No scrubs 2:0: Or, what it's like to want to eat fish and chips evenmore than I used to, which was all the time anyway. (PM)

Hey, Mate, your hair looks really good in that picture!

I guess the problem with No Scrubs 2.0 is that a) you actually are scrubbing; and b) you smell like delicious fish and chips. Mmmmmmm. Eeeeeeeewwww. 

But as long as your hair looks good and no one tries to eat you, you are still the big winner!

My hair is such a fucking mess at the moment I'm just thankful it's summer. I'm basically planning to bundle it on top of my head for the next 4 months and hope that by the time I let it out it's long enough to do something with. 

No scrubs 2:0: Or, what it's like to want to eat fish and chips even more than I used to, which was all the time anyway. (AM)

Used to be that the main challenge of my  No Scrubs life was keeping the ear worm that is the song No Scrubs at bay whenever I inspected my hair in the mirror. Now, I've commenced No Scrubs 2.0 and a new challenge has presented itself. 

But first, what is NS2.0 and why have I embarked on it? I'm glad you asked. Basically, though my hair looked about 70% great after four months without shampoo, there were also times when it looked just a little too manky for my liking. It was a line ball, whether I could get away with it or not. But after consulting with J and Legsley one day and confronting my own views on the matter, I finally called that ball 'out'. Truth was my hair looked a little greasy and something needed to be done. That something was what the internet tells me many people who shirk shampoo have done all along: use bi carb soda and apple cider vinegar as a kind of hippy shampoo and conditioner substitute. 

As per Internet instruction, I mixed equal parts bicarbonate soda and water in one bottle, and equal parts apple cider vinegar and water in another. I shook those babies up and proceeded to 'shampoo' and 'condition' my hair like they were a couple of bottles of Pantene.

The results were impressive. That stuff cleans hair as well as any shampoo I have ever used. There is not even a hint of grease on this head now, and it's been three days since I 'washed'. 

Of course, the extreme cleanliness means that the fluffiness I've been trying to eradicate through No scrubs is back. But happily, only a touch, and it subsides each day. 

The real challenge is the fact that I can't smell apple cider vinegar without wanting to eat F&Cs, and for the first day after I commenced NS2.0, that smell was fresh.    It went away after a day or so, thank god. But I think I'm going to have to use the power of bicarb/vinegar sparingly, lest I give in to the temptation caused by the smell radiating off my head. Eww. But also, mmmmm. 

Good weather for ducks (PM)

A lady in a country Victoria bakery would make that comment about ducks, I guess. She'd probably offer you a neenish tart too.

I guess Baby thought it was good weather for ducks too. He was in my bed over night and woke up in the middle of the night when it was raining. He started telling me some complicated story about a show called Sarah and Duck where some kid was playing a game with rubber ducks and mistook Duck for a rubber duck and something something something... Who knows what he was saying it was the middle of the night and I don't know about the weather but it was good time for sleeps, that much I know. 

Good weather for ducks (AM)

So how about that rain last night? I haven't been in (read: laid in bed and listened to) a storm like that for yonks. It's pretty exciting really, providing you're in the conditions set out in brackets above. 

One time I was in country Victoria for work, and had been driving for hours in the rain. I was a bit frazzled as I went into a country bakery to get a sausage roll for lunch, but the old woman behind the counter said "Its good weather for ducks" by way of greeting. I'd never heard that phrase before but thought it was such a good one I bought a lamington too. 

I wish I hadn't put off bringing the washing in though. Oh well. 

Something's blowing in the wind (PM)

Your Mum calls it cabin fever, I call it asking some legitimate questions about what you want to be wearing in the future. But having said that, of course setting some goals is a good idea. And God knows time to one's self is a good idea. And exercise is a great idea! Especially if you want an excuse to get those white leggings!

