Not Me

Hello & Welcome to Not Me.

Yes, there's not one single photo of me in this post.

It's not because I've become Suddenly Selfless. Or Shy. Or Self-Deprecating.

Oh God, I'm so disappointed that I couldn't think of an 'S' word for Deprecating so I could continue Sybilencing, which is a totally bogus & perhaps wanky word which would mean if it existed, making a series of words beginning with the letter S.

Anyway, here's some photos of People Who Are Not Me. I photographed them on sunday between Sales at the Rozelle Markets. No wonder I was exhausted.

At the top is Michelle. She is young & beautiful. I am not in the least envious or resentful.

She looks miles better than I ever did in that gorgeous sparkly cardigan that was actually given to me by a Kindly Kolleague. When I wore it, I reminded myself of that actress who played Ray's mother in 'Everyone Loves Raymond'. I think her name is Doris Someone.

Here's Kerrie, a young English lass who bought her dress at this v. market.

I do urge all of you to Consider Wearing Orange. Kerrie absolutely glowed in that dress. And I'm sure you would too. She accessorized it with a Fake Flower which you may think has been done to death.

Let me tell you that you simply can't Overdo a Fake Flower. Unless you wear a lot of them at once. And you wouldn't dream of doing that.

More orange. Emma, another English rose, works as a photographer's assistant to a famous Italian photographer whose name escapes me but she assured me that he is v.v. well known. I just loved how all these pretty cazche (a relaxed way of writing 'casual') & ordinary elements - rubber flip flops (Oh, how I long to call them thongs!), striped skirt, porky hat etc. all work together so beautifully. I loved the colour combination of green, white, brown & of course, orange. Perhaps I may go as far as to call it, 'Burnt Orange'.
And there was absolutely no hint of Try Hard which I think sounds the Death Knell to Style.

Diana owns 'Recycled Rags', a well known recycled clothing shop in Sydney's Neutral Bay. I wouldn't go near it with a barge pole because its not junky enough. Everything is in pristine condition & is probably pricey.

Diana immediately caught my eye just as I was selling a v. junky skirt to an excited shopper. I immediately raced over to her & asked if I could take a photo, all the while gushing over what appeared to be maybe an Issey Miyake voluminously pleated dress. I absolutely could not wear anything like that because it would make me look like I'm wearing an oversized curtain.

But Diana looks Fab. I just loved the red beads & the hat.

Red & Black always reminds me of The Devil. But in a good way.

.

I wish I could remember this stylish American-Australian lady's name. She comes from Hawaii but has lived here for 30 years. So she has one of those Hybrid Accents.

I listened to a long laundry list of where every item she was wearing came from. But I was so interested in waiting to see what word she would pronounce in an Aussie accent next that I forgot to listen to what she was actually saying. But I think that I heard something about 'Galapagos Island', 'Mexico' & 'Fair Trade'.

In my next post, I will show more photos of Me & The Ex-School Nurse hard at work at our stall. Talk about milking it.

Now Tomorrow has arrived, Rebecca.

The Stall of Stalls

1. I sooo shouldn't be writing this.

2. It's sunday nite.

3. Its perilously close to my Allotted Bedtime.

4 .I still have twenty-two Year 7 creative writing scripts to mark before tomorrow.

5. I still have a lesson to prepare on 'Bladerunner'/'Frankenstein' for tomorrow morning's 8.30am Senior Class & they claim that they can tell when I don't prepare the lesson.

6. I've spent all day out in the Blazing Sun risking Sunstroke & perhaps Severe Sunburn all in the name of Commerce.

7. But I just had to show you How to Have a Market Stall.

8. My friend, The Ex-School Nurse & I shared the stall .

9. We each had a small department store's worth of clothes to sell.

10. We both love shopping at 'BednobsEtc'.

11. All you do is tip all the clothes onto tables & let Excited Shoppers rummage.

12. We both made a Tidy Sum.

13. That is all I can say right now.

14. Much more tomorrow.

Ripe for Reliniquishing

Last nite I promptly went to bed at The Appointed Hour & attached my Giant Listening Earmuffs in order to hear more of Gretchen Rubin's 'The Happiness Project'.

I'm not sure if I'm the right demographic for Gretchen because:

1. I don't have a doting & malleable husband.

2. I no longer have small children.

3. I dislike hearing anecdotes about The Above.

Perhaps I should make up my own 'Happiness Project', expertly customised for The Middleaged, with absolutely No References to appendages of any sort.

Anyway, I think I got as far as Chapter 2 where Gretchen walked us through a v. severe Wardrobe Editing Process that she undertook at the beginning of her journey as she wanted to make sure she Looked Her Best while she was experimenting with happiness.

I know how she feels.

So do I.

Coincidentally, this coming weekend, I am partaking of my v. own Wardrobe Edit.

Oh, I can't believe the synchronicity! One minute I'm reading about it & the next minute I'm doing it!

