Grooming

Former Danish actress and now older model Pia Gronning is inspiring. It's always useful to read of product recommendations albeit from overseas sources. She uses Cetaphil which thankfully can be found on local supermarket shelves.  I always need to check local availability - and pricing with our falling exchange rate - for fancy brands.  It's impossible to navigate your way through the vast range of items out there and test what will work. Most will be useless. Hear Ye, hear Ye! Dermatologists of the world unite!

Photo by me. Tower of London.

The Power of Introverts

The Power of Introverts: Join the Quiet Revolution: Extracts from a Manifesto by Susan Cain

• Solitude is a catalyst for innovation.

• Everyone shines, given the right lighting. For some, it’s a Broadway spotlight, for others, a lamplit desk.

• Rule of thumb for networking events: one genuine new relationship is worth a fistful of business cards.

• It’s OK to cross the street to avoid making small talk.

• If the task of the first half of life is to put yourself out there, the task of the second half is to make sense of where you’ve been.

.

Of geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue)

The Dormouse and the Doctor

~ A. A. Milne

There once was a Dormouse who lived in a bed
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red),
And all the day long he'd a wonderful view
Of geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue).

A Doctor came hurrying round, and he said:
"Tut-tut, I am sorry to find you in bed.
Just say 'Ninety-nine' while I look at your chest....
Don't you find that chrysanthemums answer the best?"

The Dormouse looked round at the view and replied
(When he'd said "Ninety-nine") that he'd tried and he'd tried,
And much the most answering things that he knew
Were geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue).

The Doctor stood frowning and shaking his head,
And he took up his shiny silk hat as he said:
"What the patient requires is a change," and he went
To see some chrysanthemum people in Kent.

The Dormouse lay there, and he gazed at the view
Of geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue),
And he knew there was nothing he wanted instead
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red).

The Doctor came back and, to show what he meant,
He had brought some chrysanthemum cuttings from Kent.
"Now these," he remarked, "give a much better view
Than geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue)."

They took out their spades and they dug up the bed
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red),
And they planted chrysanthemums (yellow and white).
"And now," said the Doctor, "we'll soon have you right."

The Dormouse looked out, and he said with a sigh:
"I suppose all these people know better than I.
It was silly, perhaps, but I did like the view
Of geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue)."

The Doctor came round and examined his chest,
And ordered him Nourishment, Tonics, and Rest.
"How very effective," he said, as he shook
The thermometer, "all these chrysanthemums look!"

The Dormouse turned over to shut out the sight
Of the endless chrysanthemums (yellow and white).
"How lovely," he thought, "to be back in a bed
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red.)"

The Doctor said, "Tut! It's another attack!"
And ordered him Milk and Massage-of-the-back,
And Freedom-from-worry and Drives-in-a-car,
And murmured, "How sweet your chrysanthemums are!"

The Dormouse lay there with his paws to his eyes,
And imagined himself such a pleasant surprise:
"I'll pretend the chrysanthemums turn to a bed
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red)!"

The Doctor next morning was rubbing his hands,
And saying, "There's nobody quite understands
These cases as I do! The cure has begun!
How fresh the chrysanthemums look in the sun!"

The Dormouse lay happy, his eyes were so tight
He could see no chrysanthemums, yellow or white.
And all that he felt at the back of his head
Were delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red).

And that is the reason (Aunt Emily said)
If a Dormouse gets in a chrysanthemum bed,
You will find (so Aunt Emily says) that he lies
Fast asleep on his front with his paws to his eyes.

***

I've just had a rather confronting round of doctor's appointments over the past four months for what was, as it turns out, a relatively minor condition which Mother Nature seems to have taken care of by herself.   While I am extremely relieved, the experience has taught me great respect for those who don't get off so lightly.  Honestly, I don't know how I would have coped with grim news.   What with the long wait to get an appointment with private specialists, the rising anxiety, the sober waiting rooms and the total submission into the hands of strangers, it would have been overwhelming to have received a more sinister diagnosis.  

