The woman is always right...

...even if she's wrong, she's right. Always. So far my Beloved has only learned the basics of his training and has learned to say, "Yes Dear" whenever he seems uncertain of what should be said. It's a start but there's still a way to go. Sunday is church day. Beloved hasn't yet cottoned on to the idea that Sunday is not sleep in day. Sunday is the day that we have to be out of the front door in order to be somewhere at a certain time. He works hard during the week so I suppose a lie in wouldn't do him too much harm once in a while. What isn't good for his health however, is when he slips out the door, backs out the car and toots impatiently after I've been organizing kids and had to chase him out of the shower (I think he rather enjoyed that). Today I warned him in no uncertain terms that this would NOT be happening.

It happened.

So today was as good a time as any to teach this man a lesson in husbandly etiquette. As I made my way to the car I *politely* expressed my annoyance. The correct response should have been "Sorry Dear. You're right. It was very rude of me. I shan't let it happen again".

I NEED to get one of these for Beloved!

He laughed. That was his mistake.

"I am NOT getting in this car with YOU. I would rather WALK!" There. That should show him I mean business. NOW he would tell me he was sorry and start grovelling for me to get in the car so we could get to church on time.

He laughed again. Oh crap. Now I have to start walking.
Husbands are very much like children. One must carry through with a threat for them to be properly trained. So I started walking.

 Any minuted now he's going to pull up beside me and BEG me to get in the car.
Sure enough, Beloved stopped the car..."Get in!"
 What? That's not begging. That's a command!  So I thrust my double A chest out, threw my nose in the air and waved him on. HE DROVE OFF!!!

So Plan A had fallen to pieces. Fortunately, since Church is a 4.5km walk uphill, I had a Plan B. My friend R lives just around the corner and she's always late for church...except for today.

Plan C: Start walking. This is when I became immensely grateful that I was wearing my Chuck Taylors - only the coolest shoes ever.

Plan C had a hitch. The main route and the church are separated by a motorway. There is a bridge crossing the motorway...and I am scared of heights.

 I spent a good 40 minutes psyching myself up but when I saw it my fears took over. To be fair, this was NOT part of Plan A or Plan B. I crossed the road. I crossed the road again. I started to cry. I texted R to subtly let her know where I was. Knowing my phobia, she kindly offered to come and get me. Of course I assumed (wrongly) she'd read between the lines when I replied "No".

So I was stuck at the bridge, too scared to cross. I contemplated turning back and actually said out loud: "Well, I guess only God can rescue me now". And then...God reminded me that He likes me. I have lived in Rewa for 25 years and never knew that there was a walkway under the bridge (probably because it was only built two years ago). I don't have an actual photo of this walkway, but to me it looked something like this:

I'm pretty sure I heard the Hallelujah Chorus as I made my way along the golden path in the complete opposite direction to church (hey, it got me on the other side of that Bridge of Horror and I was able to get back onto the right street eventually).

I got to church. I was a little (a LOT) late. I was tired. My feet hurt. But I still had the last word when I saw Beloved, "Well? Have you learned your lesson?"

He laughed. I didn't.

Feel my butt

Not the best title I could have come up with for this post but this is what I finished up saying to anyone and everyone after I'd been to Denny's on Thursday night. It was not my fault that I wet my pants. I blame Coronation Street.

My weekly treat is to indulge in an ice cream sundae with my friend R. We normally have our girlie night on a Wednesday but this week we had to reschedule to Thursday - Corrie night. Usually, we both have strawberry flavoured sauce but on this occasion, I demanded chocolate. I'd just had words with my Beloved and I wasn't in the best of moods.  Can you believe that his final parting shot to me as I stormed out the door was, "What exactly IS a neanderthal?" I rest my case! R's beloved didn't benefit from my mood when I swung by to grab his wife either. His fault for having testosterone probably but I'm sure I can make it up to him at some point without actually having to actually admit that I was at fault for chewing his ears off.

Anyway, it was Thursday and I was sacrificing television history for a chocolate flavoured ice cream sundae. Being more than 18 months behind in NZ, we are only just up to the 50th anniversary tram crash (Street fans will understand the significance of this).

