health&fitnessfactorfiction.com

My life over the past few days has been full of bikes. Partly because my house is full of bikes, the running total as it currently stands is: me - 1. Miss M - 1. James - 2. Bike Boy - 2. Grand total - 6. One of James’ bikes is be given to a friend, bringing the tally back to 5, but this afternoon, Miss M and I are going to look at a BMX for her, and a crazy Fuji step through bike for me.

I saw the Fuji at the market last week, and initially thought it was hideous. Then something odd came over me, and I started thinking about how I’d like to be able to wear something other than my work clothing while bike riding, and the design of this bike would enable me to wear a ballgown and heels if I so chose. And don’t laugh, because I may just do that. So my initial impression about the bike was turned on it’s head. It also has the hugest, softest looking seat I’ve ever seen, and that can only be a good thing.

Another reason bikes are on my mind is Miss M has been riding a lot over the past few days. Some of you may have read previous posts about my teaching skills, and the acquisition of her bike, but she’s risen above any adversity and now rides like a pro. So much so I find myself begging her not to go crazy - or to at least only go crazy when she’s riding with Bike Boy. Advice which she’s taken on board during the two massive rides they’ve gone on over the past couple of days.

Mr Dog is also able to be included, having developed a technique of running beside Miss M while she’s zooming around. A technique which freaked out a few passers-by, who assumed he was a crazed dog on the loose, but Miss M cheerfully calls him along as she rides, making quite a charming tableau.

Yesterday, Bike Boy noticed Miss M’s bike had been wrongly assembled. I’m still blaming Santa, but since I was his proxy on the assembly line, I guess I have to assume some kind of blame. It seems “someone” had put the thing the handlebars go into (tech talk, see?) the wrong way around, thus making it difficult for her to pedal properly with her long, long legs. So this morning, it was reassembled by a professional, things were tightened, brakes were adjusted … then she went riding at the school and fell twice. The first time scraping her shin, the second time, her elbow (which bled), but hitting the ground in such a spectacular fashion I nearly screamed, and found myself running at a similar pace to the speed of light to go to her aid.

She didn’t cry … I did. But I hid it well. Instead, she proudly showed off her wounds to James, who was impressed by the spillage of “claret”. She’s now watching Charlie and Lola to recover, and biding her time until we can display her injuries to the boys in the bike shop, who appreciate these things on a whole other level.

Today I’m loving: Kevin Rudd

The week is OVAH, and I couldn’t be happier. Especially because tonight we’ll be eating a Turkish banquet and watching a belly dancer shimmy her way around a (tiny) restaurant. I may even wear makeup - but let’s not go crazy too early.

This weekend, I’m back in the saddle for the market, which I’ve missed since before Christmas. Thus my eggs have been less than gorgeous, there’s virtually no fresh fruit in the house, and my growing addiction to apple, beetroot and ginger juice is costing a fortune since I’m constantly outsourcing. Tomorrow I have an afternoon tea date with a friend I haven’t seen since mid-high school, after we had a falling out over a piece of snakeskin lurex clothing, so I’m trying to work out the most appropriate cake to bake. At this stage, I’m thinking either my beloved orange cake, or flourless chocolate. Wait, I’ve just decided on the chocolate cake.

Though they’re totally unrelated to this post, here are some photographs from Bali which I’ve just managed to upload onto my computer. I’ll be blaming flat batteries and chronic inability to act, but enjoy nevertheless.

Today I’m loving: rewatching the Muppet Show

My bedroom in the new house has been annoying me for the last few weeks. Something about the set up wasn’t right, and I had no idea how to fix it, but after conferring with my knowledgeable bike boy last night, I came up with some ideas. So today, I made a trip to Ikea, land of strangely named products, and a shop layout ensuring you feel like a hamster trapped in a maze. Happily, I’ve been trapped in that maze enough times now to know how to make it out alive past Smaaland, bendy ice cube trays, and those corkscrew shaped bamboo plants everyone loves so much.

