Showing posts with label Life This Week. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Life This Week. Show all posts

Monday, 1 October 2018

Something Anything #LifeThisWeek


Greetings earthlings. It is I, the one and only Ness of Nessville, back to thrill you with the monumental happenings of my grand existence.

For instance, today's highlight involved cleaning out the fridge. This is a phenomenon known as 'living the dream'.

In other news, I also made some beds, folded laundry, patted my dog and cooked fried rice. (Auto correct wanted me to say I cooked friends, but I can assure you I've never done that).

Anyway, as you can imagine, I certainly needed a lie down after all this, to recover from all the excitement. Especially considering that for much of the past week I have resembled what can only be described as a human slug.

A snotty, sniffling, sneezing, snivelling, sooky human slug. This is what happens when your offspring decide to generously share their germs. Rude.

I endured unimaginable suffering for DAYS. Gallons of water were consumed. Copious piles of tissues were disposed of as plaintive piano music moped piteously in the background. Well, it should have been anyway. Sniff.

I mean, I was most certainly DYING from this hideous Man Cold. If I got it from my boys that makes it a Man Cold and therefore dire and tragic. In desperation I turned to my faithful husband, the marvellous Mickey Blue Eyes.

"Can you please get me some Sudafed or Cold Eze tablets?" I implored. Dutifully he set off, traipsing to the chemist on foot. He's one of these people who walk a lot, not a sloth creature like yours truly. Ahem.

He left me languishing in my sluggish state. Some time later I heard a loud clap of thunder. Oh dear, I thought, hoping he wasn't caught in a downpour. Or worse still, struck by lighting. The sky lit up at that precise minute and I shuddered fearfully.

I am prone to catastrophising. Oops. Minutes later I heard the gate clatter and a breathless Mickey Blue Eyes arrived, wet but triumphant. I had my drugs. I fell upon them as if they were cake, my preferred drug.

I am now slightly less slug like. And let me just add that this is what true love looks like, people. Do you understand what I'm saying?

Things have been a tiny bit gloomy to be honest. In a sad turn of events, a friend of Mickey Blue Eyes passed away unexpectedly, two weeks ago, leaving him despondent and adding to a general malaise.

Meanwhile, school holidays arrived in all their glory. This means that three ravenous boys demand food incessantly from the minute they awake until they again succumb to slumber. On the plus side, Mr 17 is keen to cook pancakes quite frequently. Winning.

In the midst of my man cold, I made myself some restorative soup, and I think we can all agree this is fascinating information.

Unfortunately, I missed a planned excursion to the city with my TAFE class. ( TAFE stands for Technical And Further Education for any non Australians playing along). Can't remember if I have mentioned the course, but yes I am doing this for two days a week until December. Then if all goes to plan I will proceed to study for a Library Diploma thingy via TAFE digital.

Meanwhile, I've applied for several jobs, getting a politely worded rejection email from one and crickets chirping from the rest. Is that a thing now? You don't hear anything unless you progress to interview? Oh well. It's all a learning process. I'll get there.

What does this week hold? Some boring appointments and shopping. Then next week I am catching up with some girlfriends for lunch. Looking forward to it! With the added bonus that I should be completely germ free by then. Yippee!





And that is all I have to report. We are perpetual plodders. So until next time I'll be over here plodding along. 

As Mickey Blue Eyes would say, take it easy and I'll catch up with you later. Adios.

What's happening in your world? 

Monday, 3 September 2018

Taking Stock: September 2018 Edition #LifeThisWeek




Making: Beds. I've gotten into a habit of doing so most mornings. Gives me the illusion that I've got my shit together.

Cooking: I made a shepherd's pie recently that was a hit. What else? Hmmm. Toast. Does that count?

Drinking: Green smoothies made with zucchini, kale, banana, coconut milk and a dash of honey. Gives me the illusion that I'm healthy.

Reading: Currently reading Three Little Lies by Laura Marshall. I'm enjoying it even though it kinda jumps all over the place with the characters and years. Prior to this I read an old Paullina Simons called Road To Paradise. It dragged a bit for me in the middle but I liked it in the end.

Also read a non-fiction title: You're Not That Great. It wasn't that great.

Trawling: I wonder why I leave this one in here. I never trawl.

Wanting: A holiday would be lovely.

Looking: For a part-time job. Wait. What? Yes, you read right. I'm doing it.  Trying, anyway.

Deciding: On some sort of further studies to go along with the job stuff. Library related stuff, because that's what I've done before and it suits me.

Wishing: Someone would just jump over the fence and offer me a job. No, I'm not drunk. That's a scenario I once read in a novel. Can't remember the name of the novel, but the heroine decided she wanted a job and BOOM her neighbour became her bestie and offered her a job. Totally happens in real life, right? Any librarians out there who wanna be my bestie?

Enjoying: A bit of RAIN. You know, that wet stuff that comes from the sky? That.

Waiting: For a lottery win. Will be waiting a LONG time. We never take a ticket.

Liking: The roast dinner we had was pretty good.

Wondering: Why washing up can't do itself.




Loving: My family. I think I'm gonna keep 'em.

Listening: To not much of anything. It's quite peaceful at the moment. As soon as I type this bedlam will ensue in ten, nine, eight, seven...

Considering: Shoving the dishes outside in the rain and hoping for the best.

Buying: Groceries. Just for something COMPLETELY DIFFERENT.

Watching: I watched an old movie from the 70s yesterday. The Last Married Couple In America starring George Segal and Natalie Wood. It was really bad. The hairstyles and some of the so-called humour from those times haven't worn well.

Marvelling: At many things.

Hoping: I won't blink my eyes and it's Christmas. *tries not to blink* 😵

Needing: A washing up fairy. Or, you know, one of those new-fangled contraption things people have that wash dishes? Whatever they are. I wouldn't know.

Questioning: How September came around so quickly. *blinks* OOPS. Merry Christmas everyone!

