London (And Paris) Calling

Starting with an utterly random thought - Sometimes I want a child just so I can give it one of the names I adore. And by a child, I mean daughter, because my girl names are way cooler than my boy names. I can almost imagine my two totally hipster twin girls - Harper and Marlowe in their matching berets now.

(This isn't me being amusing by the way - these are my favourite girl names, and I would totally dress my kids in French Nautical Fashion. Again, it's best I just have a cat.)

Anyhoo, I'm back blogging. Work and family stuff (unfortunately stemming from the loss of a member) have really dominated my thoughts of late, and as I can't blog about work, and didn't want to blog about the family stuff, there's not been much to blog about. As I'm one of those bloggers, that can't pop in and write a paragraph, I'm one that has to write a thesis, it's been quiet times. (The fact that I'm utterly obsessed with playing a game on my Iphone to the point I even dream about it, is obviously irrelevant... *cough*) However the blogging inspiration is back, because surprise, surprise I'm holiday planning.

I know. You're shocked. Feel free to pause to process your emotions before moving on.

I've wanted to go to Paris since I discovered berets and striped t-shirts at three years old, yet for a reason  I've also grown up fascinated by Kings and Queens of England, including a rather odd, strong sense of connection to Catherine Howard, and so London has always had an appeal. London also has a very strong adoration and fascination for England, which is borne by one sixth his family heritage, one sixth the history, one sixth the music and one half cricket. Actually cricket (in particular Lords Cricket Ground) is probably deserving of a greater percentage than that.

I'm not really sure why I or we haven't got there, the US has perhaps been so easy and relaxing that we just keep going back. I think perhaps London (for Aaron) and Paris (for me) has so much at stake that we're panicked about not being absolute OHMIGOD GREATEST THING EVER!!!! about it.

Well, encouraged by a New Zealand cricket tour of the UK, we've finally decided that it's time, and in May next year, we will be London and Paris bound. I'm half super excited half terrified. For some reason it's become huge in our heads, we're worried about not liking it as much as we did, I've got irrationally scared and we're just so used to the easiness and comfort that you get in the US, the prices of things and concerns about size of hotels etc.

Something else we're also struggling with that we've decided the best way to ensure we get a good hotel in a good location or feel comfortable about the trip is to splurge, meaning we're flying business class on Singapore Airlines, and we're looking at hotels in neighbourhoods like Mayfair and Covent Garden which are costing a lot. On one hand I'm looking forward to "luxury", on the other I'm scared of paying a lot of money for no actual advantage. Unfortunately we're haunted by the spectre of our San Francisco disaster where we chose a very well rated and expensive hotel, and we had the lousiest stay, which has actually made us hate San Francisco. (Except for the Golden Gate Bridge, which is amazing.)

The hotel is the biggest stress, as we're there for 11 nights so we really want to find somewhere where we can have some sense of space from each other (not because we're not okay with each other, but 24/7 for that length of time can send you a little cuckoo.) We've looked at apartments, but have moved to hotels, as Aaron's parents will be joining us for some of the trip so we're trying to find a location more in line with where they want to stay. My poor, but incredibly resilient, travel agent has been given several different requests depending on our mood. At the moment a hotel in Leicester Square has my heart, but I reserve the right to change my mind 1343435235812 times between now and when we leave!

(BTW - I do accept the problem of "oh damn I have to stay in London" is the epitome of a "white whine"/"first world problem".)

I've barely touched Paris accommodation yet, I'm thinking that's a 2013 problem. Especially as I love my travel agent, and I think after she sorts out London for us, she'll deserve a break from our neuroses.

There's still so much to plan in terms of sightseeing, so if any readers have a must see in London or Paris they'd like to suggest, we'd love to hear them. 

I'm sure I'll be back with an update soon.

The Week Off

Aaron and I have done something unusual this week - we've taken it off work. Apart from when I've been forced to take Christmas off for Christmas closedown, we only take leave when we're going away somewhere, usually on a longish overseas holiday. In fact, the last time we can remember taking a week off just because was in 2004!

