Regrets - I have a few...

During a recent health check by my employer, I was given the devastating news that I have the hearing of a person ‘in her sixties’ - the devastating thing being that I’m not 60, but in fact 37. Has my hearing loss been a result of loud machinery in my workplace, the nurse asked? Sighing, I admitted ‘Noooo’, shaking my head sadly. I had to admit to her that the blame lies fairly and squarely with new wave romantic pop in the 80s, grunge rock in the 90s, and dance music in the noughtes. It was the Walkman, the Discman, the Ipod - all turned up loud, 25 odd years of musical and technological history slowly eroding my hearing. I've got to say - I'm truly lamenting the fact that I'm now too deaf to appreciate the most recent musical genius of 2012, Psy and Gangnam style. Oh, the inhumanity!

                                                         

But seriously, a chill grips my heart when I think of how I'll be explaining to my daughter in twenty years time that the reason why I have to sit virtually on top of her to hear her is all because I loved to listen to Madonna's "Vogue" really loudly back in 1989 on my Sony Walkman. ‘Madonna?’ she'll ask, of the 70 year old singer, still touring. ‘That lady with all the crazy muscles?’ Indeed, I'll shake my head and wonder – was it really worth the permanent damage to my ears?

Regrets, yep I have a few. Why did I not have the foresight in the 80s to snaffle all of Grandpa's mint condition 1960s furniture? I could be sitting on a pot of gold now, negotiating inflated prices with hipsters throughout Sydney and Melbourne, desperate to pay a ridiculous sum for a formica kitchen table that you would have had to pay to have taken to the tip back in 1988. Where was the foresight??!

Well, I was probably studying too hard back then to have given it any kind of thought. And I regret that too. What was the point of all those hours studying those Arts subjects to never, ever, ever have any employer look at the actual results. I only needed one word for that CV - "PASS". Gee…all that time wasted in Sydney Uni library when I could have been partying with the St John's College guys. Hmmm, actually....scrap that thought.

But speaking of education - I regret wasting so much time in high school slagging off anything fun as totally ‘uncool’, and avoiding anything extra-curricular like the plague. Why didn't I do the school musical, the plays, the Rock Eisteddfod? Back then it was all too Mr G for this surly teen, slowly degrading her hearing with The Cure turned up loud in the ear phones, and sneering at the drama club. But what I wouldn't give now to be swapping the adult ‘thrill’ of yet another sedate dinner party, with the prospect of three weeks of rehearsals with zillions of friends, spirit fingers, sequined costumes, and themed choreography... Oh to be young again! Sadly, there is no way that there'll be a chance at a Rock Eisteddfod now at 37. I’m afraid that glittered cardboard backdrop ship has sailed...

So regrets, I have a few. And I will never have 100 per cent hearing again - I can't turn back time. But maybe I should start turning the volume down now so I can save what hearing I do have left. Because God knows I don’t want to miss out hearing with clarity what will be the latest music fad when I’m at least a spectator at my children’s future Rock Eisteddfod.

Project Update

The projects have been trundling along nicely in recent months.

Renovations: The front room continues its transformation from 1990s Aussie cottage into a 1960s Scandinavian retreat. Okay, its a slow transformation - no need to invite Olaf and Helga over yet. But with the addition of charcoal colour lounges, a knock off Hans Wegner arm chair (I'm not to proud to declare its knock off status) and a real antique - maybe? - ship acquired from an auction house, the nautical look is really taking shape. Crack open the sardines and the Finlandia vodka...

Gardening: The spring veggies are going into overdrive. We've planted a range of tomatoes, the leeks are still trying to fatten up (so slow to grow!), broad beans are looking good, cucumber vines are taking over, corn cobs are actually forming, and we have zucchini flowers popping up here and there. To add to the mix, we have basil, oregano, mint, thyme and some chillis to fill in the empty spots in the patch. But by God, its hot, and there has been very little rain. Subsequently, I've almost killed a peach tree, and I'm hovering over my blueberry bush nervously. Mulch may be my only hope. We've entered the world of composting (what are we, 70 year olds?) but I'm getting increasingly obsessive about how little garbage I'm filling the wheelie bin with, and how much waste is going into my fermenting fertiliser! Very excited about our little gift to the environment.

