I have been a bit quiet on the whole weight loss and exercise thing lately, so I though I'd give you an update. I am still going ok, but to be honest, the last four months have been a bit tough. I lost my mojo somewhat and just got sick of the whole diet and exercise crap. Most of the time I can stay pretty positive, but there are times when you don't give a rat's bum about how much training you are doing, how well your weight loss is progressing and you are just totally pissed off with the whole caper. This tends to lead to either picking yourself up by your bootstraps and keeping on trucking OR retreating to some bad old habits, such as swimming around in vats of wine and eating your bodyweight in chips and tim tams. Guess which option I went for? Hmmm, hard to pick, eh? Those that know and love me well (I know, a shock for some of you, but there are some weirdoes out there who think I'm pretty good) have watched with some trepidation on the sidelines as I flailed around for the last few months, but are now breathing a collective sigh of relief that I've pulled myself up from a total crash and am now back to the old regime of telling myself that lettuce is my best friend and that I really don't want to roll around in fried brie. Really. I am not going to go all D&M here, but I guess if I had to have a crash, I've come out the other side and there is not too much collateral damage (I put on 6kg. Disappointing but not the end of the world as we know it). I have dug out my running shoes, dusted off my sports bras (now THERE'S a mental image for you) and started on the "healthy" track again. Can't say I am dancing for joy about it 24 hours a day, but I reckon I'll get there in the end. I am further along than I was this time last year, so I just have to re-focus and, well, you know the rest. I have started walking back Mt Ainslie again with my intrepid group of fellow walkers 3 times a week at lunchtime. Last week I put in an extra climb and I have to say it is much easier in a group. By myself was a lot harder and it felt as though the path had somehow got steeper and longer. I stopped at one point and muttered out loud that there had to be a good reason for doing this (climbing the mountain, not whinging. Being hot, tired and a funny shade of purple are all good reasons in my book for having a bleat). Not 1 minute later, a young chap walked past me carrying (believe it or not) a bottle of champagne. Yahoo! If that is not a sign from a higher power that there is a damn fine reason to push on up that hill, I don't know what is. Alcohol and exercise - could there be a more perfect combination? I really think that the AIS should do much more study into this.
On a more serious note, I have also been battling with depression and anxiety for about the last 6 months, which hasn't helped. I am lucky and have managed to work out there was something wrong and get help. I also have fantastic support from family, friends and work colleagues. If you think you need help, go and get it. I can't stress it enough - don't get to the stage where I was, crying in the car on the way to work every morning for no reason and slowly going crazy through lack of sleep and anxiety attacks. It is not a pretty place to be and the longer you stay there, the harder it is to leave. Just like Hotel California. Yuck. Thanks to all who have been so supportive (especially Tim, Kate, Sue, mum and dad) and to all who just took this in their stride, listened to me freak out and gave me the reassurance I needed. It made a huge difference.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Less than mets the eye
Those of you who are comfortable with admiting that you are generation X-ers are more than likely able to remember the Transformer song/slogan "Transformers, more than meets the eye" (oh come on, I know you know it, along with the Castle Greyskull thing from He Man). Well, my two young nephews are complete Tranformers addicts and I was asked by their mum if I could track down a Transformer for each of them that converted from the robot (autobot? Whatever) into the car for their Christmas present. No worries, I thought, how hard could it be?
Farking hard, it turns out - close to nigh on impossible. Even He Man would have had trouble with this one and I bet he has much better connections in the toy spin off world than I do. It was not that finding Tranformer toys was hard, they were everywhere. Finding one that TRANSFORMED from one thing to another turned out to be a big old ask. After dragging myself around the various toy stores in Canberra only to be confronted with box after box of the little buggers all saying "non converting model", I was getting mighty cheesed off. I took some time out to consult one of my favourite dictionaries and guess what? Transform means "change or be changed in appearance, form or nature" (thanks Oxford Concise Dictionary, paperback edition). I also checked the thesaurus and it went into a similar line of description, which led me to believe that the toy makers had their heads firmly up their bottoms when they thought we would all be duped into thinking we were getting our money's worth when we bought a non-converting Transformer. I finally tracked down two of the little buggers that did convert after being fired out of a battery powered gun. Don't remember that in any of the comics or recent film, but I was beyond caring by that point. It could have converted after you sang to it nicely and massaged it tyres and I still would have bought it. So, with luck, I am now elevated to the status of present buying guru. One that has a rather grumpy disposition towards toy manufacturers and "non conversion", but a guru none the less.
