Sensory overload

Not the best night last night. All our sleeping patterns were out and after tossing and turning for hours I got up to find both kids sitting up playing with their DSs at two am. Then the musical beds started and the whinging about being hungry and thirsty. Blah! Finally I managed a few hours sleep but was not exactly chirpy when I dragged myself out of bed just after eight am.

A walk, a bus trip and another walk and we were at Kensington, visiting Jules and Marvin in their lovely pad. Airy, quirky, with gorgeous views... the only thing missing was a tv, a fact the kids (and I) can't quite comprehend.

When mum and David turned up we took a long walk through the amazing old neighbourhood, full of huge old homes and beautiful trees. It was hot and super humid and we were all looking forward to brunch at the "best cafe in New York".

The cafe was ok, nothing more or less. The ordering area was small and crowded, the guy taking the orders slow. The food and coffee were decent, but my cappuccino didn't even come with a metal spoon, just a help-yourself wooden stirrer which looked liked it belonged in a medical practice. Not impressed.

Nevermind. Stuffed, we squeezed into a "car service" car and dropped mum and David home before heading back to our neck of the woods for a late lunch with my dad and his friend Irina, who had arrived last night.

The seafood restaurant we had been anticipating was closed because of the Memorial Day public holiday but we found a great, laid back Middle Eastern eatery across the road and we were set for the afternoon. Drinks, delicious food (two courses for $14 per person - the best hummus I think I've ever had) and great service made for a very enjoyable session two of Meet the Parents.

Next door I found a cool little gift store which is where Gino came from. A sock monkey with a Mohawk - genius!! He is made by a disabled artist in NYC and he is the best thing. He will live on my bed and always remind me of Brooklyn. (picture on my FB page)

We all walked back to our apartment so everyone could have a sticky beak. I was hot and bothered and ready to throw in the towel but I was out voted and we got a car into Manhattan to check out the Waldorf Astoria where dad was staying. The per night rate was so reasonable I thought it must be a shadow of it's former self but it wasn't, it's still elegant and luxurious and truly awesome. The Fawlty Towers connection made it doubly special for us and of course dad had to have the Waldorf Salad last night (apparently they weren't all out of Waldorfs), which he said was delicious.

Despite the whinging of the children (and of my feet) we then proceeded to walk countless blocks to Times Square. Wow, what a mind blowing city. Every adjective I can think of just doesn't come close to describing it's size and awesome-ness. It just goes on forever, as far as the eye can see. Sydney is a big, wonderful city but it's a drop in the ocean compared to NYC. You could walk around every day for a month and not see the half of it.

It is almost daunting. I'm one of those people who struggles to choose my meal in a restaurant with a big menu, always looking at what others ordered and worrying that they made a better choice. NYC is like that. There is so much to see and do and eat, the possibilities are truly endless and as I walked around today I wanted to do it all.

Spotting the M&M's store in Times Square we decided to grab some take home goodies and found ourselves in Hell on Earth. All we wanted were some unavailable in Australia almond M&Ms but we found ourselves in three stories of crazy. It's impossible to believe the choice of sugar coated chocolate inspired crappola one can purchase. I didn't actually see a toilet seat or ear hair trimmer sporting the M&M logo but I'm quite positive such things exist, everything else is there. Having spent about $80 on almond, peanut butter and pink (for Marianna of course) M&Ms we escaped into the stifling humidity of Times Square and the secure understanding we would never set foot in that place again.

So we returned home to Brooklyn and hopefully a better night's sleep tonight. Tomorrow we're heading back to Manhattan and then, tomorrow night, Momofuku. Oh, the sweet anticipation.

The start

So we landed at JFK safely and in an incredibly good mood. That soon changed when we texted my sister to let her know we'd arrived - early. She was on her way but soon after sent a message to say they had a major petrol (gas in American) leak and were waiting for the cops, fire engines, etc.

We got a cab to my mum's apartment as she had arrived a few hours earlier and my sister had the keys to our apartment.

After a brief wait during which fatigue crept up on us slowly but surely (it was almost midnight local time so god only knows what time our time) Julia and Marvin arrived and we were off to our temporary home. (BTW apart from it being a major pain in the bum they were both fine, it was just one of those annoying, unavoidable accidents.)

The apartment is cool. It's in an old newspaper building which has been converted. Big rooms with soaring ceilings, exposed pipework. Funky mix of eclectic retro furniture. The original of our Pegasus (this is where I got the idea for ours, except this one is four times the size) hangs above the leather sofa.

Showers and bed time followed but our internal body clocks were totally stuffed so we couldn't sleep even though we were utterly exhausted. Finally the children went to sleep and I went off sometime around 3:00am.