Smelling: There is a bit of a rainy day aroma with a hint of Krispy Kreme donuts happening here. We smashed a dozen of those babies between the five of us. We picked them up on the way back from my brother's 50th birthday lunch the other day. We'd already had a meal, plus cake, but that didn't stop us, because we're living our best lives obviously.

Wearing: Navy track suit pants, a purple jumper and green cardigan. Classy.

Noticing: My feet are cold. I really should put on ugs on to complete my alluring look.

Knowing: The dishes will NOT do themselves. A washing up fairy will NOT arrive. So rude.

Thinking: I need to exercise. And do dishes. Sigh.

Admiring: Mr 9, until he tells me it's creepy that I stare at him.

Getting: Tired. Until I actually get into bed... BOOM! I'll be wide awake.

Opening: Books. Always

Closing: Dunno.

Feeling: Pretty groovy right now. Also, kinda lazy. Groovy lazy is totally a thing. It's like the regular kind of lazy but you have shades on. Or something.

Celebrating: Three years cancer free!!!! Had my girls crushed last week and the results were GOOD. WHEEEEE!




Pretending: To exercise by typing the word exercise. Exercise exercise exercise. Done.

Embracing: Uncertainty. Hmmm. Think I said that last time but it still applies.

End Of Stock Take. 

Later dudes!

Linking up for Life This Week and Open Slather.

What are you celebrating in September?

Monday, 27 August 2018

How I Cope With Stress And Anxiety


Good evening, groovers and shakers! I trust you are feeling fabulous and full of joie de vivre. If you're not that's okay too. I'm here to help.

Life can tend to have a way of cruising along in a satisfactory manner for a period. Until it doesn't. Instead it's suddenly sucky and stressful. Fortunately I've managed to develop a few coping strategies to assist in these testing times.

So I figured I may as well as share them in the ubiquitous random list form. If nothing else, writing lists gives me the illusion that I've got my shit together.

So here goes:

HOW I COPE WITH STRESS & ANXIETY: A RANDOM LIST





  • Exercise. Sadly I dislike gyms and running. On the other hand I'm one of those weirdos who doesn't mind working out at home alone. YouTube videos and a bit of strength training are my go to choice. It hasn't exactly translated to peak physical fitness, but that's not really my goal here. It's my mental state I wish to improve. Worrying about what I look like in active wear won't help me at all. So I don't. That's just me. Next...
  •  Calming activities such as word fill-ins or word searches and colouring in. Preferably with pretty glitter pens. Nice. 
  • Writing everything down. Either like this in list form, or spewing forth a hideous word vomit of everything that is bothering me. Privately. No one needs to read that. 
  • Having a schedule or routine. This takes a certain element of decision making away. Instead of thinking about what I need to do, how to prioritise things and consequently becoming more stressed and overwhelmed, I know what's next. Admittedly sticking with routines is still a bit of a work in progress for me, but a flexible routine does help. 
  • Down time. It's important for me to schedule down time in my flexible routine. 
  • Green smoothies. Typically I would just eat all the cakies, but in the past week I began having a green smoothie everyday. Of course I still have a sneaky cupcake here and there when my mum is kind enough to bring some. It's about balance, people.
  • Therapy. I see a good psychologist on a regular basis. It's hard, but really helps in the long run. 
  • Waiting it out. Sucky feelings pass just like a thunderstorm. And sometimes there's even a rainbow at the end. I know. First I'm mentioning green smoothies now I'm getting all inspirational on you. I don't even know who I am anymore...
  • Recognising the difference between good stress and bad stress. This is something my psychologist reminded me of recently. Some stress is necessary in life, and even beneficial. I'm currently trying to make some changes and it's challenging but will be worth it in the end. So it's good stress. I think. I hope. 😲
  • Recognising that avoidance of sucky feelings will make it worse in the long term. Unfortunately I have had to learn this lesson the incredibly hard way, then learn it again the even harder way. And again, the incredibly, extremely hardest of hard ways. Sigh.
  • Taking things one day at a time.
  • Using mindfulness and techniques from ACT (Acceptance & Commitment Therapy), such as diffusion, thanking your mind etc.
  • Naming my anxiety Agnes and giving her the middle finger when applicable. She deserves it. The b$!&h. 
  • Listening to music.
  • Reading. I really don't know why I didn't put this at the top of my list. Reading is THE BEST. 
  • Practising self-compassion. Another work in progress. But I'm getting better at this. 
End of random list.

And if all of the above fails an occasional bottle of wine and a funnel can be helpful too. Hmmmm. Shame I don't have either! HMPH. 


How do you cope with stress and anxiety?

Monday, 20 August 2018

My Hairstyle History #LifeThisWeek


Brace yourselves for a trip into the worst of 80s and 90s hair. I've shared my hairstyle history before, particularly my infamous mullet-perm. But it's so hilarious it's worth sharing again.

This is one instance when I should definitely let the pictures tell the story. They're very old photos that I scanned and cropped any old how, so apologies in advance.

Long Hair

When I was cute circa 1981 


Perms

Infamous mullet-perm. I was about 16
and it was 1987. That's my only excuse.
Shut up. 

At my 21st. Bad perm. Bad earrings.
Bad make-up. But I did have a good
figure in those days. Sigh.

Poodle perm and weird expression.
Perhaps I was busting for the loo?




Short Hair

This was around my 30th birthday circa 2001.
I was up the duff but didn't know.


The lobster and wine look pretty good.
Not sure about the bowl hair cut.

Bobs


I looked pretty good then.
Is that me? 

Helmet hair. Noice. And my awesome parents.

Bad selfie. The hair was good because
I'd been to the hairdresser.


Long Hair Again 


Ten years ago. I was pregnant
with Mr 9. 


Who cares about my hair LOOK
HOW CUTE MY BOYS WERE 😍


No Hair


2015/16 when I had tit cancer became
a hare krishna. Fortunately I have
a lovely shaped head. So I'm told.


