Just a short note today folks.
Only four weeks left and we are off. Have to say I am feeling pretty damn good about it and the sense of building anticipation is a wonderful feeling to carry around with you everyday that it would be great if I could bottle it and retain this equilibrium at all times.
I am quite exhausted though, what with ensuring everything is completed for work before I head off and ensuring my colleagues are across anything that may crop up. Some stuff can get quickly out of control if it comes from left field so am trying to cover all bases.
What has really got me running around though is getting stuff organised at home. One gets used to the idiosycracies of one's own home - the lock that needs to be jiggled to open, the tap turned off a certain way to minimise dripping etc. But when someone else is coming to stay you need to sort these things out.
Well that has led to a frenzy of guttering cleaning, installing a new mixer tap, replacing the stove ( with a bargain thank you very much, Sally Wilson), repairing the coffee machine inter alia. And then of course is the stockpiling you need to do for the house guests to ensure that they have all that they need while looking after your place. So its off to Cosco we go. For the uninitiated, its kind of Walmart @ The Docklands.......
It is a barn of a place and what you cannot buy there is not worth having. From toilet paper to Schwarovsky Crystals (however you spell that bling stuff).I felt like Mitchell from Modern Families went I first venutred there. Smugly superior and dismissive of the prepackaged, preservative laden, fat infused products they have on offer such as boxed already-prepared toasted sandwiches (yes, I didnt believe it either), cheescakes the size of the MCG playing surface and muffins the size of human heads.
However in addition to some of the most revoltingly unhealthy foodtsuffs ever conceived and created is a tremendous selection of great cheeses, meats, fresh produce and cleaning products at terrific prices. So like life its a matter of having to trawl through the rubbish to get to the treasures. The one good thing about it though, is if you like to relax, come the weekend, and prefer to remain in your trackie daks sans shower, wearing the uggies or your moccies, you're right on the money as to the dresscode for Costco!!!!!
Ciao
Kelly
Wednesday, 20 July 2011
Wednesday, 13 July 2011
The Planning Phase (6)
Time does get away from you. Its already been a week since I last blogged. Which means only five more weeks til we are off !!
Went swimming this morning - part of the pre holiday fitness regime to ensure that I am able to walk, climb and go the distance in those exotic places filled with art, history and scenery. My swimming style is perhaps more Esther Williams than Suzie O'Neill but what can you do? Our local gym (avec indoor and outdoor pools) is frequented by a wonderful older generation of locals of greek and italian heritage who with inspiring regularity and committment, come to "take the waters" and enjoy a catch up every day.
One gorgeous old bloke strikes out with the penetrating velocity of a bobbing cork and yet he manages to do an enviable total of laps each day. He seems riddled with arthritus and the limitations of an ageing body yet a more charming and optimistic fellow you couldnt find. My favourtite though, is an effusive large-ish Italian lady bedecked in an old fashioned thick crimpolene bathing suit and a very stylish retro rubber cap complete with flowers atop. She has a lovely time performing a very demonstrative backstroke (very Esther Williams!!) up and down the pool with a cup of hot black coffee waiting for her at each end of the lane placed strategically for refuelling!!! I enjoy the swimming more than the poncing around in the gym.
In preparation of our trip, I am now the owner of what may probably be my first ever pair of sensible shoes x 2. For those who know me well, it is very rare that you ever spot me sans high heels. My towering height has long forged in me, a life long love and obsession with arch-aching, gravity defying heels in myriad of colours and textures. Such is my penchant for heels that come the week-end if I have been out in flats in the garden, my feet and legs ache in screaming need of an arched position. My little tendons are now so shortened that they cannot bear to be streteched by the flat foot position!! Bring on high heel runners or gumboots I say!!
Well, the sensible shoe du jour that all walkers (yes, I did mean to spell walkers), are wearing this season are Merrills. And I have two pair. One closed in shoe-like pair and one sandel-like pair and there is not a centimeter of a platform or heel bewteen them. Yes they are as light as a feather. Yes, they are sooooo comfortable. Yes, they are the perfect travelling shoes for walking over cobblestones, pebble beaches, up cliiff faces and volcanoes and through ancient ruins. But do they do much for a well turned ankle and calf? Not a damn thing!!!!
Still I imagine after many hours of walking I will be grateful that I have worn my sensible shoes, as will those within hearing distance given that at times my vocabularly is known to take on quite a chromatic hue.