I only bought one thing, which is in itself an achievement - a metal cabinet for my television and DVD player. It’s red (of course), and I put it together myself …

Initially, I assumed it came complete with screws and things you’d use an allan key for. After all, Swedes practically invented that style of furniture, so why fix it if it ain’t broke? But no, not a screw, or an allan key in sight. Instead, the pieces cleverly joined (with a jaunty diagram shouting “CLICK” when two pieces needed to be forced together) with a series of overlapping edges, and two things resembling allan keys, which weren’t.

I followed the diagram perfectly, but like most of my Ikea efforts, it’s slightly out of whack. Here’s a checklist for my Ikea requirements:

Item’s door/drawer is slightly out of whack, with a greater distance at the top/bottom than at the bottom/top (delete whichever doesn’t apply)

Item’s door/drawer rubs against another part of the item, causing an unsightly bulge where one wasn’t meant to be. Also removes paint from the beautifully powdercoated finish.

I’m so annoyed at the item, I can’t be bothered dismantling and remantling, so must learn to live with said imperfections. Witness my chest of drawers with the one at the bottom which won’t close unless I use the force of a Mack truck and an upwards tilt … and my new PS cabinet (props on the slightly less insane name though, Ikea), which meets all the above requirements.

I know when James, and possibly the bike boy see my PS cabinet, they’ll feel the need to dis/remantle. I, on the other hand, am inherently lazy. It isn’t going to collapse and send my television hurtling to the floor. It looks great - especially if you aren’t the kind of person who notices small imperfections. And it’s red - really, that’s all I need.

So the upshot - the room looks better, all my expectations have been met, and tomorrow, I’m buying a bed from Ikea. But I’m going to let James put it together for me …

Today I’m loving: Index cards. My enrollment in the massage course is finalised, and I’m stockpiling for anatomy study.

Do you ever have one of those days where you look back at everything you’ve done and think “wow, I’ve achieved HEAPS (my new favorite word) today”. In response to my own question, yes, Emma, yes I do.

Granted, it’s not all glamour - except a visit to the laundromat, which is all glamour, baby. I got up this morning at 5, and all I could think about as I stumbled around the house was having a nap as soon as I got home. That thought took me through until I had coffee at 8.30, when I started thinking about what I’d eat for lunch. In case you’re wondering, it was Indian spinach and paneer cheese, which was so wonderful I’d have it every day, but next time, I won’t eat it so soon before teaching yoga.

I’ve also run with Mr Dog, gone to the supermarket, hung out my laundry, taught yoga (after lunch), made pizza dough, and constructed a fantastic icecream involving a chocolate cone, blueberries and classy vanilla ice cream for Miss M. I also posted a letter, which I’m possibly more proud of than anything else. Letters are sometimes impossible to post in my experience, even though I walk past a convenient red box at least once a day.

And of course, written my second post in two days. I’m discovering the secret to getting things done is not to over think. Sad, because I’m an obsessive over thinker, but I’ve managed to achieve more in the last three days by just getting on with it (copyright Josh) than when I’ve had a list to make my way through. I’ve recently discovered my brother is an obsessive list maker too, but will also make a sub list, where various tasks are distilled into a more manageable chunk. Does he get through it? I’ll allow you to make up your own mind.

Today I’m loving: Mr Dog, who, though it was hot and humid, dutifully ran beside me, and only stopped infrequently to give me a look which clearly said “you’re insane, but I still love you”. What a good boy!

Although we’re solidly into the second month of this year, I thought I’d take a moment to recap new year’s eve, the first in ages where I haven’t been in bed by ten pm with an Agatha Christie novel for company.

This year, I went camping - for the first time in roughly twenty five years. I have to admit I was slightly nervous, since I’m a well documented lover of civilisation and urban surrounds. Also, it was my first trip away with my boyfriend, and as all my friends delighted in telling me, camping was not so much just camping, but also make or break time in the relationship stakes.

