My blood is running cold

No, I haven't fulfilled my long held ambition and become a vampire.



Not surprisingly what's making my blood run cold is this new carbon price committee being set up by JGill (I really enjoyed typing KRudd much, much more... thanks for nothing Julia).



I knew it was too good to be true that this monumental waste of money would have actually been dead and buried. I suspected it was simply hidden from view during the election run up so that the pollies could just stick to pathetic personal insults instead of discussing any actual policies).



Now that we have Dumb, Dumber and Too Stupid for Words (and the other guy) holding the balance of power it's all systems go and we're screwed.



Yesterday I heard Bob Brown explaining why this committee needed to have secret discussions - because us civilians are simply too stupid to understand all this complicated scientific talk and we need those super smart polies making the hard decisions for us - (it's hard to explain how my frozen blood can be boiling at the same time). At that moment I added an extra segment to my fantasy involving a night of passion with Eric the gorgeous Viking vampire from True Blood. Now there's a bit at the end where instead of lighting a post coital cigarette Eric drags a squirming Herr Brown into the room and rips his throat out.



I want to do Bad Things alright.

What a difference (half) a day makes

Last night

































This morning





























I suspect it's just that it's the last week of school and the kids are at the end of their emotional tethers but we've had major meltdowns after school a few days this week.


Marianna has been very Jekyll and Hyde all week. After a horrible carry on last night she left us the message at the top.


Even though this morning started at 6:14 with her standing by my (her) bedside crying (screaming) about not wanting to go to school she then settled and went on to leave the message at the bottom.


It's these nicer moments I cling onto, trying to convince myself that despite the Spawn of Satan moments she really does have an angelic side lurking deep inside.

I love the city - part two

One of the things we did on Saturday was have lunch at the Lawenbrau in The Rocks. It's one of those places that's a bit of a Sydney institution but I've never been. So with the aim of using up some of those discount vouchers from my Entertainment Book we risked having our eye taken out by a stray boob sneaking out of those low cut wench's outfits the girls wear and settled in for a late lunch.

While I wouldn't say all is forgiven regarding who started the war it was a really good meal and a fun place to hang out. For a start I ordered the Pork Knuckle, having never tried one before, and it was wonderful. Gorgeous thin crunchy crackling covering moist roast porky meat... mmmm... porky meat (something about saying "porky meat" makes me come over all Homer Simpson). I shared a generous bit with most of the others and still had plenty for myself. The warm saurkraut wasn't so good but the mash and gravy were de-licious!

The beer of course came in sizes Large or Huge and here is a pic of me holding a Large size (half a litre) while Big Jay went off to the loo. At this point we had finished our meal and were inside watching the rather good band (you haven't lived until you've seen a German band do Johnny Cash's Ring of Fire - hopefully not in reference to the after effects of the food).

Don't ask which is Laverne and which is Shirley.

I also had a Clayton star sighting when I thought I saw Philip Seymour Hoffman at The Rocks Markets. I ran around like an idiot telling Big Jay and everyone else who would stand still long enough that I had seen him. [PSH is someone I adore. From the moment I first set eyes on him The Big Lebowski he has gone from strength to strength. He is directing a Sydney Theatre production of True West - to which we have tickets thanks to my sister and mum - so I thought he must be here for rehearsals.] Anyway, when we got home I was writing a post about it when I Googled his name only to discover he was in Brooklyn the night before at a film premiere. It was feasible that he had flown straight over to Sydney afterwards but in the photo his hair and beard were cut short and the man I saw had a scragly beard and longish hair. So obviously it was a false star sighting. How very disappointing.

Even more disappointing was seeing Neil "no-one understands what I'm trying to do" Perry inside his Rockpool Restaurant as I walked past it later that afternoon. He was obviously having a powwow with his underlings (hopefully they understand what he's trying to do) when I walked past. The most disappointing aspect was that I didn't have a brick on me to lob at his ponytailed melon head.

I'm a nasty cow, aren't I, but you already knew that.

I love the city

The Dude and I (and the giant spider in the background).












































The giant egg in the giant bird's nest (love it!)







































The Hipstomatic doing cool things to this pic of Big Jay, Missy Moo and the gorgeousness which is Sydney Harbour (that's Luna Park in the background) .






































Can you take a bad photo of the Opera House and the Harbour Bridge? Every angle is magic.




So Big Jay's stepmum and her new partner came over from Perth and we took them for a Big Sydney Day Out. One of my favourite things to do. (If you're coming to Sydney and want a gushing tour guide you know who to call.)


