Intercontinental Drinking

I met El Kenco for drinks last night.  This was an impressive feat considering I live in Australia and she lives in England but hey ho.  Details!  As sisters we have to get together once in a while for girly chat.  It's just one of those things.  And unfortunately no one has invented a teleport machine yet - get on with it boffins! - and I can't afford to just hop on plane.  Instead we met via Skype.  For a glass of red wine and a girly natter.  Time differences be blown!  The timing was actually well suited for me as we Skyped at about 19.00 so it was almost mandatory for me to have a glass of wine in hand.  For El Kenco it was 10.00.  But as I said, time differences be blown!  El Kenco shunned etiquette and was on the red wine with me.  It's like drinking on Christmas day.  It's ok as long as you don't make a habit of it and if special circumstances require you to be on the booze before lunchtime.  This was a special circumstance.  Because when meeting for a girly natter, a glass of wine is essential.  So we met, we drank and we nattered for a good three hours.  It was like going out for a proper drink.  The only difference was not actually being on the same continent as one another and having a boyfriend in the background occasionally joining in with conversation.  It was a good night and whilst El Kenco then went on to a Caribbean themed event, I promptly fell asleep on the sofa.  We may be thousands of miles apart but we can still arrange drinks together.  Cheers! 

Compost Anxiety Dreams

I dream every single night.  I can't remember the last time I went to sleep without having some sort of dream.  And they're always really vivid and long winded.  It makes me wonder if I ever actually get a proper night's sleep with my brain conjuring up what it does.  I've been known to talk in my sleep, shout in my sleep and even scream in my sleep.  All because of the dreams - or nightmares - that are whizzing through my head.  Last night was no exception but I now appear to be having anxiety dreams about my garden.  Yes, anxiety dreams about the garden!  I was initially pleased by my dream because in Little Stalky dream world I'd found a worm in the compost.  Good times.  The thyme had also inexplicably burst into flower.  But in my dream it wasn't the thyme, but the oregano.  But in dream world it was definitely the thyme.  See, dreams make no sense.  No wonder I wake up screaming.  Anyway, the dream took a turn for the worse when I realised that someone had pruned my lemon tree down to no more than a stub, the strawberries had gone missing and whilst my back was turned examining these horrors, some bugger had gone in and nicked off with my compost.  This seemed to upset me the most because on realisation that someone had stolen my compost I woke myself up with two bursts of "no!" and a thrashing of my legs.  I was having a hissy fit in the bed.  I was stomping my feet.  I was still a little dazed and confused until I felt Mystical Roo's hand on my arm giving me a comforting squeeze.  Good old Mystical Roo.  He stroked my arm for a while but I'm pretty sure he fell asleep.  Still holding my arm.  He's very sweet to try and comfort me but he'll no doubt find it strange that I was shouting out over my compost.  Even I find it a little strange that I was shouting out over my compost.  I'll just have to focus on the positive aspects of that dream.  And on that note, I'm going to check my compost to see if there really is a worm!

The Basil is Actually, Properly Dead Now

I've probably given it away with the title of this post haven't I.  Yes, the basil plant has officially snuffed it.  He's dead.  He's gone.  The basil plant has gone to the big compost bin in the sky.  Actually he's gone into the little compost bin on my balcony.  And most of you sensible folk knew it would happen.  You knew that the basil plant just wasn't meant to survive the winter.  I conceded that he'd gone when I realised that he was totally black.  The new bit of growth had shrivelled into nothing and the bit that had previously been green had gone brown.  Not a good sign.  I made the sad decision that the basil plant should join the chilli plant and become part of the compost mix.  I didn't like doing it but I did it anyway. And now the basil plant is in pieces at the bottom of the compost bin.  I'll just have to focus on Spring and the new basil plants that it will bring.  I won't forgot my first basil plant.  I feel happy knowing that one day, he may even contribute to the health of a new basil plant.  Slightly sinister?  Perhaps.  But this is the world of plants people.  They have different rules.

Little Stalky Loves Google Chrome

Is anyone else just loving Google Chrome?  Because I know I am!  Loving Google Chrome that is.  I made the switch when it was suggested to me by a fellow blogger as a way of solving some problems.  Internet problems.  Not land dwelling shark problems or anything like that.  Google Chrome is good but can it tackle the land dwelling shark?  I don't know.  Maybe I'll ask.  But land dwelling sharks aside...I'm loving Google Chrome.  It's like a friendly Internet guide.  Looking out for you.   Looking after you.  Spelling things out so that everything is easy to understand.  I think it fully won me over when I discovered I could personalise my Google Chrome.  With leopard print.  Oh yes Stalky fans, I have a leopard print Google Chrome.  Would you expect anything less?  It's beautiful.  So stylish.  Oh, and I'd made mention to the fact that Google Chrome is actively working to improve my spelling. Yes!  It underlines stuff that I've spelt wrong.  It doesn't auto correct.  It doesn't ignore it.  It politely informs me that I've made a boo boo with a simple red line.  So I can amend my error and learn from my mistakes.  This is the big thing people.  Learning from your mistakes.  It's not like Word - embarrassed by your spelling and quickly changing things without you noticing.  Scared to remind you that you still can't get it right when spelling definitely.  Only piping up when it can't deal with the fact that you've just typed complete crap.  When it can't think of a word that possibly resembles flabedygookalwak.  Word is the friend who'll let you go out wearing ankle swingers because it's too scared of offending you.  Google Chrome is the friend who'll tell you how it is but still let it be your decision as to whether or not you stick with the ankle swingers.  Google Chrome is a good friend.  If I had to elect an Internet browser as president then I'd vote for Google Chrome.  If Google Chrome started a band then I'd buy the album.  Because Google Chrome rocks.  Ok, I need to get out more.  

Thwarted by a Sponge

There's been some weird sponge activity going on tonight.  Weird.  I was innocently doing the washing up as normal.  Sponging the dishes.  Rinsing the glasses.  Fighting with the sieve.  I do what I assume most people do when they've finished the washing up - empty the bowl and put the sponge on the side.  But the sponge did not want to sit on the side.  It refused.  I tipped the water out of the bowl, put the sponge on the side and the sponge plunged back into the sink and underneath the bowl.  Stupid sponge.  I assumed I just hadn't put it in place well enough.  I'd obviously left it teetering on the edge.  So I retrieved the sponge and put it back on the side.  Firmly.  But again, the crazy sponge made a break for it and leapt back into the sink  Crazy sponge.  So I picked it up again and put it back on the side.  Guess what?  It happened again!  The sponge hopped back into the sink.  I was beginning to get frustrated.  What the hell was happening?  Was the sink really that slippery?  I picked up the sponge again and placed it back on the side.  That God damned sponge only went and did the same thing again.  At this point I could imagine Mystical Roo reminding me of the definition of an idiot.  So I tried a new tactic.  I would place the sponge on the counter top - away from the sink - and then see what it did.  What did it do?  It shimmied along the surface and leapt back into the sink.  I know what you're thinking.  Oh, Little Stalky, you have a poltergeist.  You have a possessed sponge.  Who the hell has a possessed sponge?  That's beyond weird.  Even for me.  But I wasn't deterred.  I wasn't intimidated.  I picked up that sponge and shoved it on the side and then watched as it zoomed back across the surface.  And that's when I saw it.  The hair.  My hair.  Attached to the sponge.  Attached to the rubber glove.  Every time I moved back to the sink I unwittingly tugged the sponge with me.  I suppose it's a relief that I don't have a possessed sponge.  I'm just a little concerned about how long it took me to realise what was going on!  