Jason woke me at 9:00am and I felt amazingly good. Getting the kids up was difficult but finally we were ready to head off to brunch and to meet Marvin's mum and dad.

We walked through our part of Brooklyn and it is what I love in a neighbourhood. Wide tree-lined streets, interesting old buildings, a mish-mash of shops and businesses. Our brunch cafe was a welcoming combination of hip and earthy, our table in the courtyard surrounded by buildings casting cool shadows amongst the tables. Great food and laid back service added up to a wonderful first meal in NY.

[Yo, I've now eaten grits. It's like polenta, yummy. Nothing like I imagined. Tick of another American cultural mystery unravelled.]

Then we started walking... my favourite part of any holiday. Just walking, absorbing the atmosphere, the sights, sounds and smells.

We made our way to Prospect Park, a fabulous huge space, much like our Centennial or Bicentennial Parks. Grass, trees and lots of people having a great time on a warm weekend day. There were families playing and picnicking, groups of friends playing with frisbees and all sorts of ball games, lots of dogs, bikes and joggers. Just a really happy atmosphere.

More walking and we ended up back at mum's apartment. Then we headed back to the bus stop and back to our part of Park Slope. A goodbye to Jules and Marvin, who were headed to collect dad from the airport, and then a bit of shopping and we came home for a rest.

We probably should not have tempted fate by taking the kids out one more time for a play at the playground across the road and then some dinner but we did. The kids fought over where to eat, not because either of them truly cared but because they were both over tired and ratty and driving parents nuts is obviously what you do when you're tired and ratty.

After a quick and painful Chinese dinner we dragged them home whereby Little Miss M promptly took herself off to bed without a word, followed shortly by Big Jay. Now Will is watching Funniest American Videos and I'm blogging. The weariness is setting in and I think it won't be long before I'm in bed myself.

One thing I've learnt is that Brooklyn is not a suburb, which is what I had believed. It's a city in itself. So saying you are going to Brooklyn is like saying you are going to Sydney, you could be going to Bondi or Penrith.

More Brooklyn sights and good food tomorrow.

Start spreading the news

...that I love United Airlines.

Weren't expecting that, were you? I haven't had anything good to say about them since we purchased our super cheap tickets for this trip nine months ago. In fact I have been dreading the flights for this whole time. For some reason I held UA in very low regard and contemplated changing our tickets, at whatever cost, on numerous occasions.

However, my fears were unfounded. Our Sydney to LA flight was smooth and straightforward. Sure the staff don't see the need to over mollycoddle us cattle class plebs and obviously there is no clause about smiling at customers in their contracts but we were fed and watered regularly and the plane remained in the sky between take off and landing, which suits my basic air travel requirements.

I have to make special mention of the chicken dish we were given at dinner time. Delicious. Small but very tasty.

Onto LAX. Hmmmmm. Things got decidedly more unenjoyable upon disembarking. We had about three and a half hours between flights and were frankly worried about how we would occupy ourselves for that amount of time. Luckily the lovely people of US Customs have that figured out. They kept us standing in three separate queues for over two hours thus eliminating the need to fill in all that boring down time. Thank you US Customs.

Actually FUCK YOU US Customs. Do you know how much fun it is to stand in a barely moving line with two tired, grumpy children who are both busting to go to the toilet? Yes, it's even more fun than it sounds. By the time we got through I swore I would never again darken the doorstep of our American cousins, ever.

Cross and annoyed with each other and the universe in general we trudged off for a drink and a snack since we knew there was no meal service on this domestic leg of our journey. So $35 and two sandwiches and a couple of drinks later we turned up at our gate.

No sooner had sat down than a message came over the PA asking for my presence at the desk. We rolled our eyes, wondering if they had realized that they had let us through without the compulsory cavity search. Prepared for the worst we faced up to the burley UA man at the desk.

He looked us bedraggled travelers up and down and said the most wonderful words in the English language. "You folks don't feel like flying business class, do you?". My eyes bulged as my brain tried to digest the meaning of this sentence. I glanced at Big Jay. Was this a joke? Were they asking if we wanted to pay for the upgrade? Did they realise we were travelling with two bordering-on-feral children?

"If we have to," Big Jay said and next thing we know we're walking down the special line and being welcomed by the friendly, smiling business class stewardesses (only distantly related to their economy cousins). So began five hours of luxurious relaxation. There's only one thing better than business class and that's FREE business class.

Before you can say "I think you've got the wrong people" we were being offered drinks from a linen lined tray and choosing our dinner from the menu. Smoked salmon, salad, beef rib with freshly grilled asparagus. At one point they apologized that they only had the pasta dish from first class left and would Will be happy with that. He was.

