Friday fact

I don't do pants.

I have over 100 skirts, all different cuts, colours, patterns, lengths, and fabrics.
I have one pair of shorts, and one of pants, both in black stretch cotton, for running.

My thighs weren't built for pants.

Roses!

Big, blooming, blood red roses!
Their long stems pushing out from a lush emerald bed of fern fronds, palm leaves and ornamental grasses.

Mmmm, it's such a fragrant and pretty surprise, from my favourite florist!

Six years ago today...

Two 16 year olds met each other for lunch. The cute, witty boy asked the buxom, brunette girl whether she would like to go out with him. The girl replied 'yes!', gleefully. They went to see American Pie. It was embarassing.

This past week, the girl tried to secretly create a personalised card for the boy. She popped it in his lunchbox this morning. It's really hard to do anything covert when you live with someone.
But the boy succeeded in including a lovely card in the girl's handbag, for her to find at work.
The card reads 'Silliness and Grace', and inside it says 'You have just the right balance'. This describes the girl perfectly! The other words the boy wrote are beautiful, and personal, and brought a tear to the girl's eye.

Writing in third person is unfamiliar.

Point scoring

DJ asked a good question today, about how points are calculated.

Points are based on a combination of kilojoules and saturated fats.
Originally, they calculated on total fat, but a few years ago they realised that there are some healthy fats, which are essential to our wellbeing. So by only restricting unhealthy saturated fats, Weight Watchers members enjoy strong bones and healthy coats.

It varies a bit, for example, 1 point can equal anything between min 100kjs + 3.5g sat fat and max 325kjs + 0.5g sat fat.
So, 1 point could be an apple, or it could be a Lindt chocolate ball.
Obviously, someone wanting to lose weight would tend to try and eat more of the apples, and less of the chocolates, but the great thing about the program is that if you want half of each, that's acceptable.

I have a slide calculator, so I just line up the values, and it tells me the points. Thank goodness that it's now compulsory to display nutritional values on packaging!
WW publish little guides though, which cover grocery foods, brand name foods, and restaurant foods. I have most regular things memorised now.

They follow up the simple points theory with a lot of nutritional information in meetings, so members are empowered to make sensible choices. A lot of emphasis is placed on eating balanced amounts of protein, dairy and carbohydrates. As vegetables are point free, and nutrient rich, members are encouraged to include these abundantly. Also water. Eating at regular intervals is key, as it is easier for your body to deal with several smaller meals. As too, of course, is regular exercise. You can earn bonus points for exercise, but I choose not to take this option, as I try to work out for health, not extra food.

I'm currently on 18 points, as I am kickstarting my efforts. Here's what I ate on Tuesday:

Breakfast - 60g Tropicana museli with a splash of light milk - 4 points.
Morning tea - Apple - 1
Lunch - Mug of chicken and sweetcorn soup - 1
Tub of French cheesecake lite yoghurt - 3
Afternoon tea - Vanilla OTs bar - 1.5
Pre dinner snack - carrot and salsa - 0
Dinner - Baked tandoori chicken breast(125g) - 4
Diced cucumber with dressing (splenda, mint, white wine vinegar, seasoning) - 0
Dessert - 100g Connossieur Caramelised pear yoghurt - 3.5

I know that many programs recommend loads of meat or carbs, but this one works for me, and I feel as bright as a button on it. I'm already feeling a lot clearer in the head and lighter in my carriage.

Next week, I will increase my points intake to one appropriate to my dimensions, most likely 22. I will continue with this allowance until either the effect plateaus, or my weight decreases to a lower range, whichever comes first.

Based on past results, I can look forward to reducing gradually and healthily, if I follow the ideology. Fingers crossed!

Things I'm cheesed about

Yoplait have lots of different varieties of yoghurt - good on them.

Once upon a time I was a devout consumer of Nestle Diet yoghurts. At only 1.5 points per tub. But I found that Yoplait's taste and consistency was far superior, and so became a convert, making sure to remember that they had a slightly higher points content, around 2 per tub.

After reviewing the packaging recently, I've found that the points have jumped up to around 3-3.5 per tub! This is a big difference- they're now more than a Mars Bar Lite, or three Freddos! So, you might see me lurking around the dairy case with a points calculator in the next few weeks, picking a lighter alternative.

There was something else, but I forgot.

What a pack of losers!