And the medical fraternity don't offer to make their investigations a pleasant consumer experiences for the price they charge.  (Except for a charming new radiology practice in Kingston which is spacious and modern with extremely capable and sympathetic technicians -- a veritable haven, a day spa by comparison. I would recommend it if you need these services.) After my recent experience, there's much feedback I could offer the Royal Colleges on effective doctor-patient interaction, waiting room aesthetics and the benefits of electronic record-keeping and direct lodgment of Medicare forms.   Pity privatised medicine isn't high-end retail.   I'm sure we could strike a better deal.   Perhaps it's the male dominance.  For now however, I'm treasuring good health and counting my blessings. 

 

 

 

B-Well Report: Up National Circuit

What a week.  Again.  Yesterday was one of those days when I may as well have stayed in bed.  Technology failed me.  Or I failed it.  A document I was working on wasn't saved to the right folder, in fact wasn't saved at all.  Whoosh.  Disappeared into the greater vaporous space of the Electronic Data Record Management System.   A case of too many tabs open and too big of a rush to pay attention to detail.  I also had to bail out of a course next week which did not make the Training People happy.  Gulp.  Fortunately everyone else seemed to have a great day.  The whole school wore pajamas and crazy hair for the last day of term 1 and to raise money for Japan. Can't imagine my teachers ever wearing their pajamas to school, least of all out in public on traffic duty.  But there was Mrs X in her flannalettes directing cars like a circus clown.  Made me smile. 

I also had a leisurely walk to work one day last week (or maybe it was the week before, so lost am I in the vortex of work, home, school, supermarket I never know where I am), and took some hasty pics of familiar places along National  Circuit.  There are lots more leaves to kick these days, and with the turn in the weather it's time to bring out the coats and jackets.   On my not so leisurely pelt back at the end of the day, I have discovered that a mass of fallen acorns on the ground can be hazardous in high heels.  One of these days I'm going to twist my ankle on them.  So not very dignified.  Fortunately there never any people around.  Just as well it is Canberra.  Peak hour, major thoroughfare, opposite the national parliament and nary a soul about.  Is that good or bad?

Slow sew

From the Tao Te Ching:

It is not wise to dash about.

Shortening the breath causes much stress.

Use too much energy, and

You will soon be exhausted.

That is not the Natural Way.

Whatever works against this Way

Will not last long.

***

Back to work today after one of those weekends where there was plenty of scheduled activities and lots of pottering. Nothing much practical was accomplished.  Ironing basket still overflowing and we live in a general state of disorganisation.   A few Guide badges are yet to be sewn on the bag but the main sash is finished.  That's something!

One of the highlights was checking out the Handmade Market at its new location in the Canberra Convention Centre.  Little Wanna and I circled the stalls looking repeatedly at the fabric elephant and giraffe toys.  Turns out she wants to make one.  So we spent a good portion of yesterday learning to do running stitch and chain stitch on a calico sampler.  So out of my comfort zone.  We have a children's craft book called Made by Me which provided invaluable advice in the absence of a great Aunt or Grandma who might otherwise have have done so.  Next thing I'll be getting the sewing machine serviced.  Possibly.  Making no rash decisions.  Best not to rush about in a fit of enthusiasm and then have it fizzle.   I'm good at that.

   

Photo: Granite Island, Victor Harbour, South Australia

Fashion Shoot

Delight in Disorder

A sweet disorder in the dress

Kindles in clothes a wantonness:

A lawn about the shoulders thrown

Into a fine distraction:

An erring lace, which here and there

Enthrals the crimson stomacher:

A cuff neglectful, and thereby

Ribbands to flow confusedly:

A winning wave, deserving note,

In the tempestuous petticoat:

A careless shoe-string, in whose tie

I see a wild civility:

Do more bewitch me than when art

Is too precise in every part.