Anyway, I'm at Denny's with R and Corrie comes on their telly. Of course there's no sound or even subtitles, but that didn't stop me from being completely distracted from everything that was going on around me. I didn't even notice that R was sniggering and snapping pics of me staring at the screen behind her, completely missing my gaping mouth with my spoon. And no, you will not be seeing those pics here! Instead, here is a picture of a cute baby with slightly less ice cream smooshed into her face:

I thought I was doing rather well myself, being very discreet and making the right noises to what I thought was conversation. I'd barely noticed the nice young waiter bringing us full glasses of water. Suddenly, Fiz Stape flashed up on the screen in full birthing mode. Now, I've had four kids and can relate to this:

And THAT is how my drink went flying across the table, splashing nearby patrons before landing on the seat beside me. And yet somehow not a skerrick of the wet stuff went anywhere near my snap happy friend. I didn't want to make a scene (really??) so I sat frozen to my vinyl seat. Actually, the water had somehow travelled across, seeped under my butt and I was now STUCK to to my seat. Who knew that water had a sense of direction? Defying all the laws of gravity it began to work it's way from under my butt and up towards the front of my legs. It was all very dodgy- but probably not as questionable as a middle-aged woman holed up in the Ladies Room with her butt firmly positioned to catch the airflow of the hand dryer. I really should have remembered to close the door.

It didn't dry my butt OR give me any of the bacon promised in the second picture!

Just in case you're wondering...

...I still can't ride my unicycle. Unlike the one in the picture up there, mine is red. And it doesn't have training wheels. And it hurts me in places that a girl shouldn't get hurt. I had big plans to ride my unicycle while wearing my liquorice allsorts costume and making balloon animals. So far, I can do one out of three of those things, but the balloon animals are coming along nicely. I can make a poodle and a ladybug. And anything that doesn't turn out becomes a worm. I can make lots of balloon worms.

You know what would be really cool? Juggling knives, making balloon animals whilst wearing a liquorice allsorts costume and riding a unicycle.

No balloon animals. No costume. Just...no!

(ummm...is that guy up there wearing padding? Seems like a sensible idea...)
Too ambitious? Perhaps you're right. Baby steps. I'll start with my Elvis costume.

The day I sat in the van with a Tip Top Choc Bar on my butt

As usual, there is a perfectly logical explanation as to why my Tuesday ended up with me sitting in the Warehouse car park with a an ice cream down the back of my pants, hoping desperately that it wouldn't melt before I could eat it.  I had just come from my first ever unicycle lesson at the Manukau Unicycle Club.

It was never intentional for me to learn how to ride a unicycle. It wasn't exactly sitting on my Bucket List, waiting to be ticked off before I shuffle out of my mortal coil. It started with Christmas shopping...in January. I like to be well prepared. More to the point, I like to check out the internet Daily Deals in Auckland. I say it's Christmas shopping but that doesn't really account for all the makeup and accessories that are now living in my drawers. So..."nek minnit" (Sorry, NZ joke)...a courier had delivered a flimsy red unicycle to my front door.

I looked at it for a bit. Tried to jump on it and realised that the ground has an obsession for my bottom and can move very quickly indeed. Then my friend from church invited me to the club. She's the last person I would have imagined on a unicycle so I was intrigued. After procrastinating for a few weeks, I finally made it to the club. I was encouraged to see small children whizzing around the Arena on pint sized unicycles. I mean, if kids can do it, "How hard can it be?"

It's hard! The ground is HARD! Beloved hadn't allowed me to leave the house without a crash helmet, which naturally I hid in the back of the van. Trust me, it wasn't my head that needed protecting!

Which brings me to why I ended up with ice cream down the back of my pants. I hold a current First Aid Certificate. I know what to do.

Am I going back next week. Yes! It's exercise and it's even more fun than that Zumba class I went to once.

Another friend from church is right into trail-biking. Here's an interesting concept:

If you're ever in Auckland on a Tuesday night and fancy giving it a go come along to:
Manukau One Wheelers: The club meets every Tuesday night. We have a hall from 5-7pm then we ride outside if the weather is good. 9 Lambie Drive, Manukau at the Manukau City Baptist Church. As you come in driveway go straight ahead to building labelled 'Arena'. Unicycles and friendly advice are provided.

Watch this space for further updates on my progress

Fantastic Fan Fixer

The long-summer-holiday-that-wasn't is a distant memory now.  School's back and Smiley and I have our noses to the grindstone...well...we're showing up at school in the hopes of getting paid once a fortnight anyway. Getting back to work after a long break is hard enough but insult has been added to injury due to a washed out summer (that resulted in a gargantuan bruise on Smiley's butt, which is entirely off topic) with not a sign of sunshine until...now. Everyone's stuck sweltering indoors while the sky is a brilliant blue with radiant sunbeams bursting out all over the beaches we can no longer get to.


