fair amount of curiosity about sex toys, but many of us would rather tear out our tongues than talk about them, in anything but a light-hearted way.

A good on-line shop gives us freedom to browse, with no embarrassment, and Love Rouge is set up especially for women. They're polite, friendly, and professional, and even took the trouble to spell my name correctly, which is a nicety that escapes many businesses.

I was interested.

However, knowing how prim my Fabio can be about some things (like, he hates it that I sometimes drive in my pyjamas, even though they're flannie Elmo PJs and hardly likely to inflame the passions of passing motorists), I asked him how he would feel about me doing a review on my blog, for a vibrator.

OH, how I mis-judged him. He was like a little kid on Christmas morning, and couldn't quite believe that his wifes' little blog hobby thing led to him being asked to help try out a vibrator! {So, hardly an unbiased opinion.}

A few days later, a beautifully wrapped package appeared in the mail, with this little beauty inside.

The Lelo Gigi. Isn't she pretty?

Here are some of the things we like about her:

1. she's small and light. Easy to shove under the pillow suddenly, if you should have to.

2. she's easy to hold onto, and fits nicely into your hand. And she's soft, too.

3. she is very very quiet. Huge bonus if you have little kids. Or your mother is visiting.

4. she has a rechargeable battery, which runs for up to 6 hours - a fact that had Fabio VERY interested although I don't know why -- never gonna happen, babe. Sorry.
She takes only an hour or two to re-charge. This also had Fabio interested. Again -- not gonna happen, babe.

5. she has well designed controls. You need to hold the buttons down for a few seconds to turn her off or on, or adjust her speed, so you won't accidentally switch her off at the wrong moment, or have to try and track down a funny noise coming from the bedside table in the middle of the night because the ON button has been bumped. This has happened to -- err -- someone I know. Twice.
And she has a travel lock.

6. she has a nice shape that doesn't scream "I am a big penis-shaped vibrator" , so if the kids drag her out while you're having tea with Aunt Betty, you might be able to get away with saying she's your new face massager.
I have no idea what you might say if Aunty asks to try her, though.

7. she has 5 different modes, and they're really easy to adjust.

8. she's nicely curved, and she's slim. Not too fat, not too thin.

She gets 5 Toe Curls from me (this is a rating, not an actual count.)

And five from Fabio too. (Because I really like her.)

plain smokin'

I read yesterday about this:

... plain cigarette packaging that the Government wants to introduce.

This is what I think.

I quit smoking back in 1997, and I was never a really hard-core smoker anyway, but I do understand how hard it is to give the damn things up.
They have a stranglehold on your mind and body, and many people find it impossible to quit permanently.

I loathe smoking now. The smell is revolting, disgusting, and the merest whiff makes me feel sick and suffocated at the same time.

BUT -- although I wish no-one in the world smoked, I'm not going to tell people they can't. I don't want to live in a world where some 'Expert' decides what we can and can't do, for our own good.
Because, really, in the end we have to take responsibility for our own actions.
Everyone knows the dangers and risks of smoking. If they still do so, it's not out of ignorance.

I'm all for banning smoking in public places, because that affects everyone around the smoker. It is no longer just 'your right' that we're talking about here, it's the right of everyone around you not to have to breathe in that smoke.

But trying to force people into quitting isn't going to work.

You can put picture of corpses on the packets and people will keep smoking. You can charge $100 a packet, and people will keep smoking.
Someone will come up with cigarette cases, or a black market will open up, or folks will start growing their own, illegally.

Seriously -- you CAN NOT stop people from smoking if they're determined to.

And why the hell should we, anyway?

Who has the right to tell smokers that they can't smoke?

I have a strict no smoking rule in my house, and that's fine. When I visit my friends, who smoke, I don't insist they don't smoke while I'm there.
(In fact, out of respect for me, they always ask if I'd like to sit outside with them while they have a durrie.)

Should we continue educating people on the dangers of smoking? ABSOLUTELY.

Should we step up the campaign in schools? ABSOLUTELY. Because research shows that if you haven't started by the time you're 18-20, the chances are good that you never will.

Should we be subsidising smokers with health complications directly due to smoking? Hmmm. I don't know about this. I lean towards no.

Should our government be interfering in our lives to this extent? NO. It's not like they don't have better things to do.

And while I'm no fan of Big Tobacco, who after all are profiteering from an addiction, I also believe that no government has the right to interfere in the lives of ordinary people to this degree.
I hate that we're becoming such a Nanny Country.

There's an excellent video here, from an episode of The Gruen Transfer late last year.

I hope you'll take a couple of minutes to watch it, because a lot of angles on this issue are discussed and it's very interesting viewing.

Also -- I'd LOVE to hear what you think! Do you agree with plain packaging? Think it's a terrible idea? Tell us about it, in the comments.

colour me happy

I put on my new top, and went to ask Fabio what he thought.

"Do you like my new purple top?" I asked.

"Purple?!" he said. "I thought it was black."

"Well," I said, "it's really eggplant. Or, aubergine."

Fabio gave me a funny look. "No man ever came up with a name like 'aubergine'," he said.

Then he told me, "When I was a kid, I saw a box of 64 colouring pencils, and I thought to myself, 'Who would ever want 64 colours?'"

I laughed. "That's right, babe. You really only need black, white, blue and red, don't you?"

"Yes." he said. "AND there's only 2 kinds of blue. Blue. And light blue."

So there you go.

I know I've talked about colours and my men-folk before, but it's endlessly entertaining.

Jodi Picoult - Sing You Home

Jodi Picoult is one of my favourite authors.

