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!

My daughter got Mono for Christmas.

Well, the Christmas thing has been done for 2011 and may I say, been done extremely well in our household this year. I'm especially impressed with my 20 year old daughter, Zeeb. For weeks we were wondering what was going on with all the special delivery packages turning up with her name on them. It turns out that she did all her Christmas shopping online. Here's some of the cool stuff we got from her:

Zeeb knows that I'm a huge fan of Corrie. She also knows that I have an aversion to taking a dump anywhere except for the comfort of my own loo - for further details see: POTTY TALK 
So really, this is an exceptionally thoughtful gift (and I'm sure there is no connection between Corrie and Poos at all)

Here's what she got for her 7 year old sister:

How cool is it to give your baby sister a plush giant microbe for Christmas! Isn't it cute? For a look at the full range available, check out: I WANT THAT

And for her 15 year old brother, M (look up "geek" in the dictionary and you'll find his picture):

I am so jealous! Or at least I was until he challenged me to a game and slaughtered me with in a few moves. I don't want to play with him any more. I taught him how to play Chess when he was four years old and it transpires that I created a monster.  Although M's present was pretty cool, the most awesome thing about this gift was the accompanying note:

It does seem a bit harsh considering M is a Leap Day baby and will have waited four years for his next birthday. Nevertheless, I am going to laminate this piece of literary genius and put it on the Christmas tree EVERY year. It will become a family heirloom, just like my eldest daughter's angel that she made in 1989:

And on a non-Christmas related matter. Here's a picture of what happens when a baby is left in Zeeb's care for more than five minutes:

It seems she's developed a "thing" for facial hair.

Next year, I'm doing all my Christmas shopping online too. I can't wait to give away a dose of plush Herpes.

Oh, so YOU'RE the wife!

Teeth. I've nothing against them. Really, I like teeth. They're pretty attractive and very very useful when it comes to opening a packet of potato chips that just won't cooperate with being pulled apart by hands alone. But what I DON'T like about teeth is conversations about teeth. You know, when somebody starts off with their story about visiting the dentist and the next thing you know, everybody jumps in and starts talking about their own molar problems...as if I'm even remotely interested. Which I am not! So don't talk to me about your teeth. In fact, don't even mention that you went to the dentist. Unless you're me.

I went to the dentist last weekend. It wasn't planned. I'd procrastinated for about five years and a dental emergency popped into my mouth. Actually, it popped out of my mouth but as you know, I don't have conversations about teeth. My own dentist was closed and the next thing I knew, Beloved was escorting me to his own expert in Otahuhu. I'm not sure if you're familiar with the busy metropolis of Otahuhu but it's quite a cultural experience for a girl who was brought up on Auckland's North Shore.

Beloved's been going to this man for over 25 years and has become pretty friendly with him and his VERY attractive wife on reception. So when he escorted me in (not that I needed to be escorted in. It's not as if I was trying to get out of it or anything...much...*cough*...) it was natural for him to introduce me. The dentist looked surprised.
"Oh...hello...yes. I've met you already!'
"Really?"
"Yes, I met you at the Botany Downs shopping centre. You were dressed in a costume." Then he muttered something about a mustache.
Well, that was enough for me. Clearly the man HAD met me. So I lay back and stretched my gob to expose decades' worth of abused and blackened amalgam:

Hey, I never said it would be pretty!

 And as I lay there, desperately wanting to swallow and choke on my own tongue, I began to think. It's not unusual to see me wearing a costume at a shopping centre at all. Nothing weird about that is there? It must have been when we were on our way home from a pirate costume party and I looked like this:

For a pirate, I think I'm pretty cute.

Hang on. That was at Sylvia Park shopping centre and there was no mustache involved in that pirate get up. I was blonde and really really cute. It kept going round and round in my head: "Mustache...mustache...Oh CRAP! MUSTACHE!" It was five years ago and I need to make it clear that there was a very reasonable explanation as to why I was wandering around a busy shopping mall on a Friday night looking like THIS:

Come on girls. Admit I was hot. Heck, I even fancy myself!