Farking hard, it turns out - close to nigh on impossible. Even He Man would have had trouble with this one and I bet he has much better connections in the toy spin off world than I do. It was not that finding Tranformer toys was hard, they were everywhere. Finding one that TRANSFORMED from one thing to another turned out to be a big old ask. After dragging myself around the various toy stores in Canberra only to be confronted with box after box of the little buggers all saying "non converting model", I was getting mighty cheesed off. I took some time out to consult one of my favourite dictionaries and guess what? Transform means "change or be changed in appearance, form or nature" (thanks Oxford Concise Dictionary, paperback edition). I also checked the thesaurus and it went into a similar line of description, which led me to believe that the toy makers had their heads firmly up their bottoms when they thought we would all be duped into thinking we were getting our money's worth when we bought a non-converting Transformer. I finally tracked down two of the little buggers that did convert after being fired out of a battery powered gun. Don't remember that in any of the comics or recent film, but I was beyond caring by that point. It could have converted after you sang to it nicely and massaged it tyres and I still would have bought it. So, with luck, I am now elevated to the status of present buying guru. One that has a rather grumpy disposition towards toy manufacturers and "non conversion", but a guru none the less.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Arm doors and cross ch... bugger
Hi there. I know it’s been a while and I am sure you have all been pining for an update from me. 10 days I can write off to recovering from my trip back from Chicago, which I will go into more detail about in this post. The other missing days – well, no excuse really, except the usual run down to Christmas crazy that hits around this time every year. Anyway, my trip home…
The conference was great and I had a great last day in Chicago, visiting the Field Museum and wandering around like a tourist, gawking at dinosaur bones, Egyptian mummies and small children bored out of their brains by the cultural experience they were being forced to appreciate by their parents. There are just some things kids don’t get – nice scenery, a beautiful piece of music (I am not counting Hi 5 or the Wiggles compositions in this) or the fact that looking at objects from our past are interesting. I don’t blame them – I do not appreciate the wonder of Leggo when you step on it in bare feet at 5am in the morning, the beauty of the patterns spaghetti and tomato sauce can make on the floor or the wonderful symmetry of the rips that mysteriously appear in clothes only 2 hours old. There are just some differences that are not meant to be bridged.
Getting home turned out to be an extended journey. Arrived in plenty of time at O’Hare to check in and be strip searched by security to make sure I was not carrying a knife, gun, plastic explosives or a thanksgiving turkey. One guy behind me in the line was found to be carrying a knife (d’oh) and was promptly jumped on by 1000 security guards and whisked off for a close encounter with a rubber glove. One thing I will say about O’Hare airport – it is farking HUGE and when they say leave time to walk to your departure gate, they aren’t joking or mean just a brisk 5 minute stroll. In my case it was close to 1km away from where I walked through security, but I ambled down there with time to spare. We were loaded onto the plane in due course and, as I was up the back of the plane, I got to get on first-ish. 5 minutes after I had settled in my seat, I noticed the air was kind of stuffy and warm, but wasn’t too bothered. 25 minutes later, we were all on board and the temperature in the cabin was getting pretty warm. 10 minutes after that, most of us were starting to sweat a bit and the pilot came on to let us know they were aware that the air conditioning had broken down. However, as soon as he could turn the engines on, the plane’s system would take over. Apparently we were delayed because they could not locate a passenger or their bags – not too clear which was causing the problem. Some more time passed and after a while it felt like I was having a sauna with 250 of my new best friends. People were taking it pretty well (there were a few mumbles, but it wasn’t like people were freaking out and slamming their heads on the floor or anything). Suddenly, there was a loud bang, followed a by a noise that I can best describe as “fwump” and an alarm going off. I had a look out of the window and bugger me, there appeared to be a large emergency slide inflating next to the side of the plane! It was pretty cool (the fact that the plane could be about to blow up or combust etc seemed to escape my mind) to see one in real life, as all other emergency slides I had seen were