Della's Decorating

For a while, you may or may not recall that  I was regularly featuring photos of new decorating touches that I'd made to my apartment. I'd pretend that I was the chatelaine of a fabulously interesting Manhattan pied a terre who had graciously consented to allow her public a tiny peek into Her Private World.

Clearly, I was modelling myself on that Great Style Maven, Diana Vreeland who loved nothing more than to show off her New York Garden in Hell Living Room. 

You also may or may not recall that I would call these entries, 'Decorating & the Dumped Woman'. I thought that it was a great label.

But since I've now completely eschewed the title 'Dumped', I couldn't call it that anymore. 

I felt sad. I didn't want to post any more decorating pictures  if I couldn't call it that.

But over the past few days, I've grown up considerably. I've decided to let my feelings go & Move On.

So, here's some new pictures.

Here's my bed. It's wearing a gorgeous satin quilt that I bought for ten bucks at 'Bednobs & Broomsticks' thrift shop because it has a small, but slightly nasty cigarette hole in it. Luckily, I am fond of imperfections.

I'm showing off some of my necklaces. This morning, I had tipped them all out of their garages & on to the bed in a frenzy. I just didn't know which ones to wear & I was dangerously late for school.

 I ended up not wearing any of them.

This little Still Life, featuring Real Antlers given to me by my step-son, Tyler, an old china ornament & a whole mess of coral that I collected on a holiday to Magnetic Island, is a Homage to Charles Darwin, who has some important anniversary this year. I can't remember if we're celebrating his birth or death or the time he sailed on 'The Beagle'.

 I've placed a whole lot of free postcards which are a reproduction of the original first page of 'The Origin of the Species' at the back. 

I'm sure Charles would be thrilled to know he was being celebrated in this way.

Now we're back to The Bed.

Note the little tin Sacred Hearts from Mexico that I buy every time when I visit LA.

I hope they're not unlucky or anything.

And I just love my red Bed Armrest. I'm not sure what it's called. I again found it at 'Bednobs & Broomsticks' thrift shop which has to be My Lucky Store.

I've saved the best till last.

Here's my new Kitchen Tableau. I've had the statue of The Blessed Virgin for a couple of decades. Sadly, her hands are gone now. They were beautiful, detachable creatures which were broken possibly by a close family member when she was quite little. I've since forgiven her. 

If you look closely, you may notice a chocolate foil rabbit-like creature. It's The Easter Bilby, an Australian version of a rabbit. I found it in 'Big W' over the weekend & decided to celebrate Easter now even though we've just started Lent.

I've Never Cared for Leonard Cohen Until

Joan of Arc by Leonard Cohen

Now the flames they followed joan of arc

As she came riding through the dark;

No moon to keep her armour bright,

No man to get her through this very smoky night.

She said, I’m tired of the war,

I want the kind of work I had before,

A wedding dress or something white

To wear upon my swollen appetite.

Well, I’m glad to hear you talk this way,

You know I’ve watched you riding every day

And something in me yearns to win

Such a cold and lonesome heroine.

And who are you? she sternly spoke

To the one beneath the smoke

.Why, I’m fire, he replied,

And I love your solitude, I love your pride.

Then fire, make your body cold,

I’m going to give you mine to hold,

Saying this she climbed inside

To be his one, to be his only bride.

And deep into his fiery heart

He took the dust of joan of arc,

And high above the wedding guests

He hung the ashes of her wedding dress.

It was deep into his fiery heart

He took the dust of joan of arc,

And then she clearly understood

If he was fire, oh then she must be wood

.I saw her wince, I saw her cry,

I saw the glory in her eye.

Myself I long for love and light,

But must it come so cruel, and oh so bright?

I must admit that I've never cared for Leonard Cohen.

I always felt that his songs went on & on & on, rather like my own blog posts.

The main reason why I've never cared for Leonard is because I never bother listening to the words of a song.

I just like listening to the music.

Except of course when it comes to Barry Manilow.

Who on God's earth can ignore Barry's heartfelt entreaties -

'Baby...take Me/ High upon a hill top/ Up where the stallions meet the sky'.

I swear I did not make this up.