Then some freshly prepared ice cream sundaes with hot chocolate sauce. Did I mention my cocktail and the copious amounts of red wine Big Jay managed to consume? Oh, and the freshly baked choc chip cookies right before we disembarked?

The staff were so friendly it was almost painful, I felt if I had asked for a glass of freshly squeezed Yak's milk they would have said "no problem, madam". It was surreal.

After a nap in our super comfy recliner seats we arrived at JFK relaxed and refreshed but that didn't last long.

Modern Families (or bloody hell, we're off to New York)

We're packing (imagine a farmyard full of recently beheaded chickens) for our trip to New York. This is our entertainment kit for the plane: one Kindle, one iPad, three iPods, one iPhone, two DSs and a partridge in a pear tree. Well, we are flying United so the base level of entertainment will be equivalent to 1970s era Aeroflot.

I have my usual level of equal parts excitement and anxiety when faced with a long haul flight (with children). But I'm trying to focus on the fact that in just over 48 hours we'll be landing in New York, New York... the city so good they named it twice (like Wagga Wagga and Woy Woy).

We literally don't know where to start, there is so much to see, do and eat. Everyone we meet offers suggestions for the things we MUST do. Two short weeks seems like such a microscopic amount of time in such a wonderous city. I can only calm myself with the thought that this won't be our last visit.

Now that I've discovered a decent iPad blogging tool I will be sharing our Big Apple adventures right here, so stay tuned.

Grinding axes

We all have an axe (or a few) to grind. They may be trivial or earth shatteringly important but their relevance is only apparent to us and those who love us.

A terrible experience in a restaurant... An hour and ten minutes on the phone to Qantas with a simple request... The incompetence of a government department in processing the adoption of your children.... How long do you have?

I'm getting to my point. The man who took over the Sydney Harbour Bridge last week does not deserve the fame and relevance he's suddenly surrounded with. I don't know his story: bitter custody dispute, DoCS unhelpful,etc. What's new?

What is driving me nuts is that he is suddenly a media darling instead of just being a very naughty little boy. Maybe it's his military background which gives him an air of authority other nutters don't readily possess. Whatever it is, it just isn't on.

To paraphrase an interview I heard with him on Triple M last week: "oh well you inconvenienced tens of thousands of people but you do have an important point to make". No! There are countless "important points" out there waiting to be made. Are we prepared to disrupt the civil running of society, stressful as it is for the ordinary person, so that each bugger with a problem can have their voice heard?

Yes, life is frustrating, especially when it's not going our way, when obvious injustices are being perpetuated, when simple things just can't get done for a myriad of reasons, mainly human error or incompetence. But that doesn't give us all carte blanche to stop traffic, figuratively and literally.

As always I blame the media for being pathetic brainless morons, nothing more than magpies picking up the brightest baubles. They have made a hero from someone who does not deserve it. They have rewarded bad behavior, somethingng every parent knows not to do. When some nutter causes a civil drama to further their cause in the future I'll know where to lay some of the blame. When you glamourize and validate this sort of "terrorism" you say it's ok to disrupt your community to grind your axe.

And I say it isn't. That's what blogging is for. We all know that.

Royal wedding fashion round up

You know every man and his dog has had their two cents' worth about the royal wedding and I was feeling a bit left out. I knew you've all been awake all night this past week wondering what on Earth DeepKickGirl thought of Princess Beatrice's hat.... well, your wait is over.

To be honest I've paid only marginal attention to the whole circus but today I was reading my first iPad version of the Women's Weekly and had my first good look at the wedding fashion and decided I had something to say.

Firstly Kate (surely it should be Cate?). Simple, elegant, beautiful. Well done.

Chelsea Davy (Prince Harry's on again, off again). Looked like she was on day release from Ladette to Lady. Could have brushed her hair for f's sake.

Princess Eugenie. Frumpy.

Princess Beatrice. On first glance, terrible. But on closer inspection it was just the hat; the dress and shoes were actually lovely. The hat was a crime against humanity. I hope Philip Treacy, who was responsible for most of the hat atrocities on the day, is on Scotland Yard's Most Wanted list.... talk about the Emperor's New Clothes!

Now let's talk about Becks and Posh. What the fuck is wrong with that woman? Would it kill her to crack a smile. Here she is, next to her gorgeous, beaming man, looking like she's just been slapped in the face by a dead fish. Furthermore her dress was plain drab, more suitable for a funeral than a wedding. She really really shits me! Eat something and cheer up, you silly cow.

I'm afraid I have nothing positive to say about our PM but I do have a soft spot for the First Hairdresser, seems like a lovely bloke. Our GG looked elegant, as always.

Away from fashion I thought the media hoopla that went on in the lead up to the wedding was downright obscene and pretty much every Australian media outlet should be ashamed of themselves.

