The Busy Woman

It is Sunday nite.

As the picture above suggests, I've been a Busy Woman this weekend. This suits me much much more than lolling around like a Disgruntled Slug oozing Ennui. Not that I do that v. often. But you know the saying, 'The Price of Peace is Eternal Vigilance.'

I should just v. briefly tell you what Taste Tempting recipes are found inside the pages of the above cookbook which I discovered to my delite yesterday morning, rotting in a pile of other Abandoned Books at 'BednobsEtc'. It was rather like discovering an old discarded friend, which is something that I know quite a lot about.

Anyway, this book was my Cooking Bible in 1973. It contains such fabulous culinary gems as Salmon Mousse which is made with tinned salmon & liberal amounts of gelatine. It also gives wonderful suggestions for Starter Platters involving Cocktail Pickled Onions, cubes of cheddar cheese & tins of smoked oysters.

None of the above items were on the menu for last nite's dinner. It was a Slight Birthday Celebration for my daughter Maeflower & also Me. In fact, it was So Slight that we didn't even mention the word Birthday much less have a cake or sing 'Happy Birthday'.

I've always Loathed my birthday. Perhaps because I am adopted. But that's a whole other story that I'm just aching to tell you about. But not now.

My stepson Tyler is seated next to his friend Hunter. Then there's Maeflower. And then there's Aunt Jenny.

Look at what appears to be a large hat in the middle of the table. It is a Tagine which is supposed to be Moroccan. Maeflower & Me made Chicken with Preserved Lemon & Green Olives inside the Tagine. It was far tastier than anything I've ever made before. So I'm now recommending you get one. It will transform your culinary dishes into masterpieces.

Tyler kindly brought over a large heaving suitcase full of Forsaken Clothes that I hadn't seen for over eighteen months. They came from what used to be my Beach House in Sydney's Northern Beaches. Now Mr. Ex-Middleaged lives there. Perhaps alone. Perhaps not.

I got a little emotional when I opened the bag & almost an entire shop's worth of skirts, tops & dresses spilled out all over the floor. And there was this depressing smell too.

Most of the stuff was Pretty Puky . But I thought this skirt which I bought at 'Anthro' in LA was wearable.

So I wore it today. Sooo enjoyed wearing my Zebra Neklace with it.

And, in keeping with my Pollyanna Policy which means I'm Perennially Glad , I'm having another market stall with my friend, The Ex-School Nurse on the 27 March. So, I will turn the Forsaken Clothes with the depressing smell into something positive. And I'll be Glad.

Yesterday arvo, before the Slight Birthday Dinner, Maeflower & Me went shopping for an Enchanted Coach. And believe it or not, we found one. Just like Cinderella's!

Our only problem is, where can we put it?

Here's a Slight Birthday Gift that Aunt Jenny gave Maeflower. She was v. worried that the bright orange would clash with Mae's Titian hair, but we didn't think it did.

All the World's A Stage

Now it is Not So Hot. Which is a helluva relief because this blog was in Grave Danger of becoming an offshoot of The Weather Channel.

I'd much rather focus on Walking You Through My Week which is sadly being disrupted by the Annual Swimming Carnival tomorrow at a disgusting treeless suburban Municipal Swimming Pool some miles away from our Splendid Harbour Location. There are no proper lattes served at this Swimming Pool.

I am desperately trying not to Dread It too much as I've made a commitment not to keep on dreading things.

Of course my Greatest Wish would be a torrential downpour that involved hail & perhaps even sleet, even though I don't really know what that is. And maybe an electrical storm as well which would make the outdoor venue an Occupational Health & Safety Nightmare & we'd all have to go home.

Actually, I shouldn't whinge because I am on the Refreshments Team. All I have to do is fill the urn up with water, turn it on, & then make a whole lot of undrinkable instant coffee & tea. And then get kids to take it around to the Bleeding Martyrs of the School, the Real Teachers, who spend the entire day selflessly hunched over their stop watches & clipboards whilst being splashed to death by half-assed freestylers.

