Tip#3
Don't bother getting out of bed! It will save you having to get back into it!
Yes, you got it. Another mood swing. Energy levels swing wildly this week as my uterus groans and heaves under the weight of egg expulsion and all the extra food required to facilitate this wondrous natural bodily function.
That coupled with full time work due to doubling up of staff annual leave applications has left me with only the vivre from my previous joi de vivre mentality.
Down but not out I pulled my leaden ass from between the blessed sheets at some ungodly hour this morning to jog/run/crawl in a circular motion around Hagley Park in the pouring rain. It was then I decided I needed a companion and 'voila'one appeared. I did a u-turn and accompanied jogger 'x' around one circle then plodded happily off home.
Exercised and exorcised I painted on my happy face, put on my business attire and drove gaily to work ready to recept at the springshop.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Friday, February 18, 2011
We Love Wendyl
This woman espouses words of wisdom....
www.wendylsgreengoddess.co.nz
Anyone who suggests we rush off to our personal "bolthole" albeit a scanky old caravan for a personal retreat deserves our respect and patronage.
It must have been a sign....her name...her parents had big dreams for this girl adding a trendy extra consonant onto the end of her name. No ordinary everyday Wendy, right hand woman of the man who never ages, but Wendyl. What is that all about? The pressure of having to live up to that 'l'.
She did her parents, herself and her name proud, reaching dizzying heights, dining at the corporate table of domestic national magazines achieving on all levels against men, other woman, and ordinary mortals only to supposedly give it up for the good life.
Giving it all up, supposed success, for what is that? Fame, wealth respect of strangers? Perhaps not. Wendyl with a resounding L ''saw the light" and cut up her corporate credit card, bought a caravan, a coop and matching chickens!
Her adult children, 12 yr old daughter baby granddaughter and adoring husband all benefited from her mid life epiphany.
Now she really has it all, at her pace, in her arena at her call.
Destiny, now or never?
www.wendylsgreengoddess.co.nz
Anyone who suggests we rush off to our personal "bolthole" albeit a scanky old caravan for a personal retreat deserves our respect and patronage.
It must have been a sign....her name...her parents had big dreams for this girl adding a trendy extra consonant onto the end of her name. No ordinary everyday Wendy, right hand woman of the man who never ages, but Wendyl. What is that all about? The pressure of having to live up to that 'l'.
She did her parents, herself and her name proud, reaching dizzying heights, dining at the corporate table of domestic national magazines achieving on all levels against men, other woman, and ordinary mortals only to supposedly give it up for the good life.
Giving it all up, supposed success, for what is that? Fame, wealth respect of strangers? Perhaps not. Wendyl with a resounding L ''saw the light" and cut up her corporate credit card, bought a caravan, a coop and matching chickens!
Her adult children, 12 yr old daughter baby granddaughter and adoring husband all benefited from her mid life epiphany.
Now she really has it all, at her pace, in her arena at her call.
Destiny, now or never?
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Another tip from the couch....
If you like me and John Paul Sartre agree that "Hell is other People", then you will love this next tip....
Why risk:
a. your sanity
b. contracting infectious diseases camouflaged on shop doorknobs and counter tops...Ugh!
c. queues longer than the Nile
Re-register your cars on line! Genius, I know.
https://transact.nzta.govt.nz/transactions/renewvehiclelicence/
Simple and effective. Only ever venture out of doors for fun activities that do not involve officious tellers with overactive thyroids and poor personal hygiene.
Back to the couch. All this efficiency is exhausting....
Why risk:
a. your sanity
b. contracting infectious diseases camouflaged on shop doorknobs and counter tops...Ugh!
c. queues longer than the Nile
Re-register your cars on line! Genius, I know.
https://transact.nzta.govt.nz/transactions/renewvehiclelicence/
Simple and effective. Only ever venture out of doors for fun activities that do not involve officious tellers with overactive thyroids and poor personal hygiene.
Back to the couch. All this efficiency is exhausting....
Why bark when you have a dog.....
Calling all shoppers....
Shop at Countdown Online Shopping before midnight Sunday 27th February, spend $100 or more, and you will receive FREE DELIVERY!*
Simply type NODELIVERY in the Coupon Code box at the online checkout - it's that easy.
