Christmas just isn't Christmas without knickers

Phew, time to sit back and relax after the last couple of days.

I love this time of year, the excitement, the buzz, the craziness, the catching up with friends and family (whether that is in person, making surprise early Christmas morning telephone calls, or emailing / facebooking / blogging out the Christmas wishes and cheer).

But it is nice to find some time to sit back, relax and enjoy the days that have been.

As predicted Christmas Day reached into the 40's (100's F) with the bluest and clearest of skies. It still makes me giggle though how, in Australia, we still recognise and decorate Christmas with snow scenes! Even though families celebrate in the airconditioning, down on the beach or picnicking under the shade of a large park tree.

Whilst we may not have snow to add to the magic wonderland feel of Christmas, we do have the Australian Christmas tree. It's luminous yellow flowers, brightening and cheering the parched surrounding bush at this time of the year. The tree also belongs to the mistletoe family, ahhh all the smooching that can be done under one of these! (and we will forget the fact that it survives due to it's parasitic nature).

With the mild temperate winters of Western Australia, and the lack of chimneys, Santa usually has to find alternate means to deliver his cargo of gifts to those that have been good during the year.

And what Christmas wouldn't be complete without the obligatory pair of knickers in the stocking, thanks Santa (uhh mum :)), hopefully I will fit into them with all the chocolate consumed over the last couple of days.

Merry Christmas Eve

Merry Christmas Eve everyone!

Oops has it been that long since I last blogged? Oh well that may have to be a next year's resolution.... perhaps, because to be honest, I'm as good at those as I am at producing regular blogs!

I just love Christmas, it's my favourite time of year, filled with lots of special memories. In particular that of Christmas mornings, even before the sun had chance to peep through the curtains (still haven't got me there Mynx), my Dad would call down from my parents' bedroom, crying out "Has he been?", "Has he been?". My sister and I would scramble excitedly out of bed to the lounge room to find the Christmas tree lights shining brightly over a multitude of different coloured parcels in random piles over the floor, the port and fruit mince pies that had been left nearby devoured.

Patiently waiting (what seemed an eternity, but was only a matter of minutes) for mum and dad to join us, we would distribute the presents one by one, making sure everyone had one to open. Opening each one and showing what we had, my dad would hoard his until the end, taking more pleasure out of watching us open our gifts. Then tormenting us by watching him open his to see what he had.

Over breakfast we would go through our gifts again, reliving the enjoyment of each one, while mum got ready for work. Mum was a nurse at a nursing home and always worked Christmas morning for a few hours, getting the residents ready for either their relatives to collect them, or those who didn't have anyone and were spending the day at the home getting them ready for the Christmas celebrations. The nursing home and staff made such an effort for those that were staying in to celebrate to ensure that they had a great festive time.

We would drop mum off at work and then come home and help dad get Christmas lunch preparations underway. And even though it would be stifling hot, he insisted we still had the glazed ham, stuffed turkey, usually a roast beef or pork, with roast potatoes, carrots, sprouts, beans and heavens knows what other vegetables. Mum would have organised the desserts the day before, usually pavlova, trifle and Christmas pudding, so the fridge was already heaving.

Then back to collect mum. My sister and I would spend time with each of the residents in the Christmas-decked-out lounge room, wishing them each a Merry Christmas and telling them about the gifts Santa had left us and what we would be having for dinner and who would be coming over to enjoy it. I never realised until much later how they enjoyed having my sister and me (and other children of the staff)coming and going throughout the day sharing part of it with them.

Getting back home preparations would be in full progress, tables being set, dinner constantly being checked, Christmas outfits changed into, before friends would arrive to share the day with us. Christmas Day was always an open invitation so friends who couldn't make Christmas dinner would visit later on in the afternoon and evening. Christmas Day at home was always full of excitement, food and drink and close friends coming and going and sharing the day late into Christmas night.

Now much probably to the horror of some, I must scoot and get a few last minute presents I still need to find - yes it's all part of the excitement of Christmas for me, the last minute shopping, crowds, wrapping gifts late in the evening. But before I do, try and take a few minutes to think of all of those people working over this Festive season, the nurses, doctors, health workers, police, firemen, support persons and their families making their small contribution to Christmas for us.