We do always take birthdays off and Aaron's birthday was this week so this was the impetus. Plus I think it's well known, that I've found my new job very stressful (I'm accepting it's just not me so I'll have to think about what to do about that over the next while - that's a blog in itself) so it was easy to decide to take a week off rather than just the day.

So Monday was A's birthday and we drove into the Barossa Valley to his favourite bakery for lunch, and then to a mini-golf course in Tanunda. It's fair to say that reminiscent of the differences in our personalities, Aaron and I have different mini-golf styles. Aaron's very considered and steady with his shots, while I'm of the just pummel the heck out of the ball without any sense of actual direction or finesse. That's so similar to how I stumble through life! However, in this case, it turns out that random smacking of the ball was the most effective play and I won. HA HA HA HA HA HA. (I mean, how unfortunate that he lost on his birthday.)

We then came home where I iced the "churro" cake I made for the birthday cake. I am still reveling in how proud I am of the birthday cake. I've never made a cake from scratch before, I had to convert a cupcake to cake recipe which meant guessing a lot of measurements and I was making a new kind of icing (Cream Cheese) and yet it worked. It worked well. It was definitely dense, and the kind of cake that causes sugar coma even just looking at it, but it worked. It was tasty, and cooked right. I'm so happy, I was terrified I'd ruin his cake.

Then we went out for dinner with A's family to an Argentinian restaurant.Mmmmmm steak...

So all in all a good day and thankfully the weather wasn't too bad on the day.

The rest of the week though has kind of reminded me of yet another one of my hypocrisies - I'm terribly lazy so have been sleeping in way too much and not doing much but I hate being lazy. I'm the sort of person who gets terribly stir crazy if I'm just at home not doing anything (cleaning doesn't count as doing something) so I always try to be doing something on weekends, even if it's just walking around a shopping centre, and I don't actually like weekends if I don't have something to do every day. (I don't like weekdays either, but I like feeling useful.) I'm grateful for this week, because I really did need a break, but it's made me realise that for me holidays are for actual holidays, whether it's going on a local trip, or overseas. I just like always doing something or exploring something new or something I love. Man, I sound really ungrateful, I'm not at all, just realising that I'm no good at just relaxing. Like my mini-golf persona, I need to be charging at something.

We have one more official day of holidays, I may not totally relax through it, but I'm pretty sure I'll enjoy it.

Cats and Cake. A Birthday, Courtney Style...

So 35... We Finally Meet...*Strokes cat* (Blofeld and Baron Silas Greenback* style)

*If you know who Baron Silas Greenback is without having to google, you're awesome.

Anyhoo, I'm 35. It happened, which considering the only alternative was actually a good thing. So far the world has not ended (although the Mayans may have something to say about that) and I've not had a situation where I've had to actually grow up, in fact I had a funny face biscuit at a bakery yesterday, so immaturity and a love for buttery biscuits continues to reign.

My birthday present was a surprise, I knew it was an experience present but didn't know exactly what it was until the morning of my birthday. I'm extremely impressed that Aaron managed to hold out on this, as I don't do surprises well, and have been questioning him in my whiniest, pleading voice for weeks.

So the surprise was that my husband had decided to throw me into a cheetah enclosure and see what happened. Most other people just ask for a divorce, but no, he has to be dramatic...

Seriously, he was coming with me, and he didn't suggest I wear clothes he'd just washed in bacon fat, so I'm pretty sure I was supposed to survive and enjoy it. And I did. We drove to our wild range zoo, at Monarto and us and another couple followed two trainers into a cheetah enclosure, featuring three almost 8 year old cheetahs roaming around "free" inside. (The space is very large, and it's very concerned with the welfare of the animals, I only use "free" in inverted commas because we weren't in the Serengeti).