This week has been a Week of Dresses. All of course from 'Bednobs & Broomsticks'.

The Beauty & Wonder of buying them there is that they are V. Cheap.

Take the Vision in Pink Dress at the top which I wore on monday to teach my senior class the Seven Ages of Man speech from 'As You Like It'. The dress was five bucks. It had a 'Target' label which never endears me, & it also violated one of my Cardinal Rules for middleagedteacher dressing which is that it had a slight puff sleeve. In fact, the dress looked a little Heidiesque all round. Rosalind, the Drama Teacher reminded me that she also had the dress but had stopped wearing it because she thought it made her look like a barmaid.

I gasped. But then she quickly went to assure me that I didn't. Tactful.

And then there's today's Prom Dress. That's the red accordian pleated number above.

A student seated in the front row had to move to the back because she said that the colour was too bright & it was affecting her eyesight & her concentration. She also looked as if she was going to be sick. Then another student claimed to have the exact same dress in black which she said she bought with her mother in Chinatown for a couple of hundred dollars.

I paid twenty. I felt a little smug. But then slightly queasy that perhaps I'm dressing:

(a) for a cocktail party at 8.30 on a thursday morning;

(b) too young.

Luckily, the Queasiness quickly passed.

Am now dangerously close to Designated Bedtime.

Cut to the Chase.

Note Large Flower. Almost a Signature Look.

Dress thrifted two years ago from 'BednobsEtc'. Thought it was on Last Legs.

Decided against it. Relief.

Sandals from 'BednobsEtc'. Great late addition to Summer Footwear. Love wearing pink & red together. Such a Renegade.

Here's a detail from another recent school painting.

Hope weather isn't too dreadful for 'Blogging Babe'. Will think of you in sub-zero temps while I am frying at the Hateful Suburban Treeless Swimming Pool.

Gasping for Air

I'm gasping for air. And I've a Perfect Right to.

Honestly, I feel like I've been transported to a movie where everyone is all hot & steamy & sweating. Like perhaps 'Streetcar Named Desire'. But I can't decide what character I'd be because I don't like any of them. Definitely NOt Blanche. Although I do like her name. Blanche Du Bois. It is soo much more romantic & lyrical than Middleagedteacher.

I just checked iGoogle's Weather Vane & it told me that it was 29 degrees celsius.

And its almost my bedtime.

Panic has just set in.

The Gasping Girls in my painting above that I completely renovated this past weekend are all more or less panicking. But certainly not over the weather. No, they have more Existential Concerns, shall we say.

I'm now trying to think of other movies where Everyone Sweated. And in fact I've just come up with a new genre of film - 'Sweating Movies'.

Humphrey Bogart sweated his way through a whole load of films, I'm sure. Wasn't there one with Lauren Bacall that featured overhead fans & Sydney Greenstreet looking oily wearing a white linen suit like they used to wear in the tropics & sucking on a cigar?

And then of course there was 'The African Queen' where Bogie sweated all over Prim Kate Hepburn. She didn't like it at first, but then of course did at the end.

I will now hop into bed. I hope I won't drown.

More Than This

I know that I'm always late in reporting news.

But I have a Holographic View of Time. I'm not sure that I totally understand what that means, but I know that I have it.

Please feel free to use this expression at will. I'm sure it will come in handy when Explaining Tardiness to friends, family & work colleagues.

Look look look, above. It is the cover of an Australian Magazine called 'Rush'. I'm not sure why its called that. Maybe because of the Big High that readers get each month when they excitedly peruse the pages. More like a Big Yawn.

Now that was Quite Nasty.

Anyway, the magazine is from some time last year. I've only recently come upon it because it was part of a Large Pile that my friend Sherman gave me last week. He's in PR. Magazines are the lifeblood of His Industry.

I stared at the model on the cover. I thought she looked surly.

I looked again. Something was happening to me. But I knew not what.

Then I looked inside.

I found an article about her.