But Leonard & his songs are in a whole other universe that I don't inhabit.

If Leonard & I were Venn Diagrams, there would be no point of intersection.

Until now.

After reading my blog post about Joan of Arc, My Best Friend (MBF from now on), Marge told me to listen to Leonard's song about Joan.

I did as I was told.

Even though the song was about Joan being burnt to a crisp, which I specifically said that I was airbrushing out, I loved it.

I hope you do too.

Oh, I'm posting this entry under Top 10000 Victim Tunes. But I'm not sure if that's an accurate label. After all, from my reading, Joan does enter into a dialogue with Fire asking him to be cold.

And although she did cry, there was glory in her eye

What I Would Wear to the Oscars

In an effort to keep abreast of the times , I've been selflessly trawling through yesterday's Oscar Red Carpet pictures as well as watching the 'E' Channel. 

Pretty Heavy Duty, eh?

I'm sure this isn't news to you, but the 'E' channel is Totally Excremental, although while watching I did catch a tiny sound byte from Heidi Klum that almost, but not quite, made the whole experience worthwhile.  

The Poor Thing was forced to wear a Couture Gown that had a giant steel-plated bow growing out of one side of it which made her long limo drive into the Kodak Theatre absolute torture because she had to 'only sit on one Butt Cheek'.

Rarely have I ever heard the term 'Butt Cheek' used by anyone outside of an Aerobics Instructor at a gym.

I'm sure many of the other Couture Wearers also suffered for their Couture. If they didn't, it looked like they did. Not that I'm Envious or Jealous or Resentful or Toady . I couldn't think of anything worse than trudging down the street with a giant fishtail trailing behind me, catching all the cigarette butts in its path. Isn't that what Anne Hathaway was wearing? 

My favourite look was The Toilet Roll Holder Gown, which owes a great Style Debt to Little Bo Peep. I think the two best in that catagory were Miley Cyrus & Sarah Jessica Parker, although I'm sure there were many other inspirational examples.

And now to Meryl Streep, a catagory all on her own. I have always found wearing Lite Elephant a challenge. And I pride myself on having dear Meryl's colouring. So, Bravo Meryl for daring to wear it. Of course commentators roundly praised her for sensibly wearing sleeves to cover up her, what my last year's Senior Class used to call, 'Oobadoobas'.

 BTW, I am becoming increasingly fascinated by mine. Even though I spend some hours every week in 'Downward Facing Dog' before moving to 'Plank' Pose, the skin around my burgeoning muscles is becoming more & more crepe-like or even frilly. Aging can be fun.

Sophia Loren, pictured air-kissing Meryl, looked like a long-sleeved Coffee Scroll. I wonder if Coffee Scroll translates into other Western Cultures like American? In case it doesn't, its a cake that looks like coffee if it was a cake.

And finally we get to Ethel Merman, a woman who has haunted me for my entire life. I thought this sleeveless gown that she wore in some film would look good on me if I ever went to The Oscars, even though it wouldn't cover up my 'Oobadoobas'.

I Almost PREFER Fake

I spent the weekend in Canberra staying with my daughter & her partner Russell. We had an Ironclad Excuse to Shop because her 21st birthday is rapidly approaching & I wanted to reward both of us.

I need to be rewarded for having her in the first place & then not dropping her or drowning her in the bath & then making sure she got through school & into University without being too much of a slave to current fashion trends. 

I vividly remember going into the early stages of labour. As I sat in a warm bath, I went into a Complete State of Panic when I suddenly realised that it was far too late to change my mind. I had to go through with this. 

No wonder  it took twenty eight hours for her to be born. With thoughts like these swirling around the placenta, I wouldn't be in a big hurry to arrive either. 

Oh God! I've got to finally meet this Mad MotherWoman.  She doesn't even know how to make a nappy. I'd much rather hide in here. How will I cope?

Well, I'm glad to say that not only did Billie-Mae cope, she Flourished. With Bells & Trumpets.

Back to Shopping.

