The Great Debate

Surprisingly, given a federal election is just days away, I'm not talking politics.

Nor am I referring to the circus that was the 'gallery' at my local council meeting last Monday night, debating the development of a new sports complex. That was a doozy, with the protesters putting on quite the performance, with heckling, name-calling, booing, swearing, waving laminated A4 placards, turning their backs in protest - the only thing missing was popcorn.

I'm all for the sporting complex, which is very much needed and very much not wanted by the bowling club and several other groups in the area. I get that people don't like change, especially as they get older, but with a rapidly growing population and a shortage of sporting facilities (especially for girls), it is inevitable.

The protestors had the decision delayed, but lost at this meeting. Their parting response was 'See you in court!'. It may go on, but as I said, progress, demand and change are against the protestors and it will surely, eventually happen.

But back to the great debate; where to put the toilet paper holder in our new bathroom.

Yep, nothin' but the big issues here, people.

So here's the situation; I want it positioned along-side the toilet, Geoff wants it in front of the toilet - almost (by my reckoning) near the door!

His argument is that when he's on the toot, he'll bang his elbow or leg if it's too close, he'll feel cramped and have to twist unnecessarily.

My argument is that'll it'll look like it's about to leave the room and would be much neater tucked in next to the loo - and as I'm much shorter, it won't be an issue for me at all.

Approximate markers of where the toilet roll holder should go

He had stuck a small piece of blue tape in his ideal spot and marked it with a pencil. A day or two after the discussion, he had the audacity to accuse me of moving the tape and smudging the pencil!! (Actually, I did.)

For this year-long reno, we've managed to agree or compromise on hundreds of decisions, but on this, we've reached a stalemate. And what I have discovered is, he who wields the hammer drill, holds the power. Which is not to say he's won, but that he's just refusing to put it on the wall at all - for now.

So, there it sits, with the box, two screws and packaging, waiting for a compromise...

No hurry. We still have about 30 other jobs that need to be done!

The Run

I reckon I've done at least ten Run For The Kids runs and frankly, I ain't gettin' any better!

Of late, I've been doing weight training (having thought I was fairly strong but discovered I'm a weakling!!) and attempting interval training on the treadmill. I can't even remember the last time I ran 10kms, and this was - thankfully - shorter than prior years at just 12.8km.

The course took us over the Bolte Bridge, which is a killer gradual climb, this year coupled with a strong, too-warm headwind.

Doesn't look high - you really need to be plodding up it to fully appreciate the pain!

At the top of the bridge, a local radio station had a promotional team waving some pretty funny signs, including these, which spoke to me!

Keep running. The day will come when you CAN'T do this. 

You're not slow. You're just enjoying the course.

There were over 20,000 people running and walking, and as always, I put myself in the second fastest running division. I do this because you don't have to hang around and get to start earlier, but it also meant that although I victoriously passed about 8 people (all walking), I was passed by about 8,000 runners!! It's not encouraging 😟

Some of the 'crush' who shot past me

Worse still, I took so long my Spotify running playlist ran out, so it started serving up a random selection of whatever. As I reached the low point of the run, about 4kms  from the end, I got "I Hate Myself" by the Pretenders - a dreary number with a terrible message that repeats the phrase 'I hate myself' about 80 times in a row. (Seriously, look it up - you need to hear it to appreciate the full misery of the moment.) So not okay. But to change it,  I'd have to have pulled over to get my phone out of my armband, and I was terrified that if I stopped, I'd never go again. (That and my time which I didn't want to compromise.)

After the run

I use an app that tracks my time and was surprised to see I'd started off oaky with 6-minute kilometres, but less surprised that my average slowed with inclines and time. Anyway, I plodded the entire way and got a time that in previous years, I would have been happy with - when the course was 15kms!!

So now, like after every other run, I promise myself to be better prepared and fitter next year - which never happens!!

Camping At Home

As part of what feels like the world's longest renovation, our floors are being sanded back and stained, which means we've moved out to the shed.

We've been semi-living in the shed since July last year when the kitchen was ripped out. There's a bar fridge, a microwave and a two-ring gas cooker. Between that and the barbeque, we've managed to avoid the temptation (and expense!) of Uber Eats.

However, we have managed, until now, to be sleeping and showering in the house. Now we've all been evicted - including Gary.

Night one was a disaster.

Sass and I took a couch each. These were the cheapest couches going on the internet. They look deceptively okay but my god, they're uncomfortable beyond description. I know why they sell them online - if you had the opportunity to sit on them in a store, you wouldn't buy them.

The backs fold back to make beds and Elle says inviting guests to sleep on them is just plain rude! I'd lie on one and say they were fine and no guest has complained. Let me state, here and now, they are NOT FINE!!  Despite my $50 mattress toppers, those beds are brutal. There's a hard ridge right down the centre that even the topper and a woollen underlay can't take the edge off.

Geoff had the blow-up mattress, which has had years of reliable use - until that first night - when it slowly deflated leaving Geoff lying on the cold tiles. Fortunately, I'd set up an inflatable single bed for Elle who's coming home on Friday, so at about 3am, he crawled on to that. Unfortunately, his head hung off one end and his feet off the other.

