G is for Gift Horse: Looking Right Down The Mouth (#atozchallenge)

photo from flikr-too far north's photostream

When is a gift not really a gift?

I am pondering this question after a small moment of unexpected euphoria crept in this week during a shopping expedition for furniture. Happily, this was not my shopping expedition, but one for a family member – I was merely the chauffeur.

Furniture shopping fills me with dread. It’s such a big responsibility. How many times in one’s lifetime do you buy a hall table, buffet, coffee table, television cabinet all coordinating to match? What happens if the wood grain or stain doesn’t match the rest of the decor? How do I tell the difference between my oaks, teaks and my walnuts and should one mix their cherry with their maple? Questions, questions….always questions.

Given that I was the not the major player in this expedition I was fairly relaxed. There were no decisions for me to make other than which voice would be barking directions from the GPS. I am happy to report that all went well and the furniture was dutifully purchased. The furniture though came with a “gift”.

The sales assistant proudly explained that she would provide a gift certificate for accommodation to the value of some thousands of dollars. Let me reassure you this was not the motivation for the furniture purchase as were unaware of the offer until the decision point had been reached. My family member advised that she would give the certificate to me as a thank you for driving her that day as she had no need for it. In my head I was off and running on my dream holiday to an exotic island location with hula boys, crystal blue waters, fine white sand, colourful alcoholic drinks with paper umbrellas, plastic monkeys and maraschino cherries.

Not so fast! The slippery slide into the realm of the ridiculous beckons:

Step 1: decent from overseas paradise to local – the accommodation is for Australia only. Fade out the hula boys, but OK, there is much of the country left to see.

Step 2: Decent from local to weekend whirlwind – the accommodation is for a maximum of two night’s stay. Well crumbs, who stays somewhere only for two nights unless it is for a family funeral or business trip? Maybe we could tack on some extra nights and make it a true getaway. That’s going to cost something, my wallet is starting to weep just a little.

Step 3: Decent from local weekend whirlwind to the ridiculous – to get the accommodation you have to pay for breakfast and dinner for each person for each night. Really? Have you seen the price of hotel food lately? Captive meal audience amounts to hotel funny money rip-off. And the gift requires the purchase of not one, but two meals per day!

At this point I feel I am looking the gift horse squarely in the mouth and can see not only its tonsils, but its digestive tract as well! And I haven’t even started with the registration, booking and administration required to claim the “gift”.

Of course, these sorts of schemes are designed with people like me in mind. The profit comes from breakage, meaning unredeemed gift certificates. These companies make the initial offer sound irresistible and then litter the path of redemption with obstacles to the point where the offer is only for the truly tenacious.

I don’t mean to be ungrateful, but this is just one asterisk too many. Whatever happened to the good old days when the gift was a real and tangible set of steak knives? Or better yet, no gift, but proper pricing?

Beware the horse bearing gifts for he shall put you to work. Maybe if I had the steak knives I could cut through all of those conditions…

F is for Fantasy Spouse: 5 Fictional Characters I Would Wed (#atozchallenge)

I have been married to Mr Curtain Raiser (aka the Italian Stallion) for more than two decades. What he doesn’t know is that sometimes he has had competition in the form of fictional characters. I’m sure we have all been there – fallen in “love” with a character we have found in a novel or a movie and feeling bereft and heartbroken when the book or film ends.

Here is my list of the 5 fiction characters I would wed (in no particular order):

Fitzwilliam Darcy from Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen – you’ve got to love a man who outwardly is cold and aloof and vastly superior but is a marshmallow inside. I have a soft spot for proud men who after scratching the surface reveal a great deal of humanity. Having status and money and a nice piece of real estate in Pemberly doesn’t hurt either and neither does looking good in breeches or smouldering whilst soaking wet in a lake. My quintessential Mr Darcy has to be Colin Firth in the BBC production.
Wulfric Bedwyn, Duke of Bewcastle in Slightly Dangerous by Mary Balogh – Wulfric is a highly respected wealthy duke with the ability of silencing a room with a look or two softly whispered words, his presence is that commanding. He is one of 6 children and the oldest and has been raised in appropriate isolated ducal fashion. A man who puts duty and propriety above all, he is totally befuddled by Christine Derrick, a commoner with an enchanting and defiant spirit. Deep inside Wulfric is still that lonely child raised to carry out duty and keep the family wealth and blood lines going. His awkwardness in social situations, loyalty to his family and the war within between duty and love make him strong, yet vulnerable – a heady combination.
William Darcy (played by Martin Henderson) in Bride and Prejudice – hmmm, there seems to be a pattern emerging here, now that I write these down, however I assure you the similarities with entry no. 1 are surface only. Take one American from a dysfunctional, wealthy family and drop him into the colour and spectacle of India, with Amritsar and Goa as backdrops, add cheesy Bollywood song and dance routines and a former Indian Miss World, Aishwarya Rai Bachchan, and you have the makings of a classic. This William Darcy is so lovable not only because of his eyes (how good are they?), but because he is absolutely lost trying to navigate Indian custom and tradition and he doesn’t stand a chance against the female character’s mother. Also you have to admire the will power of any man who can wait to kiss his bride until after the wedding.
Leopold (played by Hugh Jackman) in Kate and Leopold – there’s just one word to say here and that’s “gentleman”. Leopold takes his 1870 gentlemanly ways and manners and transports them to modern-day New York to romance Kate, played by Meg Ryan. What makes Leopold so great is that he knows how to woo a lady, 1870’s style – with a slow burn. His 1870’s speech and sense of style just makes you long for a quieter, gentler time, when marriages were made to last. And well, the character is played by Hugh Jackman – enough said.
Edward Lewis (played by Richard Geer) in Pretty Woman – a man with a killer wardrobe who takes over companies and makes gazillions but has to pay for a call girl for companionship – what’s not to love? No walking barefoot on the grass or driving his own car for this man, he has to be shown how to get a life and kudos for him, he listens! A man who can get rid of his long-standing, sleazy lawyer because the lawyer has maligned the woman he has known for a mere four days is pure class. Add a fear of heights, a fear of committment and a proposal after an aha moment and you are on your way. And with dialogue like this, throw away the pre-nup:

she: “you’re late”

he: “you’re stunning”

she: “you’re forgiven”.

I have always wondered what happened to these characters after the last page or frame of film. Several follow ups to Pride and Prejudice are in my reading pile and I’m sure I will get around to them eventually.

As for Mr Italian Stallion, his position is safe – there have been no lake-swimming dukes commuting by elephant who have overcome their fear of heights to climb up the fire stairs to propose to me…. yet.

Who is on your list?

B is for Bikram Yoga: My Trip Into the Bikram Chamber

They say pay back can be nasty. My day for pay back came yesterday in the form of my very first Bikram Yoga class.

If you have heard of Bikram Yoga you will know that the mere contemplation of it can induce terror. Bikram Yoga was created by Bikram Choudhury. His method is a set series of 26 postures each of which is performed twice together with two breathing exercises in a single 90 minute class. The class is undertaken in a room heated to a minimum of 40 degrees Celsius (105 degrees Farenheit) and about 40% humidity. The idea is that the heat keeps your body from overheating (ha!), works on your muscles to allow for deeper stretching, promotes detoxing, increases your heart rate for a better cardiovascular work out together with a myriad of other “benefits”.

I have dabbled in “dry-land” yoga classes on and off for a number of years. Whilst I have never been a huge fan of twisting my body into what for me are unnatural positions I can see the benefits on posture, balance and the spirit. My philosophy for the past three years has been I’ll give anything a go once as long as it is affordable, not immoral, illegal or offensive. So here I was going off to try what can only be described as EXTREME yoga as an EXTREME novice.

I was given a set of instructions beforehand to prepare for the class. You must drink at least 2 litres of water, stop the drinking at least 30 minutes before class and you must not eat anything at least 2 hours beforehand. The warning bells were already starting to ring right there. If you have ever drunk 2 litres of water in a short amount of time (cue anyone who has ever had an ultrasound) you will understand. Two hours of prep for a 90 minute class? Really, most people don’t even do that much prep for an exam!

Stomach laden with water, I stepped into the hot room. There were about 20 others in the class, with the experienced cool kids up the front. I was told to follow them. Being my first time, the instructor referred to me as her “new friend”. At this point, I was still breathing freely but I wasn’t regarding the instructor and the other members of the class as my “friends”.

Yoga requires things like balance, co-ordination and flexibility and I was in the wrong line when they handed out those attributes. Let’s just say I didn’t manage to make all 26 poses and leave it at that. Oh, and did I mention that the Bikram room had mirrors everywhere? There was no escaping towards the back of the class. Hello humiliation!

Much of the class was taken up watching and admiring the cool kids twist like pretzels whilst I was trying not to pass out or catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I tried to think of cool oceans, Antarctica and my legacy to my children. I zeroed in every time the instructor said “Our new friends can sit out and just watch this pose for the first time” in secret relief. I kept mentally asking “Are we there yet?”.

Now I know the real meaning of the term “sweating buckets”. I have never “sweated buckets” before. I have never drunk so much water or contorted so much before. Also, I have never pushed my boundaries so much before. I survived 90 minutes in the Bikram Chamber – that was the real challenge. Therefore I left the class with a sense of triumph together with my jelly legs, detoxed body and happier organs.

I am glad I gave it a shot. But I think one shot is all that I have in me. I admire anyone who can perform a graceful Garuasana or a pretty Padangustana. May you live a long and happy sweat filled life. However, it has never been a goal of mine to flex so much that I can put my feet behind my ears.

[Photo of the letter B from flikr – chrisinplymouth’s photstream]

A is for Australia: Think Aussie with these 5 Tourist Tips

April 1^st has finally rolled around bringing with it the start of the Blogging from A to Z April Challenge . Good luck to all the participants – whether you’re a first timer and new to blogging like me or a seasoned blogger and Challenge champion. And a big thank you to the A to Z Challenge gods for giving my blog a shout out in their weekly wrap up last night. It means much.

