movement at the station

On the list of women I love I can now include Diane Lane. She's a touch older than me, and, happily, looks it. She's utterly gorgeous, and yet capable of expression - and it's so nice to see that hasn't stopped her from being cast in films - playing a sexy woman.

I read a piece by Mia Freedman the other day where she said she walked out of a screening of The Women and the serious plastic surgery on many of the leading ladies' faces had a fair bit to do with it. Acting's a subtle craft. A good actor has great intonation, knows how to manipulate their body to convey expression and most importantly, can reveal so much with a raised eyebrow or furrowed brow. Take away that ability to raise said eyebrow or furrow aforementioned brow and you're taking away a fair chunk of an actors ability to craft.

I've stopped buying a lot of magazines as I feel they don't respect my intelligence and seriously, if Hollywood doesn't lay off the fillers, lifts and jabs, I'm going to refuse to see some films. That's why tonight I'm going to see Nights in Rodanthe as it stars Diane Lane in all her natural beauty. That's also why, despite my love for all the films of Baz Luhrman, I am staying away from Australia - and am boycotting a large chunk of mags featuring plastic Nic in their pages. 

I really worry that with all this emphasis on surgery, kids these days are going to grow up without a sense of what's real. Will boys and girls expect that breasts are perfectly round objects that sit on chests like a  halved melon? Check out the cover of any men's mag - not a real breast to be seen - just these 'perfectly' spherical creations deigned as 'sexy'. 

While Hollywood and the media have always thrown out ideals of beauty that many of us can't fit into, at least they've been diverse and somewhat real. Now they're generic and totally unreal. When you spend a few minutes staring at a cover trying to work out is that her, or that other actress, or that model you know things are getting mighty similar. 

The only way to get them to stop, is for us to hit them where it hurts - in the bank account. Just say no to botoxed beauties in blockbusters.

manic monday

Oooh, some days are tough. Today's one. It's a monday, I had a touch too much champagne at a friend's house yesterday, the builders have come in today and have pulled down and are rebuilding the walls the bricklayers spent two days working on last week and blogger won't let me comment on my own blog. Rude!

Luckily, hangovers pass (especially when bacon's involved...), there are a half a dozen blokes out the backyard doing what one guy spent two days doing (poorly apparently) and I can state in my blog - "Yes Sara, I must borrow Big Fish on DVD as it was one of my favourite books - and if Marion Cotillard is in it it's now a must-see. And hey, is Ewan McGregor in that - or is that my hangover/fantasy self talking???" Obviously I can't change the fact it's a monday, and I can't drive for another two weeks or so, but I can put a positive spin on it. So here it is

Making Monday a Fun Day

Today I'm thankful...

That I don't have a plaster cast on my ankle

That I have lovely, utterly divine friends who care for me

That I have a husband I still love to bits and pieces

That I've been blessed with a very special daughter

That I have a roof over my head - and a very nice one at that

That I have fabulous readers who share so much with me

That I discovered a divine, cheap, French sparkling wine (Veuve Amiot... and you can always just say, "Would you like a glass of Veuve darling?")

What are you thankful for today?

masterchef and me

I'm not quite sure what I did before the food channel. Gastro-porn and me, we're like this (okay, a visual thing in a blog doesn't quite work - but you know where I'm heading don't you...) I've learned some pretty cool things thanks to the televisual chefs - which is handy considering the 20 years I went without cooking meat. There's a good "a-ha" moment most evenings, which makes me happy. 

I am obsessed with the english cook-off Masterchef and often spend half the program daydreaming what I'd make if I were one of the chosen few. The problem is that there's a strict time limit to most of the meals - and I'm a long, slow-cooking gal. Even if something only requires a brief introduction to a bbq plate, I'll have marinated it lovingly for up to 24 hours - a luxury nobody's afforded on Masterchef. 

However, today's challenge I'd have romped in. They needed to make an Italian-inspired meal and the primary ingredients were fresh tuna, fresh tomatoes and linguini - easy peasy. A light tomato sauce studded with olives, baby capers and basil would be wound through the al-dente linguine. Then, after lightly searing well-seasoned tuna, I'd fork chunks of the meat through the pasta and top it with chopped parsley, garlic and lemon zest. Surely that's a winner...

le divine

Marion Cotillard won my heart with her portrayal of Edith Piaf. Then, her acceptance speech at the Oscars, where she said she was overcome with sparkles and fireworks turned my crush into abiding love. Now, as the face of Lady Dior - atop the exquisite Tour Eiffel - she's heartstoppingly magnifique. I'll buy whatever she's selling and That Bag? Oh I covet...

flat out

Surely if I must schlep about in flats for at least six weeks I deserve something like this. Manolo Blahnik was recently quoted as saying that most women walk like beach bums in flats and I must say I'm one of them. Heels add a whole new swivel to hips and give you showgirl pins no matter who you are. Flats are perfect for long-limbed gals, and I veer pretty dramatically away from that category. My aim is to do some pretty amazing things to my top half (hair in particular) for the next few weeks, so people's attention is drawn away from the flat footsies below. Surely Coco would approve...

vice regal

A little bit of vice can be quite nice. Surely the odd vice makes virtues shine even brighter. My vices are obvious to anyone who cares to note: champagne, shoes and gourmet morsels. I'm also partial to a spot of make-up and deliciously painted toes. These are nice vices. Nobody's hurt, I'm unlikely to be inflicted with a ravaging illness as a result (well, obviously that depends on the amount of champagne or cocktails consumed...) My other vice is that I'm also a not-so-sneaky viewer of trashy telly.