Be kind to yourself and save yourself and your back one trip to the supermarket....
Stock up on wine (Duetz $19.99), boring difficult to find pantry essentials, fresh meat and vege, specials galore....all from the comfort of your own keyboard.
Apart from the saving on delivery at $11.25, imagine the saving on chiropracture!
Watch aforementioned movie in the time you save from mindless shopping.
You'd be mad not to!
From the desk of the Domestic Time Manager
Shop at Countdown Online Shopping before midnight Sunday 27th February, spend $100 or more, and you will receive FREE DELIVERY!*
Simply type NODELIVERY in the Coupon Code box at the online checkout - it's that easy.
Be kind to yourself and save yourself and your back one trip to the supermarket....
Stock up on wine (Duetz $19.99), boring difficult to find pantry essentials, fresh meat and vege, specials galore....all from the comfort of your own keyboard.
Apart from the saving on delivery at $11.25, imagine the saving on chiropracture!
Watch aforementioned movie in the time you save from mindless shopping.
You'd be mad not to!
From the desk of the Domestic Time Manager
Movie review...
Due to my recent sojourn from wifely duties IE cooking cleaning and cavorting, I had the time to pursue other activities....back to back movie watching of my choice. The laptop and the earphones got a hammering laying leisurely on the vacant patch of bed alongside the dog in his temporarily upgraded position, the spreadeagled newspaper with lights blazing to all hours of the night. All men should be encouraged to go on fishing weeks!
My pick of the four movies was called My Name is Khan and was a mixture of English subtitles and speaking. A racially/religiously aware feel good movie not unlike an Indian version of Forest Gump. Khan, the protagonist has Aspergers Syndrome and endears all who meet him as he navigates the perilous journey that is his life. Hampered by misunderstanding and quirky OCD's his life is a difficult but happy one. He has the all encompassing love of his mother and then of a wife as well as an intelligent and understanding sister in law. His only brother battles with jealously and embarrassment and takes time to become the brother Khan needs.
Life takes a 240% turn after September 11, 2001. After this incredible random act of insanity, all Muslims get tarred with the same brush. Khan is a Muslim, his wife and child Hindu. Their business fails and they are targeted for persecution. Hideous acts ensue. Khan reacts the only way he knows how.
Spirited and moving, an empathetic view of life and community and where we all fit in to it.
Available at Fendalton library for $1/week. Get a glimpse of the trailer at:
http://www.mynameiskhanthefilm.com/ and become an informed and interested citizen.
My pick of the four movies was called My Name is Khan and was a mixture of English subtitles and speaking. A racially/religiously aware feel good movie not unlike an Indian version of Forest Gump. Khan, the protagonist has Aspergers Syndrome and endears all who meet him as he navigates the perilous journey that is his life. Hampered by misunderstanding and quirky OCD's his life is a difficult but happy one. He has the all encompassing love of his mother and then of a wife as well as an intelligent and understanding sister in law. His only brother battles with jealously and embarrassment and takes time to become the brother Khan needs.
Life takes a 240% turn after September 11, 2001. After this incredible random act of insanity, all Muslims get tarred with the same brush. Khan is a Muslim, his wife and child Hindu. Their business fails and they are targeted for persecution. Hideous acts ensue. Khan reacts the only way he knows how.
Spirited and moving, an empathetic view of life and community and where we all fit in to it.
Available at Fendalton library for $1/week. Get a glimpse of the trailer at:
http://www.mynameiskhanthefilm.com/ and become an informed and interested citizen.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Heat Wave - ski
Heat Wave – ski….. 7/2/11
On a post punting experience high, I decided to take on the mighty Avon again this weekend when the 35+ degree heat sent me in search of large bodies of water…
Still in the upright position after a 90km bike ride in souring temperatures I moved on thirsty for adventure.
My unsuspecting, ever ready accomplice humoured me with her company and enthusiasm. Dropping everything, (a midday G and T) we raced off to her lock up to make worthy two of her superfluous material items languishing there.
In our haste and bustling of large floating items into her recreational vehicle she unwittingly left the life jacket on. She wondered at the curious attention she was garnering from oncoming motorists at the vision of her overheated, excitable self slumped over the wheel wedged in between wave ski boards.