To finish let me paraphrase a joke on the subject. K(C)ate Middleton asks the Queen about the secret to a long and happy marriage. The Queen tells her "wear your seatbelt and don't piss me off".

Random

Why is it most of my best (only) thinking is done in the car? If only I had some magical contraption which would suck out my thoughts and transfer them straight onto blogger. Seriously, it would be profound.

I'm typing this on our new iPad, which is the new addition to our stable of gadgetry. It's cool and fun and will be wonderful on our upcoming trip to the US. It is pure middle class extravagance, that is true. But it allows me to lie in bed, watch Masterchef and update my badly neglected blog. What luxury!

Our trip to NY is now only three weeks away and the excitement is rising. Also the mild anxiety about being ready, work and home wise. How do we make the best of this opportunity without exhausting ourselves and the kids? So far Big Jay, Will and my dad have tickets for the Yankees vs the Red Sox which should be a wonderful cultural experience if nothing else. We've given up on the idea of seeing The Addams Family on Broadway because Nathan Lane is no longer in the cast and he was the main draw card for me. I'm sure we'll find other ways of entertaining ourselves. Carlo's Bakery (of Cake Boss fame) is definitely on the itinerary. I have overdone it lately on the retail therapy so the dream of heavy duty NY shopping has faded a little... though I still harbour a fantasy of wondering the Brooklyn neighbourhood where we'll be staying and discovering sone quirky little boutique which will present me with a magical bag or cardie or pair of shoes which will blow my mind and give me the ultimate NY souvenir.

I'm super busy at work and finally facing the fact that working four days a week just won't cut it. So after many years I'm back to working full time. It's cool, not liking I'm breaking rocks with my bare hands for a dollar an hour. The problem is I'm so easily distracted I don't seem to be achieving all that much. Must try harder.

The kids are great. Will's last batch of testing with the school counsellor has shown considerable progress but we still worry about high school next year. He just seems so vulnerable to me. There are so many sharks out there in the big bad world. Little Miss M is powering on. Dancing is everything right now and she has started having a private lesson each week to prepare for an Estedford she's preparing for. This is on top of the ballet, tap and jazz class she has each week.

Um, energy running low now.... Brain in "sleep" mode. Good night. Will try to write some more over the weekend.

Still here

Still here, dear reader. This is one of those guilt posts where I assure you of my good intentions and confirm that I have neither been abducted by aliens nor committed to the local mental asylum (which is long overdue IMHO).

Just not enough time to sit and gather my thoughts and blog. Plenty buzzing around my head, it's just the process of editing all that into something worth reading which is not happening right now.

So a brief "howdy" and on I go with the school holiday juggle.

Watch this space for something much more informative and entertaining.... really, who am I kidding!

Angry bird

That's me. I'm still angry.... but about something different this time. The arseholes downstairs from us. Keeping me up half the night last night (and for most of last week). It's been the stressful weekend from hell. Big Jay is in Perth and I have had a truckload of stuff to do.

Friday night was the school's Movie Under The Stars night which I was the lead organiser on. It meant a lot of work leading up to the night, a lot of worrying about the night (will it rain? will anyone turn up? will anyone eat the 30-odd kilos of mixed lollies I bought and packed?) and a lot of work on the day and that night. By the time I draged the kids home and collapsed into bed I was shattered.

Up bright and early to drive Will to a soccer game in a suburb I'm not familiar with. Get lost, swear and generally act like an immature spoilt brat. Come home and half lay around, half do lots of housework I don't at all feel like doing.

Get kids in the car to drive to Cronulla so Marianna can participate in half time cheerleading entertainment at the Sharks vs Sea Eagles rugby league game. Drive takes two hours (normally 45 minutes tops) and costs me 10 years off my life. Kids drive me to insanity with constant whining and bickering (at one point while crawling in the traffic I contemplate getting out and just walking until I find someone who can tell me how to enter the witness protection program and never be seen again by anyone I currently know, especially my children).

Finally arrive at the ground, after parking over a kilometre away, just in time for aforementioned cheerleading. Watch and video the performance (nowhere near as good as last year, shit music, shit choreography). Leave.

Come home doubly shattered. Watch the Swans beat West Coast (woo bloody hoo) and collapse into bed. Beyond tired. What happens? I can't sleep because the bozos downstairs (obviously staying as a temporary rental - possibly working at the Easter Show) are sitting on their deck below my bedroom and acting like generally drunk arseholes act - loud talking, loud laughing, loud swearing.

Fuck! Ever time I'd doze off some shithead would bray with drunken laughter; like a sledgehammer to the head. I rang the police at 11:30 but not sure if anything happened (though the nice young constable - I sound like someone's grandmother - assured me they'd send a car around). At 1:15 am I was yet again woken by their noise.