I swore that I would not watch The Rachel Zoe Project. I loathed so much about her - and particularly the way the show was promoted (With Zoe saying "That's Ahmahzing" in the most ridiculously affected manner I nearly threw a shoe at the TV screen). But of course, solitary confinement on a couch means there's only so many programs to watch and I sneaked a peek - and got totally sucked in. I'm in love with her mini-YSL assistant Brad. LOVE HIM. And her other assistant? Mean and cranky Taylor? Televisual gold. And her closet, O.M.G. her closet - it makes me die. The scary thing is though, that on the show she doesn't look skinny - which worries me, because I know she's damned thin. I also want to know what she did to turn her forehead from its Gordon Ramsay-esque wrinkled state to smooth, yet not botox-shiny and extreme. Fillers? Brow lift? It is quite magnificent. And her hubby? Cute, puppy Rodger? Love him too. How did I so quickly turn from loathe to love?

relaxation under duress

Do you know what I've realised? I'm not very good at relaxing and doing absolutely nothing. I also loathe having to ask people to do ANYTHING for me. Which is a bit of a shocker when you literally can't do a great deal for yourself because you're on crutches. I'm trying to take it day by day, but as I can't drive for at least two weeks, I'm going to have to ask for favours - such as asking friends to drop my daughter home from school - not a real biggy, and certainly something I'd be pleased to offer in return, but still, it aches to ask.

Thankfully my physio has got me exercising three times a day, simple stretches and five minutes on the exercise bike. I was a bit worried that lying prone on a couch all day would see me cherry-picked from the house in a few months time. Tragically all this lolling around eating grapes hasn't helped me come up with any innovative blog entries, but I'm sure there are a few people nodding their heads at the old, asking for favours thing... Why is that? Is it an admission of incompetence? Am I scared of rejection? (surely not, my friends are adorable) Or is it just a simple hang-up from childhood that's hanging around despite repeated assurances it's just not wanted? 

Who knows, but I'm going to swallow my pride and send out an email calling for assistance. 

my achy-breaky ankle

Amazingly, I managed to get through 41 years - a lot of them sport-playing - without breaking a bone... until Monday night. Now I have a broken ankle, a broken right ankle, which means a lot of things. No driving, no real walking, no cleaning - and no HEELS!!! So not happy Jan. 

Thank goodness for a wide range of nail polish colours and a hubby who's going to be doing daily pedicures to keep me entertained. I'm already over Foxtel (aside from the aforementioned Northern Exposure - although it's been almost illegally light on Chris in the Morning sightings so far. Although when he's on.... sighhhhhh)

At least it gave me a chance to check out the US election coverage - and whoop in delight at the presidential result! I'll always have the answer close to mind when I'm asked "Where were you when you heard..." - laying on my couch! 

Off to pout and frown, in no particular order, they're just my standard facial expressions at the moment. Will be diving face-first into a vat of botox by the time I'm healed.

hop-a-long pink patents

Ouch. I was playing netball last night and caused myself a high-heel aversion injury - yep, I've sprained my ankle. Badly. It's swollen and purply blue, but I hopped my way into the study for a quick update. I'm off to the physio and to get an x-ray later on - it made an awful crunchy sound and then a crack when I fell, which surely isn't a good sign... However, at least my hubby has to pay me back for the months of nursing I undertook when he busted up his knee. 

Thank goodness there's a new channel on Foxtel which screens Northern Exposure - yay! Before Aiden won my heart on SATC, there was Chris in the Morning. Le sigh...

negatively geared

I raise my hand in admission that I tend toward optimism. I'd much prefer to expect a happy outcome than a negative one. If someone approaches me with an idea, I'll listen to it happily - and may well take it on enthusiastically. And while years of doing things in a specific way have made me feel that I've got the right approach, if someone offers up an alternative, I'll give it a shot. Surely being of an optimistic, open-minded disposition rides on one's face better than negativity and suspicion.

Which is why I find it so hard to deal with people who are so dissimilar to me in this way. It was only recently that I read that we imbue other people with qualities we have ourselves and it's so true. For example, I can't tell a lie - not even a fib to save myself. So when it appears that someone's lying, I'm incredulous, and deeply hurt, that they'd do such a thing. And people who are eternally negative, constantly seeing and expecting the worst are almost an alien species to me. Sure, something bad might happen, so let's see what we can do to fix it. I don't believe in not trying something in case I fail - I'll try it in case I succeed. 

I'll go into anything with a smile on my face, and if I don't succeed, chances are I'll come out laughing, plotting an alternative approach that may well succeed - if not next time, then surely the time after...

blooming marvelous

I love this rose. It's named after Gertrude Jeckyl and not only are the tightly petalled blooms ever-so-pretty, the scent is intoxicating. It's making me happy today.

boo!