Stupid Iron

I think I've broken my iron.  Actually, lets just say that the iron is broken because I'm not convinced that it was actually me that broke it.  Yes, I'm the only one that uses it but let's be honest, how wrong can one go when doing the ironing?!  It's not like I've been bashing the thing against a wall or whacking it with a hammer.  I've been using it to iron clothes.  And that's its job.  I even use the little iron cleaning facility that's meant to prevent a build up of calcium.  Or something along those lines.  I feel I've done nothing wrong.  But this iron has been getting worse and worse and yesterday it just failed altogether.  It wouldn't heat up and then decided to go and blow out smoke, which, by the way, set off the fire alarm.  I wasn't impressed.  It's not that I enjoy ironing as such but if I set out to do a task then I want to finish it.  As it happens I couldn't even start it.  Because by iron decided to snuff it.  Great work iron.  Good job.  Now I'm going to have to buy a new iron and that's not the kind of thing I enjoy spending money on.  Yes, I have a lot of clothes that don't require ironing but how does one get around shirts and t-shirts?  I can hardly send Mystical Roo out looking all crumpled.  Because I'll be judged.  They won't blame him.  They'll blame me.  Bad, abusive girlfriend who doesn't do the ironing.  It's not my fault!  The iron made me do it!  Or rather the iron refused to do it.  And the other annoying thing is the fact that I've had this iron for less than two years.  It's worth about $80 and I honestly thought it was going to do the job.  I would have been better off getting myself a $20 thing.  At least then I wouldn't have been surprised if it conked out after 2 years.  Stupid iron.  What kind of $80 iron can't handle 2 years.  It's only me and Mystical Roo!  It's not like I do a lot of ironing.  Stupid iron.  I'm going to buy a new iron and then show the old iron the new iron and then make the old iron feel bad because I've got a new iron.  The old iron can go and hang out with the old washing machine and join the pile of household items that are out to get me.  Actually, maybe I'd better separate them.  I don't want them ganging up on me or anything.  Either way the current iron is getting the boot.  Stupid iron.    

Little Stalky Meets the Neighbours

This is a re-enactment using pink socks.  The purple
socks are in the wash

Yesterday was a day of very little effort.  Mystical Roo was working and I was home alone with not much to do.  The weather continued - and continues - to be rubbish and I figured the best way to spend the day was pottering around the house.  I had no plans to go out.  It was cold, I was bloated and my chilblains were playing up.  Yes, attractive I know.  On a day like that there's only one thing to do.  Get into your most comfortable clothes and do as little as possible.  So, comfortable clothes.  My favourite tracksuit bottoms are a pair I snaffled from Mystical Roo.  In my defence, he can't actually wear them as they're too small for him, which is how they made their way into my wardrobe.  But too small for Mystical Roo doesn't make them in any way the perfect fit for me.  They're massive.  Massive, grey tracksuit bottoms.  They hang from my waist and sag at all angles. If they didn't have handy little ankle cuffs then I'd be forever rolling them up.  As it happens they just kind of gather around my ankles and give me what I like to think of as "the faun" look.  You know, fauns like from 'The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe'.  The ones with really bushy legs.  That's what I feel like when I wear these massive, grey tracksuit bottoms.  Oh but they're so comfortable.  They're kind of furry on the inside and are a thick material that keep the cold at bay.  Lovely.  After throwing on a vest top I then completed the look with an equally comfortable grey jumper.  Now I wasn't purposely going for a grey theme.  Head to toe grey probably isn't the best look.  It's just the way it happened.  It doesn't happen very often.  The grey jumper was something I picked up for $1 and is one of those over sized jumpers that are designed to look like a University jersey or something.  I once washed it at the wrong temperature and that caused it to become over sized even further  It now hangs from me like a little tent, stretching nice and wide just as it hits my hips.  It's very flattering on the figure.  So at this point I've got the grey look going on.  I look like an unathletic athlete who's stolen someone's clothing.  Someone who goes to an imaginary university.  But I still wasn't as snug as I could be.  Socks were required.  Big fluffy socks.  I don't have grey socks so at this point the grey theme went out the window.  But Stalky fans may know that I have purple socks.  Purple socks that had previously been stolen by the washing machine of doom.  That washing machine has been taken care of and the socks retrieved so I was able to team by outfit with rather stylish purple, fluffy socks.  Oh yeah.  Snug as a bug in a rug.  When I'm in the mood for comfort I generally like to get my hair up and out of my face.  I don't like it flying around all over the place.  But I'm not going out anywhere so it doesn't have to be tidy.  I use a clip to pin my hair on top of my head.  I have a lot of unruly hair.  It's kind of curly.  Pinning hair atop your head without looking in the mirror kind of gives you the look of an errant pineapple.  The last I checked, errant pineapple wasn't in fashion.  But it's all about being practical.  The other thing I don't bother with on days like this is make-up.  Mystical Roo knows what I look like without make-up on.  He sees me every morning.  I can't be bothered with make-up.  Yes, my skin is bad at the moment but lets give it a chance to breathe.  Maybe a make-up free day will do it good.  At this point you need to try and envisage my look.  A mini monster with faun like legs, big purple feet, a stolen jumper that looks like a tent and an errant pineapple on my head.   My skin would possibly scare small children.  Let's just say that I don't look my best.  So, after a few hours at the computer I decided that I would go and feed the plants.  On the balcony.  In the open.  Now I don't think much about this.  I go out on the balcony all the time and I never see anyone.  We don't really have neighbours.  So I stood up and examined my choice of shoe.  Leopard print wellies.  White flip flops.  You'd think the wellies would be the obvious choice but no.  I went for the white flip flops.  And I didn't take off my socks.  No, I shoved my massive purple feet into the white flip flops and decided I would just have to shuffle around outside.  I actually looked like I had hooves.  Weird purple and white hooves.  I ambled outside, retrieved the plant feed from underneath the BBQ and stood up to be greeted with a friendly 'so you must be the neighbours'.  I looked up and saw our new neighbour chilling out on his balcony.  Now this is not the best way to meet a new neighbour.  Especially when they own the new restaurant and you're hoping they might give you free food.  Ok, I don't really think they'll give us free food but it's a nice thought.  Anyway, free food aside, the first thing that came into my head was how English I must look wearing socks with flip flops.  Now what would a normal person do in this situation?  Wave politely and continue their task.  Acknowledge the fact that they look like a mini monster and swallow their pride.  Turn around and feed the plants inside and then not venture outside again until it's dark.  Not me.  No.  I gave a half hearted smile and then dropped to the ground.  Yes, I dropped to the ground.  I hid behind the wall!  I crouched next to the compost bin, clutching my little bottle of plant feed and wondered why I can't behave like normal human being.  He obviously saw me drop to the ground.  And yes I could well have been crouching down to feed the plants or tie an imaginary shoelace but I couldn't just stay there. He knew it and I knew it.  I would have to come back up.  There was no way I was belly crawling back towards the door.  It think he would have seen me anyway.  So I came back up.  And yes, he was still standing there.  I figured I would have to finish my task.  If I didn't, I would seem even stranger.  So I focused all my attention on the feeding of the plants.  Feed the plants, don't make eye contact, get it done, get out of there.  But our new neighbour is apparently the chatty type and insisted on engaging me in conversation.  From across the balconies.  Now I can't hear properly at the best of times, let alone when people are shouting at me from across the balconies.  So I was forced into awkward half conversation whilst I watered my plants and tried desperately to hear what the bloke was saying.  I think I asked a vague question about the restaurant but I honestly wasn't really focused on the conversation.  I just wanted to get out of there. I don't really care what I look like to strangers but there are limits you know.  If I'd just been out there in a tracksuit it wouldn't have been so bad.  But this was a matching tracksuit.  There was grey.  There was grey everywhere!  And there was the pineapple and the skin.  Oh yeah, and the purple socks shoved into white flip flops.  They'll be worried I'll scare away their customers.  Thank God he didn't see me chatting to the plants or I really would have got a reputation.  I finished watering the plants and indicated that I was going back inside.  I shut the door and scurried away from the window, scared that the new neighbour was still watching.  I was traumatised for a good few minutes before I became distracted by sweets in the fridge.  When Mystical Roo came home from work I told him all about how I'd met the neighbour.  I don't think he was impressed at my attempts to befriend the new restaurant owners.  I hadn't even gotten a name.  I did a little twirl in my fabulous outfit just to emphasise the horror of the situation but Mystical Roo didn't seem to think it was that bad.  Honestly!  Just because he looks good in everything.  Well that's a lesson learned.  No more going out onto the balcony in dodgy outfits.  It's just not worth the stress.  