Her name was Daul Kim. She said that she liked to treat herself with a Fur Coat once in a while because she was miserable (or a word like that) most of the time.

Soon, I became aware that My Internal Computer had begun an Unsolicited Search.

In no time, Unsolicited Search Results popped up:

This person killed herself.

I then looked again at the cover.

I couldn't believe the text - 'More Than This'.

How right were they?

A Cure for Death By Coughing

Perhaps a Cold Remedy.

Poor Poor Me.

As usual it's perilously close to my Designated Bedtime & I haven't written a thing.

So its going to be Stream of Consciousness.

But that's not the reason why its Poor Me.

Its my persistent Summer Cold which, now that I think about it, has mildly abated.

Yesterday & the day before, I spent large disgusting amounts of time rotting in bed with a partly blocked nose which is very easy for me because I have a dangerously slim nose. I felt slightly feverish, headachy & sore throaty. But the most annoying thing of all was a fruity, hacking cough which sounded like I'd been smoking 60 Camels a day for many many years.

Last nite I lay awake for hours whilst I coughed, wondering if there was such a thing as Death by Coughing.

And then I remembered watching John Keats coughing himself to death in that film 'Bright Star'.

Oh God, please don't let me turn into him, I pleaded.

Anyway, I got up this morning, & my prayers were answered.

The coughing had stopped as well as most of the other symptoms.

I've just got this mildly gravelly voice which I quite like. A kind of broad Aussie Lauren Bacall.

The Power of Tablets.

I also took V.V. large doses of Vitamin C. Like ten or more a day. Many of you may be shocked.

But I do enjoy washing down C's with a large glass of Soluble Aspirin. In fact, Aspirin is my absolute favourite Tablet. It always reminds me of my mother.

So, I was able to go to school this morning & attend a special assembly without too much bother.

I'm sure you're all terribly relieved to hear this.

Please note some Sartorial Highlights:

1. I appear to be wearing a Linen Dress. I usually eschew linen for a variety of Rather Nasty Reasons that one day I will share with you but not now.

2. There is a slight Crustacean theme to my necklaces.

3. I am wearing ridiculouslly exhibitionistic sockettes that are screaming, 'Look at Me'. Can you see how they're all bunched up at the heel?

4. I am next to my great friend & colleague, The Other Sue.

If Only Changing Your Attitude Was as Easy as Changing Your Shoes.

Even though I'm Bravely Battling a summer cold & need to crawl into bed, I couldn't help but show you these photos. They were both taken today.

Can you Spot the Difference?

Yes, its the Shoes.

This morning I trotted down to school with my usual Security Blanket Sockettes on underneath a rather dowdy pair of thrifted Bruno Magli court shoes. Now there's a term you don't hear too much these days - 'Court Shoes', but v. popular when I was a Lassie. Is it meant to be some anachronistic reference to the court of King Louis & Marie Antoinette, I wonder?

Perhaps someone might know.

Anyway, around 11am, I'd had a gutful, as they say in the teaching trade. I had a cold. And naughty inattentive sleepy girls all morning. And it was monday. And I'd gotten rained on again. What better way to Cure my WasherwomanWoes than to stroll up to 'BednobsEtc' during my free lesson(s)?

I immediately cheered up with two pairs of patent sandals with just a touch of a heel. Just enough to remove a couple of kilos.

Now, if only the rest of my life was that easy.

Never, I Repeat Never ,Tell Me to Get A Life

1. A Favourite Outing.

I do enjoy being asked to a friend's house for dinner. Especially if there's more than Just Me invited. If there's More, then the outing can be Officially Called, 'A Dinner Party' & then when you tell people what you're doing on the weekend, it sounds like you've 'Got a Life'.

Which is a totally stupid thing to say anyway because everyone does have a life whether they like it or not.

Oh God, I must stop stating the Bleeding Obvious.

But before I do, let me just say that I think that one of the most loathsome things you can hurl at someone is, 'Get a Life!'

What are you supposed to say back?