Hopefully, most of the weekend shopping was About Her. But as I type, I'm now gripped with fear, or is it guilt? Did she get most of the stuff or did I? I think she did: vintage handbag, v. cheap thrifted dress, sweater, Chocolate Easter Bilby (an Australian alternative to Bunny) Neil Gaiman's latest book, a glomesh snake necklace. Oh, & a v. moderately priced Olympus camera.

 I bought the items  below. I was soooo thrilled. 

Let me briefly walk you through them. 

For months I've been slobbering over faux Chanel two-toned quilted ballet flats that sat in the window of 'Booty', my local expensive shoe store. In fact, I photographed them early one morning before the snooty owners of the shop arrived. You may, or may not recall seeing them on this blog. I wasn't going to pay hundreds of dollars for them.

But then....Joy O Joy, Good Ol'Target decided to do a Faux Faux Chanel Ballet Flat. In my Opinion, the only decent things in Target are the shoes. That is, if you don't mind wearing Pure Plastic Shoes. Or Fake Leather which I'm sure is a NO NO to many of you. 

But I Almost Prefer Fake. 

And I was 100% Happy (as the tag says) to find the Faux Faux Flats on Sale at Canberra Civic Target! So I just had to have two - the classic black & creme & black & Wild Animal Print. 

And then I found 'Wonder Woman' earrings at 'Diva', another Mall favourite. Lately, WW has become a slight Talisman for me, along with Joan of Arc & Ethel Merman.

It's now 9.30pm. The Oscars are finally on. I must rush off & watch Hugh Jackman's Opening Number. I'm Nothing if Not Patriotic.

Joan of Arc Has Just Galloped In

Lately, I've been attracted to images of Joan of Arc. Well, not exactly her, but  images from Wildly Inaccurate Hollywood films made about her.

 My favourite Joan of Arc is Ingrid Bergmann. If you didn't know that she was about to be burnt to a crisp, you'd think that she looks Completely Invincible in that Steel Power Suit  with Massive Flag & hair blowing madly in the wind.

Warrior Joan.

So, for my purposes, I'm airbrushing out the Flames & the Stake & I'm just thinking of her as Brave & Powerful. Because that's just what I want to be.

But lately I've been feeling like the Wilting Fleur de lis image of Joan in the Silent film version of her life.

Victim Joan. 

Poor old me, trudging along the supermarket aisles at midnight, bemoaning the fact that everything seems to be sold in Big Value Family Packs. What happened to the Single Unit Household? Weren't we the New Growth Industry?

Poor old me,  sadly smiling at acquaintances on the street & just knowing that they are saying quietly to each other, 'Do you know he dumped her? She must be unbearable to live with!'

Wait a minute......did I hear the word 'Dumped'?  

No, no, NO. Absolutely No More Dumped. (Pardon Me, it's just Sylvia, my Inner Tormentor taking over the reigns for a moment.)

And here she is below. The great thing about Sylvia Fowlmouth is that she really knows how to dress. Look at that hat perched so pertly on her head! And those glaring eyes looking all the world like Really Knowing Fried Eggs hanging off her chest! And her long tapered nails, just this morning painted 'Jungle Red'.

And here I am, wanly smiling up at Sylvia. Sadly, she has a distinct Height Advantage over me. I haven't got a chance.

Until Now. Warrior Joan has just galloped in on her white horse, flag waving, eyes shining. 

'Climb aboard', she commands. 

'But I can't get up. The horse is too high.'

'Nonsense', says Joan, 'You can do it'.

Rethink Your Attitude Towards Quiche.

Today I taught one of my favourite poems, 'Funeral Blues' by WH Auden, which fabulously featured in the film, 'Four Weddings & a Funeral'.

Honestly, from the way I just wrote this you'd think that I was one of those Incredibly Conchy English Teachers who can recite 'The Wreck of the Hesperus' word for word or knows the Whole Canon like the Inside of Her Soul.

Nothing can be further from the truth. I can basically recite nothing. 

Except perhaps a short extract from 'Black Beauty' -  'Ah', she said, 'I have seen dead horses, I am sure that they do not suffer pain. I wish I may drop down dead at my work rather than be sent off to the Knackers'.

And another short extract, this time from 'The Importance of Being Earnest' - 'Pray, let me introduce myself to you. My name is Cecily Cardew.'