 I looked for the puncture in the morning, gave up and headed to Anaconda. They had a deluxe QS inflatable bed, with built-in pump for $69. Done.

I got it home, pumped it up, made it and had a lie-down, admiring its comfort. (That's it below left. It's even as high as a proper bed!)

Last night, I abandoned my couch and joined Geoff. It was no better. It was so bouncy with two people that I was almost sea-sick. It'll be back to the world's most uncomfortable couch tonight.

If I'm a little crotchety when you see me, you'll know why - lack of sleep. But what I'm not getting, Gary is making up for - he seems to be loving the arrangement!!

Catnapped - again!!

Gary is a little pissed off - and I don't blame him.

It's been nearly two years since he was last catnapped and he didn't enjoy that experience either.

Now it's happened again; on Thursday, about 5.30pm.

I received a call from someone at the council from Pet Control regarding Gary. (Actually, I don't think it's really called Pet Control, but it was something like that.)  I confess, my first thought was that he'd been squashed on a road somewhere, but no, just a call to ask me to retrieve him, uninjured, from the emergency animal hospital on Dandenong Road.

The council person explained they'd tracked me down via his microchip and that the vet at the hospital was concerned that Gary was so skinny. Seriously, I've never had Child Protection knock at my door, but I did have a bit of insight at that moment of what it might feel like.

Before I had time to get too defensive, she did say she'd check his file (Gary has a file!!) and noted that he is 15, so maybe that's why he's scrawny.

I still felt compelled to let her know that we are caring and responsible cat owners, we lock him in at night, give him medication twice a day for his dodgy thyroid and that he's basically living the life of Riley.

Anyway... yet again, some do-gooder had scrapped Gary up, most likely from right outside our house, and zipped him off to the animal hospital. Gee - that would have been a fun ride without a cat-carrier and knowing that most times Gary's put in a car, his immediate response is to do a really big, sloppy, smelly poo.

Like the previous post, he was wearing a collar from our vet with his name on it. It wasn't like he could be mistaken for a stray. I mentioned this to the lady from Pet Control, but she said the hospital hadn't mentioned a collar.

Sass and her friend arrived home - did they want to come and pick up Gary? No - so not.

I was forced to schlep alone through peak-hour traffic to the hospital - around 30 minutes. Such bad timing. If at any point, you're thinking of taking Gary to a vet, just because, could you at least make it outside of peak hour, please?

On arrival, I tried to ascertain what idiot had scrapped Gazza up from his own street, whilst minding his own business, and rushed him to the hospital - but they were giving me nothing. The woman there claimed to only know that he'd been dropped off. (BTW, I didn't use the word 'idiot' while I was there - it was more of your polite, vague enquiry.)

We're were going against the traffic on the way home so it was a quicker trip than the way there. Nor did Gary, secure in his cat-carrier, empty his bowels - he must have done that earlier with the good samaritans. I guess as the saying goes, righteousness is its own punishment!

Gary - pleased to be home!

Friday lunch

A colleague and I had lunch on Friday at a Melbourne restaurant in South Yarra that's a bit of a bloke's club. We knew that when we agreed on the location, as it served our purpose and was convenient for us both, but boy, (and I use that expression deliberately) did we get lunch and a show.

The tables are tight in this establishment, the place was jam-packed (mostly with businessmen) and pressed into the front window was my colleague and me on one small table and a man heading for sixty on his own next to us. I'd overheard him tell the waiter that his dining companion had been caught up with work so would be very late.

We enjoyed a delicious lunch (rabbit and fish) and a glass of Chablis each, but more importantly, we enjoyed proper conversation. I'd been to a symposium on Death and Dying the day before (another post to come on that!) and having both suffered family losses, we picked through some of our own experiences as well as society's attitude to discussing death and responding to grief. We were fully engaged.

Having finished eating, I ordered a mint tea and my colleague, sparkling water - and that's when things quickly went downhill.

I'd happened to notice, without judgement, that our fellow diner had had a couple of beers before his steak and was now onto his second or third red wine. As our tea and water were brought to our table, he said 'Gee, you two are good,' raising his glass to us.

And so began his interjection.

He asked us if we were old friends, and we laughed and said no, new ones. At that, he appeared to be caught off guard, even slightly embarrassed - like we were on a date - but then tried hastily to compose himself and be 'cool with that'. He then asked about our line of work and quickly, the conversation turned to sexual harassment and the inequality of women in the workplace.

Women, he told us, are often the best in their field, like gynaecologists. (Yes, he actually said that.) To give more evidence to his point, he started counting off on his sausage-like-fingers the professionals in his life who were women - his doctor, his accountant... then realised that was it. Awkward.

When we drifted on to sexual harassment, he lent over and banged our table aggressively to make his point that it was not on, almost spilling my tea. It was very disconcerting, but he was completely unaware.