Apart from some foolish packing which led to me wearing knee high boots in forty degree heat for my trip from Hobart to Melbourne, everything went brilliantly. It was almost all organised by the time I came back, apart from a supermarket trip where we bought four times more food than we needed.

We got to our campsite just after ten pm, the tent was up in about three minutes (North Face, I think I love you), and we spent the next couple of hours drinking Corona, staring at the almost insanely bright stars, and listening to the waves crash on the beach. If life gets anymore perfect, I don’t want to know about it.

The only slight glitch was my first camp site public toilet experience - after which I invented an elaborate face mask system, involving several damp paper towels and my beloved Jo Malone Orange Blossom perfume. We also quickly learned to run through the tea tree grove on the way to the beach to avoid the stealth mosquitoes lurking there, totally unphased by the repellent we’d covered ourselves in.

The second day was my birthday, which was spent alternately making espresso on our camp oven in my little Bialetti, getting smashed by the waves on the beach, reclining in the tent in the mid afternoon sun, and showering at “the shop” in the Honeysuckles. There were actually two shops, but only one was referred to as “the” shop. This was also where I discovered it’s wise to ask the price of beer before purchasing an imported six pack and feeling my pupils dilate after finding out how expensive it was.

On the drive back home, I wished we’d been able to stay another few days, which I guess is the perfect way to leave a holiday. We’re planning another trip in the next couple of weeks, and this time we’ll take Miss M with us, which should be interesting, but I think she’ll love it. And although it’s probably quite obvious, the relationship was most definitely not broken.

Today I’m loving: (and freaking out about) sending in my enrollment for the massage diploma course I’ve been talking about for ages.

Yesterday I taught my first yoga class of the new year. I won’t include last Wednesday’s class, when I arrived at the gym, put on some zen music, lay down on the floor and woke up fifteen minutes later with no students in the class. I made the executive decision to bail at that point, then found out classes didn’t actually begin until this Wednesday. But hey, on the upside, I had a great nap.

But I digress. Yesterday’s class was in slight jeopardy, due to some unforseen carpet cleaning leaving the room we usually work in with wet and chemically scented carpet. Not very relaxing. But we’re in the middle of a gorgeous summer, and yesterday afternoon was perfect for alfresco yoga under the fig trees, in the middle of Miss M’s school kitchen garden. So gorgeous I don’t ever want to teach inside again.

Salute to the Sun takes on a whole new dimension when you really salute the very sun in the title of the pose. The only downside was I got slightly sunburned, having allowed myself to become drugged by vitamin D, and leaving my fabulous (stinky) invisible zinc at home, but next week, I’ll be covered in sunscreen, and wishing for another perfect day.

Notice how I’ve skirted around the issue of not posting for at least a month? Cunning, huh? I’m also doing that same skirting around making any new year’s resolutions, or rash, hasty promises of continuous blogging, since one thing I learned about myself last year is that I’m far too quick to expect myself to do the unsustainable, so this year, that’s going to change. Does that count as a resolution? But I feel good about having broken the new year’s posting ice - and when I’m a little more organised and routine oriented, I’ll hopefully have some hilarious antics to report upon, but until then, life is great.

Today I’m loving: the dinner James is cooking, Pilchen’s three hour nap on James’s bed, my new bike seat, Miss M’s pronunciation of “the field” (courtesy of Father Ted), and the short shorts I bought today. Maybe I’ll never wear them in public, but I’ve never owned short shorts as a grown up, so it’s kind of a watershed moment.

After many many weeks of moving the hideous amount of effluvia I’ve collected over the last fifteen years, I’ve managed to create some semblance of organisation in my new house. It’s funny how what seems to work initially often doesn’t, and I’ve found myself revisiting my childhood when I used move my bedroom furniture around almost every week. I’m still getting used to having most of my possessions in one room versus scattered all over an entire house, so I’m hoping that explains part of the long winded process.