'Cecily Cardew? What a v. sweet name. Something tells me that we are going to be great friends. I already like you more than I can say. Please sit down'.

That's about it. Nothing more, really. Except perhaps like four words in a row from plays by Shakespeare that I've taught a million times. 

'Tomorrow & tomorrow & tomorrow.........' Blank.

Lines of poetry slip out of my memory like Sands Through the Hourglass. Umm....sounds like half a line from 'Days of Our Dreary Lives'.

Anyway, that's not what I wanted to say at all. I'm sure no one cares if I can remember lines of poetry or not. But you might like my Big Green Cache of Necklaces at my neck. I bought all three of them for two bucks each at 'Forever 21' last year when I was visiting Los Angeles.

And that's also not what I wanted to say either. 

I really just wanted to tell you that my daughter posted a v. entertaining & quite detailed quiche recipe on her blog, Unreal City. 

I have a slight stake in this blog entry because the recipe is one that I've used thousands of times over the past more than two decades. 

 You may think that quiche is Naff. Or Twee. Or both. Or maybe you think that Quiche is Over. Think Again. I promise you , after merely reading the recipe(s),  you'll be rushing off to the kitchen to make a whole mess of them.

I myself must now rush off to listen to my new audio recording of  'Eat Pray Love' by Elizabeth Gilbert. I only discovered it yesterday & am now Absolutely Obsessed. Has anyone else read it?

Whoever Heard of a Fake Kid?

When I was a child & my mother felt my Behaviour in Public was getting a little tiresome, she would say to me loudly in front of Whoever, 'Oh for God's sake, Stop Showing Off!'

It was absolutely the worst thing she could have said about me at the time. I always felt completely explosed & a fraud & a needy idiot.

How's that? A Fraudulent Six Year Old. An Inauthentic Pre-Schooler. A Fake Kid.

 But looking back from the Vantage Point of Age, I can think of many many worse things she could have said. 

'Did you know that my daughter picks her nose & eats it?' is one worse thing.

Fortunately, My Mother never went that far.

My how things change! Nowadays, I'm Loud & Proud About my Showoffiness. Look at the cheesy photo taken today at my desk. I'm showing off my completely Thrifted outfit as well as a desk that has had the entire contents of my bulging pencil case DUMPED on it. Note that I used the word 'dumped' in reference to an inanimate object NOT in reference to myself. 

Maybe I'm Movin' On.

Oh, talking of Mothers & Daughters, my Maisy has written another wonderful food blog post called 'Cheese,' where she discovers the difference between a fake & a real smile in the process of posing next to her Foolproof Quiche. It's a Real Corker! You'd be made to miss it. 

Have Your Nasolabial Folds Formed Yet?

In yesterday's post, I mentioned the Italian actress, Monica Belucci. 

I have never seen her in a film or  bumped into her walking along the street for that matter. Not that that would ever happen.

So, I can't really say that I'm a Fan. But, someone said she was a Shining Exemplar of Long Hair over a Certain Age. And so I mentioned her.

Within a v. short time, I received a sharp email from My Best Friend Marge in Thousand Oaks. Her missive quivered with Righteous Indignation. Monica was born in 1968. She doesn't count because her Nasolabial folds haven't fully formed yet. 

According to World-Expert on Ageing Marge, these character-building lines don't really begin to kick in until after 45. And besides, she's Italian, which means that her skin doesn't get ravaged as much as us Anglo-Celtic people. 

But when I say 'Us', I'm not entirely sure I should say it because I have no real idea who my biological father was, except perhaps that he was a blond named Sam Nelson. Lately, I've been fantasising that  I'm Scandanavian. 

Oh, A Snow Queen! Hurrah!

Anyway, Monica Belucci doesn't count. So let's scrap her.

The Most Unflattering Outfit I've Worn in Years

Ah, Patricia Field....(you know, the SATC costume designer).....she's got a lot to answer for. She's the reason why I wore this yellow belt today in what has to be one of the most Unflattering Outfits I've Worn in Years. 