Multiskilling

Chatting to best friend in another State on phone, whilst cutting in ceiling (painting) on ladder, whilst drinking a glass of white classic and photographing event!

Pilates on a pole

Looking at me, my mother started to laugh.

I am certain nothing I do surprises mum anymore, however I do obviously provide her with a sense of enjoyment and a seriously good laugh. "So that's when men stuff notes down your g-string?", she asks, not stopping to wait for me to answer. "You will be able to get some of your debts paid off".

She looks at me, laughter erupting again, wiping tears, which had formed from this source of amusement, from her eyes. "Although you don't really have anything for them to look at, now if it was your sister...".

My foray into the realms of pole dancing was greeted with laughter and a critical-mother (as only they know how)-evaluation of my (lack of) success at this adventure.

The opportunity to learn to pole dance came about when the studio opened a venue close to where I live. My gym buddy excitedly emailed me with the news. We had been intending to go for a girl's night out at one of the other studios where you are shown the basics over champagne and chocolates. However, as often is the case, due to this person not being able to make this night, and that person not being able to make the alternative suggested night, then holidays, the girl's night never eventuated.

Determined that we were going to be pole dancers when we grew up, I checked out the website. "Pilates on a pole", "cheekiness", "femininity", "fitness", "fun", "confidence" were some of the descriptions which greeted me. I downloaded the timetable and information and emailed my friend the details and the date that we would be starting.

Lessons booked ... the fun to begin.

P Day arrives. Excitement bubbles over as I arrive at the deep fuscia pink studio, with black silk adorned chandeliers.

Introduced to the friendly instructor, I choose one of the brass poles. My friend arrives late and chooses a pole at the other end of the class, however we are both in eye shot of each other ... danger for when the giggles arise.

We start the class off with warm up moves. Toosh stuck right out, hips gyrate in a circular movement one way and then the other, squats with frantic bobs up and down, pole clasped sliding up and down.

Next warm up, abs. Images of a rich chocolate bath, as legs kick in and out seductively, falling into a false sense of ease, as this was followed by scissor kicks and jack knives, I'm thankful at this stage for my pilates classes, as the torture with this continued routine would have been felt.

Before we are shown how to walk seductively, we need to learn how to crawl. Out on all fours, prowling like lionesses, looking for "hubby's socks" or vacuuming under the sofa" never looked so sexy. Giggling as we are all on the floor moving forward theatrically.

The different steps to move gracefully, teasingly, from the floor to standing are practised as are the different ways to walk seductively, cheekily, as we traipse around the dance floor, following each other in a circle with over-exaggerated moves and more giggles.

Onto pole moves.

How to move around the pole, facing it, twirling so our back is against it, facing it again practised. Then before we are aware of what is to come, we are expected to twirl seductively down the pole. Silence... Intently watching the steps to the twirling motion. Ok, not so bad perhaps. right leg around pole, toosh pushed out, hips forward and push with left leg... I slide ungracefully straight down the pole, my legs a tangled mess on the floor... ok not quite the success, or look I was hoping for. I look around the class, phew not the only one... we practice the move over and over again, until finally success, I can twirl down the pole. Now to twirl in the opposite direction. More practice, more twirls, more giggles.

The evening finishing off with putting all the moves we have learnt into the beginnings of a choreographed act. Next week can't come soon enough!

Naked in the boardroom

There is a certain vulnerability about standing naked in front of stranger, in an environment that is not quite the norm for such activities.

I wondered how many others have been in a similar situation, standing completely as nature intended in the Boardroom... two that I am aware of and one to follow.

Arms raised in a Barbie doll pose as the cold sensation hits my body. I shudder and my body involuntarily flinches each time the overpowering cocoa scented, mud coloured, cold spray is applied to each section of my warm body.

Long, continuous strokes as instructions are provided... turn slightly, move your legs slightly apart, one in front of the other now, raise arms, close your eyes and hold your breathe, don't squint.