Yes, I'm having another Wardrobe Editing Stall at the fabulous Rozelle Markets in Sydney this sunday. Someone, somewhere may recall that I had one last year, almost at the same time.

Like last year, I'm sharing the stall with my friend, The Ex-School Nurse who has an amazing eye & an uncanny ability to snare (or is it, 'ensnare'?) designer labels. And I'm not just saying this because I know she Reads Me.

I have a Medium-Sized Department Store's worth of clothes all stuffed into my spare bedroom that are just desperate to be let out of Limbo & find exciting new wardrobes to live in.

Before I hop in to bed & attach my Giant Listening Earmuffs so I can catch Chapter 3, please note today's Wardrobe Highlights. In fact, all week I've been dragging out clothes that haven't had much of an airing lately to see if they're Ripe for Relinquishing.

Sadly, v. few items, except perhaps a rather unflattering stripy top with a large bow that I wore earlier this week, seemed ripe.

You may be mightily relieved to know that The Blue Ensemble, above is not yet ripe. Even though it was soo bright that a number of students complained of Sore Retinas, I think that it is not yet ready to be set forth into the world just yet.

And certainly NOT my Pink Flamingo Brooch which has got to be one of my all time favourite anythings.

Calm & Stable After Only Two Days

The Story So Far.

Previously on Della Street Dreaming, our Heroine decided she needed Cheering Up.

When she read about 'The Happiness Project', a book where author Gretchen Rubin charted her year long quest to increase her Happiness Quotient from 3.5 to an undisclosed higher number out of five, she decided that downloading the book on audio was a perfect way to use up some of her Audible.com credits that were just lying there feeling bored & uncared for.

What a great idea.

Welcome to Calm & Stable Me.

And I've got a sign to prove it.

Its amazing. Its only been two days since I started on 'The Happiness Project' & its already worked.

I'm as Happy as Larry.

And I haven't even got past Chapter 2. Its not that I'm a Slow Listener, its just that every time I hop into bed & put on my giant Listening Earmuffs that look like the things that people who wave flags at large planes on tarmacs wear , I nod off.

Maybe its the author, Gretchen Rubin's voice. It is sooo Soothingly Authoritative.

As soon as I hear her I know that Gretchen's In Charge & that it is safe to sleep.

Effective Happiness Strategies.

Today I didn't eat any of the Marshmallows Dipped in Chocolate Kebabs that girls were selling for Lent's 'Project Compassion' at lunch.

I just photographed them instead.

You may ask, why didn't I eat them?

Because I felt that they would Interfere with My Growing Happiness.

And I was right.

A Poor Player Who Struts Her Stuff Across the Stage.

Also today, the costumes & the set for the Annual School Play arrived.

I am wearing a Roman Centurion's feathered helmet. And behind me are polystyrene Ionic columns & a male torso with its Private Parts thankfully dismembered.

No, its not going to be 'Julius Caesar' or even 'A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum'.

Its 'God, The Play' by Woody Allen.

I never realised until now how empowering it is to wield a Plastic Sabre.

Lastly, briefly glance at my Homemade earrings with Strong Toy Chanel References.

1. The number 5. You know, Chanel No 5.

2. A Quilted Chanel handbag.

The Middleaged Happiness Project

Hello & Welcome to Me.

And you're only going to get a v. Short Bit of Me this post because v. soon I must hop into bed.

Those of you that are familiar with my Daily Habits know that I claim to be a Stickler for a Strict Bedtime.

In a frantic effort to grow some much needed Melatonin, I set myself a goal of 9.30 pm bedtime with lights out no later than 10.

For a while things went swimmingly. As soon as the requisite time rolled around, I meekly hopped into bed like a Happy Little Automaton & turned off the light.

A Whole New World of Yawning at Nite (instead of in the mid-afternoon) opened up. And believe it or not, I actually Went to Sleep.

I was gobsmacked & perhaps more than a little smug.

But then the v. long Summer Hols rolled around & Bedtime suddenly seemed irrelevant.

Set You Chickens Free, I yelled to myself. Who cares about Melatonin, I asked with a slight sneer.

I went back to school still eschewing The Strict Bedtime. But to the Outside World, I was keeping up appearances.

Oh, the Web of Lies I told! Even to you, Dear Reader!

Anyway, now I'm back On the Wagon. It's my second nite.

Last nite I went to bed at perhaps 9 & listened to an audio recording of 'The Happiness Project' on my iPod. I was spellbound by the author, Gretchen Rubin's voice. It was reassuringly No Nonsense & matter of fact with slight upper notes of Take No Prisoners. I was hooked.

I'm now desperate to scamper off into bed & listen to some more.

I can't tell you much about 'The Happiness Project' except that Gretchen decided that she wanted to be happier with her life. Not that she wasn't. In fact, she scored herself a 3.5 out of a possible 5 on a Happiness Scale.

