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I love free stuff - and who doesn’t? Over the last couple of years I’ve noticed a fabulous trend of value adding, which means a lot of my favorite magazines come with free mascara, lip gloss and every other variation of makeup, bags, necklaces … the list goes on forever.

The problem I have with many “giveaway” things, is any requirement to post a coupon. Not because of postage price, but because I have an inability to post things. I have stamps in my wallet, I live ridiculously close to a post office, which is even open on Saturdays. Hell, I could chuck my letter into the mail at work and know it’d get sent. But something stops me every time.

Anyway, the point of this story is somewhat circuitous, so let me take you back to May, when I finally decided my stove top coffee machine just wasn’t cutting it anymore. While we were camping, I loved it. Back home, even the most gourmet beans tasted bitter, whatever temperature I tried made no difference … and a woman who goes to work at 5.40am needs her coffee, dammit!

So I went to Myer in the city, looking for a moderately priced machine. I discovered the most beautiful red, retro manual machine and decided immediately I wanted it. More expensive than I’d intended, but it was like a work of art, and I didn’t care how user friendly or unfriendly it was. Enter the saleswoman, who proceeded to tell me how much work this machine would be. I could feel myself getting angrier at her as we discussed cleaning (like posting, I have no ability to do this), how long it would take to make two cups of coffee … and then she showed me a couple of other machines, which were much less glam (read not red), stocky, workman-like ugly things. Also more expensive. I didn’t like them. But then, she told me about the free $350 Jamie Oliver cookware that came with those ugly little machines, and suddenly, I liked them a whole lot more.

And to give that saleswoman credit, I LOVE my fully automatic, ugly, squat machine. When I showed it to Bike Boy, he was impressed at it’s automatic cleaning function, because as he said, “let’s face it, you’re a pig”. Sounds harsh, but I couldn’t argue. One of the first questions he asked when we met was whether I’d class myself as a neat freak or a pig. I tried to think what the right answer would be, but decided to go down the path of truth and partly covered my mouth as I replied “pig”. When he came to my house for the first time, he looked around, quietly whistled in that way people do when they’re either horrified or impressed (I’m still not sure which it was) and said “you’re really not a neat freak, are you?”.

So with the machine firmly ensconced, I left the coupon where I’d be reminded to post it. On the floor near the front door seemed like the right place. And I walked past it. Walked over it. Pilchen, Mr Dog and Miss M all walked over it. James, who is a neat freak, made pointed remarks about it. Until finally I picked it up, realised the three months I’d had to post it was days away from expiring and there was some fairly hardcore paperwork to transcribe from my purchasing details. I did it, and got it to the post office with moments to spare. Then I waited. And waited … and so on and so forth.

Eight weeks went by. Nine weeks went by. Ten weeks was creeping up, and I kept thinking about how close to the wire I’d left my sending. But today, I got my giant box with two amazing pieces of cookware. Just in case you wondered, a fabulous grill pan, and a groovy saucepan, which is heavy duty and can go in the dishwasher.

So, with a ten week wait to curse my inaction, I’ve changed my ways. Last week I posted three coupons, this time for makeup products I don’t really need, and may not use (Miss M, however, will appreciate anything I don’t want). Now if I could just get onto paying my credit card on time, I’d be practically perfect!

Today I’m loving: as I’m writing this post, my glorious coffee machine is cleaning itself. Don’t tell Bike Boy, but I think I’m in love …

Miss M and I have just come back from seeing Mamma Mia, courtesy of one of my gorgeous clients (thanks Clive!).

It was a very sweet film, with just the right amount of emotion, laughs, and Stellen Skarsgaad, who I suddenly have a bit of a thing for. My favorite thing about it though, was my nine year old child knowing almost all the words to the songs.

I’m not really sure how it happened, since my home has been an ABBA free zone since I hit my teens, but I could hear her singing under her breath to nearly every tune. ABBA were definitely a huge part of my early life, and I can still remember being at my friend Imogen’s house when I was younger than Miss M, dressing up and performing for her parents (how delighted they must have been!). The only issue was both of us having dark hair meant we always fought over who would be Annefried. I’m not sure why we didn’t want to be the blonde.

Then slowly as I grew up, I moved into a a phase where their poppy tunes no longer held me in thrall, and strange smock-like clothing didn’t rock my world any more. It might’ve been when I discovered Au-Go-Go records and their mailing service, and started worshipping the Ramones. Ah Joey, no one will ever replace you in my mind.