A couple of  days ago, I made the mistake of watching a little uTube video of Patricia riffing on about her costume choices in the film, 'He's Not That In To You'. Don't bother looking at it because it's Not That Interesting.

Anyway, Patricia explained to us that she decked the star (some young filly with GG initials, maybe Gennifer Goodwin) out in  a black or black & red outfit but with entirely yellow accessories because yellow makes the Whole Look 'Pop'. 

I immediately wanted to 'Pop' too. 

So when I got up this morning, I reached for the yellow belt. The only trouble was, that in the particular elderly elasticised skirt & shirt I chose, I couldn't find my waist. It had Completely Disappeared.  By the time mid-morning  rolled around & I was getting down & dirty with the whiteboard, my waist had travelled up to just below my boobs, creating a kind of Empire Line look. The problem was  compounded by the fact that whilst my waist had moved upwards, my boobs, clad only in a worn-out sporting bra-like substance, had slid downwards. 

Memo to Self: Push Those Girls UP!

Back to Patricia Field.

 I hope that you remember that a couple of weeks ago, I had a Mini-Bileathon about Women Past a Certain Age having hair past their shoulders? I made a swag of insensitive comments condemning the practice, whilst also managing to brag about not having any grey hairs myself. It's always All About Me, isn't it?

Anyway, some generous readers listed a number of Older women who look great with long hair. Monica Belluci was one. Can't remember the rest. But I do remember that no one suggested Patricia Field. But I suppose that ol'Pat's in a Field of her Own, as not only does she have hair past her shoulder, it's Pink & it's got feathers & jewels in it.

Brava I Say!

I Do So Love the Notice That Only Wearing Creme Cuffs Can Bring

Can We Have Truth & Beauty Now?
Originally uploaded by middleagedteacher

I want to focus on my Creme Cuffs.
Yesterday after school, I visited the Westfield Mall where I do my 'Body Balance' class , a Wicked Combination of yoga, tai chi & pilates. As I trawled around the shops before the class, I thought I noticed a number of middleagedwomen staring at the Cuffs. I was thrilled.
Then, when I was standing at the sinks in the change room of the gym, another middleagedwoman leaned over to me & said, 'What great bracelets. Are they Ivory?'
'No, they're Plastic. I bought them at 'Diva'.
She sniffed & walked off.
As usual, I'm not quite sure what the point of this story is. Or whether it Needs a Point.
But often, when women admire some item of jewellry that I'm wearing, they'll ask if it's 'Real'. You know, Real Gold, Real Chanel, Real Enormous Pearls.
I have a policy of saying that Everything is Faux. Or Plastic. Or Both.
And the women always walk away Slightly Disappointed.

Shameless Nepotism.

My daughter has written an extremely entertaining Food Blog Entry. It's not your Usual Fare. So go check it out. Go on. You won't be disappointed. Unreal City.

I Surrender to Being a Hideous Old Crone

It's been six months since Mr Ex-Middleaged left. Note I didn't say that it's been six months since I've been 'dumped'.  No, no, no. That word is never going to cross my lips again, unless its to say something like, 'I'll just dump my bag in the corner'. 

In fact, I'm sure there's some readers out there who don't even remember Mr. Ex-Middleaged. And a good thing that is too.

Six months is somewhat of a millstone, oops...I mean milestone. 

And I've got another Milestone coming up. 

Ah yes, my birthday is in a month. Usually at about this time, I begin to be aware of a Slight Queasiness which morphs into Full-Blown Fear & Panic by the time The Big Day rolls around. I blame three things for this reaction:

 1. Some hateful trace memory in my consciousness about being born & then being immediately taken away from my Birth Mother.

 2.  When, on my fifth birthday in Kindergarten I cried (probably due to the Trace Memory), The Odious Nun, Sister Rosalia said 'If you cry on your birthday, You cry the whole year'. What Life Skills those Gentle Sisters gave me!