Yes, that would sum me up.  Hours spent on lunch preparation, assisting with breakfast and grooming the children, last-minute administration and then a rushed ten minutes to get myself ready for work.  It is always a mad rummage through  the wardrobe, despair that the preferred items are unironed, quick decisions to create an improvised 'Polyvore' mix-and-match set and then the slick application of basic make-up.  Once I land at my desk I often regret my choice - the monotony of the selection, the lack of accessorising and possibly mismatched socks.   Lately I've discovered layering with knit vests and the simple but effective impact of wearing a necklace.  I'm paying a bit more attention to how I look and it does make a difference.  I'm not a great one for fashion and it takes a huge effort to go through this process.  I'm more a 'sweater and jeans' kinda gal, sadly stuck in a suited world.

Poem by Robert Herrick 

Photo: My Paparazzi

Well read and fed

Tea Party

I had a little tea party, this afternoon at three

Twas very small, three guests in all, I, Myself, and Me

Myself ate up the sandwiches, while I drank up the tea

'Twas also I who ate the pie and passed the cake to me!

Pretty much sums up the day.  But I did learn about Twitter via the marvellous Leigh Sales' regular Friday post on ABC's The Drum called the Well Read Head and mused over a great edited transcript of a talk by Annabel Crabb on 'The End of Journalism as We Know It', while I nibbled a mince pie and rocky road with instant coffee.  Both sort of work related (the online reading, that is, not the snacks) and an example of the absorbing treasure out there with links upon links that could consume hours, or I daresay, days while the children go unfed. 

B-Well Report: Walk to Work

The Government is extremely fond of amassing great quantities of statistics. These are raised to the nth degree, the cube roots are extracted and the results are arranged into elaborate and impressive displays. What must be kept in mind, however, is that in every case, the figures are first put down by a village watchman and he puts down anything he damn well pleases.

  ~ Sir Josiah Stamp, Her Majesty's Collector of Inland Revenues, more than a century ago  ~

I'm pondering as I walk to work through the increasingly dense thicket of weeds. 

Performance information, evaluation and measuring outcomes. 

Public opinion polls, feedback surveys and attendance figures. Endless data collection.  Must make it accurate, reliable and meaningful. I do believe some people enjoy this sort of stuff.  Study it even. Make it their life's work. 

Yesterday I disturbed a rabbit - much to my, and its, surprise.  Last week I was swooped upon by a magpie and I'm getting burrs in the hems of my trousers. I'm starting to think ... and look, like the village watchman.  

Last night for Daddy's birthday instead of cake we had a tub of Connoisseur brand Chocolate Honey Nougat ice-cream with four sparklers on top.  I thoroughly recommend it.  I had seconds and am already planning a tub of the macadamia one for my birthday... in January.  Must off now to walk it off as part of my commitment to the fabulous Jeanne's B-Well Report. (Maybe I need a pedometer to measure my effectiveness?  Or I could do a stretch test at weekly intervals to assess the impact on my flexibility or ...)

B-Well Report: Chocolate between meals

The Vulture eats between his meals

And that's the reason why

He very, very rarely feels

As well as you and I.

His eye is dull, his head is bald,

His neck is growing thinner.

Oh! what a lesson for us all

To only eat at dinner!

~ Hilaire Belloc

We played a new board game called Imagine If last night.  It was a hoot.  So were the Lindt chocolates.  Imagine if ... I'd only stopped at one! 

Still, it IS the holidays and what is a family board game without a warming beverage and a 'little something'.  Charly also has a box of Cadbury Roses lurking in the pantry.  She opened it tonight and contented herself with sorting her favourites and declaring that she, and no other (Mummy!), would consume the Strawberries and Cream.  There is nothing quite as sweet as the anticipation evoked by an opened box of chocolates twinkling in their foil wrap. The lid even lifts up like a treasure chest. The vulture is circling.

B-Well Report: Why I don't wear stilleto heels to work.