I've done a couple of Les Mills TM classes in my day, and if my experience is anything to go by, you will find them equal parts annoying, hilarious, difficult and effective. Annoying because a key part of the Les Mill TM experience is the soundtrack. The classes are set to music which is especially prepared for you by Les Mills (' son) and because they are a company that is highly mindful of propriety rights, it's all re-recorded versions of contemporary 'hits'. Imagine a Katie Perry song re-recorded by someone who probably goes by Tatie Ferry and you're somewhere close to the music in  Les Mills class. No payment of royalites for those guys. No sirree. The music is very very annoying. But, it's also the reason that they're so hilarious. And as far as exercise goes, they really do the trick. They are difficult. Which makes them effective. Which closes the circle!

Even though I kind of hate group exercise classes, I'm going to set myself a goal of going to one class next week too. Maybe BodyPump, "the original barbel class that strengthens your entire body". From memory, the soundtrack to that one has a re-recorded version of Sweet Child O Mine.

I'm annoyed already

Something's blowing in the wind (AM)

On Monday morning after my mum read my post about the future of my wardrobe she texted me saying that she "detected the cabin fever of motherhood" and told me I should join a mothers group. She's probably right. For me, it turns out, being at home with two small children and no substantial time on my own makes think about: children; what clothes to wear; how old I suddenly look; what colours I should paint my nails if I ever have the chance to paint my nails; what exercise I can do if I ever get time to exercise; how to get time to exercise; porridge; and plants. One of the reasons I took up ballet was to try and combat the cabin fever but I think I need to be doing it more than once a week for it to have any significant effect.

It's not just my brain I have to worry about, it's you guys too. All I've written about this month is finding myself through clothes and Oprah. Sheesh, well I think I owe it to all of us to set some goals. So in the the next two weeks in the aim of expanding my mind I'm going to:

Do some Les Mills TM classes! Who's Les Mills and what does he teach, I hear you ask. Les Mills, New Zealand Olympian, former mayor of Auckland, the guy who seems to have the monopoly on group fitness classes at Yarra City gyms. He (or his son who actually owns Les Mills International) probably looks like this:

Put the word body in front of some kind of sporting action (Step! Pump! Balance!) and you've got a Les Mills class. TM. I'm sure it will be hilarious, or something, so I'm going to do it. For all of us. 

Fluoro chickens. A while ago I started drawing chickens. Then I stopped. But I'm going to start again. Maybe paint them too. 

Go somewhere new. I don't know where. God, just setting these goals is challenging enough for my dormant brain, but rest assured I'll figure out somewhere to go and then I'll go there. 

Let's hope for all of our sakes by November my brain has more to offer all of us. 

Clothes: where to from here? (PM)

Pickle is a bit of an oracle when it comes to what's happening in the world of clothes. It's not just that she knows what's happening from a trend point of view, which she absolutely does, it's that she puts it in a social context that really helps me make sense of it all. I mean, we've all observed the sandals and socks thing lately, but it's only when Pickle says that fashion now is everything we thought was wrong that I can start to interpret what I'm seeing. 

Given that, maybe you should get the white leggings? But I don't know where you would wear them, and your knees might feel really claustrophobic and try and make a break for freedom.

I have no clue at all where my clothes future lies. All I know is that I came back from the UK so excited to be reunited with clothes I had been separated from only to discover that all the clothes I'd left behind are shit. I'm as clothes lost as I've ever been. 

Clothes: where to from here (AM)

I've been going through something of a crisis of confidence clotheswise. That is to say that any time I wear anything other than my jeans and sweater uniform I basically come out a hot mess. This is worsened by the fact that most of my jeans have ripped knees so even in my jeans I'm pretty much a disaster. My poor fat knees looking for freedom. I turned one pair of torn jeans into shorts, like I'm living in some past millennium. Basically, wardrobe-wise, I'm fucked. 

I've been wondering if the way to remedy this is to throw my current conceptions of my own personal style out the window. In fact I seem to have unwittingly already done this as I seem to have lost all semblance of personal style.  I told K recently I was considering a more femme look for summer, inspired by this lady (from garancedore.com). 

But I don't even know if that's true. 

I want to start wearing skirts but I hate all mine which I've owned for ever and worn to death and bought in a different fashion climate. 

The other day I tried on a pair of leggings. White leggings with blue and purple splatters. I hate the colour purple. But  I loved the leggings. Of course I selfied myself in the mirror and pretty promptly sent the picture to Pickle. And spent the rest of the day looking longingly at the picture. Loving those leggings and wondering what the fuck was happening to me. 