'Thanks for reminding me. I've been meaning to get one of those for a long time. And now I will. Cheers'.

Anyway, here I am on saturday nite cozying up to my friend Sherman's Retro phone in his local bijou apartment.

I was the first to arrive, so Sherman let me play with the phone which is identical to the one we had in my family home when I was growing up. I even dialled my old phone number -FY5502 which made me feel like I really did grow up in another time & in another galaxy.

And, boy did it bring up some Nasty Memories. Like the endless hours I spent as a hapless teenager sitting looking at it & willing it to ring. And then picking up the receiver just to make sure there was a dial tone.

2. The Importance of a Well-Set Dining Table.

There's not much more that I can say really. Other than to ask you to look at the huge knives that Sherman provided which was Slightly Overkill as we were only eating v. tender chicken medallions. But that's me Being Picky.

I just loved the eclectic mixing of silver candelabra & perhaps eighties dinnerware. And the starched white tablecloth that I promptly spilt red wine on .

I personally never use tablecloths. I haven't got the requisite laundry facilities to Service a Tablecloth. I just use mats.

Addendum.

While we're on the topic of 'Dinner Parties', I'm pleased to announce that my Sunday Nite 'Mad Men' dinner will Officially Resume on February 25, with the airing of Season 3. About time too.

A Footnote.

I seem to have a Summer Cold. I would like to slap someone across the face with a Wet Flounder.

If Anna Wintour Did My Job for a Week

I just had a thought: Imagine if Anna Wintour & I swapped jobs for a week? Or perhaps longer? A month?

I wonder if that would be long enough to put together a whole issue of 'Vogue'?

Oooooo... I'm salivating now thinking about what I would do to it.

And I'm wondering what Anna would do to my whiteboard. Would she fill it with childish pictures of Shakespearean Characters looking ridiculous like I do? How would she go teaching 'As You Like It' as I'm doing at present?

And most importantly, would she allow herself & her outfit to be photographed at the end of the lesson like I do?

I must stop this, I'm drowning under the weight of all these Rhetorical Questions.

Look look look at me today, above. I'm channelling an Elderly Maid Marion who's just been smugly snogging a Not-So-Elderly Robin Hood behind a tree in The Forest.

Clearly, my Foundation Garments are of the same vintage as the original Maid Marion & her beau. I must, repeat MUST, stop wearing worn out & limp sports bras that create an Unfortunate Poached Egg Effect & start wearing new perky ones. Maybe with points at the end.

And I'm also not too sure about the Ever-So-Slightly-Puff Sleeves on the dress. I seem to remember that I may have A Rule about The Middleaged & Puff Sleeves. From memory, I think that they are two separate Venn Diagrams that should never intersect.

Here's a photo I took yesterday in Newtown probably not long before Poor Old Alexander McQueen committed suicide.

Poor Poor Poor Man. I know this may sound pat, but I never know how bad other people may be feeling.

Apparently Anna was so upset, she had to prematurely leave a Fashion Show.

And I'm wondering how would Anna go doing this part of my job which is offically called Yard Duty?

I'm sure she wouldn't want to go near a Garbage Bin. It would perhaps play havoc with her outfit. Note how I am carefully keeping the bin away from my rather uncomfortable scratchy synthetic material thrifted dress that was completely unsuitable for yesterday's Near Heatwave conditions. I am wearing a v. tight undergarment underneath which I incorrectly thought covered up my pink undies. But no one mentioned it, so perhaps no one noticed.

Lastly, I wonder how Anna would go standing outside St Mary's Cathedral like I did on tuesday preventing hoards of tourists & their flash photography from entering while our Annual School Opening Mass took place.

A student told me that I would be an excellent 'Door Bitch at a Niteclub'.

I was thrilled. I must have turned away hundreds. Except I let one edgy businessman in because I knew that he just wanted to say a prayer & he really needed it.

Speaking of Doors in Niteclubs.

I have never been successful in gaining access to anywhere where a Superior Person nursing a Clipboard was standing behind Velvet Ropes.