We have actually been doing quite a bit of work around the place. Shocking I know.

So much for that New Year's Resolution to enforce a clear desk policy.

See that thing sitting behind the messy desk? It's a new photocopier!!!  Things are definitely looking up for 2012. Once we've sorted all that paperwork out, we'll get to work with real live kids again.


It's been hot. Stifling hot. At the risk of blowing important documents all across Rewa, Smiley and I decided to turn on the fan. It made a very annoying noise. Smiley didn't seem too bothered but the racket was driving me insane (even more insane than I already am). I made it my mission to FIX that flagging fan. Being the Supermind that I am, I quickly determined that the lollie wrappers stuffed into the cage by distracted kids during English classes would certainly be the problem. However, the cage had been permanently sealed with plastic ties.  With cunning and ingenuity that would even make MacGyver jealous, I fashioned a lollie wrapper getter outer hook out of a paper clip and started poking around. Smiley cautiously suggested I turn the fan off - which proved to be quite a good idea and after much poking and pulling (and a few naughty words) I achieved success.

Gloatingly I turned the fan on.
It made an annoying noise.
Smiley quietly suggested that we could used the NEW fan on the table across the room but by this stage I was in too deep. I decided to inspect the fan closely, millimeter by millimeter.

My keen eye detected a dent. More poking and pulling with the paper clip (and a few more naughty words) soon fixed that. I turned it on. It made an annoying noise. Smiley could stand it no longer. I had become a "fan fanatic".
"Why don't we just..." and with a little tweak she tilted it back a little. No noise.
The problem:

Cage broken away from the back

And here is the Conqueror of  Noisy Fans:

Looks to me like she's just airing out her armpits

It's always been a fantasy of mine to work with a fanatically fantastic Fan Fixer (*sorry*). Smiley deserves an award. I think this would do nicely don't you?

Why yes, that IS the coveted Web Ellis Cup!

I wish this story had a happy ending but sadly a sweaty Year 11 boy burst through our office door and flung himself directly onto the fan in attempt to get cool / be cool / be a dork and undid all our efforts. Looks like we'll get the new fan started after all.

The workout video for chocolate lovers with a penchant for pink flouro shorts

As promised, here's the link to my workout video:

This video will change the way you work out forever!

Actually, if it's a movie clip filmed on an Olympus digital camera and uploaded onto You Tube, is it actually a "Video"?

A free plug for Cadbury Dream and my pink flouro shorts

All my life I've been skinny. I've had knobbly knees, bony hips and a double A cup - until now. I still have knobbly knees but middle age has unkindly altered my body shape. Now I don't know about you, but I've never been one to commit to a regular work out. However, since I can now "pinch an inch" (and more!) I thought I should don my pink flouro shorts and give it a go.

Whose body IS this?

 It didn't last. Here's why:

I didn't know we even had a rowing machine but it's something Beloved came home with on one of his many outings to "collect junk and bring it home to clutter our environment". He got it for free apparently. As you can tell from the look on my face, I can see why.  So I moved onto the next piece of apparatus:

The elliptical trainer resides in Zeeb's bedroom. A dedicated regime has given her the body of a Greek goddess - like the one I used to have.  Something that I was unable to earn within 2 minutes of prolonged agony. I opted to explore other options.

 I thought hula hoops were meant to be easy. It's my 7 year old daughter's toy for goodness sake! Perhaps it was time to consider training without equipment. That's right, the dreaded...*foreboding music please*...SIT UPS!

Promising start...

The PAIN!

Oh God...no. Have mercy! It hurts so much!

 I think that's enough exercise for one day, don't you? There's only so many scary photos I can subject you to in a single blog. So I decided to veg out and recover.  I was reclining in Beloved's chair watching "Maggie's Garden Show" when I had a hankering for some of that Cadbury Dream white chocolate that Beloved had stashed in his drawer. And that's when I DISCOVERED HOW TO DO A SIT UP WITHOUT HURTING MYSELF!!!! I am a GENIUS!
CHECK - ME - OUT:

It's so EASY! The recliner chair actually does the sit ups FOR you! I should totally patent this! And do you know else I discovered? I can snack and watch telly and "work out" simultaneously!

Remember back in the day when the leotard-clad Jane Fonda did her own workout video? Well I think I might slap that smug self-satisfied smirk off her face and create my own "Easy Workouts For Lazy Middle-Aged Women Who Like To Wear Pink Flouro Shorts And Leg Warmers". Catchy title, eh? Watch out for it on You Tube!