I could Not Possibly rate myself in that way. I wouldn't know how to begin.

Anyway, she decided to read up everything there was to read about Happiness & after she knew everything she decided to spend a year putting it all into practice to see what worked & what didn't.

That's about as far as I got.

But I'm going to start my own 'Middleaged Happiness Project'.

In fact, I already informally started one, although I didn't know it just after Mr. Ex-Middleaged left which is nearly 20 Big Months Ago.

I'll tell you more tomorrow.

Sweet Dreams.

Finally Therapy is Beginning to Pay Off

I've just deleted everything that I've typed.

It was the Only Decent & Adult thing to do.

But In case you were wondering, I was talking about My Arms.

Forget them, I say to Myself.

Its not as if I've spent my entire life enthusiastically working on my backhand, have I?

And just because I now spend a large chunk of the week in Downward Facing Dog doesn't mean that I've got the right to think that they're going to Magically Transform into Serena Williams's Arms, do I ?

Is Serena Williams a good choice for Arm Lust, I wonder? Perhaps her arms are like George Foreman's? I don't know. I must look.

But what I really wanted to say was:

Look at the Perfectly Formed Scrumptious & Magical Little Iced Cake with Dorothy on top which was made by Monniker who is next to me. Me & My Guests merrily shovelled it in during 'Intermission' last night at my 'Mad Men Series 3 Sunday Nite Dinner' last nite.

As I was shovelling, I described the cake as 'Restaurant Quality' which Aunt Jenny said was an insult.

I tried to eat the cake with Gay Abandon.

I'm Not a Prisoner to Obsessive Thoughts about Cakes, am I?

I just won't eat a thing tomorrow. That's what I'll do.

Perfect.

Tomorrow is shown above. I deliberately wore figure hugging clothing to prove that I didn't really believe that I could gain massive kilos overnight just because I ate a slice of cake.

And to prove a point, I brought the leftovers to school & ate another slice at recess. I made everyone else have a slice too.

Even though it Looked Little, The Cake, all white & creamy & buttery fed all up Ten People.

And there was still more left. Kind of a Loaves & Fishes scenario really.

And I ate lunch which was half of Trixie's Chicken Stir Fry with rice. And I had dinner too which was last nite's leftover chicken.

Finally therapy is beginning to pay off.

Channelling Mother Teresa

Today I had a number of Slight Irritating Upsets:

1. Annoyance at the Photocopier over Insensitive Science Staff who insist on hogging it.

2. A Mix-up at the School Canteen over my lunch order.

3. Annoying girl who loudly rapped in class while listening to her iPod even though she is not allowed to bring one to school.

4. Overly loud & enthusiastic gym instructress who thinks she has to entertain us while we perform Sun Salutations.

All of this is a pain because I have made a commitment to forgive anyone for anything I think that they might have done to me.

You might think that I am silly. Or perhaps practicing to become more like Mother Teresa who I'm sure will be canonized soon.

But let me assure you, O Reader, that I am doing this for Entirely Selfish Reasons -

to make me feel better.

Better than what, you may well ask.

I'll tell you when I know.

But there's One Person who I'm finding particularly difficult to forgive - The Rottweiler.

If you didn't bother to read my last post, I'll give you an excellent summary:

She is the owner of an EdgyCrafty Shop that specialises in crotcheted egg warmers in the shape of hens. She rejected a range of my cards that I felt Absolutely Certain she would drool over & beg to sell.

Now I've got to forgive her. And I hate her for it.

Existentialism by Nite.

On a much brighter note, behold a birthday gift from MBFF Marge in California. Yesterday I received an enormous load of American Goods - this navy top, I'm guessing is from our favourite mall store, 'Anthropologie'.

I was thrilled. And also thrilled about Reclaiming Navy which I've noticed is v. popular at the Hugo Boss Shop at Bondi Westfield.

As I've said many times in the past, I've had a difficult & conflicted relationship with navy because it was my mother's favourite. She thought a girl looked 'Refined & Nice' (her exact words) in it. And I wanted to look like Joan Jett. Or perhaps Marianne Faithfull.

Navy & Gold. Now that spells an Afternoon at the Polo, doesn't it?

Navy & Shocking Pink. Can't think..... maybe Diana Vreeland? India?

Emanuelle Ungaro Silk Shell Top Above Hung On the Racks at 'BednobsEtc' for Two Weeks & No One Wanted It.

I eventually took pity on it & bought it for five bucks. I have now given it a good home. At least for the time being. See it also two pics down.

Perhaps its a little Mother-of-the-Bridesque. But since I'm nothing if not a Label Whore, I'm willing to wear it anyway.

The Beaded Squid.

More Birthday Gifts from America. But you can hardly see it. Its an amazing necklace featuring a white beaded squid. Its almost, but not quite worth double clicking on the image to get a closer look.