The Dangers of Letting Mystical Roo and Little Stalky Come In For a Cup of Tea

Yesterday, Mystical Roo and I were faced with a rainy Saturday, no spending money and a lack of ideas for what to do with the day.  We did what any self respecting person would do.  We went to inflict ourselves on friends and relatives.  In this case we went to inflict ourselves on Monster Noggin.  We invited ourselves around for a cup of tea.  A cup of tea turned into poached egg on toast.  Poached egg on toast led to conversation.  Conversation led to coffee.  Coffee led to lunch.  We were sat there, Mystical Roo, Monster Noggin and I, unable to think of what to do with such a wet Saturday.  We came to the conclusion that it was the ideal duvet day.  A day to laze about, eat food and not do very much.  Sounds a bit like Christmas in July.  And talking about Christmas in July, we decided that we would retrieve the left over beer from that event.  We would collect comedy DVDs.  We would return to Monster Noggin's house and watch comedy DVDs and drink beer.  An excellent plan.  But first...more clothes.  Monster Noggin's house was freezing.  It's a big space to heat and with the heater not working it was just a big cold space.  So, first to Mystical Roo's and Little Stalky's.  Collect clothes and scarves but decide that gloves and hats are excessive.  Then, on to Treacle's and Ammy's to retrieve the aforementioned beer.  Decide that spinning in the lift is a good idea.  Monster Noggin feels momentarily dizzy.  Beer is retrieved.  As is Treacle.  Treacle becomes the chauffeur so that he can snaffle the car from us.  On to Woolworths where we can pick up sushi for lunch and get in a bit of Trolley Dude spotting whilst we're there.  Trolley Dude is spotted.  Twice.  Trolley Dude has shed his hat and glasses.  He's back out in the open.  Sushi is purchased.  Then, on to the pharmacy as Monster Noggin and Little Stalky have stuff to get.  Men opt out of this mission and choose to guard the vehicle.  Women return.  Back to Monster Noggins house where fabulous flatmate manages to get the fire started.  Heat!  We snuggle up on the sofa with sushi, beer and blankets and end up watching Jimmy Carr, Ricky Gervais and Michael McIntyre before napping occurs.  One, two, three people asleep on the sofa.  Blankets and beer are a dangerous combination.  We awake.  A Domino's advert convinces us that pizza is in order and more DVDs are required.  Now we need films.  Pizza and films.  But we're minus a vehicle.  We phone five different numbers to try and snaffle a lift but everyone ignores us.  We head out into the wintry night and walk to Bob-A-Roony's and Duke's where we expect to find a vehicle.  Hill of doom causes Little Stalky to nearly die. Monster Noggin and Mystical Roo are too fit for their own good.  A piggy back would have been nice.  Selfish.  The vehicle is spotted.  The vehicle is snaffled and we're on the move again.  Back to the DVD store.  Little Stalky is banned from picking DVDs.  DVDs are selected and Mystical Roo has ordered pizza on his magical phone of magic.  Back to the vehicle.  Pizza is acquired.  Back to Monster Noggin's house, which is now warm.  To the sofas with pizza, DVDs and a delicious drink of lemon, lime and bitters with magical fizzy water.  Everything is magical.  Pizza is eaten.  DVDs are watched.  Monster Noggin falls asleep on the sofa. There's possibly dribble.  Films finish and Mystical Roo consults his watch.  23.00.  It's confirmed we should probably go home.  Mystical Roo and Monster Noggin have to work in the morning (Sunday work - boo!) and sleep is needed.  Mystical Roo and Little Stalky thank Monster Noggin for her hospitality and head home.  The moral of this story?  Never let Mystical Roo and Little Stalky come round for a cup of tea unless you're prepared to accept the fact that they may not leave for thirteen hours.  It's your choice.  Or is it..................

Compost Update

I'm sure you're all eager to know how I've been getting on with my balcony top compost bin.  I don't think we've had a garden update in a while.  Well, I'm pleased to announce that things seem to be going swimmingly.  Mystical Roo and I have been actively collecting our kitchen waste in a bucket and then depositing it in the compost bin.  We've got a system now and find it easy to compost the compostable items.  It's interesting just how many bucketfuls we get through and just goes to show how much compostable waste would otherwise be going into the landfills.  I managed to get a break in the rain to go out and dump a bucketful of waste and give the compost a stir.  It's looking good.  Not too wet and not too dry and there are definitely no suspicious odours.  If anything it smells a bit like oranges - a testament to the abundance or oranges I mentioned!  Things are rotting down nicely and I excitedly announced to Mystical Roo that my carrots had gone all wrinkly.  I do enjoy giving my compost a stir.  There's something very satisfying about watching it change, even if it is a slow process.  I feel this is just the start of future composting adventures.  Just wait until I get an actual garden!  

Rain, Rain, GO AWAY!