I’ve discovered my brother is far neater than I am, which is shocking on several levels. I’ve known for several years I’m no great shakes when it comes to housekeeping, but to be outgunned by a thirty one year old boy … ouch! Initially I was worried about our ability to live together in harmony, but it’s all going smoothly. Today we went to IKEA and did some theoretical couch and table shopping, and it was surprisingly fun. Except I ate a shrimp salad from the cafeteria and now feel nervous about getting food poisoning …

It’s pouring with rain outside, which sounds great on our flat tin roof, Miss M has finished school for the year and is quite emotionally overwhelmed, and the idea of Christmas is terrifying me, since I’m totally unprepared. But we bought a funky tree made out of crystals and mirrors, so I don’t feel like a complete failure. Now I’m going to run a bath and close my eyes for a few minutes.

Today I’m loving: Chuck Liddell, the Ultimate Iceman

Over the last few weeks, I’ve become a perfume tart. There, I’ve said it. After faithful service to Elizabeth Arden’s Green Tea splash for the past two years, I’ve turned my back on loyalty and branched out.

It started when I met the boy from the bike shop, who I’ve been hanging out with after buying a helmet I didn’t need and giving him my phone number afterwards. A few days before our first date, I went to my favorite store on Brunswick Street, Klein’s Perfumery and after much deliberation, bought the most beautiful perfume called Stella. I couldn’t help laughing when the sales woman showed me the description on the box - “as opinionated and moody as a rebellious young Italian beauty”. I’ve been described as opinionated and moody, also rebellious. Young might be stretching the envelope, but a chunk of my family background is definitely Italian … and it smells like blood oranges, my most beloved citrus ever.

So Stella was my constant companion until I went to Bali. I spent that week devoid of any scent except the slightly metallic undertone of the well water we bathed in, and the occasional frangiapani behind the ear. When we came home, I couldn’t resist going to the duty free shop and perusing the perfumes. I bought a bottle of Chanel No 5 and have spent the last week remembering how much I love the smell, which reminds me of my mother, and a crazy producer I used to work with on Blue Heelers.

On Friday I went into the city to buy jeans, and ended up at the Jo Malone counter in David Jones. I’d been reading about her blue agave and cacao perfume in heaps of magazines and wanted to try it, but it was way too chocolatey for my liking - possibly the first time I’ve ever said such a thing! I sampled a few of the others, and fell in love with the nutmeg and ginger fragrance, which is light and gorgeous - perfect for summer. Now the only hard part is deciding which one fits my day best.

Last night (wearing the Jo Malone perfume), I went to see La Clique, a circus/burlesque show at the Famous Spiegeltent. Trying to describe the show in words is almost impossible, so let me just say I have a new training goal in mind, which is to become so strong I can lift my body just using fabric swathes hung from a convenient location on a ceiling … I’m figuring I should have it down in a couple of weeks … (!)

One of the performers was an unbelievable female acrobat who had fabric swathes just like the ones I mentioned, and she’s replaced Lara Croft as my hero. Thank God my wrist is up for weight training again!

Today I’m loving: the idea of three days off next week, so I can get myself organised.

After the picture perfect location for my last post from gorgeous Bali, I’m now writing from a house in complete disarray as I prepare to (finally!) move over the next four to five days. Please understand this is a theoretical projection, so if I’m still posting about moving in two weeks, try to be patient with me …

This week has been the weird aftermath of all travel - coming home, feeling like you’ve changed, but nothing is different. Miss M has suffered from jet lag, or JL as it’s come to be known, and has been slightly tough to deal with, but I think I’ve probably been just as bad.

By far the worst part of our return was nothing to do with sleeping or eating patterns, missing the tropics or strange reactions to drinking coffee again. It was my inability to open my freezer.

I think it was the third day after we were home we’d gone to the supermarket and I’d bought some frozen cherries to make a summer pudding with. As I tried to put them into the freezer, I was met with staunch resistance. Not just “oh, that’s hard to open so I have to put my back into it”, but “that freezer is stuck solid, and even my foot up on the fridge isn’t giving me the leverage I need”. After ten solid minutes of yanking with all my might, finally the mighty door swung open to reveal an ice cavern the likes I haven’t seen since “Touching the Void”.