in those thrilling “how to kiss your arse goodbye” videos you get to watch when your flight starts. I started getting my stuff together when I saw no less than 10 guys (all wearing supervisor type clothes) gather around the slide, which had fully inflated and then detached itself from the plane. The guy in the seat next to me asked what I was doing, so I drew his attention to the giant slip and slide that was lying on the tarmac. He then went on to say “well, they’ll just deflate it and put it back in won’t they? Won’t take long”. I told him that these slides were a lot like airbags in a car – once inflated, that was pretty much that. Sure enough, we were all asked to get our crap from various lockers etc and depart the plane. On the plus side, it was fairly obvious the back door of the plane was now open, as there was a gentle, cool breeze wafting around the back of the plane. Better than what was wafting around in the departure lounge, which can best be described as lots of cranky pants passengers coming up against the most crap customer service I have seen in a long while. I could go into a lot of detail here, but let it just be said that the lack of help and support you got from the American Airlines staff made me think they had been to the Basil Fawlty school of customer relations. To cut to the chase, it became fairly bloody obvious I was going to miss my international connection and more than likely have to spend the night in LA. Tempers were running pretty high (not mine. I toddled off, got myself a drink and some dinner and just settled in to watch the drama unfolding in front of me) and may I take my hat of to some of my fellow passengers – the shouting, language (I am well aware I can swear like a trooper, but damn, this left me for dead) and banging on desks etc would do my 3 year old proud in the tantrum stakes. After a while, things had obviously calmed down too much for somebody’s liking, as a chappie who was obviously a supervisor came out to make an announcement over the PA. Initially he got my attention because he looked and sounded EXCATLY like Dr Phil, but I was riveted once he started talking. He proceeded to deliver a little talk to us about how long airline repairs can take etc and that we had to accept some responsibility for the situation we had found ourselves in. The silence after this little announcement was profound. Ignoring the very obvious warning signs, he went on to lecture that if we had been more considerate as passengers and not complained so much about the conditions on the plane, the crew would not have felt “compelled to open the rear door to let in cool air, activating the emergency slide”. I have to admit I nearly collapsed on the floor with laughter, as the whole situation really had reached the completely insane level. I was in the minority though and one guy was so enraged by this statement that he launched himself across the departure gate lounge with (I think) the sole intention of choking “Dr Phil” to death with the PA cord. He was intercepted by security and “calmed down”. I do have to say, at least I now had a mystery of air travel cleared up – you know when you are about to take off they say “arm doors and cross check”. Well, the arming of the doors is moving a lever so that if the door needs to be opened in an emergency, the doors are “armed” to activate the emergency slide. This means anyone can open the door, not just air crew. To disarm the door, it is the highly technical process of moving the lever back again. Obviously one of the staff on our crew missed that lesson at “how to work on a plane” school.
Eventually, we got into LA, where Qantas took over from American “do I look like I care” Airlines. They had managed to get us onto flights home and in the end, I got into Sydney only 5 hours later than I was meant to. Very efficient. Have to admit I kept a keen eye on the chap who was in charge of arming and cross checking to doors, but he seemed to have it all under control. No sign of escape slides, broken air conditioning or TV psychologists all the way home. Phew.
The conference was great and I had a great last day in Chicago, visiting the Field Museum and wandering around like a tourist, gawking at dinosaur bones, Egyptian mummies and small children bored out of their brains by the cultural experience they were being forced to appreciate by their parents. There are just some things kids don’t get – nice scenery, a beautiful piece of music (I am not counting Hi 5 or the Wiggles compositions in this) or the fact that looking at objects from our past are interesting. I don’t blame them – I do not appreciate the wonder of Leggo when you step on it in bare feet at 5am in the morning, the beauty of the patterns spaghetti and tomato sauce can make on the floor or the wonderful symmetry of the rips that mysteriously appear in clothes only 2 hours old. There are just some differences that are not meant to be bridged.