I snuggled in to watch the first episode of the new series of The Biggest Loser last night. I love this show. These people put their emotions (and bodies) on full display... so courageous.
There are people out there who have been slim all their lives and can eat whatever they want, who will say that the contestants are disgusting, but I think that there's dignity in admitting that you have a problem, and trying your hardest to remedy it.

Every frustration, every joy, every disappointment - I've been there, and I can empathise with how they feel. Especially the tension of weigh in, where the results can be a mixed bag - one week you may have busted your butt and maintained the strictest diet, and you only lose 0.1 kg. Another week, you've relaxed a bit, but managed to lose 1.5 kgs. It's not a perfect science, but I guess that makes it all the more compelling.

One thing I can't say I've experienced, however, is losing over 12 kgs in one week! I almost fell off my chair! I understand that they are working out much more than any gainfully employed individual would be able to, and are consuming foods engineered to aid progress, but really, is that kind of loss even safe? I rationalised that some of these people's bodies were just crying out to shed excess weight, and the lifestyle change was so abrupt and extreme that it would have been a kind of shock to the system. But I think the most I've ever lost in a week was 2.4 kgs, and even that was a marvellous, unrepeatable feat!

I wanted to find a girl with a figure like mine, so that I could cheer her along, but none had the big bust/narrow waist/big hips combination going on. So I'll just cheer for the girls with the best personalities. What I have noticed though is that most of the girls are really pretty - do you think the producers chose them for that fact, so that they will be stunning at the end?

Another show I'm looking forward to - Australian Princess. I know, I should be ashamed of myself, but it looks like it will be funny, all of these Disco Danielles trying to carry themselves with grace. I think that starts soon...

Righty-o

For reasons best known to God, I gained two kilograms last week.
Well, dinner with generous hosts during the week would be prime reason number one. Being in the midst of inconvenient lady time would also not have helped.
But really, gaining is crap, excuses also.
So, rather than tailoring the Weight Watchers' program to suit me, I have to change my behaviours to suit the program.

The first step is acknowledging my weight, without being coy. This morning, the scales told me that I am 108.5 kgs.
I don't like this very much. This is almost the weight I was at when I first started Weight Watchers, three years ago. I got down to 80kgs then, with every intention of continuing to whittle myself down to my goal of 69kgs. And then Hurricane Stress blew threw my life, and turned everything on its head. I ate to deal with the bad news, disrespect, and disappointment that became a daily factor of my life back then. Things are lovely now, except that I am most annoyed at myself for undoing all of my hard work.
I understand that there are bigger people in the world, and there are smaller people in the world. Just because I don't like that I am a certain size, does not mean I feel the same way about people who are bigger than I. Nor do I feel that people who are smaller then me are any better. Everyone's beautiful in their own way. It just so happens that the weight that is sitting on my frame doen't suit me.

The second step is deciding where I want to be. My goal is still to be 69 kgs. This is towards the top end of the healthy weight range for my height. Any less would be ridiculous, as people who have seen me at my smallest would attest. Thus, I have to lose 39.5 kgs. I would like to lose in increments of 0.5 - 1 kg per week. More is great, but unsustainable, less is fine, but not for too long. Gains are unwelcome.

Third step, how to do it. The most effective tool I have learnt is tracking. The weeks when I have written a points tally, are the weeks whan I have enjoyed the most success. My general diet is very good, all fresh fruits, lean meats, light cereals and such. But it's all the optional extras that are the killers. By tracking, it's easy to see when I need to exclude the extras, and when I can indulge.
I am also going to make sure I only weigh on Monday mornings, right after I wake up and am refreshed, but before breakfast. Previously I'd been weighing on Saturday mornings, however, the time I go to sleep on Friday, and wake up on a Saturday can vary wildly, and this can really affect the results. As my weekdays are very regimented, it will be easy to stick to the routine. This will also make sure that I am not too naughty over the weekend, as it is very easy to think that you can eat a few wicked things just after weigh-in, and work it off during the week (this doesn't work!).

So, this week I'm going down to 18 points, as is the Weight Watchers way for all first week members. After that, I'll raise the points to a more appropriate level, which I will alter later to suit my progress.
Stay tuned for next Monday... should be interesting!

Le Weekend

The weekend was good.

I drove for two and a half hours into and around the city. Hook turns and tram negotiations aplenty. I went over the Westgate bridge - what a thrill! The wind was low, so the speed was 80 kms, a nice quick run. The only problem was that I love to watch the view when driving over said bridge, so I had to force myself to keep my attention front and centre. I also had to force myself to not drive in to unknown Western territory, to plant a kiss on sassy Suspira.