I just thought you'd like to know that.

I bet Anna always gets let in.

The Fabulous Ocean Liner Woman

Thank you, Janavi for reminding me of where my original inspiration for Piling on the Jewels came from.

Of course, Nancy Cunard! I remember seeing this famous photo of her when I was Relatively Young & thinking that was Exactly How I Wanted to Look.

And , you know what? I've been Subconsciously Channelling Nancy Ever Since.

I have always thought that the bangles she's wearing were Elephant Tusk. Is that the same as Ivory? If so,I wonder if she caught the elephants herself?

Absolut Bedtime

I have exactly five minutes to write this blog entry. And I'm not correcting any mistakeks.

Like for instance, the image aboe. I had Absolutely No Intention of including this in tonite's entry. It just decided it for itself.

It is a Recent Painting. I hope you like it. I love painting/collaging Really really nasty schoolgirls who are shameless bullies & snivelling victims. They are interchangable roles that I am quite comfortable playing.

I have Much More to report. But with two minutes left......

Rebecca kindly asked to see what I was wearing the other day. So here's half of it if you can be bothered scrolling down that far.. I can't believe I wore all those necklaces at once & no one suggested that I take at least one off. People are Kind.

It is now Absolut Bedtime. But I don't want to go. Instead, I want to tell you about how hot & excited I am.

Hot - because I've just been out in the hot street, paying a lightening visit to Paul, who lives about two hundred metres down the road. He called me & announced that he had a whole lot of 'Vanity Fairs' that he wanted to get rid of & would I come & get them. Like a shot, I was out the door, even though it was was way past nine pm. I wheeled my Elderly Shopping Trolley down the road, wheels squeaking all the way. Then, in a lather of sweat, I wheeled the trolley, full of mags back up the street praying that one of the wheels wouldn't fall off.

Talk about Life on the Edge.

I can't wait to get into bed & start furiously flicking through them.

Wounded Heels & Crushed Frocks

The Story So Far:

A middleagedteacher who has battled all her life with Envy, Rage & Resentment realises that the Key to Looking Powerful & in Control & perhaps even a few kilos lighter, is to wear High Heels.

Besides, she is Sick to Death of watching Other Women clacking purposefully down the street in their Killer Heels like they really really DO know where the hell they're going even though she has SOME idea of where she is going, which is usually off to school or to 'BednobsEtc' or to get a Latte.

One day, middleagedteacher bravely wears a Remedial Version of Killer Heels.

'What would be a good name for these heels?', she wonders.

'Remedial Killer Heels is a little too cumbersome. How about 'Wounded Heels'?

Perfect. It sums up the whole experience!

Pisceans have trouble with their feet. Or their feet are supposed to be v. sensitive. Middleagedteacher is a Piscean & so is her daughter, Maeflower. MAT has not until recently noticed their sensitivity as she has been far too busy focussing on the other parts of her that are also v. sensitive. Maeflower has had persistent trouble with her delicate feet. Gargantuan blisters, massive frightening cuts, scary bruises & perhaps the odd sprain.

So now with their New Sensitivity, middleagedteacher has to constantly protect her feet by wearing Comforting Sockettes.

Here she is above, by her desk in the classroom showing them off, along with her Faux Dorothys.

Another Great Story that Went Absolutely Nowhere.

I'm Crushed.

It's almost bedtime. And you know what a Stickler I am .

So-------1. Note more sockettes in today's outfit. Comfort & Safety always come before Beauty, I always say.

2. This dress, a thrifted of course 'Country Road' item, is a Huge Disappointment.

It's far too crushed. How dare it?

None of my other dresses would have the audacity to crush like that because they all know that I DO NOT have the facilities to iron, nor do I have the requisite skills or the inclination to iron.

3. I am teaching 'As You Like It' to my Senior Class. I particularly like the picture I've drawn of Nasty Oliver, who I've made look like an Elizabethan Humpty Dumpty. I always draw all my Shakespearean characters with a ruff. And pantaloons if they are male.