I relayed a story of my younger years in advertising of a male colleague who asked why I recoiled every time he came near me - apparently it wasn't good for his reputation. We ended up making a pact that he wouldn't touch me and I wouldn't cringe. And then, bugger me if old-mate didn't start tapping my shoulder and pawing at my arm!!

Let me hastily add that this was no indication of him favouring me over my very attractive colleague - it was simply that I was within reach.

He even told us that back in the day, his place of employment issued a code of conduct for a Christmas party and he'd decided it was all ridiculous and too hard, so he didn't go.

His position on equality was becoming increasingly confusing. And there was only one way out... gosh, is that the time? We got up and headed to the bar to pay the bill and get the heck outta there.

Compost

Yes. Really. Compost.

The kids think it's gross, but I hate putting food scraps into the landfill where it doesn't even break down. I classify myself as 'pale green' when it comes to the environment but aspire to 'mid-green'.

So for many years now, I've composted. Thrown all the food, coals from the fire, cat litter, some garden waste, newspaper, boxes of worms and the occasional bag of lime when it gets smelly into the big black bin that creates a haven not just for worms, but fat slugs, earwigs, beetles and spiders, including the occasional Red Back. Might be why the kids freak out when I insist they need to take the kitchen scraps out. Elle says It's the one thing I don't do - not true, there are plenty of household tasks she doesn't do, just BTW.

But all that composting means every couple of years, I have to do something with it!

It's been opportune, as due to the renovation that I've already bored you senseless with (and is dragging on ad nauseam), I was forced to put a pause on the composting process.

(Know though, that my new kitchen has a four-bin system that I chose to accommodate my waste sorting; recycling, landfill, compost and soft plastics. The latter gets returned to supermarkets I don't shop at - I  just swing past on my way to Aldi to give them my plastic for recycling. They must love customers like me!)

Anyway, the compost was well due for attention. It's a nasty job, as it requires 'sifting' through in small batches to remove the things that haven't or don't decompose. This includes chicken and chop bones, peach and nectarine stones, a squillion fruit stickers (geez I wish they'd stop using those things!!), fancy gauze teabags and their strings that I thought were biodegradable but turn out to be polyester, heaps of nails from the reclaimed timber used in the fire and an assortment of plastics, like bread bag clips, bottle tops and packaging that lazy members of this family have chucked in there because they couldn't be bothered putting it in the bin. (I should make them sift through the compost - that'd fix them!!)

The output of this hideously tedious, unpleasant process was several very satisfying tubs of deliciously rich soil to spread about the garden, repotted and even redo a terrarium - and an empty compost bin so I can start the process again.

Empty Compost bin - yay!!

However, there is one small downside; sprouts. I have tomatoes, pumpkins and god-knows-what popping up everywhere!! Mind you, they're easy to pluck out so guess it's a small price to pay for fabulous, free and environmentally friendly soil.

Packing and layering

Quite a few people asked if we had enough clothes on our trip, with temperatures that got as low as minus 28. The answer is yes, (remember the bun fight that was the Aldi Ski Sale??) but it wasn't light travelling.

The hardest part was getting it all there and back because it was 32C when we left Melbourne and about the same when we returned. I actually wore my aprés boots and took my down parka on the plane (which I always like to do anyway as it's a wearable doona!) But I had to squeeze everything else into my bag.

I'm sure many of you are already all over it, but I cannot tell you how good packing cubes are, especially as the majority of my wardrobe is black. I typically have to dig every time to locate anything and often several times. Not any more!

See below. I'm a roller (not a folder) but you can sort all your stuff into different cubes - tops, bottoms, underwear, socks, hats, gloves, toiletries, etc. They also help squash things in.

For hand luggage, I just had a tote, but some travelling essentials for me are a reusable water bottle, a flask for coffee (fill up at the breakfast buffet!) and of course, decent headphones.

Footwear is a big space stealer so I kept mine to the bare minimum. In fact, I took my runners and active wear out at the last minute. There were some hotels with gyms, but really, who was I kidding?? I didn't miss them. I just had my aprés boots, thongs (for sauna, lagoon, etc) and hotel slippers.

I also popped in these brilliant possum skin booties I'd bought in New Zealand to line my ski boots. I got the idea in Japan where there was a pair of boots with rabbit fur lining. These went into my aprés boots and were amazing at keeping my sockless toes toasty. 

So, how cold? Well, when we went on the reindeer sleigh, I was wearing:

• High tech thermal leggings
• Fleece lined thermal leggings
• Normal leggings
• Thermal top
• Wolf fur vest (that I bought in Mongolia)
• A polar fleece hoodie
• The North Face down jacket (700 loft)
• Ski parker (also padded against the cold)
• Merino wool glove inners
• Insulated ski gloves
• Merino balaclava
• Thermal neck-warmer
• Big furry hat with pull-down ears borrowed from the resort for the activity

And over all that, we were given thermal suits (onesies). When I managed to get it on over all that, I was so hot I thought I'd expire, but once out in the snow and just a few minutes on the sleigh, I was comfortable.  

I probably could have travelled a little lighter, but as my friend Jane says, it's always easy in hindsight!!