Solo cinque più settimane di Andare
Parlare presto
Kelly
Went swimming this morning - part of the pre holiday fitness regime to ensure that I am able to walk, climb and go the distance in those exotic places filled with art, history and scenery. My swimming style is perhaps more Esther Williams than Suzie O'Neill but what can you do? Our local gym (avec indoor and outdoor pools) is frequented by a wonderful older generation of locals of greek and italian heritage who with inspiring regularity and committment, come to "take the waters" and enjoy a catch up every day.
One gorgeous old bloke strikes out with the penetrating velocity of a bobbing cork and yet he manages to do an enviable total of laps each day. He seems riddled with arthritus and the limitations of an ageing body yet a more charming and optimistic fellow you couldnt find. My favourtite though, is an effusive large-ish Italian lady bedecked in an old fashioned thick crimpolene bathing suit and a very stylish retro rubber cap complete with flowers atop. She has a lovely time performing a very demonstrative backstroke (very Esther Williams!!) up and down the pool with a cup of hot black coffee waiting for her at each end of the lane placed strategically for refuelling!!! I enjoy the swimming more than the poncing around in the gym.
In preparation of our trip, I am now the owner of what may probably be my first ever pair of sensible shoes x 2. For those who know me well, it is very rare that you ever spot me sans high heels. My towering height has long forged in me, a life long love and obsession with arch-aching, gravity defying heels in myriad of colours and textures. Such is my penchant for heels that come the week-end if I have been out in flats in the garden, my feet and legs ache in screaming need of an arched position. My little tendons are now so shortened that they cannot bear to be streteched by the flat foot position!! Bring on high heel runners or gumboots I say!!
Well, the sensible shoe du jour that all walkers (yes, I did mean to spell walkers), are wearing this season are Merrills. And I have two pair. One closed in shoe-like pair and one sandel-like pair and there is not a centimeter of a platform or heel bewteen them. Yes they are as light as a feather. Yes, they are sooooo comfortable. Yes, they are the perfect travelling shoes for walking over cobblestones, pebble beaches, up cliiff faces and volcanoes and through ancient ruins. But do they do much for a well turned ankle and calf? Not a damn thing!!!!
Still I imagine after many hours of walking I will be grateful that I have worn my sensible shoes, as will those within hearing distance given that at times my vocabularly is known to take on quite a chromatic hue.
Solo cinque più settimane di Andare
Parlare presto
Kelly
Thursday, 7 July 2011
The Planning Phase (5)
Apologies for not getting back to you sooner. But life has been a tad chaotic over the last 24 hours.
Siobhan befriended a beautiful old beagle last evening lost and wandering in inner Melbourne (the dog, not Siobhan) Suffice it to say, our wonderful vet was able to identify the owner and the dog's name with microchip technology but alas, old data meant we had an overnight boarder. The Westie clan at home were not quite the hospitable crew that we had brought them up to be. Clearly, they dont do share houses!! But no growls or blood was evidenced so all good. This resulted in a canine hand-over during the day today. My only hope is that this new Mum takes better care of her kids than she seems to do with her loyal and lovely old dog!!!!
Back on message though, I received an sms from a friend interstate whose sole comment in relation to my blog, was.....is this blog thing going to be about anything else other than you visiting the gym or not visiting the gym ? You know who you are (Clare)!
I would have thought that the title "Mediterranean Midlife Adventure", may have afforded the odd clue.! But there you go. But it did give rise to assessing what my motives are for doing this. I am intending to write semi -regularly up until my departure date in August, to get into the discipline and habit (unlike my gym behaviour) of regularly and religiously on a daily basis, being able to write about our experiences of being in Italy in particular, for my birthday - a significant birthday ending in an 0.
Which means of course that for the next six weeks, the topics du jour may appear somewhat random to you but I will be relating them to the planning and the countdown to our trip to London, Paris and Italy. I can tell you though what this blog wont be.
This blog wont be some post divorce diatribe, or Oestregen-infused insights or menopausal musings of a woman "finding herself" Good grief I cannot think of anything more dull and mind numbingly self indulgent. Last year or the year before that, my mate Vivianne lent me a book that was of this ilk that was subsequently made into a (and there is no other way to put this ) the MOST DREADFUL movie ever. She had read the first couple of chapters and in her wonderfully pragmatic and understated way, had said it wasnt her kind of thing but as it was extremely popular, perhaps I may like it. I read the first three pages and I too, decided I'd rather take up scrap- booking or quilting. than continue to read this drivel.
Well the movie version of this nonsense was released and on a Saturday afternoon during a blisteringly hot day it was the sole thing available to get into and if anyone has been subjected to this rubbish, you will understand why it was the one movie IN THE WHOLE OF METROPOLITAN MELBOURNE that one could readily get tickets to.