We had a nice walk to stretch our legs on Lygon st., heard roars from invisible crowds tucked away in bars at the end of The Game, and later dined at DiMattina's. We shared oysters for entree, and I had chicken and avocado fettucine for my main.

We got home at a fairly reasonable time and so caught most of Gladiator. Now, the themes in this movie get me choked up at the best of times, but halfway through Stu raises the subject of the possibility of one of us dying earlier than the other, and the surviving partner finding another person to love. Apparently Stu is fine with the idea of me finding another person if he leaves this world a long time before he should, on the condition that the replacement man treats me well. Cue major teary for Janet. I sobbed at the thought of my precious man not being around. And then the movie ended, and I sobbed again because Maximus found his family in the afterlife. Loyalty is beautiful.

Sunday was lovely. Sampled the fruitcake that mum and I made together last week. Two thumbs up - the perfect wedding cake for my sister. Dense but moist (the cake, not Bec).
I was so organised I managed to get Monday's dinner ready on Sunday, and had lots of time to thumb through my pile of wedding mags, removing the pages containing things that caught my eye. I have a 'look book', which is my folder for inspiration when I actually start to do some planning for the wedding. I don't want to use the word 'scrapbooking', but it is a bit like that, each page dedicated to a certain aspect (groom, engagement party, bridesmaids, etc.), laid out just so, with a few embellishments to tie the theme together. It's nice to look at the completed pages and get a feel for what it might be like when it all comes together.

Very late night in the end, as I dawdled about in the process of getting ready for bed.
*Yawn*

Friday Fact

For those who care, I am a 16D.
Looking down, I realise that I should restrain these puppies when I am at work.

Last Night...

...was a very confronting song for a blossoming 15 year old girl to deal with. Az Yet should be ashamed of themselves. And every 15 year old boy desperate to conquer the girl of his affections would include this song on his 'dedication mix tape'. That's just gross.

Anyways, last night we went to dinner at the house of K & J. K is a music teacher by day, but has such a passion for his art that he gives Stu free guitar lessons on Sunday mornings, so that they can jam a bit and discuss their passion for the Beatles. In a funny coincidence, I work with a girl who was one of his students.
K would love to put some of Stu's brainy talents to work, and so invited us to dinner to discuss the possibility of Stu tutoring his students in some of the intricacies of small business management, most specifically, creating websites as effective tools for developing, managing and promoting music businesses.
Stu used to tutor 1st year students while he was completing his degree, so this was no drama.

So most of the evening was dedicated to chardonnay and great chatter. They have an amazing collection of Japanese artifacts, given to them by the numerous exchange students they've hosted over the years. I was delighted to see handfans and geta (wooden thongs) decorating every surface.
J created a lovely meal... lots of good appetisers, dinner was chicken rolled in puff pastry, cheesy potatoes, Greek salad, garlic bread, and dessert was sticky date pudding. I can't tell you how guilty I feel today! I was a good guest, I had a great time, but oh, anyone trying to slim would look at that list of foods in horror!

I don't hold much hope for a good result this weekend!

It is a tu-mah!

I've recently started experiencing pain in my right wrist whenever I do push ups, or engage in some personal gratification (sorry to go there guys!). I can't bend my hand back anywhere near the amount I used to, and it worried me a little.
One day, I did the opposite, and bent my hand forward. Protruding from my wrist was a strange lump, as if my bone were pushed out of its socket.

Apparently it's nothing to worry about, it is what they call a ganglion cyst. It's a sac of fluid that builds in between the bones at the wrist, pinching nerves and being generally painful, not to mention creepy looking.

It's not life threatening, but the doctor gave me some options -
1 - Surgery. Will remove current tumour. Will not guarantee that tumour won't return.
2 - Drop the family bible on it. Will burst current tumour. Could still return.
3 - Immobilise wrist. Nu-uh! I am not ambidextrous, at all.
4 - Ignore problem. Can do!

It could go away by itself, it could get worse. So I'm stuffed, really.

There are a few reasons why I could have developed the tumour in the first place.
1 - Joint cracking. Yep, I'm one of those people. Sorry.
2 - Over use. The doctor would like to attribute this to frequent computer use. I am ashamed to say that it is most likely from clicking a mouse of an entirely different kind.
3 - Too much pressure. Over the years, I've taken part in loads of contact sports, combat classes, boxing circuits, and such. Not so good for jointy bits.
4 - Sleeping position. I sleep all curled up in a ball, with my right hand in a funny position under my head. I often wake up with hurty joints, my wrist included.