Any normal person would just have defrosted the damn thing and been done with it. By I had a whole lot of things in there that would’ve had to be thrown out, and I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. So I scanned my kitchen implements for the most suitable ice chiselling device, settling on my favorite wooden spoon.

Soon chips of ice were falling on the floor, but my beloved spoon lost several large chunks of wood in the process, so I turned my attention to leverage, and grabbed a large carving knife. I was careful not to put my hands anywhere near the blade, and had pretty good success getting some large pieces of frozen material out, but soon the knife started terrifying me as I had visions of myself lying in a David Lynchesque pile of blood covered ice.

My final choice was a hammer, and if I’d been thinking straight, I would’ve gone for this immediately. I smashed through the ice within moments, and even managed not to pierce the intrinsic workings of the freezer. I was quite proud. So I say defrosting is for chumps - what you really need is a destruction crew of one, with a nicely hefted hammer.

This morning I opened the freezer with no effort, and felt it close securely after shutting the door. Aaaah, sweet relief!

Today I’m loving: going to the Spiegeltent tonight to see La Clique (even if it is the 11.30pm show!)

It’s been far too long between posts, so it seems only fitting this one comes to you from the main street of Ubud, Bali, where Miss M and I are catching up on technology after four days of very different living.

Bali is so beautiful and so overwhelming, I thought it might be easiest to make a list, in no particular order, of my favorite things here.

*Lying in our woven hut listening to the torrential rain on the roof. Closely followed by sitting in the Chinese pavillion watching and listening to the torrential rain falling all around us.

*The place we’re staying. Matahari Cottages is amazing, and if you’re going to Ubud, please stay there. It’s jungle setting, fabulous staff and outrageous afternoon teas are too awesome.

*Frangiapani flowers littering every street you walk on. I still can’t help picking them up, it seems so criminal to walk on them. I still love the white ones more, but the pink ones smell slightly coconutty, which makes them quite appealing.

*The monkey forest - oh, those cute monkeys. I still have monkey paw prints on the pants I wore there, and once they realised we had bananas, they weren’t going to let us get away. One climbed onto my shoulder and I patted it, but the guide said “if you do that, they bite you”. It probably won’t surprise you to know I took my hand away quite quickly.

*The temples - everywhere. Why can’t my house have a temple? I think I may build one when I go home.

*The food. I think I’ve gained heaps of weight eating the breakfast and afternoon tea at Matahari, to say nothing of the outrageous dinners we’ve been having. Also iced ginger tea at Nomad - out of this world.

*Well dogs. I have never seen so many dogs in my life. Apparently the ones without collars are stray and are known as well dogs. They look nothing like dogs at home, but are so gorgeous I want to pat all of them. After the monkey forest experience, and hearing they like to bite tourists, I’ve restrained myself. Just.

*The other wildlife. At Matahari, we’ve seen three different types of frogs, geckos by the dozen, who seem to make some kind of noise like a squeaky toy, butterflys as big as birds, and an amazing snake about the width of my little finger which was striped lengthways in lime and black. It was so pretty I spent about ten minutes watching it. The insects are also incredible, although the bees are a little too big and friendly for my liking.

So we’re here for another two days, then leave on Saturday. I’ve abandoned my watch, which is probably the most liberating thing I’ve done for years, and have no idea of the time, and rarely an idea of the day. We make no plans and just wander around. The only thing dictating our day is Miss M, who sometimes is a little overwhelmed by everything, but for the most part has been an incredibly mature travelling companion for a spoiled Western eight year old in a poor and totally culturally different country.

Today I’m loving: learning a new balance pose in our yoga class today, which we did in a beautiful open air studio in the middle of a rice paddy, with butterflys and lizards on the wall, and ducks providing the soundtrack. That’s how I’ll always do my yoga from now on, when given the choice!