Getting home turned out to be an extended journey. Arrived in plenty of time at O’Hare to check in and be strip searched by security to make sure I was not carrying a knife, gun, plastic explosives or a thanksgiving turkey. One guy behind me in the line was found to be carrying a knife (d’oh) and was promptly jumped on by 1000 security guards and whisked off for a close encounter with a rubber glove. One thing I will say about O’Hare airport – it is farking HUGE and when they say leave time to walk to your departure gate, they aren’t joking or mean just a brisk 5 minute stroll. In my case it was close to 1km away from where I walked through security, but I ambled down there with time to spare. We were loaded onto the plane in due course and, as I was up the back of the plane, I got to get on first-ish. 5 minutes after I had settled in my seat, I noticed the air was kind of stuffy and warm, but wasn’t too bothered. 25 minutes later, we were all on board and the temperature in the cabin was getting pretty warm. 10 minutes after that, most of us were starting to sweat a bit and the pilot came on to let us know they were aware that the air conditioning had broken down. However, as soon as he could turn the engines on, the plane’s system would take over. Apparently we were delayed because they could not locate a passenger or their bags – not too clear which was causing the problem. Some more time passed and after a while it felt like I was having a sauna with 250 of my new best friends. People were taking it pretty well (there were a few mumbles, but it wasn’t like people were freaking out and slamming their heads on the floor or anything). Suddenly, there was a loud bang, followed a by a noise that I can best describe as “fwump” and an alarm going off. I had a look out of the window and bugger me, there appeared to be a large emergency slide inflating next to the side of the plane! It was pretty cool (the fact that the plane could be about to blow up or combust etc seemed to escape my mind) to see one in real life, as all other emergency slides I had seen were in those thrilling “how to kiss your arse goodbye” videos you get to watch when your flight starts. I started getting my stuff together when I saw no less than 10 guys (all wearing supervisor type clothes) gather around the slide, which had fully inflated and then detached itself from the plane. The guy in the seat next to me asked what I was doing, so I drew his attention to the giant slip and slide that was lying on the tarmac. He then went on to say “well, they’ll just deflate it and put it back in won’t they? Won’t take long”. I told him that these slides were a lot like airbags in a car – once inflated, that was pretty much that. Sure enough, we were all asked to get our crap from various lockers etc and depart the plane. On the plus side, it was fairly obvious the back door of the plane was now open, as there was a gentle, cool breeze wafting around the back of the plane. Better than what was wafting around in the departure lounge, which can best be described as lots of cranky pants passengers coming up against the most crap customer service I have seen in a long while. I could go into a lot of detail here, but let it just be said that the lack of help and support you got from the American Airlines staff made me think they had been to the Basil Fawlty school of customer relations. To cut to the chase, it became fairly bloody obvious I was going to miss my international connection and more than likely have to spend the night in LA. Tempers were running pretty high (not mine. I toddled off, got myself a drink and some dinner and just settled in to watch the drama unfolding in front of me) and may I take my hat of to some of my fellow passengers – the shouting, language (I am well aware I can swear like a trooper, but damn, this left me for dead) and banging on desks etc would do my 3 year old proud in the tantrum stakes. After a while, things had obviously calmed down too much for somebody’s liking, as a chappie who was obviously a supervisor came out to make an announcement over the PA. Initially he got my attention because he looked and sounded EXCATLY like Dr Phil, but I was riveted once he started talking. He proceeded to deliver a little talk to us about how long airline repairs can take etc and that we had to accept some responsibility for the situation we had found ourselves in. The silence after this little announcement was profound. Ignoring the very obvious warning signs, he went on to lecture that if we had been more considerate as passengers and not complained so much about the conditions on the plane, the crew would not have felt “compelled to open the rear door to let in cool air, activating the emergency slide”. I have to admit I nearly collapsed on the floor with laughter, as the whole situation really had reached the completely insane level. I was in the minority though and one guy was so enraged by this statement that he launched himself across the departure gate lounge with (I think) the sole intention of choking “Dr Phil” to death with the PA cord. He was intercepted by security and “calmed down”. I do have to say, at least I now had a mystery of air travel cleared up – you know when you are about to take off they say “arm doors and cross check”. Well, the arming of the doors is moving a lever so that if the door needs to be opened in an emergency, the doors are “armed” to activate the emergency slide. This means anyone can open the door, not just air crew. To disarm the door, it is the highly technical process of moving the lever back again. Obviously one of the staff on our crew missed that lesson at “how to work on a plane” school.
Eventually, we got into LA, where Qantas took over from American “do I look like I care” Airlines. They had managed to get us onto flights home and in the end, I got into Sydney only 5 hours later than I was meant to. Very efficient. Have to admit I kept a keen eye on the chap who was in charge of arming and cross checking to doors, but he seemed to have it all under control. No sign of escape slides, broken air conditioning or TV psychologists all the way home. Phew.
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
Get your muffin tops while they're hot!
Just had to share this with you. Today, after getting completely lost on the metro rail system here, I grabbed some lunch at one of the sandwich bars here. Guess what you can have as an accompaniment to your breakfast at this particular shop?? Fresh hot muffin tops!!!! I am NOT kidding. I had to read the sign three times to make sure it wasn't just sheer tiredness kicking in, but there it was. It made it really hard to order lunch with a straight face and the guy behind the counter wanted to know what was so funny, so I told him what this might mean in Australia. He was a bit bemused until a girl walked past, very conveniently giving a live demo of a "muffin top" (INSANE considering it was so cold today) and he had a good laugh too. Wouldn't let me take a photo of the sign though - bum. Will try to take a covert one in the next day or so.
