making me happy today

• Gardenia blooming by my front steps

• Friends popping in for morning tea

• Roses kissed by the rain

• Coffee in a pretty cup

• Ham and cheese toasted sandwiches

• Sheets swirling in the washing machine

• Fence posts ready to go in the ground - to create a nice high fence to hide the neighbour's house

• Giggling over funny bits on the Rachel Zoe Project (new obsession - and a serious one)

• Tom Ford's sexay perfume

• Tiles being laid in my pool, hinting at the icy blue water soon to follow

no boys allowed

Gentlemen, tune out now, 'cause you're not going to care for this rant. Ladies, may I have your attention. As a woman I've spent years being bemused by products being aimed at me. Lately it's the deodorant aimed at keeping your underarms pretty (seriously - do I CARE?)... But the most recent one is a doozy - tampons with wings, designed to catch stuff the others miss.

Um, I don't get it. Aren't tampons meant to be, well, you know, snug and stuff? How exactly are these wings going to help? 

You know what? I have to buy tampons, I'm not happy about it, but I do. I don't need a ridiculous, superfluous reason to buy them (that said, that tampon ad, with the beaver? Funny)

Wings? Fly back to the starting board buster, you need to try harder than that.

oh my

I do believe I'll be adding the December issue of British Vogue to my wishlist. While I'm not a fan of Kate Moss (call me a prude but I do believe that the only white powder a mother should use is talc) I do so adore Dior, tulle, cream and black, Karl, disco glam and ooh, the Tim Burton + Helena Bonham Carter shoot? Goodness gracious me. 

it's all about me... or maybe not

It takes some people a while to move from the egocentric toddler phase - you know, the one where they honestly believe the world revolves around them. Apparently it's taken me over 30 years. See I've always thought that if a salesperson gives me cruddy service, it's my fault. If I don't hear from an editor that I've pitched story ideas to, it's because my stories just weren't good enough. A friend doesn't seem friendly? Obviously I've done something to offend. Now, I finally realise, it's not all about me.

That salesperson could have had a fight with their partner that morning, or they're wearing poorly fitting shoes, or they just hate their job. The editor's flat out and has received over 100 emails that morning and the phone won't stop ringing. The friend's child has wet the bed again, another child has a fever and their husband's job isn't as secure as they'd hoped. Or they're just grumpy.

A more positive, optimistic frame of mind would help us all move through life easier. Obviously if you don't remember doing something to offend your friend, you haven't (or you need to revise your drinking habits). Thinking to yourself "This ALWAYS happens to me!" is the shortest route to assuring that crappy things will continue to be attracted to you. If you shrug, brush them off and move on, chances are things will be better tomorrow.

Change can often be a shock, but chances are it'll open your eyes to a whole new life.

on ice

I don't know if it's my fridge, but I'm not good at freezing. No matter how well I wrap items, they seem to come out coated in ice crystals, freezer burnt, dried out and tasteless. Until recently, I've only had luck freezing vodka and limoncello (what's that you say about priorities?)

However, I know that a full fridge is an effectively running fridge, so short of stocking it with a range of flavoured vodkas (however tempting that may be...) I've found a few items that work for me freezer-wise. I keep rice in the freezer as I've found rice to be weavil's best friend. I can't abide larder moths, and have found since popping the flour into the freezer for a week, and storing my rice in there long-term, I've had nary a moth flutter in my face. I also store the grated cheese in the cold zone. I've found that pre-grated cheese tends to mould faster than the regular kind, but I don't use enough of it to justify using it before it turns a greenish hue. I'll also pop the ends of bread in the freezer in a big bag too, so they're nice and solid when I need to grate them for fresh breadcrumbs. I've also taken to storing the wrapping from butter in there, so when I need to grease a tin, I'll take it out and within a few minutes it'll be ready for spreading.

Oh, and there's always plenty of ice cubes in there of course... A vodka tonic needs a few cubes to clink against.

on the cards

We're going to a wedding this afternoon, and excitingly, I'll be wearing heels with my physio's blessing. I've got the pressie and the paper, but oh my lord - the cards! Now, there are plenty of lovely cards around at the moment for birthdays. Pretty, fun, tasteful... but for weddings? Zilch. The only card I found vaguely appealing was $10. Yes, $10 for a card. I'll pay that for a glass of champagne, but not for a card, that's just silly. Luckily I fell back on my old standby of a pretty floral card with a blank interior. I'd much prefer to add my own words than fall on the twee offerings of the card companies. I'll raise a glass to my lovely readers this afternoon, and promise to tread carefully!

red hot

Making me smile today are these utterly adorable Betsey Johnson shoes. I love that woman, love what she does... and now need a pair of her heels. How perfect is the polkadot lining? I adore attention to detail and these are lacking in nothing. I'm also trying to ignore what I'm pretty sure is the most perfect thing I've ever seen - that little bow on the sole. Oh my...

model behaviour

Self-esteem and girls is a major issue. Speak to most adult women and they'll tell you they had major self-esteem issues as a teen - and some even as a pre-teen. There's a half a dozen reasons, or more, why this happens. Peer pressure, unrealistic images in the media... and your mother's attitude to her body and looks. 

I've always made it a point to never express any negative comment about my body - no matter how enormous or unattractive I may feel on any given day. Generally I'm pretty okay about it all. You know, my body holds all my organs in, my legs move me around, hands help me type... I scrub up okay, particularly with a smear of make-up. But I don't comment negatively about myself, or others, to my daughter. Hopefully this'll help her a little with her self-esteem. We also compliment her regularly on her intelligence, her sporting ability, her dancing - not enough to allow her to become deluded about her abilities - just enough. 

She's also got me as a role model for what a 41-year-old woman, who's had a child, looks like. She's seen my stomach and the rest of my body, and knows that this is normal - for me. So I pity Sunday Rose. In what I swear will be my final comment about Nicole Kidman (or She Who Must Not Be Named, Ever Again, Without Changing The Title Of This Blog To Nicole Kidman's Bad Plastic Surgery) what is Sunday Rose going to think when she looks back on pictures of her mum? She'll see what used to be a gorgeous red head, with a mass of curls, full cheeks, a normal nose and lips that tended to the thin side. Then, after Sunday's birth, she'll see a blonde generic glamazon with lips that now look like the love child of Angelina Jolie and Jamie Oliver. A girl will have to be pretty strong and well-adjusted to feel confident in her own looks, whether quirky or conventional, to overcome the impact of a mother who's constantly altering hers.

balancing act

In exciting news I went to my physio yesterday and have undergone a healing of miraculous proportions ankle-wise. I'm off crutches and able to drive again - two weeks early! Apparently I have the strongest ligaments he's seen in a while, which I must say is probably due to my flamingo impersonations. No, seriously, whenever I have to stand, I try to stand on one leg. I don't want to be one of those un-balanced senior citizens, so I've been studiously working on my balance for the past year and it's paid dividends with my speedy recovery. I mightn't be able to wear heels to the wedding on Friday (although I might, if they're tightly laced and my ankle's strapped...) but I'm free to leave the house which is a bonus. I make a mighty cranky shut-in.

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.