I really hate people and after last night I hope climate change is real (well, of course, it's real, but I mean real in the doomsday way the nutters are predicting) because I want the people downstairs to drown slowly in the rising seas - preferrably while I watch and cheer. I digress.

So after almost no sleep I rise early yet again to get Marianna to birthday party number one by 10:00 am. While she's patting snakes and eating jelly I take Will to visit my grandma in Shady Pines and listen to her complain bitterly that she should still be at home and that she doesn't know why we are making her live there (there's a whole other very very long post right there). Oh joy!

Back to collect Marianna and straight onto her soccer game. She's playing in the under 6s and they don't keep score but I think her team scored 10-0, it was like watching Collingwood play Gold Coast Suns.

No rest for the wicked so we were straight onto the local Aquatic Centre for birthday party number two. Oh GOD!

We finally collapsed home at 5:30. Showers, dinner, blah blah and now I'm sitting her blogging feeling so tightly strung I'm not sure if I'll ever sleep again.

It's the first day of school hols tomorrow and while it's nice to have a break from school routine and I know the kids really need it, for me it means the extra juggle of making sure the kids are looked after and entertained on the days I have to work. It also means a few extra days off work which I can not afford in the sense that I am drowing in work and days away from the office mean falling further and further behind. Fucked by guilt whichever way I go. Oh joy!

Gee, that was cheery, wasn't it. Bet you're glad you stuck through that pile of steaming dreck. So sorry. Something funner next time I hope. Good night.

PS I think this list of complaints comes under the title of what my sister calls "First World Problems". Fuck yeah!

1, 2, 3, 4.... we don't want your...

...stupid Carbon Tax. Sorry. Doesn't really have a great ring to it, does it.

Never mind. Her I am last week at the No Carbon Tax protest in Sydney.

It's hard not to get disheartened and I'm not one for protesting in general but there I was last Saturday, listening to Angry Anderson get really really ANGRY and wondering when exactly the world went totally mad.

Not my best angle I must admit and my sign is a little cringeworthy. My problem with slogans is that the first one that pops into my mind is the only one that pops into my mind. So here I am with my sign which I'm not overly proud of (though I fully belive in the sentiment I'm expressing so badly). As you can see the man next to me isn't all that excited about my sign either. Last thought on this damned sign - I do like the typeface.

Anyway, let's see some better signs.

This lady had a double sided sign and I loved both sides.

I couldn't get a photo of one of my favourites but it said "By 2012 no Australian child will be living in Carbon". Giggle.

The final word goes to the homeless man selling The Big Issue on the corner of George and Market Street. As I walked back to the car park after the rally he saw my sign and said "yeah, just keep polluting the world" - as in "yeah, just keep polluting the world you fucking capitalist Earth wrecking bitch". It's good to see even the street people have been brainwashed. Not just the chardonnay sipping middle classes (I actually quite hate that expression but just using it for effect here - my dad refers to them as "doctors' wives" and I hate that even more).

So there we go. I've expressed myself in a public forum on the subject I feel most strongly about (politically speaking) with a nett end result of zilch and the march to futility continues. Oi vey!

The Big Trip Is Dead, Long Live The BIg Trip

The Big Trip is something we've had brewing for about three years now. A trip to take the kids back to their countries of birth, Guatemala and Colombia. It had always been planned for the Christmas holidays 2011-12 to coincide with Will finishing primary school.

There were a few other friends interested so it was always going to be a difficult thing to wrangle into submission. The main reason we have knocked it on the head is that the Christmas holidays is just a super expensive time to fly to the US. Basically our flights would cost more or less twice the price of going at some other time. Not to mention all the flights to Colombia and Guatemala from our base in Miami. It's just hard to justify throwing away that sort of money, not when I can be spending it on Spencer & Rutherford handbags or Thermomix accessories.

So while it's hard to let go of a dream we'd been holding onto for quite a few years now we are happy that we'll still do the trip but just a few months later, possibly around Easter 2012.

The Big Trip lives, it just needs a few extra months to gestate.

Good Lord!

After hearing a third hand report of a Neil Diamond concert I was expecting less of a Hot August Night and more of a Mild March Afternoon (with a nice Horlicks and a blankie on my lap) but I got a lot more than that - proving my theory that low expectations equal higher payback.

Neil Diamond still rocks, baby! He may be 70 but he has lost little of his energy or talent or gentle humour. Last night at Acer Arena he showed he still has the voice and the moves to keep almost 20,000 people enjoying themselves for two hours.