The whole process takes less than 10 minutes, however it is all part of the female ritual of getting tizzed and glammed up for the Company's Anniversary Ball and Award evening. The ritual commencing approximately 6 weeks prior.

A ritual with a strict time frame.

The ritual commencing with an organised girl's day out searching for the dress and matching accessories. What girl does not like such a day out shared with a friend? Especially when discovering an outlet that still provides excellent customer service. Cups of tea, served in fine white china, and biscuits offered and accepted. A section dedicated to dresses and gowns reduced at amazing prices. Girlie heaven.

Discovering racks of treasures of glamorous colour, textures and lengths. Arms ladened with a myriad of choices to be tried on, giggled over, assistance provided with zips and hooks, deep breaths in as the zip will zip up, oohs over each dress as it is modelled. An hour (or so) later, success, gowns secured.

A much needed lunch break, to recover from such exhausting activity, and time to discuss fervently what matching jewellery and shoes are required. Replenished with refreshments, next stop the nearby shopping centre. Three shoe shops and five fashion shops later, matching shoes and sparkling bling acquired. Time for cappuccino and skinny late before heading home to try on and prance and preen in front of home mirror with recent purchases.

The next ritual in this precision time frame, hair appointment a week prior to the event. Hair trimmed, colour applied and discussion with the hairdresser over the different options hair could be styled for the evening, appointment made for the afternoon prior to the event.

A week of daily exfoliating leading up to the present ritual of standing naked in front of a stranger, in a mobile, three sided tent having a spray tan applied, the evening before the Ball. Organised by a work colleague. The only appropriate area for the mobile set-up, the Boardroom.

The spraying over, the tan's wetness is dried off with a dryer. As I put on my loose fitting clothes I cheekily wonder what Board members would think at such activity occurring in their room, if only they knew!

By special request

For two special people ... Your request!

Just another Sunday...

"Remove your jacket and tuck your top in, it will be more comfortable".

Sure, if that is going to make me feel any more comfortable than I am... not. "Arms to your side and relax". I stand in front of her, my black top tucked securely in my vibrant blue bra.

It had been a fairly quiet weekend. Well compared to the previous weekend's adrenaline pumped weekend, where I had completed my first trial bike ride, 42 km of gravel dirt track, downhill being the ultimate rush.

So this Sunday, restlessness started to creep in. By lunch time I had made up my mind. I mean I had been intending to do this for some time now.

I look down at her and admit that I'm not normally good at this sort of thing. My problem is that I had Googled the subject and read all the gory details. Her pretty face smiles reassuringly at me, "it will be quick and you won't really feel a thing, the worst part is making the decision". She seems to be enjoying this more than me, I smile wryly.

Calipers in one hand, marker pen in the other as she marks two dots, measuring carefully. "Ok relax again," as she examines the marks she has made closely.

Metal clamps are removed from a sterile packet. I avoid looking at the other packet. She clamps my skin. "If I give you the clamps just hold tight and lie down on the bed". I make my way to the black vinyl covered bed and lower myself onto it, holding onto the clamps firmly. While she unwraps the other sterile packet.

Staring at the ceiling, listening to customer voices in the background. Strangely, I thought I would feel more nervous than this.... no butterflies... no stirrings in the lower stomach.... no nausea. I put my surreal calmness down to the glass of sparkling I had at lunch time and conveniently forgot about when completing the consent form.

Closing my eyes as I lay there, she takes the clamps from me. "You'll feel the bed move up. Relax and put your arms comfortable. You might want to put that arm to the side, just in case you jerk". I move my right arm off my stomach and lay it to my side.

"Ok, relax. Deep breath in". I suck the air in deeply, eyes still closed. I feel a pressure against my clenched skin and for a brief instant the skin being broken. I tense more at the sensation rather than the brief moment of pain.... although I couldn't really call it pain, not pain how I had envisaged at any rate.

"Another deep breath in." The air rushes into my lungs as I feel the sensation of the teflon encrusted jewel being inserted into the piercing. Not an uncomfortable feeling, just an unusual feeling. The top gem ball needs to be changed as it is not screwing onto the teflon bar. Quickly the new replacement is put into place.