OK, it's been raining now for a full week.  A week of rain!  I'm so over it.  I feel the rain has made its point, its done its thing, its made things wet.  Now it needs to move on.  Move on and away.  All I've heard, night and day, is the drumming of rain on the roof and on the windows.  Sure that can be relaxing at times; tucked up in bed, relaxing in the bath, but only at times.  In small doses.  A week's worth of rain is excessive if you ask me.  The plants are cross, I can tell.  They do not appreciate this much rain.  They don't like sitting in puddles.  I was out on the balcony again this morning, in my leopard print wellies, clearing out the drain and urging the rain water to shift its way down the drain.  I got a soaking coming back from the library yesterday, but then that's probably my own fault for going out without an umbrella.  Not the brightest idea I'll admit but I blame the rain.  It's sending my brain all fuzzy!  I think even the ducks are over the rain.  Lovely weather for ducks?  No!  They're over it.  They're done living up to their stereotype so they've packed up their bread and they've waddled away from the pond because they're over the rain.  It's too much.  The skies are grey, the seas are churning and everyone is moping around wondering where the heck the sun has got to.  There are puddles on puddles.  There are lakes in fields.  There are waves in the harbour!  My hair is constantly frizzy.  It's impossible to make it to the car without getting a soaking.  My toes are cold.  I'm complaining!  And oh look, here comes another downpour.  What a shocker.  That's it.  I'm off to build an ark! 

Solar Powered Stalky

Does anyone else lose their mojo in the winter months?  I feel totally lacking in motivation at the moment and seem to be constantly tired despite 8 hours of sleep.  Maybe I'm sleeping too much.  Maybe I'm a koala in disguise.  Maybe I just need to see some sunshine!  I guess the weather has a lot to do with it.  I woke up yesterday and it was pouring with rain, blowing a gale, cold and dark - even though it was 07.00.  There is nothing there that inspires me to get out of bed.  It actually makes me want to huddle down into the duvet and hibernate until summer!  When I wake up and the sun is shining and the birds are singing then I'm ready to leap out of bed and burst into song.  I'm pretty much a solar powered kind of person.  But winter is inevitable and with another month to go before Spring arrives I demand to have my mojo back.  I want my energy back.  I'm sick of feeling so lethargic.  I need a kick up the backside.  I've been trying to get up in the morning to do some exercise as that always energises me but I've been thwarted on more than one occasion by an inability to drag my butt out of bed at a reasonable hour.  It's the whole cold, dark, wind, rain thing.  Perhaps I need to develop a caffeine habit, though I'm not sure a buzzed Little Stalky would be good for anyone.  I can see I'm just going to have to have a word with Mystical Roo about the possibility of splitting our time between here and somewhere up North.  We can follow the sun, avoid winter and I'll be solar charged all year round.  Oh I'm full of wonderful ideas!  

Little Stalky Gets Orange Stuck In Her Teeth

I currently have a ridiculous amount of orange stuck in my teeth.  Orange season is good but its not without its hazards and orange stuck in the teeth is a great example!  I hate the feeling of things stuck in my teeth.  It's annoying.  It's even more annoying when I can't remove the offending items.  But how does one go about doing this without looking like a total bogan?  I'll admit that when I'm on my own I'll just pick my teeth.  There I said it.  I pick my teeth.  But it just doesn't seem right to do this when with company.  So what are you supposed to do? You can't exactly go around with bits of orange hanging out of your mouth.  But you can't openly pick your teeth? I suppose you could sneak off into the bathroom.  That would do it.  If you used a mouth pick, would that be more polite?  Or some floss?  I suppose everyone picks their teeth in some way.  It's just one of those things.  It's what you do with the lodged item once you've removed it.  Do you throw it away?  Or do you eat it? 

The Basil Plant Lives!

I know many of you will think I'm mad.  I know a lot of you assume he's dead.  I know that you'll all be wearily hanging your heads when I say...that the basil plant appears to be coming back to life.  I know, I know. Basil plants are annuals.  They're not meant to survive the winter.  The basil should be in the compost bin and a new basil plant should be purchased in spring.  But I just can't seem to let go of the little fella.  Yes most of him is now brown and droopy.  Yes I haven't had a fresh basil leaf in a good month or so.  But I couldn't throw him away when I saw that there were still glimmers of life.  There was a little green sprout poking up from the ground and a tiny green leaf still attached to one of the stalks.  I must confess that I'd sort of forgotten about the basil plant.  He'd been put back out on the balcony with the rest of the gang as I thought a bit of sunshine might do him some good.  Well, on investigation it now appears that there's a whole new bit of basil growth.  New basil growth.  And not just a little bit.  A big bit.  Ok, there aren't any harvestable leaves as such but it looks like the beginning of harvestable leaves.  Most of the basil plant is dead but there's this one bit of stalk that has just popped up and is green and perky.  I don't know what this means.  Does my basil plant have death defying powers?  Is my basil plant not really a basil plant?  Is the basil plant confused about the seasons?  It's a bit of mystery.  I figure there can't be any harm in letting the basil plant do it's thing and see what happens.  Stay tuned for more basil updates.  It's exciting times.  

3D Glasses: No One Looks Good in Them

We - we being me, Mystical Roo, Duke and Bob-a-Roony - went to see the new Harry Potter film last night.  In 3D!  Now, I'm still a bit torn on the old 3D business but I must say that it did seem to enhance the Harry Potter experience.  I think I've decided that 3D films can be fun for the right type of film but is not necessary for everything one watches.  It takes me a while to get used to the 3D experience as I do feel a slight strain on my eyes (worrying?) but this does normally pass fairly quickly.  Then I'm absorbed in the film and do embarrassing things like try and touch the things that are floating out of the screen.  I'm sure I'm not the only one but imagine how stupid you look poking at thin air.  Poke, poke.  The other thing about a 3D film is the fabulous 3D glasses.  Can anyone make those things look good?  I think not.  We all collectively look ridiculous.  You have to wait until the lights go down to put on the 3D glasses or risk looking like a complete plonker.  Then, when the lights have gone down, you can have a quick sneak peek around the cinema and giggle as you see waves of people all wearing the same 3D glasses.  Then you can remind yourself that you look just as stupid and keep your giggling to yourself.  Yesterday they were selling Harry Potter specific 3D glasses - 3D glasses that are round and made to look like the glasses worn by the boy wizard himself.  These were $3 more than the normal glasses so seemed like an unnecessary expense.  We stuck with the standard ones instead, which, by the way, they encourage you to recycle at the end of the show.  Recycle?  I don't think so.  If I've paid for the 3D glasses then I'm taking them home with me to reuse again.  I'll recycle them that way thank you very much.  Ok so we now have eight pairs of 3D glasses but at least that means we can share.  We just need to remember that we have eight pairs of 3D glasses so that no one goes out and buys new ones.  I might customise mine.  Cover them in tinfoil or stick some dangly bits on them.  Or maybe not.  I'm not sure it's wise to draw even more attention to the crazy looking 3D glasses.  So those are my thoughts on the whole 3D experience.  Oh yeah, the film was good too!    