What I love most about her is that with every novel, she forces me to re-evaluate.
What do I think, and why?
Her books are never about black-and-white issues. And she sketches the grey so beautifully.

Here is what her own site says about her latest novel, Sing You Home.

Zoe Baxter has spent ten years trying to get pregnant, and after multiple miscarriages and infertility issues, it looks like her dream is about to come true – she is seven months pregnant. But a terrible turn of events leads to a nightmare – one that takes away the baby she has already fallen for; and breaks apart her marriage to Max.


In the aftermath, she throws herself into her career as a music therapist – using music clinically to soothe burn victims in a hospital; to help Alzheimer’s patients connect with the present; to provide solace for hospice patients. When Vanessa – a guidance counselor -- asks her to work with a suicidal teen, their relationship moves from business to friendship and then, to Zoe’s surprise, blossoms into love. When Zoe allows herself to start thinking of having a family, again, she remembers that there are still frozen embryos that were never used by herself and Max.

Meanwhile, Max has found peace at the bottom of a bottle – until he is redeemed by an evangelical church, whose charismatic pastor – Clive Lincoln – has vowed to fight the “homosexual agenda” that has threatened traditional family values in America. But this mission becomes personal for Max, when Zoe and her same-sex partner say they want permission to raise his unborn child.


SING YOU HOME explores what it means to be gay in today’s world, and how reproductive science has outstripped the legal system. Are embryos people or property? What challenges do same-sex couples face when it comes to marriage and adoption? What happens when religion and sexual orientation – two issues that are supposed to be justice-blind – enter the courtroom? And most importantly, what constitutes a “traditional family” in today’s day and age?

I really couldn't put this down.
As an ex-member of a church that sounds JUST LIKE the one in the book, I found myself constantly checking my own opinions, and wondering what it is about gay marriage that so many people find so threatening.

If you're a Picoult fan, I think you're really going to like this one.

the secret language of love

I don't know why, but Fabio can't seem to put things back in the exact spot they came from. Like the coffee, tea and sugar canisters, for example -- they're ALWAYS a couple of inches out on the bench instead of pushed back neatly against the tiles.

I AM NOT COMPLAINING.
I love it that he spoils me by making me a cuppa.
And the thing with the canisters has become a bit of a joke between us.

I will push them back and he'll grin and later I'll find them all out on the bench again.

One morning I sneaked out to the shed and got a length of heavy chain and piled it all over and around the 3 canisters, and he laughed and laughed when he saw it.

This morning, I noticed the canisters are stacked up on top of one another.....

now I really have to put my brain to work. Any suggestions?

picnic

Yesterday, Fabio and I took a picnic lunch down to one of our favourite beaches, a place we used to visit regularly when we were courting.

We lie on a soft blanket on a little grassy hill, and look down over this tiny bay, more a cove really. It's a small strip of white, gritty sand, anchored at both ends by a careless jumble of big brown rocks.

The water, green at the shore and edged in lacy white foam, becomes the most brilliant turquoise a little further out, and then a deep indigo. There is a distant brown and blue smudge of land far away on the horizon.

All we can hear is the endless wash of waves on the sand, some kookaburras gently squabbling over a few crusts from lunch, and tiny birds chirruping in the bushes behind us.

We smell crushed gum leaves, fresh grass, the salt of the sea, and the fragrance of a cup of tea, as we lie here, reading and day-dreaming.

Over us, the deep solid blue bowl of the sky, stretching from horizon to horizon, perfectly cloudless.....

this is paradise.

love actually

Does anyone else love this movie?

How funny is Hugh Grant dancing?

And what about the hilarious part where Colin Farrell asks Aurelias' father for permission to marry his daughter....
Jamie: Good evening. Mr. Barros?

Mr. Barros: Yes?

Jamie: I am here to ask your daughter for her hands in marriage.

Mr. Barros: You want to marry my daughter?

Jamie: Yes.

Mr. Barros: [yelling toward the back of the house] Come here, there is a man at the door. He wants to marry you.

[a large and confused woman emerges]

Sophia Barros: But I've never seen him before.

Mr. Barros: Who cares?

Sophia Barros: You're going to sell me to a complete stranger?

Mr. Barros: Sell? Who said 'sell?' I'll pay him.

Jamie: Pardon me. I'm meaning your other daughter - Aurelia.

OH and the part where Emma Thompson confronts her husband about his roving eye?

Karen: Tell me, if you were in my position, what would you do?

Harry: What position is that?

Karen: Imagine your husband bought a gold necklace, and come Christmas gave it to somebody else...

Harry: Oh, Karen...

Karen: Would you wait around to find out if it's just a necklace, or if it's sex and a necklace, or if, worst of all, it's a necklace and love? Would you stay, knowing life would always be a little bit worse? Or would you cut and run?

Harry: Oh, God. I am so in the wrong. The classic fool!

Karen: [voice breaking] Yes, but you've also made a fool out of me, and you've made the life I lead foolish, too!

I ALWAYS cry at that bit.

But this is the part I was thinking of when I started to write this post. It's the intro.

Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport.
General opinion's starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don't see that.
It seems to me that love is everywhere.
Often, it's not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it's always there - fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends.
When the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know, none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge - they were all messages of love.
If you look for it, I've got a sneaking suspicion... love actually is all around.

I remember this every day when I'm at school, picking up the kids in the afternoon. All these little kids come running out of their classrooms, and run full pelt at their parents, leaping into their arms, yelling "Mum!" or "Daddy!" and there are massive hugs and kisses and occasional clobberings with a lunchbox.

It's cool.

Love is cool.