I'm hoping that this will not affect my handwriting, drawing, or potential to craft beautiful cakes and sugar decorations in the future. In the meantime, I'll have to make an effort to share the love between my hands, and become a bi-handed superlady!

Party time!

Or not.
I was invited to a jewellery party, which was to take place last night. I was really looking forward to it, as the host was a friend from high school, who has a lovely new bunch of friends, with whom I get along really well. My best friend was also invited, good times would roll.

But then I started rationalising.
- It was a weeknight. I hate going out and doing things on weeknights, it puts me out of whack.
- My best friend wasn't going. My security blanket was gone, I would have to use my personality to get through the evening. (!)
- It wouldn't allow for enough time to eat a proper dinner. I really didn't want to eat any takeaway food last night.
- It was in Mornington, meaning that an hour would be spent in the car. I would need to get Stu to ferry me at least one way.
- It was a jewellery party. I hate those gatherings where you are trapped with a salesperson and their shoddy merchandise. Even the more reputable companies... I just think 'what is so wrong with your product that you can't go retail?' Plus, you feel an obligation to purchase things so the hostess can get all the freebies that she is secretly coveting.

Apparently this party was to feature knockoff Prada and Gucci handbags, and the like. But isn't half the fun of having designer accessories knowing that you're toting around lovely things? I'm quite happy with my collection of Oroton, thankyouverymuch. It's not at all overpriced, but the designs are balanced, the materials are sublime, and the workmanship is fantastic.
Plus, I prefer to buy my jewellery from designers who've put a bit of heart and soul into their work.

Anyways, I stayed home, and played Antigrav (again!). We also caught up on the most recent episode of NCIS, so we're up to date, and can finish the season off when the finale airs this week.
I just hope I can get together with these girls soon, they're great! But they all work funny hours, so it's hard to coordinate a time that suits everyone. Eh, we'll make it happen...

I hate Mondays...

...but then, who doesn't?

Really, at what point in evolution did mankind decide that time spent working should far outweigh time spent in recreation?
Anyways, my weekend was nice, exacerbating my desire for it to not end.

I walked the soggy streets of Melbourne on Saturday, in search of cake decorating tools for Bec's wedding. Originally, my parents were going to pick me up at 6:30am, and then we'd sit around while dad did some work, finally going shopping at 10am. There was no way I was getting up before 6am on a Saturday, so I took a train in and met them at 10am. Much more civilised.

I was very well behaved, the only thing I bought was Antigrav for the Playstation... we have been hunting for this game for some time, as it makes use of the Eye Toy, which I adore. There's something about flailing your appendages in front of the TV that warms the heart. Except when you can't get the lighting right, so the controls go all wacky. *grumble* Best played at nighttime.

Oh, I also bought my family some chocolates at Haighs, which I hope to have as bonboniere in the distant future. Champagne truffles... mmm. I've had them as my preferred option for some time now, but when my 15 year old brother, John, gives them the thumbs up, you know you're on to a winner. Pricey, but worth it.

That evening, after I dragged myself away from Antigrav, Stu and I went to see the new Wallace and Grommit movie - which is very good! Funny, quaint, ingenious.

Stu's guitar lesson was cancelled the next day, so we had a lazy but productive morning. I went through the time consuming ritual of washing and blowdrying my hair, and made baked potatoes stuffed with ricotta and chives for lunch. Tasty!
More Antigrav, and then we got ready to have a driving lesson. Alas, our 1983 Holden Camira was dead in the garage. It was really okay, because we have a shiny Focus sedan as our everyday car, but we want to use up the remaining petrol in the Camira before we consign it to the heap, as it's no good in the new car, and it is a costly resource at the moment.
So the RACV came out and gave the battery a boost, and we were fine to go. It turns out that it needs to be driven at least twice a week, or the battery will die.
I drove to Mordialloc, we took in a long walk along the creek, then up the pier at the beach, then drove back home, where we collapsed in a heap.

So much walking and jumping around in front of the TV left me with quite a sore lower back, so I rounded off the day with a Coconut Cream body butter back massage, while people tried to sing on Idol. No one in that competition is floating my boat at the moment... this year might be a lost cause.

I'm really trying to be happy that I'm at work today... but I'm failing.

Progress

I lost 0.6 kgs last week. Acceptable.

Friday Fact

Once upon a time there was a goddess called Ren. She included delightful little random factoids about herself on her blog. Ren went away.