Living in this time zone, I guess I am one of the first cabs of the rank… so let the alphablogging games begin!

Australia is my homeland and I am an Aussie. Aussies tend to refer to Australia as the lucky country, with good reason. Leaving politics aside, Australia is truly blessed with natural beauty (and beauties), a terrific climate, unique killer wildlife (the beauties aren’t included in that statement) and wonderful freedoms. I am truly grateful to be living here.

According to the Australian Bureau of Statistics, there were just over 500,000 visitor arrivals to our fair shores in January 2012, the majority of which were from New Zealand (75,000), China (77,200) United Kingdom (57,000) and United States of America (38,000).

If you have ever travelled to a country for the first time, you know that there’s a fine line between fitting in and looking so much at home that you are asked for directions by other tourists! No tourist wants to stand out with a big “T” on their forehead. So here’s my 5 tips on how to do Australia like an Aussie:

1. Do your tanning on the beach – Australia is blessed with some of the most amazing beaches in the world. Crystal blue waters and soft white sand abound. If you are visiting a coastal city, do your tanning at the beach and not in a mid-city park. The only Aussies who wear a bikini in the park are those visiting a public swimming pool located there and those coming home after a big night on the town, having lost their clothes. Besides, you haven’t really experienced tanning until you have had sand in your cozzie (Aussie word for swimming costume) and crevices.

2. A temperature of less than fifteen degrees Celsius does not a summer day make – Australia is blessed with amazing weather. Summers are hot and winters are temperate. However, to most Aussies a temperature of fifteen degrees does not constitute a day worthy of shorts and a tank top. Appropriate dress for fifteen degrees is jeans, a jumper and a neck scarf!

3. Treat the possibility of a shark attack with the same caution as the possibility of a car accident – most Aussies are acutely aware that there are killer sharks swimming in our oceans. This does not stop us from enjoying the surf. News of death by shark attack is rare and reports of shark attacks seem to be greatly exaggerated by overseas media.

By contrast, treat the possibility of a crocodile attack seriously. For some reason, they particularly like the taste of European tourists.

4. Give everything a short, pithy nickname – Aussies tend to shorten the name of everything and everyone. Any word with more than three syllables is too much to say after a few drinks. For example, ” McDonalds” becomes “Maccas” (you’ll probably really need to know that one after a few drinks), Barbeque becomes “Barby”, “Kimberley” becomes “Kimbo” and “Politicians” become “a waste of space” er… I mean “Pollies”.

5. Savour all of our amazing food – Australians love to eat Aussie food. We love our pizza, yiros, pad thai, and donner kebab. Any dish which contains pineapple is considered Australian even if it originated from another country.

Now that you have had a taste of my homeland I hope you’ll come on down. Follow these tips and you’ll be tourist savvy in no time.

[photo of the letter A from flikr – Leo Reynolds]

Air Guitars and Wooden Spoon Microphones

Do you go through periods where you have a “Song of the Moment” or “SOM”? A SOM is a song that bears one or more of the following characteristics:

makes you smile and lifts you when you hear it
you have on endless repeat for a month
takes up permanent residence in your head
when you hear it randomly played on media it makes you turn up the volume
makes you feel you are caught up in a moment of serendipity
makes you pause when you hear it

I am having a SOM period at the moment. Every time I hear my SOM randomly played by others, I just feel lucky. So far, my SOM has turned up without me initiating it in my car, in my house, online and in my zumba class. The feel good gods are surely smiling down on me!

A SOM should come with a warning label – WARNING: this song can induce behavioural changes.

Behaviour Can Alter After Exposure

I have been in the car and my SOM is played on the radio. The worry of reaching my destination on time is immediately wiped. Having reached my destination half way through the SOM, I do not exit the vehicle, but rather wait until the SOM is over. The fact that I might be moving my lips and talking/singing to no one whilst tapping the steering wheel like a mad woman does not cross my mind.

My SOM is played on the radio in the kitchen whilst cooking the family meal. Being the clever multitasker that I am, I turn up the volume without missing a beat on the cooking front. The kitchen fades away and in its place a concert arena is formed. The tin of coffee becomes a drum, the lights above the stove become a spot light and my wooden spoon is transformed into a microphone. I also intermittently grab my air guitar when the riff allows. Bring on the adulation! As the SOM ends and I am transported back into my kitchen. I notice the flour on the radio volume control, the coffee tin slightly dented and an array of wooden spoons sitting on the bench. Out of the corner of my eye I see my sons rolling their eyeballs and shaking their heads whilst stalking out of the kitchen. “You sure you don’t want to hang around for the encore?” I yell. I have become a legend in my own meal time.

Ultimately, my SOMs become timeline entries in my music catalogue. At some point my SOM becomes the song of the previous moment and life moves on. I don’t always have a SOM, but when I do, it heightens my belief in random luck and whimsy. That can only be a good thing.

And my current SOM….