Craft Afternoon Delite.

I'm sure you'll be mightily relieved to know that yesterday's Craft Afternoon was a Success. Again, I didn't want anyone to go home. Mary, one of the Crafters, bought me a little bundle of Cinnamon sticks which I thought made a great gift.

Bed & My Lace Eyeshade awaits.

The Insatiable Quest for Authenticity

1. The Fashion Police.

It is Saturday Nite. Exhausted from my usual 5pm Saturday Body Balance class at the Gym, I sit on the couch munching my usual Default Dinner - A Tuna Salad fortified with Baby Asparagus & Avocado.

I don't seem to be able to go a day without an Avocado.

Lately, they've been as Hard as Rocks.

So disappointing & frustrating, particularly when I try & eat them. But that's a whole other story.

As I munch, I watch The Style Network's, 'Fashion Police'.

Joan Rivers & Juliana Rancid & one of those Kardashians as well as a little Style Goblin who often features on Makeover Shows are sitting around discussing Fashion Crimes at the Grammys which must have just been on.

Joan is hilarious & makes all the other people just that little bit more bearable. I now wish I could remember some of the things that she said, although I do remember that the panel discussed the fact that Heidi Klum never wears undies even though her dresses are Butt-Skimming.

I too, went through that stage.

Anyway, the photo above of Mitch, who works at 'BednobsEtc', is an example of A Fashion Crime.

Mitch is modelling a dress that must have had a past life as a large curtain for a bay window. It was labelled a Size 10 (perhaps a size 6 in the US). Someone must have liked it though, because it was gone this morning.

No one could look good in that dress. Not even Kate Moss. Or Even Heidi Klum.

Mitch treats me like I'm a v. wealthy Dowager who needs cheering up.

This morning he was out the back sorting clothes when I arrived. I'd been there about fifteen minutes & the Pickings were Slim. There was a Very Real Possibility that I might go home Empty Handed. Quelle Horreur!

I was desperately trying to imagine what an Ascended Master might do in a similar situation when Mitch appeared & casually asked, 'Have you found the 'Ferragamo' bag yet?'

Immediately, my Flight/Fight Mechanism swung into action.

Heart pounding & Palms sweating, I raced to the Bag Section & frantically began searching.

Of course it wasn't there.

Jane, the sales assistant was summoned.

'I don't remember selling it', she said.

That's right. A totally- out- of- it Junkie with a great eye for Designer Labels had snuck in & stolen it.

'Let it Go', the Ascended Master inside me commanded.

Ten minutes later while I was still relentlessly trawling through the racks, Mitch appeared dangling the bag from his Pinkie.

'Will this do, Madam?' he inquired.

For once, I really did feel like an Ascended Master.

But then the doubt inevitably arose.

'Is it real?' I asked all & sundry whilst closely examining the stitching for telltale shoddiness.

At least six people, all experts in their field, surveyed the bag . But no one, including myself, could decide. I think I'll just say that it is.

Ah....The Insatiable quest for Authenticity.

2. A Postscript.

Do you remember that I mentioned that in a bid to closely resemble Holly Golightly in 'Breakfast at Tiffany's' I was thinking of experimenting with Eye Shades?

Well, I actually bought some. Only five bucks. Reduced from maybe thirty bucks. From the Gift Shop at the Rupert Bunny Exhibition at the Art Gallery.

It's v. strange what they sell at these places. I personally couldn't remember seeing any eye shades in any of Bunny's paintings, but perhaps I wasn't looking hard enough.

3. Lastly.

Please note that the Teddy Bear that my Grandfather bought for me as a Coming- Home- from- The- Orphanage Gift when I was two weeks old is wearing the new eye shades. Teddy has been a v. faithful companion to me for all of my life.

Shame about the Human Teddys.

4. Lastly lastly.

Please also note the Patchwork bedspead that I bought in Bali for twenty bucks & carried home in my Carry On Only Luggage. What a shopper. What a traveller.