Sure when we first came in it looked a little like the cast of extras from Night of the Living Dead (dear me, I shouldn't be so unkind, but I just can't help myself - I'm sure I'll look back with regret when I'm whiling away the hours at Shady Pines in the not too distant future). But I quickly realised there was a wide range of age groups there and we were all there to lap up a little Neil Diamond nostalgia... A little Sweet Caroline, Forever in Blue Jeans, I'm A Believer, Cracklin' Rosie, the list goes on - he was a prolific songwriter, wasn't he.

Anyway, it was lovely night top and tailed by a walk to and from the venue with my friend C who I hadn't seen a lot of just lately.

The entertainment avalanche is now over and I can look forward to the start of the AFL season and a few more evenings on the couch in front of the teev. Next major entertainment highlight: New York.

Tim and the City

Dear Tim Minchin,

I love you. I would like to marry you and have your children (if we weren't already married and had children and if I still had a womb, which even prior to it's departure didn't prove itself as a capable baby carrying mechanism). Anyhow, I sincerely do love you... your crazy hair and eyeliner and your no shoes and most of all your mind.

I want to have passionate sex with your brain, it's super huge and super sexy.

Best of all you understand my feelings about religion and parenthood and you happen to like boobs (which I happen to have a set of). So (apart from the previously mentioned little problems) I think we could be very happy together.

So there, I think I make a pretty strong case as to why we should get married immediately if not sooner. So I'll start the divorce proceedings from my end and assume you'll do the same. I'll have my people call your people regarding our upcoming wedding. See you there.

With all the love in the empty black void I call my heart, DeepKick Girl

PS After I left your show at the Opera House on Friday night I was on such a high I just floated out with the crowd. I was there on my own (well, with a group of friends from work, but not with Big Jay) and after the show everyone went off home and I drifted along through Circular Quay and bought myself an ice cream (super yummy Chocolate Hazelnut and Wild Cherry, if you must know) and just walked. I had parked in Harrington Street so had a little bit of a walk but I could have walked for hours (if it wasn't for those damned high heels I had stupidly chosen to wear that night).

It was a beautiful cool Autumn Sydney evening, the earlier rain had refreshed the air and it was mild and glorious. I just felt an overwhelming sense of love for my city and at that moment I loved being alone and being able to walk and eat ice cream and look around me and let it all sink in.

Like Anthony says in Under The Bridge "sometimes I feel like my only friend is the city I live in... I drive on her streets 'cause she's my companion, I walk through her hills 'cause she knows who I am". That's how I felt on Friday night, like the city knew who I was; what a wonderful and strange feeling.

How lucky was I for the gift of your mind and your talent and your wit, and a beautiful Sydney night and a tiny opportunity to be alone in the city I love. Not sure what spirituality is but it's close as I'm ever going to get.

Just Shoot Me

No, I'm not going critique the mediocre television comedy show from '90s staring the slightly creepy David Spade. Instead I'm going to write about last night because those three words featured prominently in my thoughts between 8:00 and 9:30 pm.

I had bought tickets for my mum, my sister and myself to see Missing The Bus To David Jones as part of their Chrissie presents because quite frankly I loved the title. This is how the blurb described it:

"It's a secret world. Banal, a bit crazy, and well, quite frankly, surreal. But there's plenty of beauty here too...

What happens behind the swinging doors and beige walls of a nursing home? Meet the residents, staff and visitors and come on a surreal adventure, where day to day rituals give way to moments of spirited abandon. Yes there are walking frames and super sized bibs. But there’s also candy floss, balloons, and dancing – and bingo! And a lot of kindness.

Theatre Kantanka, with its visual and physical performance style, brings beauty, humanity, and much hilarity to this little-known and hidden universe. As baby boomers grapple with the dilemmas of ageing parents, this heartfelt and uplifting production finds celebration where you might least expect it."

Really, I should have known better. Not only does my family not like to discuss death but my mum went through a very hard time when my grandmother was in an aged care hostel for many years prior to her death. Not good memories for all of us but particulary for my mum.

When I read the blurb originally I focused on "heartfelt" and "uplifting" but I should have realised it wasn't going to involve too many laughs. However, it did provide quite a few laughs for the many of the audience members, just not my mum, who spent a great deal of time glaring over her shoulder at the laughees, hissing at me "what is so funny?".

It was definitely black humour at it's darkest. I could see the humour in some, maybe not all of it. Old age and the indignity and saddness and loss of humanity it brings is undeniably very sad but as with all things in life finding the humour in such horror is also very human and necessary for the sake of our sanity.

From the very start I knew I had made a terrible mistake, that mum would hate this show and asked her very early in the piece if she wanted to leave. She said "no" and we sat through an hour and a half of my own physical and emotional discomfort, not because I wasn't enjoying the production (I actually did enjoy it - wonderful acting and creative production design) but from knowing my mother was hating it and hating the audience who was enjoying it.