"Ok, would you like to have a look?", she asks smiling. I stand and turn to the mirror, slight redness above the new piercing, but all I really notice is the sparkling purple gem, I had chosen when I first entered the room, shining at my navel. I smile broadly. I love it and thank her. She smiles back at me.

Instructions and saline solution are provided for the aftercare. I will need to return in about a month's time to have the teflon bar trimmed. She writes her name on the provided instructions and tells me if there are any problems at all to give her a call or to come in and see her.

Making my way back to the car, I take a photo with my phone and email it to my sister, the only words... I've done it :). I also send a quick text message to the cub, knowing he would be laughing at me and my drama queeness about the whole procedure.

Note to self

Note to self: when allowing a tall, cute, blonde, air crewman to use my phone to take a photo.... Give him enough instruction so he doesn't inadvertently get to my photo album, especially the photo of this month's bare chested, all ab Mens Health mag pin up.... What a laugh tho!

Saying goodbye

Saying goodbye can be one of the hardest things to experience in life. Whether it is goodbye to a relationship, goodbye to family or friends travelling or living overseas, goodbye to a way of life, goodbye to one that is dying.

A week ago I had to experience this pain, the pain of having to make the decision of saying goodbye to my 11.5 year old rough collie, who was more of a teddy bear than a dog, a princess.

Four weeks ago she had been diagnosed with a tumour. Decision time .... chemo and surgery or quality of life.

Chemo and surgery only provided a success rate that was low, in this instance, as it was highly probable the cancer had spread further. Her calcium levels had also increased, an indication of the beginnings of kidney failure. And what little time this may possibly have extended her life, was not worth the risk of surgery and the suffering of post-surgery and the treatment being offered.

Or the decision of quality of the little remaining time she had.

Quality was always going to be the option, as hard as the decision was. So anti-vomiting medication injected, steroid tablets provided, a change of diet to chicken and rice (what an enjoyment this was over the option of her previous diet of highly nutritional, but boring, biscuits) and a change back to the happy, excited to see people, lets go for a walk teddy bear that she was.

Unfortunately, this change only lasted 3 weeks, however they were happy weeks. She started vomiting again, experiencing diarrhoea, her back end wobbled as she weakly tried to walk and she was heart breakingly miserable. The always forthcoming wag had disappeared from her tail.

Time to face the journey to the vet, still with an unrealistic hope, but a deeply unconscious realisation that this was going to be a goodbye, a hard goodbye.

Her calcium levels had increased. There was the option of increasing the strength of the tablets, however this would only provide an extremely short term measure and it was highly likely she would start vomiting and suffering diarrhoea again within the week. And no the vet wouldn't try to change the decision of saying goodbye if that was the option decided.

The unconscious realisation became reality.

Gently she was laid down, such a trusting dog. She always was, trusting that you could do anything to her, as if she knew it was in her best interests. Her front paw gently shaven, as the needle with the green anaesthetic was gently administered. Hugs, gentle strokes of her soft head and the last of loves provided, with quiet reassurances and heartfelt thank yous to this beautiful soul. Tears fell and emptiness began to creep in as she quietly slipped away from the suffering she had recently gone through. It was the farewell goodbye.

Decadence

Decadence: rainy Saturday morning: fluffy white robe: plumped pillows: watching the rain fall steadily through my bedroom window.

My spare time is precious. I always seem to be doing something, going somewhere, sometimes seemingly never achieving a lot. Occasionally, there are those small moments, when I don't have demands placed on my (either my own or from others), that I take a moment out, sit quietly and absorb what is going around me. This is one such moment.

The cub

A mobile phone number left in my inbox with the message "hopefully you will call me or sms me". Nice smile with intense look. Ok why not? Even though I realise he is younger than me. First time for everything I guess. Interesting, age has never worried me, my friends' age varies greatly, younger than me, older than me, I don't consciously think, oh what is their age when I socialise with them. It's put at the back of mind. Yes my insanity is proving to be confirmed more and more each day, that I am sure of.