Eventually, as I was staring at the picture, I got a message from Pickle: Do it! They're awesome!

What followed was a pretty exciting text exchange with me saying things like: 

I can't stop looking at them/thinking about them. I think I'm going to get them but I don't know what I'll do with them. 

And:

I'm thinking about turning my whole wardrobe on it's head starting with those leggings. I don't know how to wear my clothes any more I may as well start over. 

And Pickle saying things like:

Fashion has changed more in the last year than it has in about 10 years... Things are really sporty again. Like Aths, not skater. It's like all the things we have considered outrageous are actually what we want to wear right now: socks and sandals, leggings, crop tops... It's Opposite Fashion/Fashion Opposite.

And:

I am very drawn to leopard print. I've tried to embrace it.

My god! I felt so alive, so sure of my fashion future. I knew what had to be done and I knew it would begin with those leggings. I didn't know what would happen next but I felt ready to jump into the abyss. 

And then I went to bed. I guess this is what they mean by 'sleep on it'. Because boy did everything look different the next day. Buy those crazy white leggings? Who do I think I am?! Yeah I want them, but really would I wear them out in the world?

I have been really confused. And I still am. 

On Saturday I went shopping with K and Legsly and while I kept being drawn to sweaters I told them how I felt like I should resist the sweater. How I thought it was time to start anew, but when they asked why I couldn't really say. I hate my clothes but should I really move away from the clothes I'm attracted to. Maybe I love sweaters and jeans because they are awesome. And because they suit me. Maybe I just need to add some skirts to the mix. Maybe I should replace my falling-apart jeans. Maybe these simple steps will make me feel well dressed again. Maybe I can throw those wack leggings somewhere in there too. 

Oh I don't have all the answers but I'm pretty sure this is going to be one crazy summer.  

Nearly wordless Thursday (PM)

Who the hell is Fritz?! I guess he is just some kind of graffiti artist lovo. Get over yourself Fritz.

Or some really hungry person misspelt frites. Mmmmmmm frites. 

Nearly wordless Thursday (AM)

 I spotted this out the window of my Upfield train.  

Now I can't stop wondering who Fritz is and why his name is all in caps. 

Calling bullshit (PM)

I've never really understood pasta salad, which has always struck me, as you say Mate, as just a big bowl of cold pasta. I've never chosen it from a BBQ table because if I'm going to eat cold pasta I'll eat leftovers straight out of the fridge while no one is watching, thank you very much. However, I used to work just doors down from one of those very cafés K described, the kind that exists purely to service nearby workers. Office workers, tradies. The kind of place that has sweet treats wrapped in glad wrap. Sometimes I'd get a sandwich there. Sometimes I'd get a mix of salads. Mainly tabouli and Greek but I'd let them chuck in a bit of pasta salad too because I like to have carbs in my meals and it had a nice tangy dressing and when the whole thing was slathered in Tabasco it was pretty delicious. Having said that though I don't for a minute think that pasta salad is anything other than a bowl of cold pasta. Then again I don't really give a shit. I'm not precious about salad and I'm not precious about carbs. Hell no I'm not.

Moreover that poor woman in your meeting, Matey, would probably have preferred to be eating her cold pasta out of the fridge with no one watching too but some jerk scheduled a lunchtime meeting, let her keep a little dignity and call her lunch a salad. 

I guess my feeling is call it anything you want just don't call me late for dinner, as my dad used to say. 

Calling bullshit (AM)

Today, I'd like to call bullshit on something that presents itself as one thing, but really really isn't that thing.