Chemo Curls


Move over Kath Day-Knight

This was the day I went to a club
buffet for a seniors price. Winning!


Silver Fox


Present day.
I let my hair go grey and I DGAF. 


And that completes the cringe.

Linking up for Life This Week and Open Slather.

Which hairstyles have you had?

Monday, 13 August 2018

Famous People I Have Met #LifeThisWeek 13/8



It should come as quite a surprise when I reveal that I've never met any famous people! Shocking, really. I mean, I live such a glamorous existence. Jet setting to far flung destinations. Mingling with the glitterati. Whatever that means.

I have glitter pens. Same thing, right?

Not really? HMPH.

I guess you could say I've brushed with fame. Or famous people. Depending on your definition of famous.

There was the time I met former Balmain Tigers footballer Wayne Pearce. At least, I think I did. I'm a bit hazy on the finer details. It was decades ago.



I was about twelve or thirteen. We were at some sort of function to do with my dad's work (I think). For some reason Wayne Pearce was there. We were introduced briefly and he shook my hand. At the time I had a bit of a crush on him and was crazy shy, so I blushed as red as my hair.

My brother knew a cousin or something of his because we went to the same school as her. So he happily mentioned this, possessing none of my shyness. My brother and Mr Pearce chatted away for a few minutes while I stood there embarrassed.  And that was that.

Fast forward a decade or so later. I was working for a time in a call centre for NRMA. I took a call from musical theatre singer/actor Anthony Warlow. I was quite starstruck but resisted the urge to go all fan girl. Luckily I am not the stalker type because I knew EXACTLY where he lived. I organised a home insurance policy for him. See? Told you I'm glamorous!

Several years later, we were holidaying in Cairns. With a toddler and a baby. Why let tiny humans stop us? That was our motto.

At one point we were strolling through the airport and a bald  bespectacled dude walked by, smiled at my little one in the stroller, then smiled at me and walked on.

Immediately I thought: "I know that guy!"

A minute or so later it hit me. It was Carrie's gay friend from Sex And The City.  Stanford or something? Him.


Image credit: https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0308606/


I can't recall the actor's name*. All I can say is, if it wasn't him, it was his absolute doppelganger walking through Cairns airport smiling at random babies. Is that weird? Whatever. I'm pretty sure it was him.

Another airport celeb sighting happened at Sydney airport (on a different trip - told you we're jet setters!) when we spotted Aussie rocker Jimmy Barnes at the luggage carousel. A casual "G'day how ya going?" was exchanged between him and Mickey Blue Eyes.

Thus endeth my underwhelming exciting brushes with fame.

I still maintain that I'm glamorous however. You can't stop me.

After all, I recall reading or hearing an observation from comedian Judith Lucy. Something to the effect of how many of the celebrities she interviewed during her time working in commercial radio had nothing more interesting to say than good old Tracy from Penrith. So ner.

Now I'm off to mingle with the glitterati again. Or Tracy from Penrith. Same thing.

What about you?

Have you met anyone famous?

*Turns out his name is Willie Garson. But wikipedia doesn't say if he smiles at random babies in airports... *shrugs*

Monday, 6 August 2018

Countries I Have Visited #LifeThisWeek


Hello there, lovely people! It's time to reveal the extensive list of countries I have visited. Here it is...

Countries I Have Visited:


  • Holland.


The End.

That was a quick post.

Byyyye!

Just kidding. I'm the queen of rambling. Can't get rid of me that easily. So ner!

It's true, though. The only country I've visited is Holland. Technically I should change the title of this post, but why nitpick?

I was certain I had already blogged about visiting Holland before, but when I went looking for the post I couldn't find it. Weird.

I went there as a ten year old with my parents and brother. It was 1981. I can still remember it. Well, bits of it.

We stayed with some friends of ours in Rotterdam. We ended up riding bikes everywhere. My parents have all the snapshots because obviously 1981 was a very long time ago. They also have footage which they had made into a DVD and gave me a copy, but I don't know how to upload it here.

In the footage I can be seen as a ten year old, skipping amongst the tulips.

Not the actual tulips I skipped amongst.


Other random memories of Holland:


  • When we arrived I allegedly slept for a solid 17 hours due to jet lag. If I ever travel overseas again as a middle-aged/old lady I'll likely fall into a coma, never to wake up again.  



  • I lived on bowls of custard and those round Dutch crisp bread thingys for a month. It was awesome.



  • Dutch liquorice called Drop (I think), is the most vile thing I've ever tasted. A million times more salty than vegemite. Yuck!



  • They served hot chips with peanut sauce, which struck me as revolting at the time. Now I realise it was probably some sort of satay type sauce and I'd probably love it.



  • Yep, we did visit a windmill. I think that was day my mum was filming away merrily only to discover later there was no film in the video recorder!



  • We visited some sort of touristy place where the bins would speak when you passed them saying "Papier here!" Or something. My memory of this is a little vague.



  • There was a lot of punk and new wave types about and I definitely gawked stupidly at them.



  • We went on a boat ride on the canal but as soon as it rocked I freaked and wanted to get off. So my dad got off with me. He doesn't like boats either and I provided him with a convenient smokescreen. Shhhhh, don't tell anyone! 😉



  • I remember some of the music that was popular at the time. Such as Double Dutch Bus and Grace Jones's Strange (I've Seen That Face Before). My parents bought a single of the latter, my brother the former. This was in the prehistoric days of vinyl records!




  • We almost missed the plane coming home! I'm not sure exactly how my parents got mixed up, but we were meandering around the airport thinking we had aaaages. Suddenly we heard our names being paged and had to bolt to the departure gate. We embarked red as beetroots, as all the other passengers gave us filthy looks. OOPS!


Those are snippets of memories from a very long time ago.

Sadly I've never visited any other countries, but if I could I'd visit the US, Canada and Prince Edward Island. Also; the UK. Not very likely at present, but you never know. Fingers crossed!

What about you?