Decision made, I dial the number that was left. Number dialled and introduction made ..... ok he doesn't recognise who I am .... thinks I'm a customer ..... I laugh silently, cringing slightly, at the ludicrousy of the conversation. I explain where I got his number from, well that he actually left it for me. It suddenly makes sense to him, fumbles with apologies as I laugh and reassure him, that no I don't just dial random numbers and have conversations with complete strangers. Well I don't dial random numbers at any rate.

A week of chatting and texting, the cub as my friend has named him, a date is semi-organised. Time and location sorted. Time changed, location to be decided. Suggestions put forth. Feeling mildly frustrated with the lack of decision and direction, I finally throw down the gauntlet and tell him to make up his mind. He would like to chill and talk, is that ok with me. MacDonalds. I could laugh. MacDonalds? Ok MacDonalds it is. Change of plan, black dress and heels out, jeans and boots in. The temperature was forecast to plunge to freezing, so the jeans option isn't disappointing.

I arrive and look for the specified new shining green vehicle. Not there. Ok back to car, back to the warmth. I hear him rather than see him arrive. Thumping, a highly tuned engine. He parks next to me and indicates for me to get out, having parked close he reverses to give me room. Pulls up. Waits for me to jump in. No alarm bells, no warning bells. I jump in. Teases me about my parking skills. I tease him about expecting a green Mohawk to match the colour of his vehicle. It's a comfortable feeling, an easy feeling. He drives to a look out, where the city can be viewed from above. It is such a crisp, clear evening, the lights stretch from the jewelled city over to the foothills in the distance. It's a magical city. It's one of my favourite views. I always feel like I am Dorothy entering the Emerald City.

We talk comfortably. Laugh at each others stirring. Some serious discussions. Some slightly uncomfortable discussions about where we both are in life. Some indifferent discussions. Yes the heart beat has been pounding in anticipation of will he/won't he and then yes he does. Fireworks, not surprising, we are both lil crackers as he describes us. When it is time to go, I am driven safely back to MacDonalds and my waiting car, he says he would like to see me again, with a final warm kiss, I tell him I will call.

Nice

Nice is a word I dislike.... it aggrevates me. I'm not sure why. Someone once tried to find the reason why, but I could offer no explanation. She is a nice girl. Nice doggy. What a nice dress. What a nice little old lady. Nice girls don't, but they do really. It seems a polite word. An excuse for a description when nothing else will fit. It is a word I find devoid of true emotion.

Except contradictory as it may seem, that is exactly how Saturday was... nice. The weather was nice. For a mid winter's day the sun was out and there was no breeze to chill the air. The park was green and pretty, even with naked trees there still was some autumn colour left in others. All backdropped by the Australian native bushland.

The company, yes he was... no I'm not going to say it .... lovely, maybe perfect in fact. Contrary to his bad boy looks (don't nice girls always go for the bad boys?). A decent man, and yes he was tall and strong and good looking, relaxed and could handle my gentle stirring. Polite and goodness a gentleman. At the risk of offending the feminists out there, I still do enjoy having my bags carried for me and the politeness of being offered to lead the way. It makes me feel like a woman.

Several hours later of enjoyable company, a stroll through the park, the sun setting behind the hill bringing shadows and the coolness that belongs to the evening, the day was over... finalised by a strong, safe and warm hug and brief kiss .... a natural way to the end the day.

Date day

D day arrives.

I have connected with someone. A lovely looking guy, strong, tall and who appears sincere. His friend had joined him up to the site, well he "thinks she is a friend". He suggested meeting up for drinks, and lets me make the choice.

Me being me, no it couldn't just be drinks somewhere, instead, why not go for a late picnic. I'll bring the drinks and cheese and biscuits and he the picnic rug. Sometimes I have to wonder at myself, what makes me do these things.

I still wonder why my details are listed on the site. Perhaps it was from the gentle concern one of my on-line friends had about my "social" life. Don't get me wrong, I do have a social life, I am constantly out with friends and family and sometimes don't make it home. But it wasn't this aspect of my social life he was concerned with. So perhaps I am doing this, just so that I can report back that yes I have had a hot date. I really am not ready for someone permanent in my life again, I am enjoying myself as things are. Enjoying whatever may come from life.