 3. Fear, dread & panic about getting old.

So, to celebrate my Fear of Getting Old, I thought I'd show you a Denim Skirt that is available at the English brand, Marks & Spencer's website. It's part of their 'Old & Frumpy' range. The site even includes a breathless testimonial from an excited middleagedwoman who signed herself 'frumpymama', saying that wearing the skirt, which incidentally has a slight swing to it, made her feel 'ten years younger & desperate to dance.' I was desperate to puke

I would never be caught dead wearing anything like that skirt. Unless, of course it was $3 at my favourite thrift shop, 'Beatniks & Bohemians'. But as I truly loathe Denim (except on my daughter), I probably wouldn't buy it even if it was fifty cents. 

So, you'll never see a smidgen of denim in any of my Wardrobe Pictures. Look closely at the snaps below, taken by my Boho Artist pal Maud at a Graffiti Graveyard in Sydney's Newtown. It's a completely Denim -Free Zone. 

And thanks to the wonderful 'Soft Skin' setting on my camera, I manage to look fairly youthful. And not in a Faye Dunaway kind of way.

 Talking of Ageing, I must quote from Simon Doonan, whose style book, 'Eccentric Glamour' I got for Xmas  & I've never mentioned it since, even though I kind of loved it. Simon is an English guy who's expertise dressing the windows of 'Barney's department store in NYC has made him into one of the World's Biggest Style Gurus. In the chapter, 'Becoming Cher', Simon  tells it like it is : "We humans are all doomed to wrinkle, wither, & die.......accepting the inevitability of your physical decay... will allow you to enjoy life & to revel in the eccentric glamour of every waking moment."

Simon urges us to reconcile ourselves to the fact that we will 'eventually & inevitably, morph into a hideous old crone'.

You know what, Simon, not only am I going to reconcile myself to becoming a crone, I'm going to Surrender to It!

Life is All About Priorities

Just recently, I've experienced some Pleasant Surprises when visiting the homes of Old Friends who I've sadly neglected for years & years & am now desperately trying to suck up to. The surprises have been around walking into a room in their house & suddenly discovering an artwork by me hanging up that I'd forgotten about. 

Last sunday I visited the wonderful art deco apartment of my old friend Jeni & her partner Mitch. Upon walking into their fabulously renovated study, I discovered the collage painting above, hanging over the mantlepiece. Of course, I immediately wondered if they'd quickly dragged the picture from the back of the cupboard & put it up just moments before I arrived. But I decided that I'd Let That Thought Go for once & just enjoy the thrill of seeing it.

You may or may not be able to read the text - Life is All About Priorities. It shows a merry group of Society Hobnobbers from the 50s relaxing in the front driveway of a House that has been severely earthquake damaged. 

I thought that this Silly Picture summed up my Current Mood & perhaps the moods of many of my fellow Australians right now. The death toll from the bushfires in the state of Victoria in South East Australia has just reached 181 & will probably rise to 200 by tomorrow morning. The charred remains of a family of three have just been found in their bath where they were sheltering. Hundreds & hundreds of people have lost everything , but the mood in the makeshift camps where people are gathering is one of gratitude to be alive. 

It certainly puts my little worries into perspective.

Am I a BraggErt, a BraggArt or Simply a Bragger?

I just had to tell you that my daughter has now got a blog. She's a v. talented writer even though she has eschewed Humanities by studying two Science degrees concurrently. That's the second time I've managed to mention that over the last couple of blog entries. 

I'm Nothing if Not a Shameless Braggert.

And don't you just love that word 'Braggert'? It has a wonderful swagger to it, don't you think?Maybe the correct spelling is 'Braggart'. Or maybe it isn't a word.  Or worse still, maybe the correct word is 'Bragger'.

And I'm supposed to be an English teacher, for crying in the beer.

Anyway, go check her blog. She has five entries so far. She's the type of writer who could write a compelling restaurant review without ever bothering to go to, much less eat at the restaurant under review. It's called The Unreal City.

16 Random Things: No. 8, What Cartoon Character Do I Most Resemble?

Some time back I was tagged on my flickr site to reveal 16 Random Things About Myself. I was absolutely thrilled. Finally, I was Asked!

I wished it was 100, nay, 200 Random Things. In fact, I might decide to  keep the Random Thingy going indefinitely. 