We made our surreptitious entry at Millbrook Reserve. Packing lightly to match our spontaneous moods, we took only one bottle of water, an already opened bag of Copper Kettle Fries, small amounts of cash, several leaves of *toilet paper, two iphones and a single car key. The phones and key were carefully encased in a plastic sandwich bag.
After witnessing other revellers on the Avon it was decided that we ignore the advice from the all knowing related teen about excessively high bacteria levels and enter the dodgy waters regardless.
Gingerly and gracefully we plopped into the sludgy depths forever staining our stylish boating shoes. Summer smocks ruched to the waist we sat aloft our boards utilising our Pilates cores to the maximum. Off we went verbally high fiving each other at our attainment of quietude.
The river snaked its way around Hagley Park bottoming out in places forcing us to stand on occasion but most of the time we used the paddle to guide more than propel. After about an hour of serenity I began to lose interest in the near inertia and wondered where the end was.
Anticipating a food or beverage stop I reached for my plastic bag only to find to our joint horror it missing. After groping myself all over under my lifejacket like a teen in search of first base, I came to the terrifying conclusion that I had dropped the unsealed bag with both our phones and car key in the drink.
Hot, bothered, and dejected we dumped my vessel as I combed the river from the banks while my accomplice; a study of patience and acceptance, did the same from the river.
Faster on foot but slower of mind, I battled the inner skirmish taking place in my stomach and accompanying highway to my *bowel. This was due to the dodgy yoghurt I had ingested earlier. Cheeks clenched through the intestinal surges I moped my way back through the botanical gardens zigging and zagging where necessary over the river in a futile search for the by now sodden electronics.
Periodically I looked back to see my trusty accomplice leisurely swaying upstream, perfectly composed in the near heat wave conditions unperturbed by the turn of events.
Her calmness gave her clarity and she suggested we go back and look where I had stood up, enabling a slipping through of the precious cargo.
I reluctantly plodded on like a sulky toddler still strapped into my lifejacket, having giving up self comfort and pride in one fell swoop. Back at the low lying area past the Harper Avenue Bridge I spotted the bag easily in the shallows. Euphoric and still hopeful I bounded over Labrador-like and fetched the bag out. On the banks, I emptied out the contents and held the dripping phones up to light fully expecting them to go when I pressed the power button.
Crestfallen, I trudged back to announce my find. After over two hours of paddling my accomplice finally ditched her boat and we walked briskly back to the car still giggling despite our predicament and our ridiculous outfits.
The car miraculously started and transported us back to the comfort, reality and the wonderful teen who promised to clean up our mess of boats left deserted at Hagley Park.
Mustering up the remainder of my failing strength, I ascended the dizzying heights of the inviting couch and succumbed to the languor it promised…..
On a post punting experience high, I decided to take on the mighty Avon again this weekend when the 35+ degree heat sent me in search of large bodies of water…
Still in the upright position after a 90km bike ride in souring temperatures I moved on thirsty for adventure.
My unsuspecting, ever ready accomplice humoured me with her company and enthusiasm. Dropping everything, (a midday G and T) we raced off to her lock up to make worthy two of her superfluous material items languishing there.
In our haste and bustling of large floating items into her recreational vehicle she unwittingly left the life jacket on. She wondered at the curious attention she was garnering from oncoming motorists at the vision of her overheated, excitable self slumped over the wheel wedged in between wave ski boards.
We made our surreptitious entry at Millbrook Reserve. Packing lightly to match our spontaneous moods, we took only one bottle of water, an already opened bag of Copper Kettle Fries, small amounts of cash, several leaves of *toilet paper, two iphones and a single car key. The phones and key were carefully encased in a plastic sandwich bag.
After witnessing other revellers on the Avon it was decided that we ignore the advice from the all knowing related teen about excessively high bacteria levels and enter the dodgy waters regardless.
Gingerly and gracefully we plopped into the sludgy depths forever staining our stylish boating shoes. Summer smocks ruched to the waist we sat aloft our boards utilising our Pilates cores to the maximum. Off we went verbally high fiving each other at our attainment of quietude.