Friends, I want to talk about pasta salad.
Pasta salad is something that has been around for a long time. It never really had a moment, like quinoa had a moment, or kale is having a moment. It has just always been around. Having said that, I think it was more prevalent in the days before the world went food mad, when it had a place at pretty much every BBQ table. These days, you only really find it at BBQs  where multiple generations are present. People of our generation probably wouldn't make a pasta salad unless it was an Ottolenghi recipe and had that tiny pasta in it called orzo or something like that.
But it remains a presence at a certain type of BBQ, the kind where our parents are present. And, in a certain kind of CBD cafe where they service a broad clientele and have a huge range of menu items including salads that are meant to be a healthy alternative to things like, I don't know, toasted pides or pies or something. Pasta salad is a total staple of this kind of place and I've never questioned it. Heck, i've even considered eating it for lunch when it looks fresh and green and herby, maybe with a a little pesto and chilli and maybe some toasted pine nuts on top. I never get it, but I have often considered it. The other day, however, it hit me that pasta salad is kind of a bunch of bullshit.  I was in a meeting that was scheduled for 1pm. One woman showed up and said "I hope you don't mind if I eat my salad during this meeting". The meeting was at 1pm. Lunchtime. No one minded.
But of course it was pasta salad she was eating, not leafy salad, which is absolutely her prerogative. But as I watched her tuck into it I thought lady, you are not eating 'salad', you are eating a cold bowl of pasta, and anyone who thinks that by eating it they're having a healthy option is kidding themselves.
Now don't get me wrong, I am open to a wide range of salads comprised of a wide range of things, not just leafy things. I know that the church of salad is a broad church, and that's a wonderful thing. But pasta salad is typically made up primarily of pasta, with a few other ingredients that provide the colour and movement and flavour. Much like pasta sauce on pasta. Which is to say, pasta salad is basically a cold bowl of pasta. I don't know how it found its way into the light and healthy lunch options category, because it totally isn't. Maybe Big Carbohydrate had something to do with it. But I can finally see pasta for what it is and I'm calling bullshit on it.

Who am I? (PM)

I kind of wish I was on Oprah.com right now, taking that quiz and figuring out who I'm meant to be. The only reason I'm not is because I've kind of figured out that who I'm supposed to be is someone who gets distracted easily, so I'm strictly limiting my internet activity during business hours because the internet is a giant distraction factory and I am very weak. It's not really working because it turns out that old timey sources of distraction, such as looking out of the window, are just as distracting as the internet only I never had to test this before because of the internet. But enough of that. 

Speaking of distraction, I bought this spotty jumpsuit while I was away and I don't know whether I can wear it to work but I really really want to. 

I also don't know if I can pull off a spotty jumpsuit but I really rally want to. 

Who am I? (AM)

It was Yom Kippur on Saturday, the day of atonement. It's also a time for self reflection. Russeth fasted and, presuming he had the presence of mind through the hunger, I assume he atoned and reflected. Around sunset that night though I received this message from him "So I've just left the house to get my post Yom meal and nearly said hello to a woman I thought was Mondonna". Readers, Mondonna lives in America, so the chances of her walking past Russeth were slim. Whether Russeth was in any position to make a sound assessment of the year just gone remains to be seen. I did not observe Yom Kippur but that doesn't mean I haven't been atoning and reflecting. Just the other night I did an Oprah quiz. Yes, now that Oprah is no longer a tv show she is a website. And a television station by all accounts. 

To be honest I don't know if I intended to google "what should I do with my life?" or if predictive googling distracted me, either way in order to discover who I am meant to be, I found myself ranking, according to frequency, statements  like "others think of me as nurturing". I don't know Oprah, go ask the others! Or "I lose sight of my own needs". Yes Oprah, sometimes I do. Why the fuck else would I be doing this quiz, I certainly don't need to be, a fact I've clearly lost sight of. 

It became clear to me when I'd finished the quiz that it was the kind of thing where any result would give me some reassuring, positive and inaccurate assessment of myself and after looking around for some more enjoyable quiz (I love quizzes, I find them very relaxing. I enjoy surveys in the same way and will always do one when telesurveyors ring with them) but it turns out that Oprah the website is at least as annoying as Oprah the tv show was and after laughing at the discovery of an article called "how to wear jeans to work" I looked under my chair to see if there was a gift bag only to find nothing and shut down the Oprah window.  

So Oprah helped me achieve nothing and a 24-hour fast would probably make me as delusional as it did Russeth. I've got a year to figure out how to best self reflect and how I can apologise to myself for spending on Oprah.com. 