 Finally it was time to rinse so I had the chance to confirm. It was a bit delicate but I asked the question:
"Ummm...when you met me at the shops a few years back, was I...ummm....dressed like a...a...."
"A man? Yes, you were. You had a mustache and chest hair and your husband introduced you as his wife. All this time I thought your husband was a bit...ummm...I thought he was in a relationship with a man. But now I actually see you here..."
Phew! I'm not sure which was the worst introduction, the man or the gaping mouth.

Oh, I'm going back on Monday. I won't tell you what for because conversations about teeth are just so boring. I'll tell you one thing though. I'm going to wear a dress!

Zombie Dolls and the Kiwi Road Trip

Here it is, the last day of the school holidays, and I can safely say that THIS time I haven't allowed myself to get caught up in a fad. In the past I have:

...developed a two week passion for Reborn Dolls which led me to procure (a much nicer word than "steal") all my daughters dolls, decapitate them, gauge out their eyes, paint them purple and hide them in the top of the linen cupboard. It's like a toy graveyard in there and one can only pray that vengeful zombie dolls are all a figment of the imagination. Mind you, with all the Facebook applications I've played with, I should be ready for any zombie attack heading my way - even if I am solely responsible for it.

Then there was the Green Phase. I was on a mission to save the planet and not buy any cleaning or personal hygiene products I didn't have to, while saving thousands of dollars and paying off my mortgage within five years. That's what the inspiring magazine article said anyway. So it was baking soda for toothpaste and gelatine in my hair. The toilet needed extra scrubbing, the kids missed their McCleans and I smelled like jelly. The zombie dolls couldn't care less, since I'd pulled out most of their hair with a crochet hook.

Just call me "Earth Mother"

Then there was the new-found passion for ironing...I think I've already mentioned the ironing. I'll just slip that into the "What Was I Thinking?" file.

So these holidays I've done STUFF instead. I did a painting. Ummm...it's abstract but it's "art" because I say it is. I made myself a tunic dress. I had nothing to wear with it so I had to go out yesterday and buy myself some accessories to go with it. Having done that, it might have been cheaper to just go out and buy a dress.

One of the coolest things I've done these holidays is the great kiwi Road Trip - with NO husbands and NO KIDS!! Smiley and I headed off in the car to Wild Whangarei, a whole two hours drive away, to meet up with our long lost work buddy, Ant. We drove all the way there with the headlights on because that's what kiwis do on a Road Trip (at least, that's what I told Smiley). I packed healthy sandwiches to eat on the way, Smiley packed lollies and chocolate. We stopped off at a cafe in Wellsford and I parked more than 1 metre from the kerb because we were rebels on a road trip and that's just how we roll - it had absolutely nothing to do with it being a parallel park *cough*. We met up with Ant at a slightly seedy little motel in Whangarei where she had blinked her pretty eyelashes at the manager and promptly had us upgraded to a flasher room with a bed each, two hours free internet and extra milk. We even managed to get the use of the spa pool room after the manager's bed time (although he wasn't invited).

Cameras and steamy spa pools don't mix well. Luckily I didn't drop it in the water.

We ate at a pub and checked out the latest version of "Footloose" at the movies. We were so rebellious, we stayed up till 10:30pm and slept in till 8am! The first thing Smiley said to me on waking was "You talk in your sleep", to which I replied "You snore!" After checking out of the motel (did I detect a tear in the manager's eye?) we headed off to explore the sights of Whangarei. We were finished by lunch time.

Incidentally, if you're ever up North be sure to check out the coolest cafe I've ever been to: Eutopia, where the tea is served in bone china and the birds will eat out of your hand.

See how I cleverly disguise Smiley's true identity. The bird however, signed a release form.

This running-away-from-home-with-the-girlfriends thing has a lot going for it. We've vowed to do it all over again during the Summer holidays. I've also decided to talk my friend R into running away with me for a weekend sometime when the pressures of her job get to be more than she'd like to cope with. I reckon her pretty eyes could get us a free upgrade from a backpackers hostel to a Penthouse suite at Sky City. I just hope the zombie dolls don't follow us.