Which countries have you visited?

Monday, 30 July 2018

If I Could #LifeThisWeek


If I could talk to the animals! Just imagine it! Or something...

Well actually, I DO talk to my dog. And she just looks at me like I'm nuts for some inexplicable reason.

Anyway, that was the first thing that popped into my head for this prompt. Because that's the way my brain works. Then I'll jump to the next random thing.

Which is THIS:

If I could, I would register for The Carpenters 50th Anniversary celebration thing happening in California next April. Then I would go, combining it with a family holiday. Sounds awesome, right?  Unfortunately, I would have to rob a bank first. So if I could please  borrow someone's balaclava?

Just kidding.

I could never rob a bank. Sigh.

First of all, I'd have to use a toy gun. Just like an old episode of The Golden Girls when they get held up by a dude in a Santa suit. (Random brain thing again. Bare with me...) Oh wait.


Random cute bears for no reason. 

Now my random brain is pondering if the expression is bare with me, or bear with me. The latter seems to imply there's an actual bear with me. But the former implies nakedness, and I really don't wanna go there. My random brain has backed me into a very awkward corner.

Moving on.

So where was I? Oh yes, the robbing a bank thing. Silly. I can't do that. Can I?

I'll have to win the lottery instead. Easy peasy. The odds are only astronomical, but meh. Why worry about inconsequential things like logic?

What I'm actually getting at is, if I could, I would go on a holiday. I'm sure it will happen soon. Except it'll be somewhere like Coonabarabran instead of California. Which is fine. I'll go anywhere at this point. Sniff.

Meanwhile, I am in the process of trying to make some changes but I don't want to talk about them at this point because then I'll talk myself out of it, or it won't happen, since I have a habit of announcing things and failing and this is a terrible run on sentence and I don't even know what I'm saying anymore.

And now for some more random 'if I coulds':

If I could, I would skip summer. Or go somewhere cooler. Or better still, make it perfect spring weather all year round, with some rain as well.

Yes, I would definitely make it rain, if I could. Maybe I should try a rain dance, but I don't dance. So magical thinking it is. Make it rain! Pretty please? Pretty please, with sugar on top? Does anyone say that anymore? I just did, so there's that.

If I could, I would lie in the sun all day like Cookie. But I have some stuff I wanna get done. Stuff that actually involves moving. Shame about that.

If I could, I would reinvent the human body so you could get exercise while sleeping. That would be SO much more efficient.

If I could, I would become a speed reader. Then I could read ALL THE BOOKS.

Presently I desire a cup of coffee, but it won't make itself. I find that frightfully rude. If I could, I would WILL the coffee to make itself. Furthermore, the housework should really do itself as well.

If I could, I'd create a magical land called Nessville (just came up with that name off the top of my head...) where cakies are good for you, cancer doesn't exit, everyone is kind and has a pet unicorn. Did I mention that logic is overrated?

Can't do any of those things.

But there is one thing I CAN do.

Bring this bewildering, babbling post crashing to its end.

DONE.

The End.

What would you do if you could?


Image credit: https://www.pexels.com/

Monday, 9 July 2018

My Home Country #LifeThisWeek



I consider myself to be one very lucky chickadee to be born here in the Land of Oz. (Wait. What? Did I just call myself a chickadee? Get a grip, Ness). Not the same Oz that Dorothy visited. There are no wizards hereabouts. (Um. Did I just say hereabouts? Oh dear).

I mean the Land down under. Australia. Although maybe we are just a bunch of wizards and witches over here. A figment of your imagination. Australia doesn't exist, according to some conspiracy theorists. Could explain why my life feels surreal at times. Hmmmm. Interesting.

Alternatively, Australia DOES exist, but isn't actually a country. This nugget of wisdom came from a former Southern New Hampshire University Professor. I could be tempted to scoff and howl with derisive laughter at such a notion. But considering my own woeful ignorance of geography perhaps I shouldn't. I'm sure there's entire countries I'm unaware of. Oops.


I would defnitely forget the VB (beer). 


According to this comprehensive Buzzfeed listicle, there are some definitive ways to know you're a quintessential Aussie.  We call McDonald's Maccas. And apparently it's Straya, not Australia. However, I have to admit that I wonder if I'm somewhat UnAustralian. Which is not really a word, but neither is 'Maccas' so I'm going with it.

Here's why I feel UnAustralian:


  • I don't like sport. Participating in it, or watching it. I've said it before and I'll say it again: it's all bats, balls, BORING to me! 
  • I'm not really interested in the outback. I live in suburban Sydney and I have no interest in climbing Ayers Rock. Much to Mickey Blue Eye's disgust. He'd love to get one of those camper vans and trek around Oz. Not me. Sure, I'd love to travel more. But with decent accommodation that includes a private bathroom. None of this communal stuff for me. 
  • To be perfectly honest I can take or leave the beach. GASP! I know! Shocking, really. But THE SAND! And I don't like going in the surf because I'm scared of the waves. Plus, I'm very fair skinned, so it only takes ten minutes for me to end up red raw. No thanks. 
  • Also; I can't swim. I have a phobia of putting my head under water so I never learnt. And I don't really care anymore. My almost 80 year old father has never learnt either and he's OK. 
  • I'm ambivalent about meat pies. I like them if they're made with actual meat. But the sloppy grisly goop in most of them...Yuck! 
  • I don't really get into some of the classic  Aussie rock such as ACDC (or Acca Dacca as they're known). Sure, I don't mind hearing the odd Midnight Oil song because it reminds me of my brother (he listened to them all the time when we growing up), but I'm not a hardcore fan. 
  • I've never thrown any shrimp on the barbie. First of all, we don't say shrimp, we say prawns. Second of all, I've never known this to be a thing anyway. We have steaks and sausages on the barbie. 
  • Australia has a beer drinking culture. I hate the taste of beer.
  • I DO like vegemite, but only a very small scratching of it on buttered toast. 
  • I don't say things like "G'day mate" or "Bloody oath". Or call Australia "Straya". OK maybe I do use the odd mate here and there with my boys. But only because I get their names mixed up. Tell me I'm not the only one who gets their own children's names mixed up. Please?
I'm sure there's many other things that make me "UnAustralian", but that's a brief summary.  In spite of all this, I'm staying in my home country.