Some people may feel that my attitude reveals a Chronic Case of Oversharing or maybe a Thoroughly Undeserved Sense of Self-Importance. Or Rampant Ego Inflation. Or a Desperate Need for Adulation & Acknowledgment. Or Flagrant Low-Self-Esteem. 

I'm probably all of those things & much much more. 

But the Cartoon character that I feel  most sums me up, is Donkey in 'Shrek'.  You know, he's the one jumping up & down on the spot at the back of the group that shouts out to Shrek, 'Pick Me! Pick Me!' 

I just want to be noticed. And to tell anyone who'd listen the Story of My Life in a Thousand Chapters. 

So I've just revealed Random Thing Number 8. If you could be bothered reading the first seven, just click on my flickr photostream.

Oh, you may be wondering why I posted that pic of me lovingly gazing up at the word 'Fearless'. It's because that's what I'm aiming to be. I don't want to be a Evil Knieval or a Harry Houdini or the type of person who would do my own stunts in a film or anything, but someone who was Quietly Fearless. 

Wouldn't that  be Fantastic? 

 

Memo to Self

The Satisfaction that Mild Obsessive Compulsive Disorder Can Create

My daughter, Billie-Mae, sent me a photo of her & her cupboard this evening. I was thrilled. 

Not only is everything organised in neat piles according to their species (e.g. shorts) but she has set up a Clothing Database on her computer which will help  keep tabs on her continually expanding wardrobe. Because she is a Scientific Person (concurrently studying two Bachelor of Science degrees in Psychology & Geology), she loves nothing more than Spreadsheets & databases. I wouldn't know what a Spreadsheet looked like. She also mentioned a rather intricate system of Colour-Coding the Database which I thought sounded Genius, but I couldn't follow. Not that I'm trying to portray myself as dim. Heaven forbid!

All this Serendipitiously (possibly not a proper word, & if it is, certainly not a word I'm spelling correctly ) dovetails into a blog entry I read yesterday in Linda Grant's, The Thoughtful Dresser.

Linda waxed lyrical about this girls gadget that you can get for your iPhone. All you need to do is photograph your entire wardrobe including handbags & shoes etc & then you can arrange everything into outfits. You can also work out how much value for money you get for each item by recording every time you wear it. This is  a concept that was obviously stolen from that great late nineties film, 'Clueless', where the main character, played by Alicia Silverstone had a v. similar set up involving her bedroom computer & an automated wardrobe. I thought it was hilarious at the time. And I still think it is. 

But what a yawn to do it In Real Life. Who, in their Right Mind would be prepared to photograph every item of clothing they own, I ask?

As I type, I uncharacteristically realise how Silly I Sound.  Just about every stitch of clothing I put on my back is obsessively photographed & posted on my flickr site.

But back to Real Wardrobes.

I think that there is nothing quite like the Satisfaction gained from opening a Wardrobe Door & finding everything beautifully arranged. In my case, my mind is instantly tricked into thinking that I've got everything under control ,which is an Absolute Godsend.

 In Billie-Mae's case, I suspect she's observing her own behaviour with some bemusement. She wonders if perhaps  she has a Mild Case of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

I just think she is Wonderful.

Andy Warhol's Mother

It may interest you to know that I'm wearing a wig. A grey wig. I found it on a shelf in our staffroom & I just HAD to be photographed in it.

I'd like you to click on the image & enlarge it so you can see how I'm looking as if I'm about to run the Cake Stall at the Annual Church Fete.  Or maybe it's Andy Warhol as a middleagedwoman.

Truth be told (TBT), I'm really wearing the wig in the interests of Research. You see, in recent months, My Best Friend (MBF) decided she that she'd had a Gutload of constantly Policing Her Rapidly Expanding Crop of Grey Hairs & so stopped dying them. 

The result was that she became a Half-Grey Woman. Oddly enough, her husband Kenny was thrilled with the result as he saw her as an  Exciting & Edgy Maverick. She, on the other hand, wasn't so sure. 

Soon, her cast-iron result weakened & she once again reached for the Dye Pot. Kenny now sees her as an Unexciting Sell-Out.  

As I've told you numerous times, I don't have a single grey hair on my middleaged head. And my hair is still quite fair. All I have to do is spray it occasionally with 'Sun-In'.  It's my Crowning Achievement in Life. 