Siobhan and I went into the cinema somewhere in middle class Melbourne and there, save for one sad lone bloke, was a smattering of menopausal ladies wearing a smart three quater length pant, sensible Camper like sandles or slips ons, a pastel colour co-ordinated polo top and carrying the ubiquitous floppy sunhat - de riguer for venturing out in the midday sun.
The movie started and and after what seemed like an interminable age the "heroine of our story" was only preparing to go to her second country of destination. It was at this point that Siobhan leaned over and with a sentence well peppered with expletives went something like..... "F#@kin$ hell ....we still havent even reached (insert expletive here) India yet and she still has to (insert expletive here) get toBali. I dont (insert expletive here ) think I am going to be able to do this" !!!
Well, all I can say is that the movie proved as excruciating as the three pages of the book that I read and if given the choice bewteen watching it again or chewing my own arm off, I would elect the latter as a more productive use of one's time.
So friends and followers, this is a long winded way of saying that this blog will be about the places, the people the food, the wine, the beauty, the history and the circumstances we find oursleves in whilst away. No navel gazing revelations about finding oneself . just the observations of what will be a wonderful "journey" for which we will have a great "appetite" about which we may have many "conversations" Its just that you will have to bear with me for a wee while til we get there......
Cheers Comrades.
Siobhan befriended a beautiful old beagle last evening lost and wandering in inner Melbourne (the dog, not Siobhan) Suffice it to say, our wonderful vet was able to identify the owner and the dog's name with microchip technology but alas, old data meant we had an overnight boarder. The Westie clan at home were not quite the hospitable crew that we had brought them up to be. Clearly, they dont do share houses!! But no growls or blood was evidenced so all good. This resulted in a canine hand-over during the day today. My only hope is that this new Mum takes better care of her kids than she seems to do with her loyal and lovely old dog!!!!
Back on message though, I received an sms from a friend interstate whose sole comment in relation to my blog, was.....is this blog thing going to be about anything else other than you visiting the gym or not visiting the gym ? You know who you are (Clare)!
I would have thought that the title "Mediterranean Midlife Adventure", may have afforded the odd clue.! But there you go. But it did give rise to assessing what my motives are for doing this. I am intending to write semi -regularly up until my departure date in August, to get into the discipline and habit (unlike my gym behaviour) of regularly and religiously on a daily basis, being able to write about our experiences of being in Italy in particular, for my birthday - a significant birthday ending in an 0.
Which means of course that for the next six weeks, the topics du jour may appear somewhat random to you but I will be relating them to the planning and the countdown to our trip to London, Paris and Italy. I can tell you though what this blog wont be.
This blog wont be some post divorce diatribe, or Oestregen-infused insights or menopausal musings of a woman "finding herself" Good grief I cannot think of anything more dull and mind numbingly self indulgent. Last year or the year before that, my mate Vivianne lent me a book that was of this ilk that was subsequently made into a (and there is no other way to put this ) the MOST DREADFUL movie ever. She had read the first couple of chapters and in her wonderfully pragmatic and understated way, had said it wasnt her kind of thing but as it was extremely popular, perhaps I may like it. I read the first three pages and I too, decided I'd rather take up scrap- booking or quilting. than continue to read this drivel.
Well the movie version of this nonsense was released and on a Saturday afternoon during a blisteringly hot day it was the sole thing available to get into and if anyone has been subjected to this rubbish, you will understand why it was the one movie IN THE WHOLE OF METROPOLITAN MELBOURNE that one could readily get tickets to.
Siobhan and I went into the cinema somewhere in middle class Melbourne and there, save for one sad lone bloke, was a smattering of menopausal ladies wearing a smart three quater length pant, sensible Camper like sandles or slips ons, a pastel colour co-ordinated polo top and carrying the ubiquitous floppy sunhat - de riguer for venturing out in the midday sun.
The movie started and and after what seemed like an interminable age the "heroine of our story" was only preparing to go to her second country of destination. It was at this point that Siobhan leaned over and with a sentence well peppered with expletives went something like..... "F#@kin$ hell ....we still havent even reached (insert expletive here) India yet and she still has to (insert expletive here) get toBali. I dont (insert expletive here ) think I am going to be able to do this" !!!
Well, all I can say is that the movie proved as excruciating as the three pages of the book that I read and if given the choice bewteen watching it again or chewing my own arm off, I would elect the latter as a more productive use of one's time.
