eeke (is there such a word, I wonder?) out the last little dregs of my v. long holiday which began so long ago.
And then, as I type, I see this cheery ad on TV for something called an Apia Funeral Plan which is set in a zoo & features smiling grandparents talking matter-of-factly about how they don't want their loved ones to be worried about money 'at a time like that' while their cute grandson looks on & smiles & nods.
OMG, I'd better start getting the most out life before it's too late.....
You can see from the photo above of MBFF Marge & me that we're desperately trying to to do so except for the fact that we look a little bit like we're in Prison which of course is by no means a reflection of our combined Mental State.
Note that Marge is wearing a bright pink, nay, Magenta Jacket which is one of her many Signature Looks that I shamelessly stole from her when I seized upon a similar jacket at the Salvation Army Depot.
Luckily, we'll both be wearing her Signature Look in different hemispheres.
You can see I'm pointing to My Magenta Jacket just like I'm a game show hostess on The Price is Right or Whatever.
With only a matter of hours to go before I boarded the plane home, I'm proudly showing off all my USA spoils which include two 'Coach' bags fresh from the Factory Shoppe in Santa Barbara, a King's Ransom in Jewels from Forever 21 in the Mall, stacks of clothes for daughter, Maeflower from H&M, makeup from Sephora & loads of thrifted clothes.
It took a helluva lot of pushing & shoving & squeezing to get all this stuff as well as a little cache of LP Records again for Maeflower & a set of decorative plates I got on sale at Anthropologie & a heavy book on Diana Vreeland & a whole lot of dirty underwear into my bag.
Sadly, when I finally plopped the bag onto the scales at the check-in counter at LAX, the Virgin Australia Person shook her head & said that if I wanted to take the bag home I would have to remove nine kilos & pay an extra $100. I stood there meekly, too catatonic to cry while the ever-resourceful-fab-in-a-emergency Marge unzipped the bag, found the plates that were hidden in the underwear, removed a big heavy stash of candy & calmly placed the bag back on the scales where it miraculously had lost the requisite weight.
I wish I could lose weight that easily.
Back home, I was thrilled that signs were up around the place instructing me to breathe.
Of course as soon as I got home, one of the first things I was desperate to do was to shake the shackles of winter behind me & head to the beach.
That is, if only it would stop raining. Or blowing a gale. Or having a heat wave.
Last friday, Sydney had the hottest day on record. It was over 45 degrees centigrade.
After listening to a spokesperson from the Ambulance Services advise that Elderly People should be v. careful, I wisely drew the blinds & went to bed.
But when it cooled down, I eventually headed down to Sydney's most famous beach, Bondi for a gruelling walk from Bondi to Bronte Beach.
I grew up in Bondi & spent the first 21 years of my life there, although it now feels like it happened to a different person. I couldn't help photographing this little group of female Bondi Lifesavers above, a far cry from the Burly Male Lifesavers of my youth.
What the Hell just happened?
Have I fallen into some dark existential rabbit hole?
Or maybe a Hamster Hole? That sounds cozier. But perhaps they don't have Holes, just Wheels.
Oh God. I'm on a Hamster Wheel.
Could be Worse.
Here I am on the promenade at Bondi desperately trying to avoid any further sun damage by wearing this effective sunshade generously provided by Dobbo, one of my Boot Camp Compatriots who accompanied me on the gruelling walk.
As I loathe Exercise Outfits or looking like I'm exercising, I'm wearing a whole stash of sparkly necklaces including a pendant featuring a be-jewelled tiger in order to create the impression that I'm actually on my way to a Cocktail Party instead of a Exercise Session.
Sadly, I think I look more like I'm about to read someone's Tarot.
I'm forlornly holding up a costume that a waitress in a German Beer Hall would wear.
It was a steal at five bucks.
Sadly, it didn't fit.
I got this black dress that back in the sixties, or maybe even the seventies would have been called a 'Shirtmaker'.
And then a Real Armani Jacket. And a Diane von Furstenberg silk wrap dress. And also a DVF silk top. Oh, & a DVF pair of genuine plastic sandals.
And today a Real not Toy Marc by Marc Jacobs bag.
Back on that Hamster Wheel.