After all, we have Tim Tams (chocolate biscuits), Lamingtons (cakie things) and Caramello Koalas (koala shaped chocolates with caramel inside them) here. That's good enough for me! 

Straya. 

Love it. 

What about you?

Do you feel like you gel with your home country?

How do you know you're Australian (or not)?

Monday, 2 July 2018

Taking Stock: July 2018 #LifeThisWeek




Making: I don't really make much besides mess. It's a gift of mine. Winning. 

Cooking: Lots of roast dinners and soups because winter. 

Drinking: The occasional glass of plonk. And approximately 12 billionty cups of tea. Just for something COMPLETELY out of the ordinary.

Reading:  Various library books, including:

The Lucky One by Caroline Overington.

Is it just me or does there seem to be a tendency for authors to go too overboard with twisty endings these days? I don't know if it's a post Gone Girl thing or something? Anyway that was the feeling I was left with after reading the above title. Draw your own conclusions, I guess.

Sisters and Lies by Bernice Barrington. 

I enjoyed this one. Highly recommended.


Trawling: Still haven't taken up trawling. Unless it's the library shelves. 

Wanting:  To watch Hello Dolly! starring Barbra Streisand again because I'm a dag.

Looking: For a Hello Dolly DVD at op shops. Didn't find it but did find the movie Shirley Valentine and season two of The Golden Girls. I like to live in the past. 

Deciding: Which daggy film and or TV shows to watch next. 

Wishing: Lots of things. 

Enjoying: Watching old daggy movies and TV shows. See above.

Waiting: Waiting, waiting, waiting... For what, I don't know. But if I keep waiting, surely it will come to me?

Liking: Electric blankets and hot showers. Although not together because that wouldn't end well. 

Wondering: What delectable delights we can have for lunch. It's only 11am, but details.

Loving: Hot soup and sleep ins. Although not together because who sleeps with soup? Well, I guess you never know. Have you ever watched an episode of My Strange Addiction? 

Listening: Songs from Hello Dolly which are on a permanent loop in my head. 

"We got elegance. If you ain't got elegance, you can never ever carry...

IT. OFF!"




Considering: Folding the pile of washing on the bed, but then I might be too overcome with the sheer and utter thrill of such a thing, rendering it impossible to return to normal life forevermore. Can't take that chance. 

Buying: A couple of DVDs and A Women's Weekly Basic Cookbook from a Salvos op shop. 

Watching: I think we've already covered this. 

Hoping: That my upcoming yearly mammogram will be all clear. I won't have it until August but that's coming all too quickly. Ugh. 

Marvelling: At how quickly the years fly by. Cliche, but true. See above.

Needing: To lose weight, de-clutter, exercise, fold the washing, cook dinner, hug a child. Well, at least I've done the latter. That's something. 

Questioning: Why I can't think of anything here but tonight when I want to sleep my brain will explode with ALL THE QUESTIONS.

Smelling:  Mandarins.

Wearing: Layers of clothing. Because c..c...c...cold. 

Noticing: That there's socks for cold feet and gloves for cold hands, but what about cold noses? Well, okay there's balaclavas, but I don't want to look like a bank robber. 

Knowing: I'd wear a god damn balaclava and walk around looking like a robber if I lived where it snowed. 

Thinking: I'm thinking that thinking is overrated.

Admiring: My dog. She's cute. 🐕

Getting: Ready for school holidays. 

Disliking: Cold noses. Well, I only have one. You know what I mean. 

Opening: Books, the fridge, my phone. Such a classy person.

Closing: Um. Books when I finish reading them. 

Feeling: Peckish. It's lunch time here, you see. Plus I'm always peckish. Shut up. 

Celebrating: My eldest son is turning 17 next week. Wait. What? Yep. My 'miracle baby' is 17! See? I wasn't wrong about the whole time flying cliche thing. 


Pretending:  To be a writer by participating in this Festival Of Words thing over at Write Tribe. It was fun!

Embracing: Writing more. And, I dunno, uncertainty about different things. What else can you do?

And that completes my June stock take.

Linking up for #LifeThisWeek. 

What are you loving in the month of June?

Image credit: http://hotbuysbazaar.blogspot.com/2017/07/july.html

Monday, 25 June 2018

Thank A Teacher #LifeThisWeek


It's been a frightfully long time since I was at school. Thirty years, in fact. Yikes. How did that happen?

Happen it did. Quickly. Suddenly, I was 18, with no idea of what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. Still haven't figured it out, to be honest. I guess I never will. Oh, well. Sigh.

Anyway, long story short, I ended up enrolling in a TAFE course in library practice. I schlepped into the city replete with my infamous mullet perm. The 80s were just about over, but I hadn't received the memo.

Throughout my years at primary school and high school one thing had become apparent. I was excruciatingly shy and quiet. Furthermore, this was a heinous character defect.

There must be some sort of magical spell or secret knowledge I didn't possess. Knowledge that would enable me to come out of my shell immediately. If not, I was doomed.

It seems that being quiet is viewed as suspicious in our society. Case in point: have you ever noticed that a popular trope in fiction is the killer turning out to be the quiet unassuming character? 

Likewise when a gruesome murder takes place, neighbours of the perpetrator are seen on the news, appalled. "He was pretty quiet. Kept to himself," they mumble to the camera. The subtext being, all quiet folk are psychopaths waiting to happen. HMPH. Not true. Granted, I am weird, but in a completely harmless way.

Look, I'm getting to the thanking a teacher bit shortly. The point is, I had been conditioned to believe that being quiet and shy was tantamount to a crime. A hideous, awful, shameful flaw. Something that had to be changed at all costs. If only I tried hard enough,  I should be able to do the thing that people commanded: come out of my shell.