At the end I braced myself for what was to come but luckily it didn't eventuate. The criticism was brief and, more importantly, not of me for my terrible choice of show. Plus there was the added bonuses of free canapes and drinks when we came out - it must have been either the first or last show of this production - which kept my mum and sister busy.

So a small public warning: choose carefully before you buy family members tickets to the theatre, you could just live to regret it.

Too old?

Be honest (sort of)... am I too old for a pair of brothel creepers?

I saw a pair in a magazine today and they whisked me magically back to circa 1984 and my original pair of brothel creepers, black and white and gorgeous.

The ones I'm lusting after right now can be found here (click Footwear then Creepers - I want the Leopard print ones).

I know that this is strictly a nostalgia trip but they are so cool and they will so make me feel 16 again. Is that a good or a bad thing? Why do I even want to go there?

All I know is I can't stop thinking about them.

[Kind] comments please.

Dear Weird Al

or should I call you Mr Yankovic?

Thank you, thank you, thank you. I had one of the best night's of entertainment on Friday at your Enmore Theatre gig. Maybe because I had no expectations (which is always the best place to start, high expectations lead to bigger disappointments) I was blown away! What an amazing night! I was on a high all the way home and that generally only ever happens after a Red Hot Chili Peppers' gig or after the Swans have a big win against a really, really hard team.

You are super funny and super talented and do crazy things with a piano accordion... what a man!

I loved every minute really but the highlights were You're Pitiful (eat shit James Blunt), Canandian Idiot (watch the South Park clip HERE), Amish Paradise ("...tonight we're going to party like it's 1699)... who am I kidding... they were ALL highlights.

It was like the best rock concert and the best comedy gig all rolled into one. A very rare gift indeed.

I took Will and he loved it too. So to end this rather nauseating little letter let me thank you, yet again, on behalf of both of us.

You are a god amongst men and I'm already hanging out for the next time you come Down Under.

Yours truly,
DeepKickGirl

PS I am White and Nerdy, but nowhere near as white and/or nerdy as most of your audience.

Dear Billy

(Connolly),

It's not me, it's you. I used to love you, a lot. You were so funny, I'd come and watch you and laugh and laugh... until my face ached. I'd laugh so hard I'd miss half of what you were saying because I'd be so busy laughing.

When I thought "funny" I thought BILLY CONNOLLY.

I went to see you a couple of weeks ago. I was really looking forward to it (even though the last time I saw you it was at the awful Hordern Pavilion which is a majorly shithouse venue for comedy and we had to sit on the most uncomfortable fold out chairs EVER and I found it insulting to pay 150 bucks to sit on crappy fold out chairs in a barn of a place with non-existant air conditioning - I hope you fired that particular tour manager or whoever is responsible for such things).

This time around you were at the Opera House Concert Hall, one of my favourite places. We ate yummy Vietnamese food in the new funky outdoor food court area. It was all good and I was all set to laugh.

But you just weren't very funny. You did apologise in advance, saying you had the flu, but really I think you may have lost it. I'm not having a go, really. You're getting on, 68 years old I think. I can barely remember yesterday and struggle to string a coherent sentence together so I can't really blame you for not being as sharp as you used to be. It's just that when I pay $150+ per person for a night out I want something special, something WOW, something a little better than mediocre.

It was sad to sit there amongst all these people who clearly adore you and hear them laugh politely, not uproariously like your audiences used to. When I used to think of your name I used to think of laughing so hard I'd wet my pants (just a little bit). This last time I barely raised a smile.

So I'm sorry. It's tough but I'm afraid you are officially dropped. I'll always remember our times together fondly but next time you come out to tour Australia I'll just stay home and think about what we used to have. It's best this way.

Yours truly,
DeepKickGirl

PS Please tell Pamela she looks like a freak.

Book Review: Beyond Fear

Recently I was given the opportunity (by the Soup Project people) to preview a new Australian book Beyond Fear by Jaye Ford, an Australian journalist turned author. It was fun getting to read a book before it's general release and this was a book that really appealed.

It is a book I can relate to - the story of four Sydney women going away for a much needed girls' weekend in the country. Having been on a few such girls' weekends away myself I know how much they are anticipated. I also know how isolated I feel, being a city girl through and through, when the lights go out and the serenity of the country turns into that creepy feeling ... I have often laid there in bed in the dark, feeling acutely aware of the isolation and the oppression of the "nothingness" around me.

For the four friends in this book things go wrong very quickly and then they go from bad to much, much worse.

Our main protagonists are Jodie, a teacher with a dark secret, and Matt, a detective with a complicated past. Their lives collide in the tiny town of Bald Hill when a girls' weekend away turns into a nightmare.