An Abundance of Oranges

I would say it's orange season here at the moment.  Why would I say that?  Well, there are oranges everywhere and they're being sold in bulk bags for very low prices.  Duke also confirmed that her orange trees are producing lots of fruit at the moment.  So in conclusion I would say it's orange season.  This is the time to indulge in oranges.  And this morning I did.  We have a lot of oranges in the fridge.  So many that I decided I would make some juice.  After Christmas in July celebrations I thought that the Mystical Roo and I could do with a good hit of vitamin C.  So I got up this morning and before I'd even put the kettle on, before I'd poured my cereal, I set about squeezing oranges.  And what a business that is!  I have one of those small juicer things.  The ones where you cut the fruit in half and squish it against the plastic cone thing.  I explain things very well!  Basically I don't have any form of electric juicer.  Seven oranges later I had a bit of a weak arm.  And do you know what?  seven oranges don't actually get you that much juice.  Seven oranges actually gets you around two small glasses of juice.  The small glasses they use at buffet breakfasts when they don't want you to drink too much.  But as small as those glasses were the juice was very nice and refreshing.  I think Mystical Roo was impressed to stumble into the kitchen and find a glass of fresh juice waiting.  And the compost bucket has been nicely filled with orange halves that are now waiting to go into the main compost bin.  Exciting times.  Even after the juicing of seven oranges we still have a whole bag full of them in the fridge.  And I did enjoy my juice but it did seem like a lot of effort for two small glasses of juice.  I think I might stick to cutting them into quarters and munching on them that way.  Less messy too!  

Happy Christmas in July

Happy Christmas everyone!  Or rather, happy Christmas in July!  Today we're celebrating Christmas in July with a big feast, lots of wine and random games.  I'd never heard of Christmas in July before we moved to Australia but it seems to be a chance for everyone to enjoy the festivities of a Christmas day whilst the weather is cooler.  We can have a roast dinner for example, which is always a little difficult in thirty degree heat.  There won't be any exchanging of gifts, there won't be any carols but there may well be reindeer.  You just never know.  To be honest it's just nice to get everyone together, enjoy a meal, have a glass of wine and kick back for the day with nothing else to do other than natter and play games.  Ammy will be heading up the event and is currently cooking a roast dinner for fourteen people!  Fourteen people!  I wouldn't know where to start.  My contribution will be in the form of some sausage rolls and spring rolls.  Got to love a bit of finger food.  I've also delivered some caster sugar and a 5 litre carton of white wine.  That doesn't look strange at all.  Walking down the road at 11.00 with a big box of wine and some caster sugar.  It actually does feel quite wintry here today.  After what's felt like weeks of blue skies and sunshine we now have grey skies and drizzle.  Just like a Christmas day back in England.  And on that note I need to go and organise my finger food.  Cheers everyone and merry Christmas!

Dog Grooming: A Risky Business

Yesterday I was at work with Mystical Roo when I came across Sam's doggy hairbrush.  Bored of sorting through a year's worth of receipts I decided that I would have a break and take Sam outside to give him a brush.  Weird?  Maybe.  But I find there's something very relaxing about brushing a dog.  Or a cat.  Or a rabbit.  Or anything for that matter.  Keep me away from your rugs or they might get brushed!  Anyway, Sam seemed quite happy to have a bit of a brush and after an initial tummy rub sat down quietly and stayed still as I brushed his fur.  We were only out there for a few minutes when I heard the familiar sound of the approaching postie.  Sam's ears perked up.  My ears perked up.  You may remember that Sam and the postman have a growing friendship and seem to look forward to their daily encounters.  When the postie approached Sam headed towards the fence to greet his favourite mail carrying, moped riding dude.  But shock horror - the postie didn't come in.  He drove straight on past.  Obviously there was no mail for us that day.  We got a wave and a toot of the horn but that obviously wasn't enough for Sam who, before I knew it, was bolting off down the road and chasing the postie.  Chasing the postie!  Way to conform to stereotypes, Sam.  I was aghast.  I stood there with the doggy hairbrush and just watched as Sam chased the postie.  Then I chased Sam.  So we've got a postie whizzing down the road, followed by a massive black Labrador, followed by a Little Stalky with a doggy hairbrush.  I was relieved to see the postie stop and indulge Sam with the cuddle he was after.  I honestly thought I'd lost the dog!  I tried calling Sam, waving my doggy hairbrush and making vague attempts to whistle but Sam was having none of it.  He was in the arms of his beloved postie and wasn't letting go.  It was only when the postie pointed in my direction and sent Sam on his way did the dog return.  I decided it was time for us to head back indoors.  My dog grooming plans had gone awry and I was ashamed that I'd lost control of the situation.  We returned inside and I sheepishly headed up to the office to announce that Sam had gone chasing the postie.  Of course they all knew because they'd been watching from out of the windows.  So not only did I lose the dog but I had an audience to boot!  Who knew that dog grooming was such a risky business.  

The Hottest Chilli in the World!

I recently cooked up a batch of what I believe to be the hottest chilli in the world.  Chilli - as in chilli con carne - is a popular dish in our household.  It's healthy, it's easy to make and can be easily batched for quick defrostable meals.  There's only two of us but I normally make enough for eight people and this in turn gives us four meals from one cooking session.  The chilli has been heating up for a while now but I think I found the perfect heat for us, which equalled about six teaspoons of chilli flakes.  A lot, but remember this is for one big batch.  This seemed to be the perfect amount.  It packed a punch but didn't affect the flavour.  It cleared our noses but didn't blast our heads off.  It made our eyes water but with joy not with anguish.  It was a good chilli.  That was before.  Before I decdied to use one of my very own home grown chillies.  Now you may or may not remember that these chillies have been a bit hit and miss.  My first harvest were tasty but completely lacked in any sort of spice.  The second harvest were much better.  Under instructions from Bear Z I've been storing these chillies in a paper bag in the fridge.  They've been doing very well and have been used on a regular basis.  So when I decided to put a chilli in the chilli I didn't really think much of it and threw in my ususal six tea spoons of chilli flakes.  Little did I know that the chilli I'd put in the chilli was a very hot chilli.  I actually think those chillies have been getting hotter in the fridge.  It's like they're gaining in power and strength.  By the time we get to the bottom of that bag I'm pretty sure we'll have super chilli!  He should be revered and certainly not eaten.  So this current batch of chilli is rather a hot one.  We still eat it (in fact we've got some for dinner tonight) and we still enjoy it but it's probably just a tad too hot.  Next time I'm due to make a chilli I need to adjust my measurements and go easy on the flakes.  I like my chilli hot but not that hot!

Little Stalky Has Bad Skin

I'm currently very frustrated with my bad skin.  Horrible and evil spots that just won't go away.  Honestly, I never had skin this bad when I was a teenager and isn't that when you're meant to have bad skin?!  Just as I think my skin is starting to clear up I have another outbreak and feel like I'm straight back to square one.  What is up with getting spots in your mid twenties?  It's not fair.  I'm sure grown women aren't supposed to get spots.  But I do.  And we do.  I know I'm not the only one who suffers.  Is it hormones?   Is it wearing too much make up?  Is it some sort of conspiracy!!!  I put it down partly to stress and partly to the winter weather.  Sun, sea and sand seem to do wonders for my skin but I haven't seen a lot of that lately.  I try to tackle the bad skin with a number of lotions and potions but I'm not sure if these do much other than dry out my skin.  Then I have to moisturise.  El Kenco swears by savlon and a plaster to defeat the spots but I'm not sure.  I normally just end up looking stupid with a plaster stuck to my face.  Or I'll put some savlon on an evil spot, forget about it and then walk out the house!  Never a good look.  It would be nice to have clear skin.  To be able to head out without having to attack my face with concealer first.  To not scare small children.  To feel confident to look people in the eye.  Maybe I'll just grow my fringe out and go for the cousin it look instead.  That's sure to attract less attention.  