I grew to loathe those words. Sadly not as much I loathed myself. I desperately wanted to be bubbly and outgoing. The opposite of my true self in every way.

To complicate matters, I didn't know that I'm autistic at the time. I believed that all my struggles to communicate were simply shyness. And yes, I AM shy. Like I've said before, I scored the ultimate trifecta of social awkwardness: shy, introverted (yes, they are two different things) and autistic.

But to get to the thanking a teacher bit! As part of the library practice TAFE course we had to do a communication module.

My teacher for this subject was a lovely lady with the unusual name of Gill Goater. She wore dangly earrings and a warm smile.

It transpired that one of our assessments involved giving a speech on a topic of our choice. OH. MY. GOD. Naturally my shy little soul shriveled at such a prospect. The thing was impossible. A knot of dread settled in my stomach.

The dread was also suffused in shame. Here I was, ostensibly an adult and I was no closer to 'coming out of my shell'. The very idea of standing in front of the class set me quivering.

But Gill smiled at me and said something to the effect: I just want you to know that I know you're shy and that's okay.

Wait. What?

"It's okay to do things in your own time," she continued. I was thunderstruck yet thrilled. No one had ever said such a thing to me before.

The upshot of it was, she gave me a get of jail for free card. I didn't have to do the speech if I didn't want to, she told me. A funny thing happened. I mulled it over, as I am want to do.

A number of people in the class were from non English speaking backgrounds. A speech would be a challenge for them, too. Upon reflection, it didn't seem fair that they should have to do it, while I was excused.

I went back and told Gill I'd do it. She suggested a topic I knew a lot about: Why not talk about shyness? Explain what it's like. Make people understand.

So that's what I did. I don't remember exactly what I said, but I do remember that you couldn't hear a pin drop until I finished and the room erupted into applause.

Gill was beaming. "I'm giving you an 11 out of ten because I know how hard that was for you!" she said.

Shortly afterwards, she left to go travelling and we had a different teacher. But I never forgot her. So, thank you, Gill Goater, for your acceptance and understanding. I wish more teachers were like you.

Interestingly, I googled Gill's name and discovered she is now a poet, with a book of poetry in print. Highly unlikely she would remember me, but now I'm keen to read her poetry. 

Meanwhile, I now know I'm autistic. In retrospect, it could have been an even more interesting speech! It certainly explains why I could never just 'come out of my shell'.

But I've never become a murderer either. And never will! That's something.

What about you?

Is there a teacher you'd like to thank? 

Monday, 18 June 2018

An Experiment


Good morning, dear people! Or afternoon. Or evening. Depending upon where you are in the world. Of course there's less than zero chance that folks all over the globe are reading this, but it doesn't hurt to remain delusional optimistic.

Anyway, I trust you are feeling fabulous wherever you may be. I just thought I'd check in here for the heck of it, despite having nothing monumental to report, and bugger all snaps to share. That's me for you. Always generous, and thinking of others.

Besides, according to some dude called Ralph Waldo Emerson "All life is an experiment. The more experiments you make the better." Look, it's on the internet so it must be legit.




Therefore, I may as well treat this here blog post as an experiment. I'm sure I can pull something out of nothing. That's pretty much what I always do anyway.

But today I am taking it to a whole new level. Because I have decided. Why must we always DO ALL THE THINGS? Sure, it feels good to smash that to-do list, but what if we mixed it up for a change?

Did something COMPLETELY DIFFERENT. Something wild and crazy. Cutting edge and avant-garde. Something so daring and innovative it's never been heard of before and likely never will again?

You with me? Good. Let's try this groundbreaking experiment: instead of the ever present, ubiquitous to-do list, let's be bold and write a to DON'T list instead!!!

Yeah, okay, you got me. I did talk the idea up a bit more than is strictly necessary. A dash of melodrama never hurt anyone. Unless it's like actual melodrama. That's stressful. Screw that.

No, I mean pretendy type melodrama. Such fun! As Miranda would say. It works even better if you imagine rousing music in the background. Something evocative and suitably atmospheric. Perhaps the Harry Potter theme? Otherwise insert your preferred movie theme of choice. Done? Good.

On with the show.

TO-DON'T LIST

  • Don't give up. Unless it's smoking. You should really give that up. Says the woman who can't even give up chocolate . 
  • Don't forget to be grateful for the little things in life. Like m&ms. They're little. Did I mention I can't give up chocolate?
  • Don't think you have to fix all the things and be perfect. 
  • Don't mull over what's already happened in the past. 
  • Don't worry about what may or may not happen in the future. 
  • Don't be a piker (pyker?). Not exactly sure what that is, nor how to spell it, but still. Don't be one. 
  • Don't watch dumb reality shows. This one is for me, really. You can watch them if you want to. I can't stop you. 
  • Don't stop believin'. Okay, that's an Olivia Newton-John/Journey song, but whatever works. 
  • Don't forget to pat your dog. Unless you don't have one. In which case I don't even know what to say to you. You PSYCHOPATH.
  • Don't be a will-o-mo-wisp. On second thought, a will-o-mo-wisp sounds quite lovely. And if it was good enough for Maria, it's good enough for me. 
  • Don't rain on my parade. Okay, that's a Barbra Streisand song, but Babs is awesome so I'm going with it. 
  • Don't take life too seriously. No one gets out alive.
  • Don't forget to eat your five a day. Unfortunately it's not five cakies. Again, that one was for me. Sigh. 
  • Don't forget what your arms and legs are for: movement! Another one for me. Ahem.
  • Don't cry out loud. Just keep it inside. And learn how to hide your feelings. Actually, no. That's terrible advice. What was Melissa Manchester thinking?
  • Don't write to-don't lists then proceed to DO everything on them anyway. 
  • Ditto don't write to-do lists then DON'T do anything on them either. I like contradicting myself. Shut up. 
  • Don't worry about what other people think of you. As Dr Phil says: you wouldn't worry about what others thought of you if you knew how seldom they did. Besides, they're probably dickheads anyway. That last bit is from Dr Ness. 
  • Don't stay up too late. Unless you can sleep-in in the morning. Why not?
  • Don't get up too early. Mornings are stupid. See above. 
  • Don't take advice from random bloggers on the internet, who have no qualifications whatsoever to to give such pearls of wisdom, including me. Especially me. 
  • Don't begin frying an egg then walk away, get distracted, and forget about it until the smoke alarm goes off. Oops. 
  • Don't spend too much time on social media. Bahahaha! I'm so funny. 
  • Don't forget that social media is people's highlight reels. Things aren't always what they seem. 
  • Don't be cruel to a heart that's true. Okay, that's an Elvis song, but still. It's not bad advice from The King. 
  • Don't expect your folded piles of washing to put themselves away. They don't. So rude. 
  • Don't spend winter being a sloth creature on valium because summer will be back before you know it and you'll regret it. Just me?
  • Don't worry, be happy! Okay, that's some dude I can't remember's song. But it works to end this list. And now you'll have that lovely little earworm for a while. You're welcome!