It was a stunning Spring day. Sunny, 20 degrees, light breeze. A perfect day for enjoying the beauty of Sydney Harbour and the hard walking that involves. Loved every minute.



So tonight I am tired and my feet ache but I am full of love for my city. I know I am a super dag but I just can't help loving Sydney with all of my black twisted heart. Not only is it stunningly beautiful but it is full of little surprises and wonderful treats. I am so very lucky to call Sydney home.

All over

It's all over for my Swannies for another year.

Saturday night's game took another 10 years off my life (I'm about 347 now). It was definitely a case of snatching defeat from the jaws of victory (they were 30 points up at half time for f*@k's sake!!! ). But as I've mentioned previously they got a bad case of third-quarter-itis and it was all down hill from there.

Dare I suggest it was Karma for Roosy selecting Bradshaw over my main man Jesse White? I wouldn't be so crass!

There's always next year...

This must have been how Shane Warne got started

Let me prelude this story by saying I was at home on Saturday night, watching the Swans vs Western Bulldogs game (may the fleas from a thousand camels infest their armpits) and texting comments to Big Jay (who was at a buck's party and away from a tv) and to my boss Bob (who was watching the game at home alone, his wife being away). Will was watching with me and sent a text to Big Jay to say "I love you dad hope you have fun".

So Sunday morning, I'm in the shower and Will calls out that Bob is calling my mobile. When I hop out I get my phone to call him back and notice that the Messaging screen is open. Will has recently taken to texting from my phone and leaving funny, sweet messages in my Notes ("Hi kathy love you from Will").

So here are the last four messages on my screen (you have to remember these SMS are coming from my phone and my name is appearing on Bob's phone):

From my phone: Are. You at home bob

From Bob: Yes

From my phone: I love you bob

From my phone: What are you doing bob

[I'm pretty sure the next question would have been: What are you wearing bob.]

You can just imagine what Bob is thinking!!!!

I've worked with him for almost 20 years, we've been members of the Sydney Swans with Bob and his wife for many years, I took his sons (now grown men) to see the basketball in 1992 when they were just tiny boys, his wife Tricia and I are good friends. You get the picture.

So he gets up on a bleary Sunday morning and get's text messages from me saying "I love you". I would have been a tiny bit worried if I was him.

Obviously I rang him straight away and explained the situation, but there must have been a minute or two there when he was thinking "what the....?".

All quiet on the blogging front

After last week's confession I felt a little drained and shellshocked. Your positive comments made me feel a hell of a lot better, so thank you very much cyber (and non-cyber) friends. A little "we love you, even though you're a bald freak" goes a long way... (hey, I wonder if that's why I like Devon Rex cats so much....).

I'm really feeling much better. I think that it's a combination of simply getting used to both the idea of my new hair and actually seeing myself in the mirror every day plus a lessening of my initial anxiety (probably because I've started back on the oestrogen patches, menopause having increased my base rate anxiety by about 1,000,000,000%) . At first I was "who the hell is that?" and now I'm getting comfortable with my new image. Also the world hasn't come to a grinding halt, so all is good.

Apart from the hair stuff, life goes on. The kidlets have been at average driving-me-crazy levels and have had many moments of this-parenting-caper-is-pretty-good. Maybe I'm just choosing to downplay the there's-going-to-be-a-murder-suicide-situation-here moments (like Marianna having a meltdown at dinnertime most evenings this week, causing whatever it is we choose to call a routine to go totally out the window).

Will is maturing into an almost teenager and it is both wonderful and frightening. Yesterday walking through the shopping centre (to OPSM to order his new glasses - having recently had a much overdue opthamologist appointment we know he needs a much stronger pair of glasses), Will skulked behind Marianna and I, walking with his hood up and his arms crossed. Oh vei, I thought, the vision of things to come.

In other Will news, it will be 10 years tomorrow (11 September 2000) since we landed back in Sydney with baby Will in our arms. Our trip to Guatemala to bring home little Will was the start of our parenting journey and an amazing time in our lives. Getting off the plane to a terminal full of family and friends (and assorted Olympic competitors) was a very memorable moment. So tonight we'll be having a little family celebration dinner. Happy Family Day to us all!