Running: Back on the regime last week with a twelve or so km run, and a few smaller ones throughout the week. No big runs coming up but may have to book myself into one to make myself train....uugh

Books: Just finished three books in the last fortnight of writers who I have reviewed here before. Ben Law's new non fiction 'Gaysia' is his collection of findings from travelling to Asian regions and taking a snapshot of their gay and lesbian culture. Part fun, mostly serious, Law looks at, among other issues, the Ladyboy phenomenon in Thailand, the acceptance of camp culture in Japan but not of lesbian culture, the strictness of Mayanmar society and the terrible toll that and poverty has taken on those with HIV, and the clash between strict religious beliefs and homosexuality in most of the countries. It's a really interesting read and told with Law's deft touch. Denise Scott's 'The Tour' was not as funny and poignant as her first memoir 'All That Happened at No 26' but was still an enjoyable read as she recounts her relationship with her mother from the 1960s in her childhood to the difficult years of caring for her mother during her latter years with Alzheimer's. The last was a 2011 novel from Charlotte Wood, 'Animal People'. I reviewed 'Love and Hunger' here previously, which was her 2012 non fiction that I loved. 'Animal People' was well regarded by critics when it was released: it follows one crappy day in the life of the protagonist who is a 40ish Australian man trying to cope with the relationships with his coworkers, his family and his partner and her children. The day culminates in a kid's party with annoying in laws, ex partners and a cranky hired fairy performer. Hey, we've all been there. The characters are unlikeable, and the tension is well tuned by Wood. Not a pleasant read, but well crafted and in the genre of 'The Slap' if you liked that.
Hey, all Australian writers! Good to support the talented locals...

Anger Management

One of the biggest concerns I have had during recent media coverage of social media events has been the highlighting of just how much anger there is out there. The backlash via Twitter to Olympians who did not perform to the standards expected by some of the population; the horrible Twitter messages to the lovely Chrissie Swan condemning how she raises her children; the ghastly messages sent to Charlotte Dawson on Twitter; the complex issue of people harrassing an innocent man with the same name as the alleged killer of Jill Meagher via Facebook; the all too usual rubbish out of Alan Jones' mouth, recorded on a phone and then sent out via social media to the public - all of this leaves me gibsmacked and quite unsettled. Not just because I fear that the rate of social media development is accelarating faster than we can emotionally, mentally, ethically and legally cope with it - yes, there is that fear - but more so the fear that there is just so much vitriol out there in the general public. Why are these people so angry??? They live in a country with freedom of speech, a generally reliable democracy, free access to a great health and education system, fresh food and water...

I could go on. And not only am I baffled as to why they are so angry... but where are they getting the spare time to be angry? I can barely maintain ten servings of fruit and veg a day, 30 minutes of exercise, quality time with family and friends, interest in my job, and clean clothes to wear for the week - let alone time to get out my phone, raise my blood pressure to a sufficiently white hot level of anger, and let forth a load of nasty commentary on someone who I have never met, has no impact on my life, and who will never meet me or care who I am. These faceless people must really be getting something positive out of spewing such negative karma onto people who have done nothing at all to provoke such anger...otherwise I can't imagine why they would waste all that emotional energy.

All I can say is that obviously, I am a child of hippie parents - because I can't help but think, live and let live. Sending out so much bad karma can only come back to haunt you.

And additionally, beware the force of social media - as Alan Jones has found out, there's no such thing as speaking 'off the record' anymore...

Tall, Dark and Handsome... With A Moustache

The recent spate of deliciously retrospective television viewing has been catnip to this 1970s child. For years I have been explaining to Gen Y and Gen Z lasses why I actually enjoy the eye candy during ‘Movember’ due to my love of the moustachioed man. These young gals, used to dating men who have laser removed any errant hairs off their body for fear of displaying a whiff of testosterone, shake their heads in bewilderment and wonder aloud at my peculiar attraction to this dated facial hair style. But I know why I love this look. Two words: Dennis Lillee.

Watching ‘Howzat! Kerry Packer’s War’ was an enjoyable trip down memory lane. My husband was intrigued that this non-sport-watching woman could name all the players in episode one. But I reminded him that those halcyon days of cricket were the soundtrack to my childhood. I remember playing with my Barbies in front of our tiny, boxy Panasonic television, as Dad cracked open a KB and urged Lillee and Chappell on - and I would have been taking in all that magnificent visual imagery by osmosis. I remember watching Lillee fly down the wicket, luscious locks lifted by the wind, sweat glistening on his luxuriant chest hair, sunlight glinting off his gold chains, and teeth flashing under his thick moustache. And I thought - that’s a man!

I could run down a list of similarly manly men that I still look at and think, “phoar”: Tom Selleck, Robert De Costello, Sean Connery, George Negus, Burt Reynolds (in his glory days – not now!!!).  All the same man - moustache, chest hair, glint in the eye, rugged. Think of them busting out of their tight 1970s shirts, seductively unbuttoned to the waist. Their jeans were tight around the waist, and flared out magnificently over their platform boots. Or they’d be wearing stubbies and double plugger thongs... actually, forget the stubbies (let’s all agree that was a bad look).