So friends and followers, this is a long winded way of saying that this blog will be about the places, the people the food, the wine, the beauty, the history and the circumstances we find oursleves in whilst away. No navel gazing revelations about finding oneself . just the observations of what will be a wonderful "journey" for which we will have a great "appetite" about which we may have many "conversations" Its just that you will have to bear with me for a wee while til we get there......
Cheers Comrades.
Monday, 4 July 2011
The Planning Phase (4)
Its blowing a gale and we have just had a little earthquake (4.4 on the Richter scale according to Twitter!) Its lunchtime at work so I thought i would write my entry today as I am likely to be asleep by 7.30 this evening.Yes, folks, finally managed to make it to the wretched gym with Siobhan at o'christ o'clock this morning.
Out into sub zero temperatures (well maybe a slight exageration), we ventured, got to the gym and it took a good 10 minutes solid exercising before I defrosted. The gym is alot like Crown Casino - no-one ever looks truly happy to be there! Anyway, schlepped on the treadmill and stationary bike then attempted pretzel like manouvres on the floor. Have found that absence from the gym and a penchant for gorgeous foodstuffs has made the pretzel impersonations more aspirational than actual in execution so I have my work cut out for me. But then anyone who has seen me recently knows that anyway.
I need to keep this gym business going though so that come Cinque Terre time, my short stubby legs with my netballed and lacrossed knees, wont give up the ghost, mid terre. I live in hope.
Last night was reading "My Almafi Coast" by a Tabbarer daughter - cant recall which one though. Her book is full of beautiful photos of the coast, its people and the places to enjoy. I think it was this book that provided the impetus for me to catapult (again, another slight exageration) out of bed this morning in sheer determination to offset fututre carb loading that I have no doubt I will be forced to do in Italy. The book mentions so many long standing ristorantes that are a must when visiting the area.
You may have noticed a recurrent theme in my posts - food. Love to cook it and love to eat it . I just think it is so damn unfair of the science world and our hedonistic society with its unregulated system of attraction, that it allows two, albeit very lovely people, (both of average build but with a strong propensity to store fat cells around the thighs, buttocks and tummy) to be able to procreate without thought or consideration for how their progeny are going to combat this life long curse, whilst maintaining a love affair of all things cuisine (except for offal).
I am cursed forever, flayling around in this gene pool and no amount of treadmill time, nor deprivation diets will fundamentally alter the shape I am destined to be. However, should I win the $30mill in mid July, then I am off to have it sucked, lifted, tucked, redistributed and if its at all surgically possible, a procedure that embedds some kind of permanent stillhetto into my refashioned feet to afford me permanent height!
In the event that we dont win the $30mill, then I will simply have to reconcile myself to the fact that at least for 10 weeks I can blame the indulgence and the inevitable weight gain on Italy and the cultural imperative that food plays in its culture. To abstain would be impolite
Ciao Bellas.
Kelly
Out into sub zero temperatures (well maybe a slight exageration), we ventured, got to the gym and it took a good 10 minutes solid exercising before I defrosted. The gym is alot like Crown Casino - no-one ever looks truly happy to be there! Anyway, schlepped on the treadmill and stationary bike then attempted pretzel like manouvres on the floor. Have found that absence from the gym and a penchant for gorgeous foodstuffs has made the pretzel impersonations more aspirational than actual in execution so I have my work cut out for me. But then anyone who has seen me recently knows that anyway.
I need to keep this gym business going though so that come Cinque Terre time, my short stubby legs with my netballed and lacrossed knees, wont give up the ghost, mid terre. I live in hope.
Last night was reading "My Almafi Coast" by a Tabbarer daughter - cant recall which one though. Her book is full of beautiful photos of the coast, its people and the places to enjoy. I think it was this book that provided the impetus for me to catapult (again, another slight exageration) out of bed this morning in sheer determination to offset fututre carb loading that I have no doubt I will be forced to do in Italy. The book mentions so many long standing ristorantes that are a must when visiting the area.
You may have noticed a recurrent theme in my posts - food. Love to cook it and love to eat it . I just think it is so damn unfair of the science world and our hedonistic society with its unregulated system of attraction, that it allows two, albeit very lovely people, (both of average build but with a strong propensity to store fat cells around the thighs, buttocks and tummy) to be able to procreate without thought or consideration for how their progeny are going to combat this life long curse, whilst maintaining a love affair of all things cuisine (except for offal).
I am cursed forever, flayling around in this gene pool and no amount of treadmill time, nor deprivation diets will fundamentally alter the shape I am destined to be. However, should I win the $30mill in mid July, then I am off to have it sucked, lifted, tucked, redistributed and if its at all surgically possible, a procedure that embedds some kind of permanent stillhetto into my refashioned feet to afford me permanent height!