Happy Halloween! Here are the spooky cupcakes I'm taking to the Halloween party tonight. I felt very Martha making them. The icing's a simple icing sugar, vanilla extract and warm water mix which is so glossy and pretty. I stuck the little ghosts' eyes (little bits of licorice) on with a dollop of icing and am very impressed. The spiderwebs were black icing, drawn on with a wooden skewer - while the spider were created from licorice too. 

While I adore the spookiness and kookiness of halloween it's also a time to remember our dead. So I'm going to spend the next five minutes thinking about those I've loved and lost - and will raise a glass to them later tonight. 

enough already

The poor retouchers at Parade must have been twiddling their thumbs when this cover came through. I know I hark on about it regularly, but Nicole - step away from the surgeon... The woman's my age, yet has skin like my daughter's and, strangely, looks like a hyper-lifted seventy-something. 

All the hype for the movie Australia can keep on twittering on, I can't think of a sum high enough that they'd have to pay me to see Nicole attempting to wring an expression from that frozen face of hers. 

It's a question I ask of all surgery addicts - can't they see themselves? Do they actually look in the mirror and walk away pleased? Why doesn't someone say something to them? And what are they going to look like at 60? 

fade to grey

I'm besotted with shades of grey in clothing and now I've found these shoes my lust is reaching obsessive levels. They're from Aldo who like to surprise me with the odd gem such as these cuties. I adore the shape of that heel - very Prada-esque non? I have some birthday money still unspent - don't you think this would be a very wise way to dispose of those dollars? I could wear them with my deep blue ankle length gown I wore to the ball the other week, and I have a purple silk frock that would dance in delight if paired with such a pretty pair of heels. Okay, settled then, I'm off to Westfield on the weekend to indulge myself.

all hallows eve

We don't do a large-scale Halloween in Aus. It's getting more popular, but many still bah humbug it as an event. But the old goth in me LOVES it. So imagine my delight at being invited to a Halloween party tomorrow night. It's a couple of families, there's going to be hotdogs and severed fingers and eyeballs (lollies, of course) for the kids, followed by trick or treating in the well-versed street. My daughter and her dear friend are dressing as black cats, while I'm popping a witch's hat to cover my witch's mane! I'm making teeny cupcakes to take along - half decorated in orange icing with little black spiderwebs and a black spider atop, the other half iced in ghoulish green with little ghosts I'm intending on shaping from flattened marshmallows. Cute!

The drinks? Has to be Death in the Afternoon - the absinthe/champagne cocktail discussed in an earlier post. They'll go perfectly with my black fingernails. Mwaaaah ha haaaaa...

accentuate the positive

When I'm in a grump there are normally a couple of things I can do to send my mood spiralling in an upwards manner.
* paint my nails - instantly uplifting
* step outside and pay attention to what nature's offering up today
* make a perfect cup of tea (so rare in my case that I do tend to applaud myself when I achieve it)
* sit back, close my eyes and let my memory revisit long-lost loves: my grandfather, nana and even a fondly-remembered pet or two
* plan a new eye-make-up scheme
* make one area of my home gleam with gorgeousness
* plot a dinner party and send out an invitation
* smear on some red lippy
* pop a flower in my hair - or in a teensy vase or tea cup on my desk
* dare to dream that if I wish hard enough, I'll be back in Paris again...

respondez sil vous plait

Is there some kind of email etiquette that I'm not party to? You know, the one where people feel they don't have to respond? It's a little like nodding on the end of the phone - you know you're doing it, but the person on the other end doesn't.

Because I've got a Mac, I can't seem to set my email to have a "read receipt" so unless somebody replies, I have no way of knowing if they've got my email, which can be a tad on the annoying side. 

That's my whinge for the day. I'll be off now. To email some friends who always reply!

rosy glow

My best ideas always come so late. As I was plating up the rosebud madeleines for the fete today (complete with petals and rosebuds from my garden) I realised what a great presentation idea it would be to buy some vintage cake plates and present them on those. Op Shops often have gorgeous little vintage rose plates for around a dollar and they would look ever-so-pretty. I'm going to start hunting around for next year!

wild about harry

Must say, I've got a fondness for anyone who's inspired to knock up a lovely drink. So tonight, I'm raising my champagne flute to Harry's Bar in Venice, home of the Bellini. Peach puree and prosecco (or any sparkling wine at a pinch) strike me as the perfect summer sip. Sante...

time trial

As queen procrastination of I'll-do-it-later-ville something needed to be done, simply so I could get things done. Whether it's housework, washing, tidying, or writing to earn a living, I needed a push. Here's what I do - and it works. I'll set a timer for 30 to 45 minutes and totally put my head down in the one spot until the time's up, or I've completed what I have to do. No distractions allowed - the phone goes to answering machine, emails go unchecked, blogs are not peeked at for 'inspiration'. It's astonishing what you can achieve in a solid block of time. Which reminds me, article due this afternoon, not complete... see you in 45 minutes!