Guilty Pleasures

I think that everyone must have a guilty pleasure.  It's just that some of us admit to it and others don't.  I don't know what makes a pleasure guilty.  You just know that it is when you're embarrassed to admit your habit or know that people will laugh at you, judge you or shun you.  I have several guilty pleasures and one of those is reading trashy gossip magazines.  I can feel you judging already.  I don't know what it is about trashy gossip magazines that I love so much but if I'm feeling in a lazy mood I like nothing better than wallowing in the bath, supping a glass of wine and reading about what's going on in the land of showbiz.  Maybe I like the fact that I don't have to concentrate.  I can skim through stories and look at pretty dresses.  I can read about other people's lives and realise that maybe I'm not that crazy.  I don't know what it is.  But I know why I feel guilty about this pleasure.  I'm paying money to a magazine that on one page will be outraged at some celebrity's weight loss while on the next page they'll be pointing fun at someones muffin top, whilst on the next page they'll be celebrating women comfortable in their own bodies when on the next page they'll be explaining the latest diet to help you lose weight in 24 hours.  I'll read ridiculous stories that I know can't be true and wonder who these "friends" are that are always on hand to dish the dirt on their best buds.  I know all of this and still I read them.  Still I enjoy them.  Maybe it's because I don't take it too seriously.  I'm not interested in who weights what and I don't believe everything I read.  It's just my way of switching off once in a while.  I think I'll continue to enjoy this guilty pleasure of mine even if I'm not altogether proud of it. 

Mushroom Sneak Attack

Mystical Roo and I have been trying to use as much as we can from the cupboards to make dinner without having to do a food shop.  We're trying to reduce waste and save money.  And most of the time we can scrape together a fairly decent, if slightly random, concoction.  Over the weekend Mystical Roo was putting together a rather excellent lunch of sausage, bacon and egg in a sandwich.  Whilst Mystical Roo was working his magic I was hovering around the kitchen and wittering on whilst trying to house some carrots.  We've been having trouble with the carrots lately.  They keep getting floppy before we have chance to use them and I was contemplating the storage of said carrots.  I'd decided to give them a go in the cupboard rather than the fridge and see if this helped the situation.  Whilst in the cupboard I realised we had a bag of mushrooms that hadn't been used and had the idea of whipping up a risotto.  I thought I'd whip those mushrooms out of there, put them aside and give the carrots a new home.  Big mistake.  As soon as I grabbed that bag I knew I'd made a mistake.  Not only because of the almighty pong that came wafting towards me but the liquid that came bursting out of the mushroom bag.  Mushrooms gone wrong.  Mushrooms gone bad.  Mushrooms gone off.  Good God how long had they been in there for!  Not that long I'm sure but they - or rather I - had made a huge mess.  Mushroom juice everywhere.  In the tray, in the cupboard, on the floor and dripping through my fingers as I held the bag in disgust.  Rogue mushrooms straight into the bin.  Smell lingering.  The smell was just horrible.  Horrible.  The tray came out and was straight in the sink.  I was in the cupboard with kitchen roll and then I was on the floor with kitchen roll and still the smell wouldn't go away.  Evil mushroom activity.  Evil!  I have since given the cupboard a proper wipe down and mopped the floor but I'm pretty sure I can still smell a rogue mushroom.  They're haunting me!  

Batten Down the Hatches

We've been having more of that wild weather again.  After what has seemed like weeks of sunshine the skies darkened, the heavens opened and we were thrust into the midst of what appeared to be an endless storm.  I don't know if it's living on the coast or if it's just something with Australian weather but things get really wild here.  The wind, the rain.  Nothing is done by half.  If it's going to rain then it will pour.  If the wind wants to blow then it will let you know about it.  I walked to the dentists in the rain and nearly got blown away in the process.  I've never seen the sky look so black.  The sea and the sky almost seemed to blur into one grey mass as threatening clouds swirled and mighty waves crashed.  It was the perfect setting for a creepy ocean inspired film.  Possibly something with crusty pirates or an ominous goat.  Spooky stuff.  Needless to say the balcony has been flooding again and I managed to nab the lid from the compost bin before it went flying out to sea.  The windows have been rattling, the plants have been swaying and rain has been hammering down.  And ever since those floods I can't help but get a bit edgy when we get this much rain.  I start looking at every puddle with suspicious eyes.  Are you really a puddle?  Or are you the beginning of a flood.  Paranoid?  Yes.  But sometimes it pays to be.  Be prepared for an ominous goat around every corner.  You just never know.

Fear the Hygienist

Today has been my third trip to the dentist in just over a week.  Today, however, I have not been to see the dentist, rather I have been to see the hygienist.  And what a shocking experience that turned out to be.  Don't fear the dentist people.  Feat the hygienist.  Because that's where the pain is really at.  My God!  I know a lot of it is my own fault for putting off the trip for so long but I've never experienced anything like it.  And apparently it was all down to evil calculus.  Not normal calculus.  Evil calculus.  And not mathematical calculus.  This is dental calculus.  The type that builds up on your teeth and gets you into trouble with your hygienist.  The type that makes your hygienist dive into your mouth with a little pick axe and grind away at your teeth.  See, evil calculus!  I think I was in with the hygienist longer than when I was in with the dentist.  After an initial scrape, which isn't altogether pleasant but certainly isn't painful, the hygienist set about removing the calculus.  I have no idea what was going on in my mouth.  There was a tube sucking up rather a lot of blood and the tool that was being used to remove the evil calculus sounded like a drill but felt like a dagger to my gums.  It was like teeny tiny sticks were being rammed underneath my teeth at speed.  Cringe does not even begin to cover my reaction.  I was told to raise my hand if it became too much but I was determined to be a good patient and work through the pain.  I think my entire body went stiff apart from my feet which were jigging away.  My eyes must have told of my pain as the hygienist kept apologising but made a point of telling me I was doing very well.  All I could think about was how long it was going to take.  When would the ordeal be over.  But it just seemed to go on and on and I think I exhausted myself just trying to focus on not focusing on the pain.  You hear people talking about how they think past the pain and push through it.  There was no amount of sweet distributing bunny action going on in my brain that was going to make me forget the chiseling that was going on in my mouth.  Who are these people that can think through the pain.  They're hardcore.  Or they've never been to see the hygienist.  When it was all over I felt a little light headed and couldn't help running my tongue around my mouth where it now feels like there are massive gaps between each tooth.  Then I had a polish, which was much better.  Then I got to swish some fluoride and was told rather specifically not to swallow it.  Then I was told I couldn't eat or drink for half an hour, which was a blow considering how hungry I was.  And when someone tells you that you can't do something it only makes you want to do it even more.  But I behaved.  And was relieved when the dentist announced that overall my teeth were very healthy and I wouldn't be needing any more fillings or what not.  But they want to see me again in six months and keep on top of the evil calculus.  Go back?  Go back to the hygienist.  But it was agony.  And I didn't even get a sticker or a lolly pop.  Though I did get given a toothbrush and some toothpaste.  Not the same though is it.  It's hard to imagine how I'll motivate myself to go back again.  A lot of pain for a lot of money.  What's in it for me?  Oh yeah, healthy teeth.  I guess that's important.