Linking up for:



What would you write on your to-don't list?

Monday, 11 June 2018

The M - Z of Me


Now for the moment you've all been waiting for! Drum roll, please...

The illustrious list of all lists! The next installment of my personal alphabet.  The M - Z of Me! YAY!

Oh okay, it's not that exciting. Sniff. But since I've already regaled you with the  A - L Of Me, I may as well finish the thing.


So here we go: 

: is for Mum. These days I totally understand why my mother often said "She went mad and they shot her!" in response to my brother and I's frequent cries of: "MUUUUUUUUUUM!!"

In addition to being a mum of three boys, I'm also MARVELOUS and utterly MAGNIFICENT.  Modest, too.

Oh yeah, and I'm married to a bloke called Mick. I like to call him Mickey Blue Eyes. He does have blue eyes, so it makes sense. Moving on.

N: Now, this is a hard one. Snorts. Nah. Clearly it's for Ness. Which is my nickname. And the reason for the name of this blog.

O: Isn't it OBVIOUS? I'm OUTSTANDING.





Look, a bit of a 'dad joke' never hurt anyone. Except that one. Oops.

And there we have it. The O word that sums me up: OOPS.

Also, I'm quite odd. You may have noticed that. Case in point: I have certain obsessions: Cakies and Carpenters. Yep. I mentioned I'm odd.

: is for pretending. I pretend that I'm normal, but you've already caught me out with the odd thing. See above.

Q: could be a quandary for many folk. (Do you see what I did there?) But not for me. Because I'm quiet. Also; quirky. And very quaint.

R:  is for reading. I love it. Additionally, I enjoy rainy days. I'm reserved, often in my little own reverie and frequently ravenous. I do tend to ramble a lot here. No, I have not been reading the dictionary! Whatever gives you that idea?!

I would also like to believe that I'm much more resilient these days.

S: is for shy. Which is a shame because I'm truly SENSATIONAL. And you may have noticed that I always descend into self-deprecation. Sigh.

Seriously though, how do I stop that? Should I?

Then there is the fact that I'm a scatterbrain. I think I'm a weird cross of sweet and sarcastic. Not sure how that works. Perhaps it doesn't. I don't know.

T: is for teatotaller. Is that how you spell it? Anyway, I drink A LOT of tea. A TREMENDOUS amount of tea. I'm also very truthful and trustworthy. That's something.

U: is for unassuming and unpretentious. That's just the way I am. Totally unique, thank you very much. So ner.

V: is another hard one. Except it isn't. Because my name is Vanessa. Ness for short. I suppose you could say I'm kinda 'vanilla'. But people tend to forget what an exquisite flavour vanilla can be. Vanilla ice cream? Yes, please. Vanilla cupcakes? Now we're talking! What's wrong with a bit of vanilla?

W: is for woman. Pretty sure I am one. And I'm often wistful and whimsical. Two wonderful W words. Wow.

: is for xylophone. Which has nothing to do with me. I've never played one. I've xeroxed some things and had a few x-rays, does that count?

: is for yodeling. I can't do it, mind you. Unless you count my enthusiastic singing along to The Lonely Goat Herd whenever I watch The Sound Of Music.. Yodelay heeee! Yodelay hee heeee!! Join in! You know you want to.

Z: is for zoo. Well, I have been to one or two in my time. Plus it often seems like a zoo around here. Meanwhile, I feel like a zombie, so there's that, too.

Aaaaand, we're done here!

Cue trumpets, fanfare and fireworks!






Look, I'm just trying to liven things up around here. You got a problem with that?

Over and out.

Can anyone really think of anything about themselves for the letters X, Y, & Z?




Monday, 21 May 2018

My Biggest Fear Is Fear Itself


Fears and phobias are a funny old thing. Using 'funny' in the sense of horrific and absurd. Some folks are mortally afraid of moths. For others it's clowns. Neither bother me. Cockroaches, on the other hand: EEEEEEEEK!!!


I've blogged about my fears and phobias before. They're all fairly generic: heights, public speaking, the dentist, and of course, cockroaches. Shudders. I know I'm not alone here. Many people fear these things.

These days, I would have to say, my BIGGEST fear is something happening to my children. A close second is getting cancer again and not being around for my children. But even after saying this and knowing it to be true. I truly fear these things. I realise there's a bigger everyday fear that's always lurking.

Fear itself.

Yep. I have an anxiety disorder. My biggest fear is fear itself. This is tremendous fun. Said no one ever.

The thing is, even though I once had a pathological fear of childbirth, I faced it. Hearing that you have a cancer diagnosis is undoubtedly one of the most frightening things ever. But I got through it.

Now I am left with the fear of it happening again. Even though my current reality is that I'm cancer free and well, the fear still intrudes.