Who else do you know that can take ONLY Carry On Luggage on an overseas trip & still come back with Bedspreads & Napery as well as a whole load of Wooden Items ?

Simply Scads to Say

1. Welcome to my Bali Shrine.

I suppose I really should get off Bali, but I just can't help milking it for as long as I can.

And you know, its not as if I haven't got anything else to tell you.

I've got Simply Scads of Stuff to Say.

Like, how hot its been. Or how I'm experimenting with wearing Eye Shades to bed so I can be more like Holly Golightly in 'Breakfast at Tiffanys'.

Or how I'd really like to wear my hair in a French Roll just like Holly G. again, but I don't know how .

Or the Craft Afternoon I'm hosting on Sunday. I know its sounds a little twee, but sitting around with a group of perhaps other women who are all engaged in some kind of artistic/crafty endeavour makes me long to join The Amish. Not that I could really stand to because I absolutely would not be able to wear The Outfits.

This will be my fourth Craft Afternoon. Their beauty is that you don't have to particularly like any of the other people or indeed have much in common with them, but for some reason it just Works Like Magic. I never want to leave or for anyone to go home & could happily continue Crafting & slurping cups of tea & idly chatting for ever.

No wonder women for thousands of years Quilted or Pickled together.

I'd love Dinner Parties to be more like Craft Afternoons. Between courses, guests could take out their Special Little Projects & work on them. I bet the conversation would flow more easily.

Anyway, DO look at my shrine.

Take a Moment to Marvel at the wooden Ornamental Prawn Napkin Holders that feature prominently & the rather frightening God (Garuda?) who is sporting an Extra Eye in between his wings.

2. A Slight Beauty Note.

In Bali, Jenny never went out the door without using her Hair Straightener which she purchased at the airport for ten bucks. Talk about value for money! She claims to have Disobedient Hair that has to be Strictly Disciplined with the modern hair version of the Cat 'O Nine Tails.

I, of course didn't avail myself of The Straightener as I'm always desperate to be mistaken for Goldie Hawn. Which is perhaps a little inflated of me.

In the picture below, 'No 6 Black Bali Ensemble', my hair is wet which explains its Rat Like Appearance.
3. Frog Bathing.

I do so love this picture, as none of my middleaged crepery or dimples or whatever they are are visible. If you don't know what I'm talking about, don't worry, you will one day.

Anyway, this photo reminds me of all the Body Balance classes that I've attended over the past couple of years.

Last week, Kieran, my almost favourite instructor said something that still rings in my ear & I would like to share it with you.

We were all lying on the floor with our legs at ninety degrees for the Pilates section of the class. Kieran then instructs us to 'squeeze your butt cheeks together sooo hard that you could crack a walnut between them'.

Gross but Effective.

I Always Wanted to be with Steve & To Look Like Faye But Not Now

Decorative Windmills of My Mind

1. An Official Certificate of Authenticity.

Here I am back Yet Again in the Classroom for Another Year.

I am reminded of a Song. 'Windmills of Your Mind'.

Like a circle in a spiral

Like a wheel within a wheel

Never ending or beginning,

On an ever spinning wheel

As the images unwind

Like the circle that you find

In the windmills of your mind

I was never a great fan of this song even though it featured prominently in the Steve McQueen/Faye Dunaway version of 'The Thomas Crown Affair' & I was desperate to be with Steve & to look & act like Faye.

And Dusty sang it too.

It was just a little too clever for me. And anyway at the time, how could it compete with The 1910 Fruitgum Company's version of '1-2-3 Red Light'?

But now it seems Strangely Apt. I'll let you guess why.

If you look closely at me you perhaps will notice that I'm wearing glasses. Multifocals in fact. Prada too. I even have a Certificate of Authenticity to prove it.

I would now like to say something like, 'Wouldn't it be great if all Prospective Partners could come with a Certificate of Authenticity?' but I don't know how I would say it without sounding a little too Wistfully World Weary. So I won't.