The Dangers of Listening to a Hamish and Andy Podcast on the Way to Work

When I walk to work I'm pretty much always listening to my ipod.  The only exception is when I have forgotten to charge the ipod and run out of battery.  My mood will normally dictate what I actually listen to.  If I'm feeling energetic then I'll put some music on and pick up the pace.  If I'm feeling lazy - which is often - then I'll listen to one of my podcasts, my favourites being Mark Kermode's film reviews and the Hamish and Andy podcast.  I was introduced to the Hamish and Andy podcast on the road trip to Melbourne and I immediately warmed to their humour.  They're very funny.  And this is great for when you're walking to work as it makes the trip fly by but it's not without its problems.  It's all very well walking down the road listening to your ipod but when you burst out laughing it makes you look a bit peculiar.  It would be alright if other people knew what I was listening to but they don't.  At least I don't think they don't.  I'm just this random girl, walking down the road, giggling to herself.  If you couldn't see the headphones then I probably look like even more of an oddball.  I try to control myself but this normally results in a weird and random smile as I try to stifle giggles.  Not only that, I find myself agreeing with certain statements and then I'm nodding my head.  So I'm half laughing, half smiling and nodding my head.  No wonder people keep their distance!  And then you know what happens when you hear something really funny?  You laugh so hard that you start to cry.  And you laugh to the point where your stomach hurts and you can't really breathe.  So then you're half laughing, half smiling, nodding your head and then you're actually properly laughing but then crying.  All this whilst stumbling down the road.  And the last time this happened it was sort of raining.  So not only did I have all of that going on I had the whole umbrella up, umbrella down dilemma.  It's just too much to think about.  Are people judging me for my umbrella activity?  Are people shuffling away from me because I look like a loon?  Do I think far too much about what other people think of me?  I suppose I could strap some sort of sign to myself indicating that I'm listening to an amusing podcast and not laughing, nodding and crying at random.  Though that might serve to make me look even stranger.  Perhaps I should just embrace it.  Lose myself in the moment and go with the flow.  Less thinking, more laughing. 

Saturday Football

On Saturday, Monster Noggin and I joined our Australian buddy to go and watch Mystical Roo play for his football team.  And this is football football, not rugby football.  Some of you like to call it....soccer, but being English we like to call it football.  This is the first time I've been to watch Mystical Roo play for his new team and it brought back memories of watching Mystical Roo play for his team back in England.  There were many Sunday mornings spent bundled up, stood on the side of a frozen pitch as a few supporters cheered for their team.  I liked to think of myself as a stylish kind of WAG with coat, wellies, ear muffs and sunglasses.  Stylish.  It might have been cold but it was always quite a nice way to spend a Sunday morning.  Chatting with the girls, starting the occasional three person Mexican wave and laughing at Duke's attempt to shout "he fell over!"  I myself have a tendency to get overly vocal and normally have to reign myself back in.  On Saturday I tried to keep it down to the odd whoop and polite clapping.  I wouldn't want the football team to shun Mystical Roo because of his over enthusiastic girlfriend.  We sat in the sunshine and although the wind was cold it was nothing compared to the frost of a winter's morning in England.  I enjoy watching a match where I have someone to cheer for.  It's no fun watching sport unless you care about who wins.  I think Monster Noggin and our Australian were scouting for eligible footballers but Monster Noggin didn't have her seeing glasses on and so couldn't be trusted to make judgement.  The team had a good game and in the end won 4-1.  It's even better watching a match where you have someone to cheer for when they actually win.  I'll give Mystical Roo a few more weeks before I consider approaching his team about the idea of a mascot.  All they need is a costume and I'll happily provide a person to put inside it.  What would Saturday football be like without a mascot?  Normal probably.  But then I don't really do normal.  

Stalky Sans Sat Nav

On Friday I bravely ventured to Sydney airport to collect Mystical Roo and I went without my trusty sat nav.  I went solo.  Solo Stalky heading to Sydney.  Now I've done this trip on several occasions and felt fairly confident but I wasn't sure how much I actually relied on the sat nav.  She tells me what lane to get into and warns me when a turning is coming up.  She also tells me how far away I am and if I can expect speed cameras.  Me and the sat nav lady get on quite well.  Mystical Roo silences her but I enjoy the conversation.  Yes she sometimes interrupts a good song on the radio but never without good reason.  I'm careful to thank her for her advice.  But on this occasion the sat nav was actually with Mystical Roo in Perth.  So I couldn't use the sat nav.  For some reason Mystical Roo thought he would need more, though personally I doubt that.  Mystical Roo has a wonderful nose for finding his way.  I would always trust his nose.  I decided that I could do to the trip to Sydney.  At the end of the day I vaguely knew the route and all I had to do was follow the signs.  What did I do before sat nav?  I had written directions.  But this time I was going solo.  Oh yeah.  I'm pleased to say that I had a highly successful trip.  Not only did I not go wrong once, I also got into the correct lane every time and felt perfectly relaxed the whole time.  The only minor confusion was a new KFC, which made me think I'd gone the wrong way but that was quickly cleared up.  Because of the crazy parking charges at the airport we - we being whoever is doing the Mystical Roo run - tend to hole up in the McDonalds / KFC car park until we receive "the phone call".  It's about a minute away from the airport and offers free parking until Mystical is ready.  It also offers burgers and coffee.  I think I sat in the car park for about half an hour waiting for Mystical Roos call before I finally zoomed off to collect him.  It was a cause for huge excitement as Mystical Roo had been away for two weeks.  He got a very big hug before I promptly handed him the car keys and leapt into the passenger seat.  He might have just got off a flight but Mystical Roo likes to drive.  And I'm happy to let him.  I might have made it all the way there without incident but heading back might have been pushing it.  I did, after all, once get lost whilst two minutes away from home...

Trolley Dude: Shunning Fame?

For the first time in oh such a long time I, Little Stalky, saw trolley dude.  I saw trolley dude!  He's alive everyone.  Alive!  And doing what he does best: pushing a huge line of trolleys.  But trolley dude appeared to be trying to go incognito.  He was wearing sunglasses and a hat.  It was like he was trying to hide his true identity and blend in with the crowd.  I've decided that trolley dude must have become aware of his fame as trolley dude and is trying to avoid the fans.  He's trying to keep a low profile lest crazy women try and strike up conversation.  I watched him pass with awe and immediately alerted Mystical Roo to the fact that I'd just spotted trolley dude.  I then suggested to Mystical Roo that trolley dude seemed to be trying to go unnoticed.  Mystical Roo decided that it was down to the shaved head.  He figured trolley dude was ashamed of his baldness and was trying to hide the evidence.  Shunning fame or hiding a hair disaster?  It's just another trolley dude mystery.  