Anyway, I digress. In the last three months we’ve been to see three musicals. Again, courtesy of Clive, we got preview tickets to Wicked, and I have never seen Miss M so enthralled by anything. She sat on the edge of her seat, gripping the armrests with white knuckles. The show was long, and we didn’t get out of the theatre until after 11pm, but she was so pumped on adrenaline she couldn’t relax.

A couple of weeks ago, my father Josh came to stay with us, and we took him to see Guys and Dolls as his birthday present. Totally different in style to Wicked, and a much less glamorous show, Miss M was still quite captivated, and for days afterwards I was treated to random songs from the show, most notably, “Sit down you’re rocking the boat”, which was used any time I tried to get her to do anything she didn’t want to. She’s also quite partial to “I’ve got the horse right here, his name is Paul Revere, and there’s a guy who says that if the weather’s clear …”, but she needs a partner in crime to sing the “can do” part. Josh often obliged.

Miss M is now talking about becoming a costume designer or movie make up artist, and I was impressed to see she noticed the difference in Meryl Streep in Mamma Mia and The Devil Wears Prada, and after seeing Madonna’s new film clip this morning mentioned how much makeup she had on to cover up the “old lines”, going on to point out exactly which “old lines” she meant. I stifled my horror, since if Madonna has “old lines”, I have no hope, but there’s no denying she’s right.

Some time in the distant future, when she’s helping me cover up signs of age, and advising me on my wardrobe choices, I’ll think back to these three stage and screen events (and Clive), and their impact on my maniacal girl, who loves glitz and glamour, and rightly belongs in exactly that world.

Today I’m loving: Joshua from the US So You Think You Can Dance. That guy is unbelievable!

Recently I came to the conclusion my life is a series of obsessions. The conduit to this conclusion was, ironically enough, my current obsession - online mahjong.

Happily, I can place the blame elsewhere, squarely at the feet of my Bike Boy, who recently got a new computer, which had a mahjong game on it. Within seconds, I was hooked, and nothing else was of interest - except the different layouts I could put the tiles into, and possibly changing the background to authentic seagrass matting.

And maybe Bike Boy isn’t the only one to blame. When I was little, I used to stay with my grandparents in Launceston quite often. That may or may not have been due to the fact I was a slightly rambunctious child, not unlike my own Divine Miss M, who now stays with her own grandparents in Hobart. Not often, but for long stretches of time, to make up for the lack of often-ness.

My grandmother, Mavis, had a social group of about six other women, who would go for walks, have morning tea, and also play mahjong - not online, but hey, it was back in the seventies. I remember being fascinated by the tiles, the tiny, tiny dice and the little coloured discs which I’m sure I used to put in my mouth (possibly swallowing some), and always wanting to play with the delicate little ivory stick included in the set.

That set is now one of my most prized possessions, along with Mavis’s coffee grinder, and a necklace she always wore when I was little, which I still love as much as I did when I was about five. Miss M now plays with it when I wear it, continuing a beautiful trend which will hopefully go on for generations. The delicate little ivory stick I mentioned before has been broken in half (I wonder by whom?), and there do appear to be several coloured discs missing, but the tiles are all there, still as beautiful as I remember.

Back when I still worked in television, a friend of a friend of mine was making beautiful jewellery from antique dominos and mahjong pieces. I toyed with the idea of selecting a piece of mine and having a necklace made, but the idea of the set not being complete broke my heart. When I pulled out the case the other day, I was overwhelmed by such an enormous sense of nostalgia and beautiful happy memories, I was really pleased I’d decided against the jewellery. Miss M and I went through the tiles and selected our favorites, and I told her about Mavis and her friends, incredible Neenish tarts and scones, and walks along the Tamar River with a bunch of older women who were really amazing people.

Sadly, the rules for non-virtual game are more than my brain can handle at the moment, so I’m going to stick with the Shockwave version of Daily Mahjong, and I’m quite proud of myself for sticking to my limit of only the daily ones, rather than look at my watch and realise I’ve played a thousand games (don’t laugh people - it could easily happen!).

So there you go, a little confession to finish the week. Possibly followed by more next week. I make no promises though!

Today I’m loving: the tiara I bought on ebay last night (and that sentence possibly includes two allusions to future confessions).