The lead trainer had been with the cheetahs since they were born, and hand reared them, so they were as tame as cheetahs can be. (Fun Fact about Cheetahs, males hang around in social groups, while females are more solitary - so their sisters had been separated from them and were off in other enclosures or in other zoos.) You could tell they adored her and were happy to just hang around her. It's because of this hand rearing and her (and other trainers) relationships with them, that they could offer this experience. Plus I'd figured Monarto Zoo weren't really looking for headlines of "Another three tourists were mauled by wild cheetahs today" so it wouldn't be offered if there was a strong chance that something could go wrong.

I was never terrified in the enclosure, but I was genuinely "alert" while I was in there, and when the trainer first called the cheetahs over, and these three big cats, slowly, deliberately walked towards us and there was nothing between me and them, I definitely felt my a lump in my throat. Then I realised they bounced over to the trainer, were loudly purring and started nuzzling at her and that they weren't seeing us as edible.

So what unveiled was an amazing experience of patting and posing with the cheetahs, and just wandering around the enclosure, while they bounced or wandered around past us etc. You couldn't just stroke them as they walked past, but the trainer would call us over into more controlled patches where we could pat them, they loved being patted with two hands on the back of their neck, it was amazing to hear how loud they'd purr and to realise you were really patting a cheetah, one that hadn't been declawed or anything horrible, just one that had come to like humans and appreciate they were good for feeding them and giving them some attention.I admit I was constantly a little wary that they might just suddenly turn, but that was actually thanks to my own cat, who has certainly been known to turn all the innocent charm on and then just swipe, so I look slightly hesitant in all the photos, but I was certainly loving it. Aaron was very calm and just interacted with them like they were housecats.

There was one particular point which I especially loved, when this regal cat was strutting on a log next to us, in full wildlife photography shot pose, and we heard this tiny little "meow". We thought it was a bird, but nope, turned around and this fierce creature opened his mouth and let out another tiny meow. It was adorable.

We even stayed in the enclosure while they were fed, we were safe because once there was food for them, nothing else existed in their world! Our hour was up as they stopped eating, and we left, amazed at the time we'd had. I HAVE PATTED A CHEETAH! AND A FEW TIMES!

We drove to the nearest town for the bakery, grabbed lunch and then drove back home so I could go over the top in icing my birthday cake. This is when Pinterest can be a bad influence. Thanks to Pinterest and some suggestions from friends, I made a chocolate cake and icing (well okay Betty Crocker made both - but I used my new mixer to blend them) and decided to smother the sides in kit kats and the top in M&Ms. Let's just say I didn't quite master proportions nor how to make the kit kats actually stick properly so there was constant repositioning but it looked not so bad. When it came to eating it though, I didn't like it! It was actually too much chocolate and I think I just couldn't take it. I couldn't even bring myself to eat some of the leftovers tonight, or make a cake for work tomorrow because I just can't think about cake. (It's horrible!!!) I assume I'll get over this pain though.

Before cake, we had dinner at my favourite Mexican place. Yum!

It was a good day, I was spoiled and I had a lot of people show how much they cared for me, every card someone got me had a cat on it, or Snoopy or something Muppets, three of my very favourite things, as an example. 35 is okay. :)

The Big 3-5.

I almost skipped with joy over turning 30, it was awesome and I so looked forward to it. Fast forward just five years, and I'm in the foetal position, whimpering over the upcoming 35th birthday.

30 felt exciting and a new start, 35 feels like the end of an era, one I'm not ready to let go.

It's going to surprise people to learn I'm immature, childish, childlike and enjoy being silly and amused by silly things. (Okay, it's not exactly a surprise.) 35 is the realisation that I'm not actually young anymore, I really am an adult and I feel stupid for not feeling like I am one, and guilty because I don't want to be one. I see people my age, who just seem so in control and mature and then there's me, on Twitter discussing the merits of Fraggle Rock. I just feel like I can't identify with serious adult life.

I think being a furparent rather than a "real" one, helps fuel my attitude to life. I don't have to be responsible for another person (which frankly is only a good thing for everyone involved) and so I'm afforded the opportunity to care more about shopping and travelling and spending all day in front of the tv watching Cupcake Wars marathons. Plus I don't have to let anyone else play with my stuffed animals and toys, so I get to enjoy them, from my view. I'm a walking Peter Pan complex.