Jet lag has kicked in big time and I have only just got through the last few days. Conference starts tomorrow, so I am hoping I won't be the person who is falling asleep and making "snork" noises when my head falls back during the opening address. I have had to move hotel rooms and I have swapped my lovely river view for a view of the central courtyard of the hotel. I can look straight down to see who is having a swim in the pool (indoors but with a glass roof) and I can let you know that the guy across the air shaft from me DOES NOT shut his curtains when getting dressed. You know, if you want to perv on people in the nick noo nar, that's fine, but being turned into an inadvertent voyeur is not what I would call a fun experience. Nearly spat my morning coffee into my room heating unit, which would have taken some explaining.
Lastly, a few words of praise for Chicago. Before I left, people told me that I might find Americans a bit rude etc. So far, everyone has been pretty nice and some people have gone out of their way to help me out. I am not including the people I blogged about before, but 17 long island iced teas and 3 bottles of Moet tend not to bring out the best in people, so I am willing to write that off as an interesting experience. Anyway, the staff at a place called Spa Space have been lifesavers, fitting me in for a massage when my shoulder locked up so badly I couldn't stand up straight. Also, the staff at my hotel are really nice and have been able to help me out, especially when my watch got caught up in some towels and nearly got washed. The guys in the laundry room went through 16 bags of linen to find it when they could have just left it, so thanks chaps! I have got used to the tipping thing here now as well - minimum wages here are CRAP. An ADULT is lucky if on minimum wage they make $7 an hour, so tipping makes a big difference to their take home pay, but here's a catch - some of them get TAXED on the amount of tips they MIGHT make in a shift, no matter what they actually get. I learned all of this from the head of the restaurant here, as it was a pretty quiet night and we got chatting. She said this hotel was ok as far as salaries go, but some of the others are pretty stingy. Her daughter was working in a coffee shop at one stage for $4.00 an hour. Makes me glad I am a public servant in Australia. Anyway, down off my social outrage soapbox. If you are interested though, Morgan Spurlock (of Supersize me fame) did a documentary (part of the series "30 Days") where he and his fiance had to live on the minimum wage for a month in Ohio. It is worth a look.
I am going to sign off now and draw my curtains, as the nudie guy has just switched his lights on (literally, not figuratively. Don't be rude). I am also going to try and tame my hair a bit - I spent the day walking around outside and it is VERY cold and windy here, so I had my beanie and scarf on. Every time you go into a building here, it is super heated, so I was taking my beanie on and off a fair bit. In the end I built up enough of a static charge to zap someone clean across the room if I shook hands (have been careful to "earth" myself before this happens) and my hair is starting to get that "windswept and interesting" look. DO not want to be mistaken for Yahoo Serious, although it could get me a free drink.
Jet lag has kicked in big time and I have only just got through the last few days. Conference starts tomorrow, so I am hoping I won't be the person who is falling asleep and making "snork" noises when my head falls back during the opening address. I have had to move hotel rooms and I have swapped my lovely river view for a view of the central courtyard of the hotel. I can look straight down to see who is having a swim in the pool (indoors but with a glass roof) and I can let you know that the guy across the air shaft from me DOES NOT shut his curtains when getting dressed. You know, if you want to perv on people in the nick noo nar, that's fine, but being turned into an inadvertent voyeur is not what I would call a fun experience. Nearly spat my morning coffee into my room heating unit, which would have taken some explaining.
Lastly, a few words of praise for Chicago. Before I left, people told me that I might find Americans a bit rude etc. So far, everyone has been pretty nice and some people have gone out of their way to help me out. I am not including the people I blogged about before, but 17 long island iced teas and 3 bottles of Moet tend not to bring out the best in people, so I am willing to write that off as an interesting experience. Anyway, the staff at a place called Spa Space have been lifesavers, fitting me in for a massage when my shoulder locked up so badly I couldn't stand up straight. Also, the staff at my hotel are really nice and have been able to help me out, especially when my watch got caught up in some towels and nearly got washed. The guys in the laundry room went through 16 bags of linen to find it when they could have just left it, so thanks chaps! I have got used to the tipping thing here now as well - minimum wages here are CRAP. An ADULT is lucky if on minimum wage they make $7 an hour, so tipping makes a big difference to their take home pay, but here's a catch - some of them get TAXED on the amount of tips they MIGHT make in a shift, no matter what they actually get. I learned all of this from the head of the restaurant here, as it was a pretty quiet night and we got chatting. She said this hotel was ok as far as salaries go, but some of the others are pretty stingy. Her daughter was working in a coffee shop at one stage for $4.00 an hour. Makes me glad I am a public servant in Australia. Anyway, down off my social outrage soapbox. If you are interested though, Morgan Spurlock (of Supersize me fame) did a documentary (part of the series "30 Days") where he and his fiance had to live on the minimum wage for a month in Ohio. It is worth a look.