In the event that we dont win the $30mill, then I will simply have to reconcile myself to the fact that at least for 10 weeks I can blame the indulgence and the inevitable weight gain on Italy and the cultural imperative that food plays in its culture. To abstain would be impolite
Ciao Bellas.
Kelly
Sunday, 3 July 2011
The Planning Phase (3)
Well I am watching the men's Wimbeldon Final at the moment and cannot help thinking that in a few short weeks we will be there - not Wimbeldon but England at least , albeit that it is a life long ambition to be able to see tennis played at the "Mecca" of all tennis tournaments. I love attending the Aus Open each year so Wimbeldon would be dream.
But today spent some time looking into tours of the Vatican. There are some "after dark" tours that particularly appeal wherein the Sistine Chapel is more accessible and that certainly holds some appeal, but I would also like to visit the V Gardens to get a different sense of the place.
I expect to have a somewhat love/hate reaction to the whole place. Not from any terrible catholic education experiences per se (other than a healthy cynicism for the quantum leap or suspension of logic one had to make to survive the nonsensical learnings to become a "good catholic" girl)......but more from the accumulation and display of such wealth when so many of catholicism's most devout followers live in such abject poverty and retain such a strong sense of faith.
I can appreciate the history, the beauty, the art and the architecture. But concurrently I am also reminded of Popes that had mistresses and children, of vendettas, plots, poisonings and murders planned and executed in the pursuit or maintenance of a slippery grip on power. As such, I have no strong views about the private lives of these people, except to the extent that they espoused and imposed a morale framework or code upon their followers whilst they lived by an entirely different code altogether. It is this inherent hypocrisy that I have always struggled with. When I was taking Chinese politics at Uni, I came across the quote from Mao Tse Tung that " Religion is the opiate for the Masses" I tend to agree that an intrinisically good thing (spirtuality) has been hijacked and become a "product like any other seeking to increase marketshare and its management or governance framework, for mine, becomes an organisation is like any other corporation - power is an extremely potent drug and people when in positions of the like will endeavor to do whatever to maintain it. In doing so, they can also develop a sense of entitlement to be exempt from the same obligations or rules that they enforce or impose on their followers or believers. I clearly am not a fan of organized religion, but then you have probably already worked that out by now !
Still, I am looking forward to seeing the beauty and the majesty of it all. To witness the reactions of others around me will also be pretty amazing. So I will sign off with a loss by Raphael, and the rebirth (again) of junior tennis in Australia. !!!
Ciao Tennis Loving Comrades
Kelly
But today spent some time looking into tours of the Vatican. There are some "after dark" tours that particularly appeal wherein the Sistine Chapel is more accessible and that certainly holds some appeal, but I would also like to visit the V Gardens to get a different sense of the place.
I expect to have a somewhat love/hate reaction to the whole place. Not from any terrible catholic education experiences per se (other than a healthy cynicism for the quantum leap or suspension of logic one had to make to survive the nonsensical learnings to become a "good catholic" girl)......but more from the accumulation and display of such wealth when so many of catholicism's most devout followers live in such abject poverty and retain such a strong sense of faith.
I can appreciate the history, the beauty, the art and the architecture. But concurrently I am also reminded of Popes that had mistresses and children, of vendettas, plots, poisonings and murders planned and executed in the pursuit or maintenance of a slippery grip on power. As such, I have no strong views about the private lives of these people, except to the extent that they espoused and imposed a morale framework or code upon their followers whilst they lived by an entirely different code altogether. It is this inherent hypocrisy that I have always struggled with. When I was taking Chinese politics at Uni, I came across the quote from Mao Tse Tung that " Religion is the opiate for the Masses" I tend to agree that an intrinisically good thing (spirtuality) has been hijacked and become a "product like any other seeking to increase marketshare and its management or governance framework, for mine, becomes an organisation is like any other corporation - power is an extremely potent drug and people when in positions of the like will endeavor to do whatever to maintain it. In doing so, they can also develop a sense of entitlement to be exempt from the same obligations or rules that they enforce or impose on their followers or believers. I clearly am not a fan of organized religion, but then you have probably already worked that out by now !
Still, I am looking forward to seeing the beauty and the majesty of it all. To witness the reactions of others around me will also be pretty amazing. So I will sign off with a loss by Raphael, and the rebirth (again) of junior tennis in Australia. !!!
Ciao Tennis Loving Comrades
Kelly
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)