Perhaps soon I'll wake up one morning & find that I've turned White Overnight. Wouldn't that be exciting?

Anyway, I think grey looks fairly nondescript on fair, or should I say, mottled skin. My Other Friend, Rubber-Glove Jenny, who's a World Expert on Aging ,thinks that grey hair on my colouring makes one look Colourless or even worse, Sallow!

Quelle Horreur!

Maybe someone out there has some thoughts on the matter so I can complete my Research.

Take Back the Power.

I'm not really one for reading horoscopes. 

I'm supposed to be a Pisces, but because I'm adopted & so much of my birth was shrouded in secrecy, I don't quite believe I am. Pisceans are supposed to be dreamy & floaty & have a bit of an issue with their feet. I'm not really like that & I've spent my life paying v. little attention to my feet which I think is a shame.  As  I type,  I now feel quite sorry for my feet. They've done so much for me & I've hardly noticed them.

But today Princess Pip spent quite some time pouring over her horoscope.  In fact,  she was so taken with it that she cut it out & gave it to me. 

I instantly felt that it really should have been My Horoscope as well as hers. 

I just loved the bit about Obsession & taking Back the Power, which I soooo need to do. I'm sick of feeling like Betty Milquetoast. Don't you just love that word?

Soon the idea of Taking back the Power seemed to take on a life of it's own in the Staffroom. Goldie became so infused with it that she  wielded a Toy Sword around for a while & produced some interesting results involving spilt lattes & injured toes.

After a while, I became so powerful that I was able to manifest some new used clothes being dumped at my desk. Brava!

The Duchess has a Super Stylish Mother-in-Law called Queen Joy, who decided to cull her vast, impeccably maintained wardrobe. Knowing my great love of being given other people's cast-offs, Joy decided to throw them my way! I'm actually wearing a hot pink silk shirt which was hers & today's offering was a hounds tooth winter coat which you can see peeping out of the plastic bag. Just the ticket for the upcoming Heatwave!

Arachnochic

Here's me with my New Hair Cut. It's exactly the same as it was before, only a big shorter.
But I'm really showing off my Affinity with Spiders. I just couldn't resist this slightly slurryish hot pink top which I'm sure that Anna Della Whatever, the style maven from 'Vogue' wouldn't be caught dead in. I've teamed it with a whole slew of Nanna Necklaces bought at various market stalls over the years.

Wonder Women (& Men) at the 'Mad Men Dinner'

Season Two of 'Mad Men' has been an Absolute Godsend to me.
It's only on Cable TV & I'm the only person amongst my local pals who has cable. So, every sunday evening, I host a dinner where people bring food & I generally roast a chicken. We shovel in the food & then sit up & watch it.
This reminds me of a slightly Bittersweet Scenario from my early childhood.
When I was about three, TV finally arrived in Australia even though it had been going for centuries Elsewhere. My father had a business that sold TVs. So we got the first TV in the street. You can see where this story is going from a mile off, can't you?
For a short while, I was the most popular girl in the street. Every early evening, our living room was packed to the back gills with local boys & girls desperately awaiting the next instalment of 'The Mickey Mouse Club'. Even though I was three, I sensed it wasn't going to last. One by one, the kids fell away as their own families purchased the Beloved Box. Soon it was just me.

Hopefully, when 'Mad Men' finishes, my friends won't disappear. Maybe they'll be another compelling series on cable that will prolong our weekly dinners. 

Last night's episode was a Real Corker. We all sat & cheered when Betty shoved it up Lying Cheating Don & chucked him out of the house. We never thought she had it in her.

I hope you like my New Decorating Touch, photographed at last's week's 'Mad Men Dinner'. I've had the large statue of The Blessed Virgin, who sadly is missing both hands, for almost two decades. She  was in storage for a couple of years, but now She's Back looking over a couple of Genuine & Not-So Genuine Wonder Woman dolls in the kitchen.  In case you're wondering who the Young Man on the left is, it's Tyler, my wonderful step-son.

Can't wait for next week's episode. 

I wonder What Betty Will Do Next?