I am going to sign off now and draw my curtains, as the nudie guy has just switched his lights on (literally, not figuratively. Don't be rude). I am also going to try and tame my hair a bit - I spent the day walking around outside and it is VERY cold and windy here, so I had my beanie and scarf on. Every time you go into a building here, it is super heated, so I was taking my beanie on and off a fair bit. In the end I built up enough of a static charge to zap someone clean across the room if I shook hands (have been careful to "earth" myself before this happens) and my hair is starting to get that "windswept and interesting" look. DO not want to be mistaken for Yahoo Serious, although it could get me a free drink.
Monday, November 5, 2007
Sweet home Chicago
I am just coming to the close of my second day in Chicago. After 23 hours of travelling I landed at O;Hare international airport, grabbed my bags (after laughing my arse off at the guy who got a bit tired and SAT DOWN on the conveyor belt while we were waiting. I reckon her travelled about 2 metres before he was able to stand up) and headed to the hotel. One thing will comment on - I am yet to meet a white taxi driver, waiter, front desk attendant or barman. I staggered in the door here, got into my room and was promptly called back down to the front desk, where I had left my credit card. Ooops! I got some dinner, which was an interesting experience - I ordered french onion soup and it came out with the biggest crouton in the universe and so much melted cheese I seriously doubted there would be any soup in the bowl. I located it eventually, but it was only because I put some serious effort into digging through the molten cheese. I never thought there would be a day where I would say there was too much cheese on something! Fell into bed after calling in and having what must have sounded like a very weired conversation on the phone with Tim, as I was somewhat stonkered with lack of sleep.
The trip itself was pretty good. The only "bad" thing was being seated next to two vegetarians, who ate a lot of raw broccoli etc during the flight. Did you know, that after a while, raw broccoli starts to smell like farts? Well, it does. Or the raw broccoli was working really well and this couple were passing more wind than our local gas company. Stinky. There was a little girl seated near us who was very good and very cute, laughing at the Elmo they were playing on the children's channel inflight. The guy near her got shitty about the laughing and wanted to be MOVED. Again I fell around laughing when I considered how bad it could be (our trip on the plane to NZ last summer came flooding back. William is just not at sitting still and I think everyone near us wanted to be moved). The flight attendant - more camp than a tent - suggested he could pinch the little girl and make her cry when the shitty passenger demanded that "he should DO something" about the laughing. I nearly spat out my food that was giving a good impersonation of being an omelet. I love it when people who traditionally have to "turn the other cheek" answer back. US customs and immigration went surprisingly smoothly and I had time to wander around LA airport for a while before I had to get on my flight to Chicago. All was uneventful except for when we landed, as we did a few two circuits of the runway waiting for a plane to get out of the "alley" we had been assigned. Must have looked funny from the terminal - a plane doing what must have looked like really slow doughnuts on the tarmac.
Not surprisingly, I slept a fair bit today (1pm when I woke up) as I got only about 3 hours sleep when I was in the air. Went out and about for a walk and found a really nice place to grab lunch - it's called potbelly's and the sandwiches were really nice and not too expensive. I got to people watch as well, which turned out to be really funny. Whilst I was chomping away on my lunch, three young guys went past with a queen sized mattress on a hand trolley. It wasn't balancing too well and they spent a lot of time grabbing it and setting it straight. Then the next trip, two were carrying a table and the other was trying to balance a chaise on the trolley by himself. It wasn't going too well for the time I could see him. Then other bits and pieces were paraded past my window and it occurred to me that I was either watching some students move or the world's most incompetent burglary. Either way, fun viewing. Back at the hotel, I walked into an african american fashion convention and I have to say, if I wanted to get immersed in American culture, this was the night. It was kind of like getting to sit on the set of one of those B grade flicks where there is a lot of portrayal of what we might think is very stereotypical behaviour going on. Most seemed ok, but a few were behaving like real tossers and giving EVERYONE around them so much attitude it was like being in a room full of toddlers who were coming down after a day on fairy floss and cocacola. There was a lot of shouting about "disrespectin' people" and to be very honest, sheer bloody rudeness to the staff working in the hotel. It often strikes me as odd that just because you can afford a bottle Moet (that and long island iced tea seemed to be the drink of choice), some people seem to think that they can treat you like you are a piece of seagull pooh. Anyway, it was interesting to watch. Didn't say anything - didn't want to be disrespectin' people.