Dreams can come true (PM)

I had no idea that story was going to end so happily! Even though the post was called Dreams can come true. But who would dare to dream such a thing? I know I willed the ideal coat into being, but even I would never dream that something I had loved and lost in seasons past would return. That's what I would consider to be an impossible dream. But I guess impossible dreams are still dreams.
Anyway, this is a wonderful thing that has happened, and I'm very happy for J.
But, I can't like to you guys. I'm also a little jealous. Because I have an impossible dream of my own.
Once, a few years ago, I tried on a shearling jacket at Scanlan and Theodore that was truly excellent. It cost something like $900, so when I tried it on, it was purely for the fun of it. It was never a genuine prospect. But I loved it quite a lot when I tried it on. Straight away, I loved it. I run a little cold you see, and the thought of wearing what is basically a lambskin akin to those babies lie on everyday was very appealing to me. But $900 is ridiculous, so I walked away.
But I think about that jacket often. More often than I'd like to admit to. And I've been to the Scanlan and Theodore outlet many times looking for it. I've scoured ebay. But it's gone forever. I've chalked it up as an impossible dream. But, um, dreams can come true so who knows how this story will eventually play out.

Dreams can come true (AM)

While recently revisiting some of Miss Soft Crab's archive I saw this post about when K found her dream coat a couple winters ago. Remember? She and I had imagined the perfect coat for her and she basically found it the very next day, as if our very conversation had brought it into being. Of course I was happy for her and when I happened upon the post recently I wondered at the miracle that was finding that coat and, honestly, I felt a little jealous. Just at the thought of finding the item of your dreams. That happens once, maybe twice in a lifetime. Or maybe more, but not often. 

The winter after K bought that coat I rushed into a coat purchase of my own. It's a fine coat but certainly not one dreams are made of. So the question arises, how much thinking do you need to do before buying a thing?

Two summers ago I tried on a pair of bathers I was really hot for. I wanted a one piece because I only had a tatty one  and a bikini (I know, I can't believe me) but I wasn't sure if I could justify the purchase. This one piece was a great cut, nice colour, modest! Everything I was looking for, but they were $150 which is what nice bathers cost and well I thought on it too long and they passed me by. I went back and they were gone never to even see a sale rack. I thought about them often and as another summer approaches I've been wondering if I'd ever again meet a one piece I'd feel the same way about. I hoped búl, the brand of those lost bathers may provide something for me this year, but enquiries lead me to learn they were no longer doing swimwear. Woe was me. 

But then... I barely dare to speak these words...guess what opened on the weekend! A búl outlet store! Boy was I nervous when I went in and asked if they had swimwear. The answer was yes and I was more nervous still when I asked about one pieces and styles only to learn that the only ones they had were the very ones I searched for and the very price they cost was a measley $30!

K may have imagined a coat into being but I imagined some bathers back from the dead! Miracles can happen and fashion dreams really can come true!

 

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz (PM)

I saw K and Appleheart the day after they got back and they seemed great! I was really impressed with how together they were but after an hour the yawns started and I could see the fades set in. I can't say I'm surprised that by today K is feeling so zapped. Yesterday I felt totally zapped myself. Constant yawning an inability to move, it strikes me like that some afternoons but then I rally, cook dinner, it passes. Not being jetlagged you forget what jetlag feels like. I guess it's like yesterday afternoon without the ability to rally so easily. So why don't we all take a load off, think about what we may do on the weekend and reconvene hear on Monday!

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz (AM)

I'm back you guys, and more jet lagged than ever!
I wanted to write some things about how nice it is to be back, and how I'd forgotten how nice Melbourne smells in the springtime when the sun is shining and the flowers are blooming. And how the coffee is every bit as good as I remember. And about how cute Newbie is. You guys should see that kid! Happy as a pig in mud.
But I'm so zapped from the jet lag I can barely string a sentence together, so I'm just going to say hi and then be on my way.
I feel like this guy, but without the polar fleece to lie on, and without the people cooing over me.
Oh well. I'll be back on form next week for sure. Until then, readers!