Could it be that my idea of manly perfection was set by those first images I saw on television as a child? They do say that we are sponges in those formative years.  Is the look of our day, the fashion from our formative years, the look that then forms our ideal of perfection? And if that’s the case, will my daughter in 2030 be lusting after men with Justin Beiber floppy hair, doe eyes, and spray tanned hairless chests? God help her. But God also help the women whose ideal was formed in the 30s at the picture shows: they’ve probably been searching in futility for Cary Grant lookalikes strolling the suburban malls of Australia.  I guess they are in the same boat as those eighties girls dreaming of Simon le Bon look-alikes in puffy pirate shirts and black eyeliner. Or Baby Boomers searching online dating sites for men with mop-top haircuts,  mod suits and Liverpudlian accents.

At least I have 30 days in Movember...                          

                                                                                                                                    

All By Myself.... ivillage Post

Here is the latest post on ivillage - check it out...

http://www.ivillage.com.au/could-be-seriously-good-your-soul/148812

Common Sense Means Increased Cents

We could talk at length about the topic of marketing kids clothing in a prematurely sexualised fashion but that's not the issue that piqued my interest today regarding the news that a Facebook user's criticism of Target's kids' clothing went viral (http://www.smh.com.au/lifestyle/fashion/storm-over-targets-trampy-fashion-sense-20120813-244xz.html) What interested me was the deathly slow response Target had in quelling the issue: more than 24 hours after the comment was posted. And in the social media world - that's like a lifetime. Target have now posted an email with an apology for any offense caused by their marketing and asked the individual who made the complaint to discuss offline her problem with the clothing products. This was after 44 000 'likes' on the comment spiralled the issue out of control and 2300 comments agreed whole heartedly with the concerned consumer...and this was after Target was hit with the sort of negative national press that I'm sure it would rather not receive.

Social media is fast. Social media is pithy. And social media users become bored with a story really quickly, especially if an issue is quelled quietly, and on the spot before a flame of interest can be ignited. If retailers are to use social media (and let's face it, they're all having a crack now), they need to employ staff who understand how to manage their online marketing, and empower those individuals to deal with matters professionally and efficiently. It doesn't take a genius to guess that if you have a Facebook page that invites commentary from the public, you are bound to have complaints come your way - did Target not have some sort of procedure in place for responding to any complaint immediately with a pat line composed by the marketing team? It's my bet that some poor sap running the website had to send the email up through the hierarchy to think about whether the issue was worth responding to - and then had to wait for the big wigs to give him/her the authority to send an apology email. But - alas, the horse had bolted and the news websites and tv programmes had already grabbed the story and run with it...

All it takes is a bit of common sense to deal with customer complaints, but like a churlish old woman, I rather fear that common sense is disappearing from this world. And like a churlish old woman I think it best not to delve into the argument that kids' clothing is becoming too sexualised... Toddlers and Tiaras anyone?

Project Updates!

Now for an update on how the projects are progressing.

Renovations: We've almost come to the end of painting the rendered exterior in the obligatory 'coastal' off white and grey. I must say that rendering really freshens the outdated red brick but as with all good things in life, came at an expense... needless to say, at the end of this stint of renovations we will be penniless. But luckily we can subsist on our own agricultural pursuits....

Gardening: We are now reaping the rewards of patiently tending to our veggie patch and have had TWO WHOLE MEALS from our harvest! A silverbeet, chorizo and cannelini bean dish and broccoli with our lamb and cous cous tonight. I can certainly attest to the silverbeet and broccoli being crisper than their store bought peers, and they were, of course cheaper as well! First stop - supplying our crisper, next stop - supplying Woolworths. Well, you have to dream big...

Running: Completed the Sutherland to Surf 11 km run in a much better time than expected! It was a miserable, drizzling morning so I stepped up the pace just so I could finish gthe damn thing and get indoors. Didn't stop the whole way and completed the run in one hour and seven minutes. There's fight in this old dog yet...

Baking: Have to confess that my recent baking attemtps were both from .... (look around and lower voice)... packet mixes. Shocking, I know. I tried to make pizza dough from a packet mix and while it was edible, it was a bit thick and gooey. Problem diagnosed there - I need to roll out the base a bit better, rather than trying to prise a globby mess off the kitchen counter and throwing it on the pizza stone. Then I tried a Donna Hay mix to make macarons. I didn't believe that you could put such an infamously hard-to-make sweet treat from a mix, and it turns out - you can't. Sorry Donna. Actually, they tasted pretty good but didn't rise as much as Zumbos (no surprises there). And I made them the size of frisbees. However, a frisbee sized flat macaron is still pretty good to eat, thus proving that the path to hell is lined with macarons.

Books: Finished reading Chris Cleave's 'Gold' and really found it hard to believe that it was the same author that wrote the brilliant 'The Other Hand'. Looked up a review online to see how it has been received by the critics. Came across one from The Guardian which, paraphrased, wondered 'Is this the same author who wrote....'. Maybe I should write reviews for the Guardian? The novel was fine for an airport style page turner to fill the hours, but hardly the standard of work expected from this author. Still, it was relevant at the moment while the Olympics are on. Speaking of which, back to the tv, someone's about to cry again over being only the second best at something in the world...