postaday2011 – Page 16 – a little cameo

I feel I have justified my fashion throw-outs

January 22, 2011

A fashionista friend of mine came around today for a catch up and I took her on a nineties to noughties journey through my bags of throw-out clothes.

I now feel so much better about relegating these clothes to the throw-out pile as she exclaimed her disgust over many of the things I was hanging on to from the late 90s. There is no way I’m going to be wearing those teeny midriff baring tops anymore. So many of the clothes in those four shopping bags are part of the old me.

I like to think that the ‘new me’ has more style. However I also think style is something that you gain with age and increased disposable income. My selections are infinitely better now than they were as a tarty little 19-year-old for whom short skirts, short tops and tight clothes on an even tighter budget were the order of the day. They are also better than those of the 25-year-old me who after returning from a year of travel was trying to get a professional wardrobe together whilst holding on to the last vestiges of her early 20s style.

Even in the past twelve months, my style has evolved further. I’m discovering skinny leg jeans with sneakers and cute tees (I think I’m trying to get this phase in before I get too old to pull it off). I’m also building on my fabulous frocks with some standouts that I’m convinced will be classics.

So with my friend opening my eyes to the horrors that were, I am now free of the little hoarder in me who says “you might want to wear it again” because NO, I won’t.

Friday customer service call

January 21, 2011

I received a call today from the bank about the new account I opened before Christmas wanting to know how I was finding the account and the experience thus far.

The short reply was, I haven’t found the account. I haven’t even found the keycard and pin that should have been sent to me. The call really couldn’t have been timed much better as yesterday I popped in to the branch and to ask about it. However, choosing to go to a bank on a Thursday is not a wise move. Being pension day, it is always busy, and yesterday it was so busy that I decided not to bother with the query on my account. So today’s call was great because I found out that my card is waiting for me at the branch.

In addition, I also found out that the Call Guy gets quite frustrated when this happens. He said, and quite rightly so, that if my card goes to the branch, then they should call me to pick it up. I whole-heartedly agree. Call Guy’s rather relaxed attitude led to a far greater conversation than I would usually have with any customer service rep over the phone. I also think there may have been some phone flirting involved…

I also have a sneaking suspicion that he may have done a search for me on Facebook after a little comment about Facebook he dropped in and then a little bit later he stumbled a little over part of his spiel the way you do when you get distracted by something. Either that or his desk neighbour was gesticulating wildly trying to get his attention and provide advice as to how to keep me on the phone for longer. Or maybe that’s just my wild imagination and tickets on myself!

Call Guy also dropped this little gem into the conversation about going in to the bank.

“I actually worked in a branch over Christmas and pension Thursday, you want to avoid that. It’s like there’s DJs or something there, although I don’t think the oldies really go for that.”

I nearly spluttered all over the phone with laughter at this, and barely managed to maintain my composure.

It was a bit of Friday fun and after that 13 minute chat about all sorts of things in a relaxed and unstuffy manner, I think I like my new bank even better.

It’s not very neighbourly but…

January 20, 2011

Last night was bin night. I know this because I nearly hit two wheelie bins that the houseboat owner had placed touching the edge of the bitumen and over the end of my driveway.

I was not happy about this bin placement. There have never been any issues before and I don’t know what part of my driveway they couldn’t see when putting them out or why they didn’t think they would get in my way.

As is the case with most things you find irritating, I shared this gripe with Bro #2 when he came to visit to see if I’d done his washing for him. Actually, on reflection, I think that Bro #2’s comments about expecting me to know that his clothes strewn on the spare room floor were all dirty and that he wanted me to automatically wash them got me wound up in agro mode.

All het up with vehemence, I asked if he’d hit the bins out the front when driving in the driveway. He didn’t really know what I was on about, but I soon filled him in about inappropriate bin placement and disrespect for my driveway in one of those loud, accusing, fishwife type voices.

Later, as Bro #2 drove away, I heard something that sounded like when the garbage truck collects the bins. I peered out the window but didn’t see anything except my brother’s big 4WD ute zooming off down the road.

Heading off to lunch with friends, I had cause for a big ole grin and giggle as I drove down the driveway. Bro #2 had stuck up for big sister and her feelings and nudged the two offending bins with his big bull bar and knocked them over and off my driveway. Seems he brought a little bit of his bulldozer driving job for Dad into town for me.