So here I am about to meet a stranger, in the middle of a park for a picnic. Another of life's small adventures.

Date scam

Single and beautiful as my best friends describes me. Single I will accept. Although I don't actually feel single, then again I didn't feel unsingle when I was in my past relationship.

I get bored easily. Boredom is my enemy. I get restless and maybe a bit reckless.

So boredom strikes. I post my details on an on-line dating service that has been advertising constantly through one of the apps I use.

Within a week, I am involved in a Nigerian scam. I get contacted by one of the most stunning guys ever, the smile, with laughter lines drew me in- you know the saying - if it's too good to be true, it isn't. Contact is made, emails and chats exchanged, photos exchanged. Included are photos of his children, happy beautiful children.

The story so far, widower, two children, looking for a partner to share lifes ups and downs. He is currently overseas working in Nigeria, building a company for an Italian firm, yes alarm bells have started pealing. A few more days of chat and then horror of horrors, his wallet has been stolen, with all his money and he has no food for his children, could I send him money through Western Union.

Those bells have started tolling loudly. Following some internet research, yes onling dating scams do exist, profiling is utilised to choose their opportunities. And I fall into this profiling. Except, while there was still that small amount of anxiety in case there were two children, I am wise enough and not that desperate enough not to do research before I act.

So a lot of laughter between myself and my best friends over my life experience and a report made to the Queensland fraud squad. I do have this overriding desire to try and contact the person who's identity has been stolen to let him know, not necessarily for his sake, but that of those two beautiful children. I know this a difficult task, how many people in this world have photographs posted? Way too many. But with a bit of luck and a bit of magical intervention who knows. I do know one thing for sure, my identity/photo is probably now being utilised to lure unsuspecting people in, hopefully not, but realistically yes.

Friends of a difference

Through various sources I have made a number of on-line friends, that I chat to regularly and they have become part of my life. Two of my closest friends are on-line friends. I have received comments from some people in my life that I need a real life, so to those who receive similar comments, one of my on-line friends I have met. She is a beautiful, zany, fun, full of life person - her hair colour matches her life and I adore her to bits. My other on-line friend I am hoping to meet in October, someone with such a beautiful soul and yes he is staying with me during his visit, crazy, maybe, but real very much so, and October can't come soon enough. My two friends are meeting at this very moment, if only there were better air schedules, how fun it would be to join them as a surprise.

So yes there is real life out in cyber space. And as I argue, I would much prefer to communicate with people online in my spare time than to sit infront of tv and be bored witless.

I have made other friends, overseas, as one of them calls me, his spirtual friend. He is fun and sends me bits and pieces of his adventures in life, good and bad, problems and good times shared.

Another connection, as we call it, I have made with a lovely lady who I share sea adventures with, collecting sea glass and treasures and wonderful views and lighthouses, when she spends time on her local coast.

Maybe one day I will meet these special people in my life too.

Sydney

• Accommodation booked - check.
• Leave approved - today.
• Book flights - after leave approved.
• Contact people - once arrangements are completed.

As part of the craziness my life is evolving into, I have this urge to go to Sydney. Well not necessarily Sydney, just the urge to travel. It is a case of not planning and just doing. And why Sydney? To catch up with people who may not be there for a definite time. So why not? Take the opportunity as it presents.

Performance Appraisal

Ok, performance appraisal time... well guess it is the opportune time to push forward what I want from work. I have this need to be busy, over inundated with work, I work better under pressure, give me time and I will take it and waste it and become bored and restless.

So achievements noted, objectives listed. Of course linked into his achievements for the year.

Boss is impressed, but is that intimidately so? Or he is actually seeing what is behind this ultra cool laid back PA. He prefers the informal chat method. Which is fine as he only needs to read, take in and agree.

20 minutes later worth of mindless chat, some apologies from him and no disagreement to objectives, so I take that as agreement. It also provides the stimulus for him to think of other areas of involvement I can be part of.

Take and learn and move on.

Ramblings

Life takes funny turns. Life is what we make it. But what if we don't really know what we want from life? How do we know that we are living it?