There are many reasons I've decided not to have children, and it's not a decision I have any regret over. My biological clock has never ticked. A few years ago I sort of set a date to have kids, purely because I felt like I should, and that maybe I'd grow into the idea. I never did and that date's been and well gone. One thing about my attitude to life is that I simply have never felt emotionally strong or ready enough to be a parent. I've always reserved the right to change my mind when I eventually "grew up". I'm struggling with the fact that my time to grow up in regards to this has run out - I know people can have kids later than 35, but I was advised for health reasons that 35 was my cutoff, which I think is actually right, I recognise my body has limitations. It feels very sad to me, not because I do want a child, but because the chance to change my mind has gone. I've aged physically much faster than I've grown emotionally. That's hard to get my head around. I've passed a major adult milestone without ever feeling like an adult!

I'm also dwelling on regrets on how I "wasted" my youth. Again, the dwelling is silly because really I don't regret my younger years. Maybe I wish I was a bit more adventurous and did some more "crazy" things, but I'm a goody two shoes, and anything else wouldn't have been true to me. I do very much regret not looking after myself physically and taking my health for granted, it's lead to me being very fat, and unhappy now. I also regret some of the friendships I didn't cement and how that meant my plans for a 35th birthday party fell apart when I realised I had too small a guest list. I'm good at making acquaintances, but rarely good at making more of that. (That said while I do certainly take responsibility for mistakes I've made, sometimes the other people are just jerks.:) )

Of course the ridiculous thing here is that I actually am a grown up, responsible adult. I, with husband, run a household - not well but it runs, I have a pretty high level job in my organisation, and have the responsibility of managing others - again not well, but I'm getting there - and do general adult things and chores. Just because I also like cute things and giggling over silly things, and still occasionally rock pigtails doesn't stop me actually being a grow up. Nor does things like not wanting kids, it means I'm different to most adults, but it doesn't make me worse or immature, just different. Different can be cool.

I've got some fabulous advice from people over the last three days, that really gave me some perspective. The best came from my youngest sister (I hate when she's wiser than I am!) who reminded me that age is really just a number, a coincidence in the sense that it just happens to reflect when I was born, not who I am or what I've achieved and will achieve in the future. A future, which all fingers crossed is long and healthy, and I'll have so much time to achieve my dreams. Whether those dreams could be considered frivolous by others, it doesn't matter, they're true to me, and I shouldn't feel bad about them or that I'm lacking as an adult. Emotionally I quite like me, sure I can be a bit too shaky and self conscious at times (not that you'd have noticed *cough*) but I think on the whole, I'm quite fun and warm, and I have to really remind myself that I'm full of good qualities and dreams and that I don't have to change them or me to match my age or a belief on how an adult should be. I also should probably accept that 35 isn't actually old!

Gee I promised some light entertainment blogs, didn't I? I'm failing that bad. The next one will have to be about fluffy bunnies and sunshine or the like. Promise!

Whatever Happened To Courtney Jane?

In Kindergarten, I was the odd kid (surprising, I know) who detested finger painting and preferred to play noughts and crosses by myself or reading.  Growing up I used to read the atlas at night, learning where all the countries were.

As a primary schooler, I was the girl always in the library going through Nancy Drew books at light speed, the girl who never felt life was better than when she finally cracked 70 out of 70 on the yearly spelling tests. Seriously I almost cartwheeled around the library when I found out how to spell "seismograph" in an encyclopedia by accident one day, and knew I could rock it out at the next test. (BTW I say almost cartwheeled, because in true nerd sense, I've never been able to do one, I used to gaze at every other girl who'd spend recess doing handstands with jealousy.) When I could choose a book to buy on a family trip to Adelaide, I asked for one on Greek Mythology, which was followed by several more, and I spent so much time reading them.