Attack of the Chilblains

Please note:  This is not my foot.  My feet are
not this attractive

In the last couple of days I've been struck by chilblains.  Horrible, uncomfortable, itchy chilblains.  I used to suffer with chilblains quite a bit when I was younger but haven't been affected in years.  But now they're back.  And they're meaner than ever.  For those of you who don't really know what chilblains are, I would describe them as weird patches of skin - these are on my toes by the way - that go red and tight and then itch like crazy.  And then when the itching is done they go really sore and swollen.  Not cool.  I think chilblains are normally brought on by the cold and can be exacerbated by poor circulation.  Well, it's been cold.  And windy.  And I have bad circulation.  But why now?  Why have the chilblains struck after so many years?  I honestly have no idea.  All I know is that they're driving me crazy.  Itchy toes can be very distracting.  I have vague memories of using Vick's Vapour Rub on my toes back in the day but that seems a little bit random.  Maybe it was something that looked like Vick's Vapour Rub but wasn't actually Vick's Vapour Rub.  I've decided that the best course of action must be to keep my feet warm and the blood pumping.  I tend to sit at my desk for hours on end and my feet just kind of go to sleep so I'm taking steps (ha ha) to keep them more active.  Think, under the desk foot tapping.  Foot dancing.  And I'll get up to have a wander.  I've also got on rather attractive purple, fluffy socks.  Keep the feet snug, keep the feet warm.  All being well my Mystical Roo will be back home today and he can resume radiator duties in the bed.  Maybe that's what set off the chilblains!  I had no one to rub my cold feet against.  I'll have to see if his return sends the chilblains packing.  Here's hoping!  

Bog Roll Etiquette

I've been pondering etiquette again today; specifically toilet paper on the foot.  Bog roll etiquette.  Why was I pondering this?  I honestly have no idea.  Maybe it's because I've just changed the roll in the bathroom (I'm good like that).  It's best not to think too much about my thought processes.  But regardless, this is what I've been thinking about.  Bog roll etiquette and what to do when you see someone with toilet paper stuck to their shoe.  Surely if you had toilet paper stuck to your foot then you'd want to be told.  I know I would be.  I know I would be yet I don't always tells someone if they have toilet paper stuck to their foot.  And it's not because I'm evil.  Because I'm not.  Mostly not.  But I think I umm and err so long about the etiquette of telling someone that they have toilet paper stuck to their foot that the moment passes and the person is out the door.  Out the door and walking down the street with a bit of bog roll wrapped around their ankle.  Surely this is bad toilet paper etiquette.  The bog roll is to blame but surely I'm partially to blame.  I saw someone with toilet paper stuck to their shoe and did nothing to remedy the situation.  I'm part of the reason that a person is walking around with bog roll on the shoe. Of course there are times when I've told people about the toilet roll.  Times when I've been in less of a deep thinking kind of mood.  Or drunk.  Either way it's not like anyone has turned around and slapped me in the face. How dare you advise me of the fact that I have bog roll stuck to my shoe!  How very dare you!  Or, actually this is the latest fashion.  Are you mocking my fashion.  No it's never happened.  People normally politely smile, say thank you and then remove the offending piece.  Some have more success than others but this is normally relative to the amount of alcohol involved in the situation.  I've actually tried the tactic of standing on the bog roll whilst the person walks away in an attempt to dislodge the bog roll without them ever knowing it was there.  Sometimes this is highly effective - though you must remember to remove the toilet roll from your own shoe.  Sometimes you just look like a stalker.  Based on the evidence it would seem that the safest and certainly most sensible option would be to simply advise the person that there is evil bog roll hitching a lift on the underside of their shoe.  Maybe avoid accusing the bog roll of actually being evil or you may get some funny looks.  But this seems to be the way to go.  At the end of the day no one wants to walk around with bog roll stuck to their shoe and I would say that most people would be happy to be alerted to the situation.  So there we have it.  Bog roll etiquette.  For the shoes at least.  Bog roll hanging out of someone's waistband?  Well that's a whole new problem.  

Eating a Carrot That Tastes Like Soap is Stupid

Ever since not feeling very well over the weekend I have been shunning my normal snackage in favour of much healthier treats.  Now my not feeling very well may or may not have been due to too much white wine but that is still very much in debate.  Either way, it feels like my body has been craving a detox and whilst I enjoy fruit and veg, I've recently been coveting it like Golum and that ring.  I'm not an unhealthy eater per se but I do enjoy a good handful of crisps.  A cracker topped with cheese.  A pistachio nut (though with the price of them that is a rare treat indeed).  Savoury snacks.  Salty snacks.  But since the weekend I've been guzzling water, eating a huge number of oranges and steering clear of my favoured savoury snacks altogether.  By now, now being about 10.30 on a Wednesday, I would have a cup of tea on the go and one, two, three custard cream biscuits.  In reality I have a glass of water and some carrot.  And I'm not on some sort of health kick and I'm certainly not dieting; it's just what I fancy.  I'm not in the mood for a cup of tea.  I'm not in the mood for biscuits.  I want water and carrot apparently.  The thing is I don't think my carrot is actually a carrot.  It looks like a carrot.  Smells like a carrot.  But it doesn't really taste like a carrot.  It actually tastes a bit like soap.  Not that I've had much experience eating soap but it has a kind of soapy aftertaste like if you accidentally swallow your shampoo when rinsing your hair.  Or randomly put your finger in your mouth after washing your hands.  I don't know who actually does this kind of thing but I feel that I know what soap tastes like.  And my carrot tastes like soap.  And the weird thing?  Weirder than having a carrot that tastes like soap?  Or soap shaped like a carrot?  I keep eating the damned thing.  I'm not really enjoying it and its non carrot like taste but I won't leave it alone.  Is it because it's just there.  Innocently sat on the little yellow chopping board (woo little yellow chopping board).  Probably.  But then I'm ever the optimist and probably imagine that the next bite of carrot might actually taste like carrot and less like soap.  Ever the optimist.  Ever disappointed.  Who the hell is growing carrots that taste like soap?  Is there a market for carrots like this.  Yuck.  I need to step away from the carrot.  Get rid of it.  Hell, the compost  bin is only a few steps away.  I should stop eating the soapy carrot and put it to good use.  I have attached a photo of the the offending carrot on the little yellow chopping board so you can see how much I've eaten.  Please note, this was a massive carrot.  I'm talking HUGE.  So I did actually eat a lot of it.  I might actually be eating some right now.  That's it.  I'm over it.  The carrot is going in the compost bin!  

Non Apricot Related Wind Activity

I was woken up this morning by rattling windows and a sinister whistling.  Not an earthquake.  Not a strange whistling person tapping on the windows.  Just really bad wind.  And I'm not talking the apricot induced kind either.  This was - and continues to be - big wind.  Blowing in from I don't know where.  And causing a lot of noise and what not.  The first thing I saw when I turned on the news was that our area was on severe weather warnings with winds predicted to reach up to 110km/h.  I guess that's pretty fast though honestly, I have no concept of speed.  Or distance for that matter.  The speed, distance, time triangle is a mystery to me.  Oh it looks like such an innocent day outside.  The skies are blue.  The sun is shining.  The sea is calm.  But the wind is evil.  The wind is whipping around like it's going out of fashion.  I knew it was bad because not only were the windows rattling but things - namely plants - were getting tossed around on the balcony and I could see sand blowing through the air.  The plants are now safe, which I'm sure you're all very glad to hear about.  I'm not sure I expected the wind tunnel I was going to step into when I ventured outside to await my lift to work.  My hair might have been in place before I left the house but after that I had nothing to do but accept the windswept look for the day.  The wind was so fierce that my eyes started watering and my mascara started running.  The wind made me cry.  Not only that, I'm pretty sure that in that moment, if I'd made a little leap I would have been blown several feet backwards.  I was actively having to hold my position.  The wind was trying to force me backwards.  Evil wind.  Needless to say I turned up at work looking less than glamorous.  Wild hair.  Smudged make up.  It was like I'd just rolled in from a heavy night out.  I had to freshen up in the bathroom before venturing out to face the public.  And of course the wind was wreaking havoc at work again.  We had to lock one of the doors because the wind kept sneaking in and sending paperwork flying.  And you know what that meant.  We had to put up the "use the other door" sign which everyone ignores.  Fun times.