Anxiety is so strange. At times you can pinpoint the triggering thoughts, other times it just pounces out of nowhere. Of course I've learnt all about the fight or flight instinct and how anxiety is necessary for human survival.

Additionally, my understanding is that being autistic means I am wired to be more prone to or predisposed to anxiety. So I decided to  name it Agnes and make an uneasy truce with her. I don't like her, but I understand why she exists.

There's a theory I've heard of that says fear can either mean Fear Everything And Run, or Face Everything And Rise. Don't you just love inspirational quotes? Yeah, me neither. But I have to admit, when I first began having panic attacks many years ago I often did the former. Until I realised: I don't run.






I avoid my fears and problems, sure. But running is stupid.

Seriously though, now I can say I (mostly) do the latter and face things. Sort of. Kind of. Sometimes.

What I mean is, the fear doesn't evaporate but I let Agnes tag along and I tell her what to do not vice versa. Occasionally she still manages to get the better of me. She's a freaking bitch so I expect that. Dammit.

Lately I've been listening to a lot of this true crime stuff which seems to be the thing these days. This is veering slightly off-topic, but I have a point so bear with me. It seems like an odd thing to be interested in, given my anxiety and self-confessed aversion to blood, guts and gore.

However, it's not that part of it that intrigues me. It's the psychology behind the crime or behaviour. How one individual can come from a tragic background and become a criminal, while another rises above it. The other day I heard a psychologist explaining what a sociopath is like. Supposedly they not only lack empathy but it goes further into complete callousness. According to this psychologist, sociopaths also don't experience stress or anxiety like others do.

In a weird way, understanding this helps me accept the things I dislike about myself. I don't like my anxiety, aka Agnes, but if I never felt it whatsoever, then I'd be a sociopath. Or something. Does that make sense?

I mean, obviously I'm just a little self absorbed or I wouldn't have a blog all about myself (ahem), but I'm not a sociopath. 

So yeah, my biggest fear is fear itself. And I'm okay with it. 

But anyone who's okay with cockroaches? PSYCHOPATHS. All of them. I don't need a psychologist to tell me that. 

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!

What is your biggest fear?

Monday, 30 April 2018

Taking Stock: April 2018 Edition


Making: Beds. Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. Tea. Coffee. You know, all the thrilling things.

Cooking: Cauliflower soup. Tacos. Roast chicken and veggies. Because apparently I am not very original. 

Drinking: Four dollar sparkling moscato from Aldi. FANCY. 

Reading:  Various library books, including:

Without Merit by Colleen Hoover.

Loved it. Read it in 24 hours.

Now That You Mention It by Kristan Higgins. 

Loved this one, too. Read it in 24-48 hours.

Trawling: I do not trawl. What am I? A fisherman?

Wanting:  I pretty much have everything important in life. Family, health, food, shelter... hashtag blessed and all that. But I'll still take a truck load of cash, thank you very much.

Looking: At the ceiling fan and thinking I should probably clean it sometimes. But how would I recover from such excitement?

Deciding: Which book to read next.

Wishing: We could get away on a holiday. 

Enjoying: The cooler weather. I can wear my pajamas all day. Don't judge me. Hmph. 

Waiting: For the kettle to boil. Exciting times if I don't say so myself.

Liking: The end of school holidays. HALLELUJAH. 

Wondering: If we are sorta kinda maybe jinxed or something. Just me catastrophising again. As you were. 

Loving: Quiet time I scored yesterday while Mickey Blue Eyes took the boys to the movies.

Listening: To Mickey Blue Eyes clattering dishes in the kitchen and birds chirping (is that a word?) in the distance.

Considering: Running up and down the street stark bollocky naked. Just to liven things up. But that would be ridiculous. I don't run. 

Also, is bollocky a word? 

Buying: Groceries. Just for something COMPLETELY different.

Watching: Ridonkulous melodramatic movies on YouTube (shut up, I don't have Netflix). You know the ones. Based on a "true" story, starring Shannon Doherty or some other D grade faded television actor. I scoff and eye roll at them but then subsequently do some comprehensive research lazy internet searching and find it they are essentially true. Truth is stranger than fiction, people.

Hoping: Cups of tea can make themselves at some point in the future. Like, say, in five minutes. Surely we should have the technology by now?

Marvelling: At the word "marvelling". Isn't it MARVELLOUS. 

Needing: A kick up the ciber.

Questioning: Life, the universe and everything.

Smelling:  Tea.

Wearing: Trackie daks (Australian for sweatpants), teamed with an attractive purple jumper. I know what you're thinking. I should really jump into that "everyday style" hashtag thing pronto.

Noticing: All the mother's day propaganda in the store catalogues. As if all we do is eat chocolate in our pajamas all day. Hmph. Oh wait...

Knowing: I know nothing. Not a thing. Zip. Nada. Sweet FA, as the saying goes. Clueless.

Thinking: People are weird.

Admiring: People. They're SO WEIRD and they don't even know.

Getting: Fat. Well, fattER, if that's a word. 

Disliking: The fatter thing. See above. But apparently not enough to actually stop eating two thirds of a packet of chocolate covered peanuts in one sitting on Saturday. The final third went to my family, so I do share. Kinda. Sorta. Shut up.

Opening: Books. What else?

Closing: The fridge. Sometimes. Mostly I open it. Which answers the above question. Ahem.

Feeling: Fair to maudlin, as the saying goes. Or is it middling? 

Celebrating:  Well, I haven't eaten anything in a full ten minutes. That certainly calls for a celebration! And there's only one way to celebrate: with FOOD! 🍨🍧🍦🍩🍰🍪🍫🍬🍭🍮🍮🍳🍳🍔

Pretending:  I'm a sane, rational, functioning adult. Tricked you! Snorts.

Embracing: Mr 9. Love that kid. 

So there you have it. That is me tacking stock this amazing April. 


What are you celebrating in the month of April?