Once the action gets going it is relentless and heart-racing exciting. It does take a little while to warm up but once the drama starts it doesn't stop until the very end. In hindsight the slow start is a good balance to the fast paced second half.

I would have liked a little more character development for the secondary players and possibly a little less emphasis on the romance (would you be thinking about the hunky ex-cop when two psychopaths are about to rape and murder you?) but overall it was well written and a very entertaining read.

Thermomix and the meaning of life

Yesterday was a very strange day indeed.

It started with a plan to have a Vietnamese lunch in Cabramata with my sister and ended with a Thermomix in my kitchen and another major disaster in the world.

Next week is my birthday, the twenty second anniversary of the my twenty first birthday. My wonderful family (who only very occasionally drive me crazy) got brave this year and arranged a SURPRISE for me. Before I go on, it is necessary to say how difficult a task this was and how highly I rate this achievement. Surprising me is not an easy task for various reasons so I understand how much effort and stress it took to not only organise it but pull it off.

So yesterday I drove out to Warwick Farm to have my car valued for a possible trade-in and, after a couple of rather strange conversations with my sister, arrived home to find her and a strange lady and a large box waiting for me. I would have been less surprised had the box contained a naked Robbie Williams (a gift idea for next year...) but, in fact, it contained a brand spanking-new Thermomix, the kitchen machine of my dreams.

You may remember me coming across this masterpiece of kitchen engineering at the Tetsuya cooking masterclass I attended almost 18 months ago. It blew my mind then and I've been coveting it ever since. The price tag put it in the must have/can't have category and it has remained the glittering pinnacle on my wishlist.

And now it's here, in my kitchen, twinkling at me across the kitchen as I write; sitting smugly on my benchtop as if it's always been there. It is occupying the space where my KitchenAid lived until two weeks ago when it had to go to the KitchenAid doctor for a strange alignment problem it had developed. I very much feel like I'm cheating on my husband with Robbie Williams (at least I imagine what that must feel like, I'm willing to put the feeling to the test should the opportunity ever arise...). The KA will hopefully come home soon and my two best kitchen buddies will need to learn to share my love and the bench space.

However, I can now turf my kitchen scales (the TM weighs, you can reset it after each ingredient and then measure the new ingredient - i.e. 200g flour, reset, measure 100g sugar), my blender, my brand new ice cream machine, my stick blender.

The slightly manic Thermomix lady, the gorgeous Lynette, swooped into my kitchen, unloaded the TM onto my bench and within half an hour had produced a yummy soft serve style dessert called a Berry Dream, or some such, a bread dough, a cereal/crumble mix/topping type thing with coconut, apple, dates and nuts (yum!) and a risotto. She then swooped out again leaving me shell shocked (in the best way) and totally bewildered.

There are no sensible words to describe how excited and happy I feel to own such a wonderful piece of kitchen gadgetry. So lucky to have a husband who actually listens to me (who knew?!) and a family who steps up financially and logistically to make my Thermomix dream come true. Well done Big Jay, Jules, mum, dad, linesmen, ballboys.

But then I turn on the evening news and watch the horror unfolding in Japan and my excitement subsides somewhat. Watching the giant tide of water sweep over the landscape, smashing everything in its path, made me put our tiny human lives into proper perspective. Our little, busy ant lives are so important to us but so insignificant to Mother Nature and the march of time. I was overwhelmed with a monsterous tiredness as I watched and went to bed early, heavy with the knowledge that everything doesn't mean anything.

This morning the cloud has cleared. I awoke early, saying goodbye to Big Jay who left for his annual Coffs Harbour golf trip. Turning on the news momentarily brought back the depression (there should be a public service announcement if they're going to make you listen to JGull's dulcet tones at 5:30 am) but the realisation that Hawaii was still above water cheered me up somewhat. A cup of tea and a slice of the freshly baked Thermomix bread (toasted with avocado) brought up my spirits some more.

I've spent a couple of hours surfing the www in search of Thermomix recipes, blogs and communities and have found many. My TM, in future to be known as Theo (in honour of a very cool Mod I knew circa 1984), is smiling at me. A new culinary adventure begins.

I continue to be mad as hell...

For those missing my man made climate change is bollocks rants (I know there is at least one of you) here is an update from my favourite climate change is bollocks blog.

I had been hoping Australia may be cooling down on this shit because the rhetoric had been wound down prior to the last Federal election but obviously that had been wishful thinking. I knew deep down that it was just the lull before the storm... and believe me there's a storm brewing right now.

I've never been much of a marcher, only that one anti-nuclear march when I was 14 or 15, before I grew a brain, but I'm ready to march now. This may not be Lybia but I feel like a little bit of civil disobedience. Hand me a rocket launcher and point me towards Canberra (if you're reading this, ASIO agents, I'm almost totally joking).