It’s times like these that I love my little brother like crazy. *heart*

(Please let it be known that these were not the bins of my neighbour who actually lives next door, as their bin is always in their front yard and we are friends)

A tapestry of paddocks

January 19, 2011

Aerial view flying in to Mildura — Window seat view

Wow. Flying in to Mildura always gives me pit-of-the-stomach sentimentality. I love it.

The patchwork of horticulture in amongst sand dunes, scrub and lake beds with the snaking Murray river as the defining feature never fails to enthrall me as I look out the window of the Dash 8 aeroplane.

: Home sweet home

I picked out my parents’ property, its layout is easy to spot from the air. The roof of Dad’s new shed glints like a shiny new coin, outshining the house and older sheds.

The current abundance of water is fascinating. In one place, shallow water pools at the bottom of the sandhills glisten as we fly over, the sun catching at different angles to give a shimmer that feels as though it needs to be accompanied by one of those rainmaker stick sound effects.

Not paling in comparison is the feeling I get when flying over Mildura. A combination of homely nostalgia, of safety, of easiness. I won’t be flying in to Mildura for a while now, so I soak up this feeling as it washes over me.

Love thirty

January 18, 2011

As the days tick by and my departure date to LA gets ever closer, I’m hurrying to cross off some items on my bucket list. This weekend it was the Australian Open tennis tournament.

Despite having lived in Melbourne for 7 years, I had never been to the tennis. I’d always wanted to go, but things just seemed to get in the way, not the least, work commitments. So with my current flexible work arrangements, I made the time to go and see the blue-court action.

In order to get the most from the experience, I wandered around during the day on my groundpass checking out the big screen action from a deck chair, the Swedish fan club on Show Court 2 and then got right up close to a match between a Russian and a Serb. Unfortunately I first picked a seat in the middle of a gang of adolescents with Serbian heritage. Just like any big group of teenagers (like at the cinema) they were obnoxious, loud, foul-mouthed and stinky. As the game was interesting, I moved to another stand for a better spectator environment. I have also come to the conclusion that Swedes and Serbs are the biggest tennis fanatics.

With one bucket list experience down, there are still plenty more such as:

The Great Barrier Reef, Queensland, Australia
Burning Man Festival, USA
La Tomatina Festival, Spain
Tour of Mungo, NSW, Australia
Pyramids and Nile cruise, Egypt
Petra, Jordan
Trans-Siberian Train trip, Russia
Go to a Hollywood premiere
Buy myself a pair of Jimmy Choos
Timbuktu, Mali
Tubing in Laos
Live in New York for 6 months
Cherry Blossom Festival, Japan
Ciudad Perdida trek, Colombia
Panama Canal, Panama

What is the most recent thing you’ve done from your bucket list?

The scent of Chanel

January 17, 2011

I’m staying with my friend, Shanghai Slipper, in the city and a special occasion demanded a special scent to accompany my fabulous frock.

When I’m travelling I leave all my ‘good’ perfumes at home and instead travel with a small bottle of Miss Jaguar that I bought in Paraguay about 6 years ago. All the perfumistas out there would be shaking their head and telling me that it would, by now, be rather rancid and lacking all the original notes it held that one day in a Paraguayan department store. However I find that it masks traveller stench quite well, which was the reason I bought perfume in Paraguay in the first place.

While getting ready in the bathroom, Shanghai Slipper’s Chanel No. 5 looked so inviting that I sprayed a sneaky squirt on my pulse points. I have only ever sniffed the nozzle of a bottle of Chanel No. 5 (again, horror to all perfumistas) and it didn’t really impress me that much. This time though, with the perfume embracing my skin with a silky caress, it pulsated from my points as a glorious, elegant and oh-so-lovely scent. Something that Miss Jaguar certainly wouldn’t have been able to do.

I think a bottle of Chanel No. 5 might just be on my next duty-free shopping list.

Maybe dating isn’t dead in Australia

January 16, 2011

I bleat a lot about how people in Australia don’t date. This is one of the reasons why I am very much looking forward to moving to LA where the dating culture is vibrant and prolific.

Now I’m just starting to think that maybe I only need to live in a city, where there are so many more people that I don’t know. Last night while at a hen’s night in the city (tasteful hen’s, might I add) I met The Balkan Lift Guy.

Returning from the bar, I found that a number of our previously well held seats had been taken over. The lounge chair next to mine was now occupied by an interesting looking male who I had to tip-toe and shimmy past to get to my spot, which now had a mountain of handbags on it. After relocating the handbags, I sank back in the chair and rested my ringless left hand on the arm.