On the Swans front (and a very important front it is!) things are going well. For those that know and/or care the Swans won (just!!!) their elimination final and will now play Western Bulldogs tomorrow night. Even though the Dogs are in a pitiful state with many good players injured I can't assume my Swannies can walk all over them. The Swans are quite good at snatching defeat from the jaws of victory (and sometimes visa versa). As such it will be a tense game I'm sure (but after last week's nail biter I can cope). I'm disappointed that my current favourite Jesse White (ggggrrrrrr!) (I think it's the tatts, the height and the Clarence the Cross-eyed Lion look) has been sidelined in favour of Daniel Bradshaw (this year's great white hope, who has sat out most of the season with injury). Not happy Roos! Let's hope it's not a mistake and... GO THE SWANNIES!

I've been loving the second series of Come Dine With Me Australia. It's Big Jay's and mine guilty pleasure. It has re-doubled my need for a Thermomix. Having seen it in action during one of the new episodes I crave it so much. But at $2,000 it's a kitchen appliance which I will just have to do without until that Lotto win finally comes through.

Speaking of cooking shows, you just know I'll be watching Junior Masterchef this Sunday night. I don't want to but I will. The kids are looking forward to it so I guess we'll make it our Sunday night family show to watch. It's just that there is something creepy about a 12 year old whipping together a beurre blanc sauce, don't you think.

After watching the first episode of the third series of True Blood I have IQd the rest of the episodes and just can't seem to get back to watching them (Big Jay not being a fan it's hard to find time to watch it on my own). It looks like a great season and getting sexier by the minute. Damn it, I love those blood suckers! Even the awful Eric is looking very hot this season.

As you were.

Hair, there and everywhere

I have genetic female hair loss.

There, I have named the elephant which has lived in the room with me for many years. The elephant all my friends have known about but which I haven't talked about with anyone but my closest family members.

It's a tough elephant to ignore but even tougher to acknowledge. It has been a very difficult decision to "come out" and discuss it in this way.

My first inkling that my hair was thinner than the norm was probably in my mid-teens when the hairdresser suggested keeping my cropped hair a little longer and not going for the flat top I wanted because my hair was too thin to carry it off. By my early 20s I knew it was more than just regular "thin" hair. I would say by the time I was 30 I knew I was a freak.

As a woman hair loss is a heavy burden to carry. I think it's very different to male hair loss which is undoubtedly difficult for any man but is certainly much more socially understood and accepted. A woman's hair is part of her image, her style, her personality, her ego. Somewhere deep inside, every woman, even a cynical old bitch like me, imagines herself the beautiful princess, beautiful face and long flowing hair, irrisitable to her Prince Charming.

Over the years I have tried different things to mask this problem, all with little success I fear. I have been to see the specialists, I have Googled all the important words in the hope of finding the magical cure (they can fly men to moon after all...).

About three months ago I finally bit the bullet and ordered what the gorgeous Andrew from Transitions Hair calls a hair "enhancement". Bluntly speaking this is a glorified toupe (you don't know how it hurts me to write those words), a wig of sorts.

Last Friday it finally arrived and I had my "fitting" which meant having my hair cut and the new hair cut into a style which is managable and suits me. I am generally happy with the result and I think I look fine, though it is physically something that will take some time to get used to wearing.

Since then I have been a bit of an anxious wreck. I feel that everyone is looking at me and wondering why I am wearing a wig (does she have cancer? what is wrong with that woman?). I am not normally an anxious person but since menopause my anxiety levels are much, much higher and this issue is very close to the bone. As such I am hypersensitive right now and a little paranoid, never far from tears.

There is part of me which wants to explain the truth to everyone I come across, there is a part of me which thinks I am overreacting, there is part of me which is angry and embaressed and generally pissed off, another part hates that this is so painful for me (after all, I have all my limbs intact, as Mr Fawlty would say), a tiny part wants to lock myself away indoors and never come out. But the main part of me just soldiers on, carrying on with my life, smiling into the bemused, questioning faces I have come across at work and at school every day this week.

The reason I finally decided to expose myself here was that this is really the bottom line of what blogging is meant to be about. It's not just about my obsession with Robbie Williams and reality tv, it's not just about my rambling political ideas or why my kids are driving me nuts this week. It's also about the tough stuff. My inspiration has been my friend Kath in Melbourne who has been brutally honest about her own issues and I applaud her for that. It is bloody hard to reveal your deepest self to a public audience. But as I gain comfort, strength and knowledge from reading about other people's trials and tribulations I hope that others may do so from reading about my own.

If nothing else this new fangled young people's internet allows us to find our communities and to make connections we couldn't have imagined 20 years ago. Maybe writing about this is just further humiliation but hopefully by being brave I can say "it's OK, you're not alone". Because this problem, so huge to me and yet so insignificant in the big scheme of things, often makes me feel very alone and it's a feeling I fear and loathe.