As I got older, I was one of those teenagers/uni students who was going to save the world. The kind of girl who was going to name her future daughter Christabel (after Christabel Pankhurst, the suffragette), and wrote countless essays on social movements etc. I prided myself on being an intellectual (whether I actually was or not, I'm clever for sure, but certainly have always held an self inflated belief about my genius) and being someone that really cared. Things like my pro-stance on gay marriage and my intensely strong opposition to capital punishment were created and/or strengthened during those years or my very early twenties. I was going to get a PhD and I'd read history books for fun. I even had a favourite French language poem!!! (Demain Des L'Aube by Victor Hugo - still like it.)

I'm sitting here at the moment, flicking between reality tv shows on Foxtel, wondering what happened to all versions of that girl. The girl sitting on the couch, blogging, seems to have had all her intelligence and drive, and has been replaced by a girl that checks TMZ every morning to see what celebrities have broken up overnight, only reads light hearted chick lit about Shopaholics or PIs, and gets withdrawal symptoms if she doesn't watch Judge Judy every day. Why has my brain decided it's more important to store obscure song lyrics from 1986 or who won the last ten Eurovisions, rather than what year the Russian Revolution was? (I can remember the players (for some reason I was always fascinated by Kerensky) and the months of the Revolution, but the year had been forgotten.

My dad, who's is the number one influence on the beliefs and behaviour of the younger Courtney, stared at me with a mixture of bemusement and horror when I was able to identify all the characters on an ad for Dog The Bounty Hunter.

I'm not sure if it's just that as an adult, my brain is a lot more spent during the day at work, so when I get home, I just want to relax and switch off by watching/reading feather light entertainment. Is it natural to lose your passion for broadening your mind as you get older and your brain is tiring easier? Am I just genuinely kind of simple and amused by really basic things, and not clever enough for intelligent discussions? I don't know. It's probably a combination of them all.

This is all said, apart from moment where I do lament my lost brain power, I'm actually not too unhappy with being easily amused nowadays. I do enjoy just relaxing and giggling my way through bad tv, voicing my rather fervent opinion on twitter on which Masterchef contestant I either love or loathe, or just letting my brain unwind. It's just interesting to think about how much I've changed.

I do think I might go find my Greek Mythology Encyclopedia though, it's been a while since I followed Theseus through the Minotaur's Maze. (Oh and again it's lucky I don't have kids, my poor imaginary daughter if she wasn't named after a suffragette, she may have ended up named after my favourite Greek Mythology characters - do you think Andromache is too much?)

The Banana Republic Goal

Today I'm tackling a serious subject in the shallow way I do best...

I'm hugely overweight, which is of no surprise to anyone who's ever laid eyes on me, yet somehow it's never bothered me as it should. Part of it is very much tied into my low self esteem, because it suits my self hatred to think that others hate me too (reading any comments online, fat people are hated) and because I'm lazy and love bad food. (I also have a broken thyroid, which doesn't make anything easier, but I refuse to blame my portion sizes on that!) I've also kind of assumed I'll either die youngish or get something like Alzheimer's, like my grandmother, so maybe I just don't value my health or life enough, because I think I'll lose it anyway, so why not eat cookies?

I've tried half heartedly to lose weigh several times, it usually starts well for a week or two, and then I fall off the wagon and completely collapse, or I get to a point where I really start have to sacrificing tasty food and I'm out. Usually my honest addiction to Coca Cola is a major sticking point.

It has got to a point though where I'm about to hit 35 and I'm actually realising I really am getting older and less naturally fit and I'm beginning to really feel the weight I'm carrying around. Also, as I'm climbing the professional ladder, I'm realising that people really are making judgements on my appearance (deciding I'm lazy, poor control etc) and as I'm travelling lots, airplanes are just more comfortable when you're not squashing yourself into a seat, just so you can't even be seen as even slightly spilling into the next seat, or not being able to use the tray properly.I guess I'm now just a point where I'm really embarrassed to be me, and I deserve better than that.