While joking with the girls I noticed this guy beside me behaving in the kind of way you do when you are thinking about what to say to someone to open a conversation. So the conversation started with “That’s a nice watch. It suits you.” My thanks for the compliment was speedily returned with “What brand is it?” and less than a heartbeat later “Is it a Guess?” When I said “That was a good Guess” (because it is indeed a Guess watch) he admitted to having studied it close enough to read the name on the face.

He asked all the standard questions, including one question which I only ever get when in the city “Where are you from?” This is not a “Where do you live” type question, but more a “What is your ethnic heritage” question. Playing coy and curious, I asked (as I always ask) “Where do I look like I’m from?” His reply was more vague than others I’ve received over the years, with a continental “European” response. I’ve had all sorts of nationalities like Italian, Brazilian, Argentinian and once I even got Egyptian as responses. The truth is far less exotic than that. Both sides of my family have been in Australia for more than 150 years. The most recent immigrations in my family are my grandmother’s Irish father and my other grandmother’s German grandmother. The rest is all just a mix of English and Scottish heritage.

His response to my right-back-at-you question was “the Balkans, you know, Yugoslavia, Macedonia”. I have heard of Iranians calling themselves Persians but I hadn’t ever heard of Macedonians saying they are from the Balkans.

Another speed date style of question from The Balkan Lift Guy was “How old are you?” I’m not one of these girls that subscribes to the theory that women never reveal their true age. I actually like being told that I look five or six years younger than I really am, because that is often the case. He was somewhat taken aback so I asked if that was way older than he’d expected, and said that usually people think I’m 25 or 26. That was what he had been thinking, but then again, given that he was 24, no wonder he was taken aback.

His subsequent comment was one that continues to baffle me “You know there’s a European saying that is ‘The older the woman, the better they suit'”. My Google search isn’t shining any light on that one. Perhaps you know what The Balkan Lift Guy was talking about? I’m not sure what better type of suiting I am to a younger man.

Anyways, what was nice was that when I had to leave after 10 minutes of conversation he said “If you weren’t moving overseas, I would have asked for your number.” And I would have given it to him. Maybe dating isn’t dead in Australia. Maybe it just got lost in the country.

Huff and puff until…

January 15, 2011

Until my wrap dress blows open.

I was just walking across the street when a huge gust of wind blew in to play with my hemline. Normally it wouldn’t be such a concern except that my satin dress is a rear opening wrap and I forgot which side it opened.

In a bit of a fluster I grab the left side and dragged it across a little. Then I started trying to recall which side was which, something that soon became apparent as some ladies tittered behind me.

Making it to safety on the kerb I realised I had the wrong end of my dress and had probably only helped the wind to show off my underwear.

I turned to the ladies and asked “Did I just show you my underwear?” They giggled an affirmative as I let out a gale of my own, one of laughter.

They gave me bonus points for being able to laugh about it. I am no longer worried about picking wedgies in public. I’d sooner that than people actually seeing it in all its glory.

<3

January 14, 2011

I am not one of the cool texty kids. I knew that before I met this confounding symbol ❤

I clearly remember the first time I encountered this little text abbreviation and the ensuing “wtf” thought patterns. Let’s just take this for example:

“I can’t believe you just did that <3”

Now I know that when you read the book name on the spine the words start at the top of the book and run down, so that should be the normal head tilt direction. However in this rather special circumstance, I do it the latino way and read the flow from the bottom of the spine to the top.

So I was reading:

“I can’t believe you just did that ❤ (dick)”

not, I repeat not

“I can’t believe you just did that ❤ (heart)”

So the moral of this post is to be careful which way you tilt your head when reading text speak.

Quite the epiphany when you get it but my excuse is that the smiley face made me tilt left : )

A sugar sachet ritual

January 13, 2011

Whenever I’m out at a cafe I always fold my sugar wrappers up into one sachet.

This habit probably formed when I added three, sometimes four, sugars to my coffee. I was trying to hide how many I’d actually added, not wanting to look like such a shocking sweet tooth to those around.

While I’ve now cut back my sugar intake in coffee after a health kick last year, I still fold the slide the tops and extra wrappers into one. It’s a habit, but after waiting on tables and having to clear away little coffee soaked wrappers, it’s also a thoughtful gesture for whoever is clearing your table.