The trip itself was pretty good. The only "bad" thing was being seated next to two vegetarians, who ate a lot of raw broccoli etc during the flight. Did you know, that after a while, raw broccoli starts to smell like farts? Well, it does. Or the raw broccoli was working really well and this couple were passing more wind than our local gas company. Stinky. There was a little girl seated near us who was very good and very cute, laughing at the Elmo they were playing on the children's channel inflight. The guy near her got shitty about the laughing and wanted to be MOVED. Again I fell around laughing when I considered how bad it could be (our trip on the plane to NZ last summer came flooding back. William is just not at sitting still and I think everyone near us wanted to be moved). The flight attendant - more camp than a tent - suggested he could pinch the little girl and make her cry when the shitty passenger demanded that "he should DO something" about the laughing. I nearly spat out my food that was giving a good impersonation of being an omelet. I love it when people who traditionally have to "turn the other cheek" answer back. US customs and immigration went surprisingly smoothly and I had time to wander around LA airport for a while before I had to get on my flight to Chicago. All was uneventful except for when we landed, as we did a few two circuits of the runway waiting for a plane to get out of the "alley" we had been assigned. Must have looked funny from the terminal - a plane doing what must have looked like really slow doughnuts on the tarmac.
Not surprisingly, I slept a fair bit today (1pm when I woke up) as I got only about 3 hours sleep when I was in the air. Went out and about for a walk and found a really nice place to grab lunch - it's called potbelly's and the sandwiches were really nice and not too expensive. I got to people watch as well, which turned out to be really funny. Whilst I was chomping away on my lunch, three young guys went past with a queen sized mattress on a hand trolley. It wasn't balancing too well and they spent a lot of time grabbing it and setting it straight. Then the next trip, two were carrying a table and the other was trying to balance a chaise on the trolley by himself. It wasn't going too well for the time I could see him. Then other bits and pieces were paraded past my window and it occurred to me that I was either watching some students move or the world's most incompetent burglary. Either way, fun viewing. Back at the hotel, I walked into an african american fashion convention and I have to say, if I wanted to get immersed in American culture, this was the night. It was kind of like getting to sit on the set of one of those B grade flicks where there is a lot of portrayal of what we might think is very stereotypical behaviour going on. Most seemed ok, but a few were behaving like real tossers and giving EVERYONE around them so much attitude it was like being in a room full of toddlers who were coming down after a day on fairy floss and cocacola. There was a lot of shouting about "disrespectin' people" and to be very honest, sheer bloody rudeness to the staff working in the hotel. It often strikes me as odd that just because you can afford a bottle Moet (that and long island iced tea seemed to be the drink of choice), some people seem to think that they can treat you like you are a piece of seagull pooh. Anyway, it was interesting to watch. Didn't say anything - didn't want to be disrespectin' people.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Glutaeus maximus cactus
I have taken a little break from the strict exercise regime over the last few weeks. No good or worthwhile excuse, just needed some down time to be a lazy sod and blob around for a bit. However, am now back on "the wagon" (or running after it) and decided to get back into things last Sunday when a training buddy of mine asked if I would like to join her for a boxing circuit. I felt this could be a good way to ease back into things, so met her down on the local school oval. Her daughter, who is a personal trainer and gym instructor, was also there and offered to put us through our paces. Cool, I thought, a free PT session. Obvious not only had I lost some muscle conditioning when on my break, but my brain had shut down the memory centres that set off the alarm bells when a personal trainer offer to help you with your workout. Normally big neon signs start to flash, with warning sirens and a voice shouting "she is going to hurt you, get out NOW!!!!".
We started off with some running - my FAVOURITE - and then got into the boxing. I had the focus pads while Leanne punched the bejesus out of me for several rounds. In between each set, Leanne had to run around the oval and I had to do a squat and HOLD IT until she got back. Normally I am a very supportive training partner, enthusiastic and helpful, but by the time 2 minutes had ticked by I was shouting motivating messages like "move faster, you bugger" as it felt like my glutes were trying to set themselves on fire. The wobble that starts to happen as lactic acid buildup reaches the critical phase is also not something that allows you to focus on the positives you are getting from exercising. When she got back I straightened up to do my running and promptly staggered in a zig zag pattern for about 100 meters, bent over at about the 45 degree mark. Hard to move oxygen around efficiently with that kind of posture. I'd like to add that some very fit and healthy young men were playing soccer down the other end of the oval and were observing my efforts with thinly veiled hilarity. I silently wished beer guts, bad knees and them catching their own pubic hair in their jocks whenever they exercised on them as they made "nice running style, love" comments as I trotted past.