So, what do I do? As I have said before, health or not, I'm genuinely uninterested in being at my goal weight according to Weight Watchers etc, as my life would change too dramatically to get there, my love for carbs is too strong, plus I love having cupcakes with people etc. I also find that when I put pressure on myself in terms of thinking "I need to lose this many kg by this date", I fail because if I veer off and have a bad day, I decide I can't make the goal and just panic stop. I do need to set goals though, as I'm goal oriented, and I think it's helpful for me.

But how to set a goal when you don't want to set a particular goal? (Apologies to all who hate people using "But" at the start of a sentence.) I've been thinking about things that are tangible that I can work towards without being total pressure or things that I can "break" easily. It came to me today, when I was walking through the mall. It occurred to me that every time I browse shops in the US, I find myself staring forlornly in the windows of Banana Republic, wishing I could wear their clothes. (Especially when they had a Mad Men inspired collection recently.) So that's it, that's the aim. Sometime in the near future, I'm going to buy and be able to successfully wear a dress from Banana Republic. I took their size chart measurements down, to see what I'd need to be to fit into their largest size and that's goal number one. I have to lose 20cm around each of my bust, waist and hips, which is really big, but it is doable, and as much as I'd like to set a time frame, I'm not going to. I just know I will be wearing one of their dresses at some stage over the next year or two and that makes me happy.

I'm not interested in getting so consumed by this journey that I'll talk about it frequently, so there'll be occasional updates on this blog, but not every entry will mention it. I'll mention significant failures and successes etc but my blog, which I plan on using a lot more lately, is going to be filled more with random tales about anything that takes my fancy.

Thanks for reading.

The 6 Month New Year's Resolutions Review

I am currently so impressed with myself, I actually remembered my password for something! In my bid to keep things private, I use a bunch of different passwords across the net, and a bunch of differing combinations. Of course, the slight issue here is that my memory bank in a scan would look suspiciously like swiss cheese. So it's a miracle I got here without the old "reset of password".

Anyway...hi people who read this blog. (Cute that I used a plural there... I've suddenly discovered optimism.)

I've been quiet since the holiday, as frankly coming back to winter hell, issues around my job and what I want to be when I grew up and dramas for my loved ones has seen me distracted. I'm feeling kind of sane right now though, so here I am. (Despite me being in tears over not being able to find black pants earlier...)

I've been debating what to blog about, as I have several unfinished tales, but I thought the best place to start was a review of my progress against my New Year's Resolutions. The final story of the trip, I'm still unable to blog about as I don't want it to be over in my mind, and I didn't finish my favourite movies list (just note that John Cusack features heavily.)

So here's my NY Resolutions from earlier in the year...

1. Getting healthier and into a better routine eating wise and exercise wise and cook some different things  (so far eating is better, exercise isn't)

2. Clean my two back rooms out

3. Solve a Rubik's Cube

4. Watch more movies

5. Cuddle a Koala

6. Not cut my hair (except for trims to make it healthy and for my fringe - that stays)

And here's how they've gone

1. Ummm, I did okay for a while, then I went to America and ate their fantastic bad for you food, and then have comfort fed myself through winter. I'll get back on that horse and will hopefully have something good to report by summer.

2. We've come up with a plan for the two rooms - we're going to swap their functions around, which will lead to a big clean out and new furniture but it's not done yet.

3. Should actually buy one, so I could solve it.

4. Well we saw two in the US, and have seen two since (The Avengers got two shots though, so don't know if it counts!) We'll be seeing Ted very soon. So this is probably the best progress.)

5.No :(

6. Well seeing as I'm currently sporting a short bob, it's fair to say this resolution - my main one - fell into a giant screaming heap. It wasn't really a surprise, it was actually impressive I lasted 5 months. My hair was horrible when I came back from the US, and it had to be cut off to be healthy again, and now it's been cut again today so it's neat for an important meeting I have on Monday.

So, yeah, not exactly powering through them! I think there'll be some progress over the next 6 months though.

Oh and the meeting I mentioned. I can't talk too much about it at this stage, well I guess I actually can, but in case I make a massive twit of myself I'm afraid to talk about it. It involves a job I very much want. Hopefully next blog will be filled with news of excitement and joy.

Stay well! x