2. I have decided that the Houndstooth Dress I'm wearing Has to Go. It had its last airing today.

Goodbye & Goodluck, you Dog of a Dress!

3. My hair looks Perhaps Greasy or Even Unkempt.

Let me explain. This morning it was raining v. heavily when I awoke. I opened up the inadequate blinds & laid in bed marvelling at the large drops. Then I rushed around like a Whirling Dervish & got ready. I rapidly ate two 'WeetBix' & nearly choked on three Fish Oil Capsules which are supposed to aid rehydration. I skipped out the door & into the lift forgetting about the rain & the need for an umbrella.

When I got to the front door of my building I made an Executive Decision NOT to go back & get my umbrella.

'I'll run between the raindrops!' I gaily said to myself. By the time I walked the two hundred metres down the hill & inside the school gates, I was drenched.

3. I think that the purple flower is a mistake.

4. The Rupert Bunny Show. But I would rather call him Lapin.

Here I am later today at the Art Gallery which I attended with my great friends & colleagues, Trixie & The Other Sue. You may note that I've changed. I couldn't stand the Houndstooth against my Sensitive Skin for another moment. So I popped into 'BednobsEtc' & bought what actually turned out to be a Genuine Silk 'Gap' skirt. Sadly, There are NO Gap stores in Australia. Nor are there any H&Ms either. Or Zaras. Or Banana. But because 'BednobsEtc' is a Magical Place, it seems to have absolutely no difficulty in having plenty of these brands. In fact, I have a whole wardrobe full of them.

BTW, Rupert Bunny was an Australian Artist who v. wisely went to live in Paris for a long time where he did his best work. That was in the late nineteenth century. When he eventually came back home after 1911, his work went to the pack.

Not that I'm saying that Australia stifles creativity. Never.

5. Lastly.

I've been buying Many Dresses at 'BednobsEtc'. Some look good. Some are a little questionable.

A bit like Life Really.

Oh God, not more WistfulWorldWeariness.

Middleagedancing

Look look look at me. I'm actually Talking & Moving All at Once. But for only about 54 seconds. So it's Bearable. Just.

In fact I'm Dancing. The luxurious length of the corridor of the Hotel Room in Bali combined with the Baby Boomer-Oriented music from the iPod that was generously provided, moved me to dance. But that wasn't the only reason.

I was dancing to prove a point. Lately I have become aware of a phenomenon which I like to call 'Middleagedancing', where a Middleagedwoman (I've never seen a man do it) will spontaneously Dance in Public. Like when some guitar combo plays 'Take Me to The River' on a saturday morning at the Faux Organic Markets at the local park & suddenly a woman in a linen shirt & three quarter pants starts dancing & perhaps singing at the same time just like she did at the 'Talking Heads' concert at the Hordern Pavilion in Sydney back in 1983. To this woman, Time Has Stood Still. But not to everyone else around her.

My daughter Maeflower is also Highly Sensitive to Middleagedancing. Whilst we were at the Peak of our Xmas Shopping Frenzy last December, she left me fondling the jewels in 'Diva' at Bondi Westfield to go next door to 'Cotton On',which oddly enough sells supposedly cotton garments to Youngish Folk. Five minutes later she came rushing back & announced that a middleagedwoman was suddenly dancing in 'Cotton On' because the shop was playing Bowie's 'Rebel Rebel'. The woman wouldn't stop even though she had a bored husband & an embarressed adolescent son in tow.

In hearing this, I felt smug. I would Never Dance in Public & embarrass my daughter. I am far Too Dignified.

Anyway, I hope you watch me dancing to The Commitments singing 'Try a Little Tenderness' which has got to be one of my favourite songs. I seem to remember that a wonderful actor who went Absolutely Nowhere sung it to Molly Ringwald in one of her Teen Movies which I was addicted to in the eighties even though by then I was over thirty. I wonder if anyone remembers the movie. Maybe 'Sixteen Candles'.