So, a fun filled 45 minutes later, I got back into my car and drove home, feeling virtuous about my return to exercise. This self important gloating lasted until I parked in our driveway and tried to get out of the driver's seat, where I realised I had broken my bottom and more than likely would have to spend the next few days in the car whilst I recovered. I managed to lever myself out using the steering wheel and window winder, but found that I was still somewhat stuck in a semi sitting position as I tried to walk inside. Things have improved over the last few days and I am now hardly making any of those involuntary noises I've blogged about before when I sit down or stand up. What a glorious return to the land of the moderately fit and healthy!
We started off with some running - my FAVOURITE - and then got into the boxing. I had the focus pads while Leanne punched the bejesus out of me for several rounds. In between each set, Leanne had to run around the oval and I had to do a squat and HOLD IT until she got back. Normally I am a very supportive training partner, enthusiastic and helpful, but by the time 2 minutes had ticked by I was shouting motivating messages like "move faster, you bugger" as it felt like my glutes were trying to set themselves on fire. The wobble that starts to happen as lactic acid buildup reaches the critical phase is also not something that allows you to focus on the positives you are getting from exercising. When she got back I straightened up to do my running and promptly staggered in a zig zag pattern for about 100 meters, bent over at about the 45 degree mark. Hard to move oxygen around efficiently with that kind of posture. I'd like to add that some very fit and healthy young men were playing soccer down the other end of the oval and were observing my efforts with thinly veiled hilarity. I silently wished beer guts, bad knees and them catching their own pubic hair in their jocks whenever they exercised on them as they made "nice running style, love" comments as I trotted past.
So, a fun filled 45 minutes later, I got back into my car and drove home, feeling virtuous about my return to exercise. This self important gloating lasted until I parked in our driveway and tried to get out of the driver's seat, where I realised I had broken my bottom and more than likely would have to spend the next few days in the car whilst I recovered. I managed to lever myself out using the steering wheel and window winder, but found that I was still somewhat stuck in a semi sitting position as I tried to walk inside. Things have improved over the last few days and I am now hardly making any of those involuntary noises I've blogged about before when I sit down or stand up. What a glorious return to the land of the moderately fit and healthy!
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Some changes
You may have noticed the slight changes I've made to the colour on my blog. Very subtle and I am sure that some of you didn't even pick it up. October is breast cancer awareness month and as you know, it is a subject I feel pretty strongly about. So, for this month, it is going to be pink-o-rama on my blog and I know that you all are just waiting for a reason to get out your feather boas and sparkly pink hats. Or is that just me? Maybe it's just me. As you can see below, it's a bit of a thing in my family - my sister and mum are boa people, I just love Annie Oakley
Last Saturday we held a "Girls night in" which is a party/fundraiser for women's cancer. We raised over $1200 and had a great night. A big, big thankyou needs to go to:
1) Wayne, my resident chef and (in his own words) kitchen bitch. He cooked up a storm and as a result, instead of the usual twisties and party pies, the girl's were treated to gourmet food (he's the one in the black).
2) Fruitylicious (I am not making the name up), the local fruit shop and deli up at Gungahlin. They donated a fantastic fruit platter for the night and it not only looked incredible, it tasted great too.
3) My wonderful husband Tim, who worked as food heater upper, waiter and came up with the notion that a hot pink sash looks great over an orange shirt. Thanks also to Tim Blair and my dad, who acted as drinks waiters, food servers and empty bottle cleaner uppers (our recycling bin is chockers).
4) Everyone who turned up, donated money and had a great time.
I think I can safely say, for October, think of pink as the new black!
Last Saturday we held a "Girls night in" which is a party/fundraiser for women's cancer. We raised over $1200 and had a great night. A big, big thankyou needs to go to:1) Wayne, my resident chef and (in his own words) kitchen bitch. He cooked up a storm and as a result, instead of the usual twisties and party pies, the girl's were treated to gourmet food (he's the one in the black).
2) Fruitylicious (I am not making the name up), the local fruit shop and deli up at Gungahlin. They donated a fantastic fruit platter for the night and it not only looked incredible, it tasted great too.3) My wonderful husband Tim, who worked as food heater upper, waiter and came up with the notion that a hot pink sash looks great over an orange shirt. Thanks also to Tim Blair and my dad, who acted as drinks waiters, food servers and empty bottle cleaner uppers (our recycling bin is chockers).
4) Everyone who turned up, donated money and had a great time.I think I can safely say, for October, think of pink as the new black!
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