I continue to experiment with my walk to work (from where I park the car - heh).  Rather than risk life and limb crossing avenues along State Circle or taking the long way along National Circuit, I now shimmy over Canberra Avenue across paddocks where I am eyed by magpies and cockatoos.  This involves traversing mud puddles and uneven grassy tussocks and inelegantly negotiating my way over fallen tree branches.  It requires stout shoes and sensible accessories.  However, despite the wardrobe constraints I am rather enjoying my unconventional morning and afternoon bushwalks to the office.

An over the shoulder glance at Parliament House where all the fuss takes place.

B-Well Report: Making a meal of it

I resurrected the cookbooks on the weekend and made a Bill Granger sticky date pudding with butterscotch sauce.  A bit old hat now, I know, but it was eagerly and appreciately devoured by my little tribe with delicious curls of Streets Blue Ribbon ice cream.  Which is more than can be said for the slow-cooked lamb shanks.

I was such a great family dining moment, with all of us round the table, our faces glowing with shared pleasure, that I thought it would fun be to make a new pudding every Sunday during Winter. While this may sound like a Very Bad Idea in this forum, in fact, the promise of something special to cook and share with family helps me apply discipline during the rest of the week. A bit like the practice of sitting down to eat and using the good china and proper utensils. Making food a celebration and attaching some degree of formality to it, rather than something to snatch on the run.

The same applies to my dire habit of eating a sandwich at my desk in front of the computer I am shackled to for hours and hours and hours every day. I could certainly make more of my lunch break than I do, without dropping crumbs into the keyboard or crunching audibly on a Pink Lady.  (Then there is the eternal problem of what to pack in each child's lunchbox that will be nourishing and actually eaten, but that's another challenge.)

Imagine how much more impressive a food journal would sound if each meal read like a menu from a best-selling cookbook... and not a forensic list of week-old fridge left-overs.

Chicken paillard with rocket and cherry tomatoes
Pasta e fagioli

Crips skin salmon with sweet chilli dressing

Orange sweet potato, labne and rocket salad

Pumpkin roasted hazlenut and feta salad

Peach melba

 
That's going to be my approach this week.  ...and I think we shall have two course dinners on Sunday (exercising portion control, of course).  The recipe books might be getting a workout at last.
 
With thanks to Debra and Jeanne for pricking my conscience and helping to maintain my enthusiasm for making subtle lifestyle changes, or at least contemplating them.

B-Well Report: Friday

Friday. My day off from paid employment.  Five or so weeks on and not much to show for it.  Still trying to manage time in this new and uncertain world of part-time work.  I was last part-time nine years ago when, half reluctantly and half eagerly, I returned to the Big Open Plan Office and deposited my first-borne into the hands of the Team Leader of the Babies Room at the Child Care Centre.  So its time to pull back again, and get home and hearth in order now that children are older and take up more space, use more stuff, wear bigger clothes, have larger appetites and go to more places.

This week I ran for the first time in years.  That is, ran for pleasure rather than to catch a bus or to chase a wind-borne sheet of paper or to get the clothes off the line before the rain starts pelting down.  This was a joyful, spontaneous gallop involving two children and a soccer ball.  I could only manage it in fits and spurts, but when I was moving my body responded with long dormant pleasure.  Joints moved beyond their normal arc. Muscles stretched and contracted like pistons in some antique farm machinery. Fleshy parts lacking tone also let it be made known that they were getting into the act and wobbled and danced in appreciation.  It was good and natural.  Sitting at a desk for eight plus hours is not good and not natural.

Now I have an extra six hours every Friday to get active and better organised. I will need to set a reasonable pace and not over-estimate how much can be accomplished between the time I get out of my crumpled pajamas and when the school bell rings.  I will also need to apply some discipline and not sit here all day tangled in the interweb which would be very easy to do as it lures you into its seductive maw. 

My children's advice on my good health was simple.  "Mum, you need to get more sleep and eat more fruit."

Poster image by Shelli at DazeyChic
Inspiration by Blogger Wellness Group (B-Well Report) ** Join us**