Pins and Needles

How freaky is it when you get a dead arm?  Or a dead anything for that matter.  And how evil are the pins and needles that strike when the dead appendage comes back to life!  I scared the crap out of myself the other morning when I woke up with a completely dead arm.  I'd obviously been in a deep sleep because I'd actually been sleeping on top of my arm and was completely unaware of anything until I woke up and saw a hand that did not look like my own.  I had no feeling whatsoever, which is why it was like a stranger's arm laying in the bed.  And why would a random arm be laying in the bed?  When you wake up with blurry eyes and a groggy sleep head this can be very scary.  But I'm not sure what's scarier.  Somehow convincing yourself that there's a random arm in your bed or realising that the random arm is actually your own and is incapable of moving.  I actually had to use my other arm to pick  up the dead arm and move it.  It just flopped about like a lifeless limb of doom.  There was a split second when I thought that the arm was lost and it really freaked me out.  But then things started jumping back to life and the pins and needles kicked in.  God those pins and needles are torturous.  And why are they called pins and needles?  It's like a mixture of pain and tickling all at once.  And I was pleased that my hand and arm were coming back to life but I wasn't enjoying the process.  It's normally over fairly quickly but it makes you wonder why your body allowed you to get into the situation in the first place.  It should really know better.  Dead arms aside, I often seem to get a dead leg.  And it always hits at the most inopportune moments.  Like I'll be sat at work - obviously with my legs twisted in some weird way - I'll need to stand up to get something for a customer and BAM! dead leg.  And you have to keep moving.  You have to keep moving.  Even though you're pretty sure that your dead leg is going to crumple beneath you.  Even though the pins and needles are making you squirm with discomfort.  Even though you look like some sorted of demented pirate whilst hobbling along to the till.  What to do?  Confess to the dead leg?  Do the customers even care.  Fake an injury.  Hobble around as if you've done in your ankle or something.   I guess there's a potential sympathy vote there but you don't want it to generate a conversation.  Then you're into dangerous water making up stories about how a land dwelling shark tackled you, twisting your ankle, before disappearing into the shadows.  I guess it's probably easier to admit that you have pins and needles.  Everyone gets it don't they?  Lets just hope everything doesn't strike at once.  Dead legs and dead arms at the same time.  That would be really freaky. 

No One Likes Telstra but They Do Good Adverts

Ah Telstra.  I'm not sure I've met another person in this country who actually like Telstra.  They're a major telephone service provider - like BT or something - but their customer service is appalling.  If something goes wrong then it's impossible to actually speak to someone who can fix it.  You get transferred to several different people, all of whom want you to explain your problem from the start before deciding they can't help you and transfer  you to someone else.  It's a nightmare.  It's like they're too big for their own good.  Actually, the other day, Telstra actually transferred a call through to me.  In the holiday park.  I answered the phone and this man immediately launched into the problems he was having with his phone line.  I had to politely interrupt and suggest he had the wrong number as I was a receptionist at a holiday park and had nothing to do with phone lines.  The man asked if I was joking.  I confirmed that I was not.  He then advised me that Telstra had actually transferred him through to our number.  I commented (sarcastically) that Telstra were brilliant.  He agreed and then put the phone down.  I think I was the most helpful person he'd spoken to all day.  But I must say as bad as my experiences with Telstra have been, they do some excellent adverts.  My favourites are the 1234 ads, which star "sock".  These are great and always make me laugh.  If only Telstra could bring their customer service up to the same standard as their ads then they'd make a lot of people very happy.

            

Whale Season

It's whale season again here and the whales are officially on the move.  I'm not really sure where they're going or even where they're coming from but I know that for the next few months the whales will be travelling through our waters.  Now I say it's whale season but I've yet to actually see one.  Everyone else seems to have seen one but I'm obviously in the wrong place at the wrong time.  To be fair, the view from my balcony shows the bay and really a whale shouldn't be in there.  If a whale was in there - like last year - it normally means it's poorly and not doing so good.  Duke has seen loads of whales from her house and today Monster Noggin said she saw like four whales.  Four whales!  Apparently there was much tail splashing action.  I'm missing out.  I can see that I'm going to have to go in search of whale activity.  Maybe when Mystical Roo gets home we can do the coastal walk or something.  I spotted whales the last time we did that.  And looked like a total tourist when I started hopping about, pointing and announcing to anyone who would listen that I had spotted a whale.  Not this year though.  I seem to be the only one who hasn't spotted a whale.  I'll have to go out and about and see if I can get me a photo.  I'm hoping to get a whale hanging out with dolphins.  That would be cool.

Little Stalky Gets Her Yoga On

I've been trying for several mornings now to motivate my Stalky self and get up early to do some dawn exercise. Today was the first day that I actually succeeded in hauling my butt out of bed.  I always go to sleep with good intentions and I set my alarm to get me up nice and early but more often than not I'll hit snooze, roll over and enjoy an extra half an hours worth of sleep.  Well not today.  The alarm went off but I was already awake and though I was comfortable I forced myself to get up.  It's never that bad once you're actually up.  In fact it's quite nice and unless it's been a late night (which it rarely is) then the groggy sleepiness normally wears off fairly swiftly.     I'll only stumble into one door before becoming properly aware of my surroundings.  So this morning, with the sun still to rise, I whipped out my yoga mat, grabbed the yoga DVD and did some pilates.  And you thought I was going to do yoga.  Well I did that too.  Pilates, yoga, tai chi and even a little bit of meditation.  Check me out with my healthy living.  It was actually very relaxing and there was something infinitely calming about watching the sun rise over the ocean even if I was twisted into a seemingly unnatural position at the time.  What I have discovered is that after months of doing not much but walking, my body has become very stiff and doesn't bend as easily as it did about six months ago.  I can't even touch my toes.  It looks like I'll have to try and make this a more regular morning activity.  Limber up and what not.  The DVD took me about an hour to complete and at the end of it I felt really happy.  I was calm and relaxed yet strangely energised.  I felt ready for the day and whatever it might throw at me.  I know that tomorrow I'll wake up and be aching all over but once I get past that little hurdle I'll be ready to jump back into action.  Downward dog.  Sun salutations.  I've got it covered.  And when Mystical Roo gets back from his business trip he can join in too and I'll have a yoga, pilates, tai chi, meditation buddy.  Maybe when summer comes back around we'll be out on the beach, stretching out on the sand.  Oh what ambitions I have for my healthy lifestyle.  We'll see how long it lasts.