The river snaked its way around Hagley Park bottoming out in places forcing us to stand on occasion but most of the time we used the paddle to guide more than propel. After about an hour of serenity I began to lose interest in the near inertia and wondered where the end was.
Anticipating a food or beverage stop I reached for my plastic bag only to find to our joint horror it missing. After groping myself all over under my lifejacket like a teen in search of first base, I came to the terrifying conclusion that I had dropped the unsealed bag with both our phones and car key in the drink.
Hot, bothered, and dejected we dumped my vessel as I combed the river from the banks while my accomplice; a study of patience and acceptance, did the same from the river.
Faster on foot but slower of mind, I battled the inner skirmish taking place in my stomach and accompanying highway to my *bowel. This was due to the dodgy yoghurt I had ingested earlier. Cheeks clenched through the intestinal surges I moped my way back through the botanical gardens zigging and zagging where necessary over the river in a futile search for the by now sodden electronics.
Periodically I looked back to see my trusty accomplice leisurely swaying upstream, perfectly composed in the near heat wave conditions unperturbed by the turn of events.
Her calmness gave her clarity and she suggested we go back and look where I had stood up, enabling a slipping through of the precious cargo.
I reluctantly plodded on like a sulky toddler still strapped into my lifejacket, having giving up self comfort and pride in one fell swoop. Back at the low lying area past the Harper Avenue Bridge I spotted the bag easily in the shallows. Euphoric and still hopeful I bounded over Labrador-like and fetched the bag out. On the banks, I emptied out the contents and held the dripping phones up to light fully expecting them to go when I pressed the power button.
Crestfallen, I trudged back to announce my find. After over two hours of paddling my accomplice finally ditched her boat and we walked briskly back to the car still giggling despite our predicament and our ridiculous outfits.
The car miraculously started and transported us back to the comfort, reality and the wonderful teen who promised to clean up our mess of boats left deserted at Hagley Park.
Mustering up the remainder of my failing strength, I ascended the dizzying heights of the inviting couch and succumbed to the languor it promised…..
Punting on the Avon.....
Living like a tourist in your own city is a great pastime....we tried it last Friday.
Four not so desperate housewives donned their Sunday best, smuggled their flutes and a bottle of France's finest champagne and headed to the Mona Vale vantage point to board their floating lounge room for a genteel drift around the inner city sanctuary.
They were greeted by “Tim” the post pubescent Puntsman, complete with his aqueous pole vault. Introductions complete they boarded as gracefully as possible in their high heels onto a greasy slatted wooden surface.
Off they went, corks popped, bubbles flowed and camera shutters shuddered. The sun shone illuminating the picturesque locale. Reclined on the red velvet seats supping bubbles they were transported physically by Tim and mentally to Venetian waters.
They marvelled at the wide variety of ducks swimming about unnervingly at eye level, and at the gardens of the rich and infamous that dotted the river. The punt got perilously close to the nearby weir and its accompanying nine foot drop. Tim, almost blinded by the weeping willow managed to execute a textbook u-turn saving us and our Sunday Best from certain misfortune.
Thirty minutes over and one bottle down, the four disembarked, their wanderlust momentarily sated for the paltry price tag of $26/head.
Living like a tourist in your own city is a great pastime....we tried it last Friday.
Four not so desperate housewives donned their Sunday best, smuggled their flutes and a bottle of France's finest champagne and headed to the Mona Vale vantage point to board their floating lounge room for a genteel drift around the inner city sanctuary.
They were greeted by “Tim” the post pubescent Puntsman, complete with his aqueous pole vault. Introductions complete they boarded as gracefully as possible in their high heels onto a greasy slatted wooden surface.
Off they went, corks popped, bubbles flowed and camera shutters shuddered. The sun shone illuminating the picturesque locale. Reclined on the red velvet seats supping bubbles they were transported physically by Tim and mentally to Venetian waters.
They marvelled at the wide variety of ducks swimming about unnervingly at eye level, and at the gardens of the rich and infamous that dotted the river. The punt got perilously close to the nearby weir and its accompanying nine foot drop. Tim, almost blinded by the weeping willow managed to execute a textbook u-turn saving us and our Sunday Best from certain misfortune.
Thirty minutes over and one bottle down, the four disembarked, their wanderlust momentarily sated for the paltry price tag of $26/head.
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