There is a prolific blogger we here at Curves like to call Deej, (we should probably ask permission before bestowing monikers on our friends, shouldn't we?) who has many blogs. One of which is lots of funny and mysterious facts.

And tasty Texan temptress Kendall used to answer the Friday Five, a short list of facts that allowed us to get closer to our favourite American.

I'm sure I don't need to connect the dots for you... it's obvious that I, Janet, love facty bits. So I might just divulge some facts of my own, every Friday, 'cause it's my blog and I wanna. There might be multiple facts, there might be just one. I might back them up with a story. They might be deep, they might be trivial, but they will definitely be honest... so please be kind!

Factoid the first -
I should be brain dead. (No laughing!)

When I was a tender three years of age, my grandparents took me to Sydney for a holiday. After drinking from a public drinking fountain, I contracted bacterial meningitis.
All of my blonde curls fell out (and were later replaced with straight brown hair - I sometimes wonder, "Would life be different if I were blonde?'), I couldn't walk, I couldn't talk, I was like a newborn baby all over again.

My doctors were convinced that I was not long for this world. They called my parents in Melbourne, telling them to rush themselves up to Sydney, so that they may say goodbye to me. At best, they advised, I would be afflicted with such severe brain damage that I would be like a vegetable.
Through some twist of fate, after my parents arrived (by breaking land speed records on the highways), I began to recover. Slowly, but surely, and after a few months, I was able to return home.

I have vague memories of my time at the hospital. I remember screaming through the ordeal of routine injections, and the little round bandaids that they would put over the pinpricks, which had a blue smiley face on them. I remember that there was a golf course outside my window, and I would watch the doctors playing between their rounds. I remember that my bed was like one of those big, white, wrought iron cribs, and that the ward was like a long, sterile corridor. My warmest memory is the visitor's room at the far end of this corridor, with soft lighting, toys, and my mum and dad.

Though my detractors would love to tease me and say that I'm still brain damaged, all evidence points to the fact that I made a full recovery. I was enrolled in four year old kindergarten when I was still three, to accelerate my learning, and I did ballet classes to develop my motor skills. And I became a robust young thing, without too major a health concern after that...
Oh, except for the fact that my pap test a few years back was sent to that dodgy facility, where they messed everything up, so I had to have ANOTHER PAP TEST. No woman should ever have to do that more often than bi-annually. I really think that doctors are far too willing to go up there...

Enough of that. My brain works. The end.

Psst! I'll tell you a secret!

You didn't hear this from me, but apparently Pierce Brosnan is going to reprise his role as Bond, to make Casino Royale!
Yay!

That naughty cat!

I live with two boys. One is as nice as pie, the other is a devilled egg. Well, you all know I like Stu quite a bit... but Samurai, he is a source of much consternation for me!

He's a very handsome boy, with green eyes, a pink nose and short little legs. His long fur is white underneath with a big dollop of grey on top, which falls over his left eye like the fringe of a moody teenager. He was quite a frail little thing as a kitten, but now he has the full bodied presence of a lazy indoor cat. He's cute, and he gets away with murder because of it!

I'm a cat person in general, so when he chose us on our fateful visit to the pet store, I thought we'd get along just fine. Stu and I fell in love with him straightaway, but it seems that Sam doesn't like me very much. He took to Stu like a duck to water (maybe it's a brotherhood thing), but me... I think he tolerates me at best. I want to pat him and sit with him and play with him, but he just ain't playing ball.

But occasionally he lets me know how he really feels... like when he ate the cactus I'd been lovingly nurturing for months... or insists upon waking me up at four in the morning by rattling the blinds... attacking me when I'm defenseless on the exercise bike... he hates me - boo hoo!

Recently he's knocked it up a notch (with the spice weasel - bam!). He has scratched so much underneath my lounge suite, that he has developed a hole large enough to fit through. So he climbs up into the bottom of the couch, just sitting there, straining the remaining lining. He loves to do this when I've just put my feet up on said couch, and am relaxing after a day of dealing with grumblebum tantythrowers. And he refuses to evacuate this crawl space... we end up having to fill the area with foul smelling 'no scratch spray', to make it completely unpleasant for him. So we're going to reline the couch with vinyl... let's see him claw through that!

And for the past few mornings, as soon as day breaks, he thinks that it is great fun to attack my feet while I'm trying to sleep...not just playfully, claws and all! And as soon as you so much as flinch, he dashes off, because he knows he's doing the wrong thing. When we close the bedroom door, so I may enjoy the last twenty minutes of my slumber painlessly, he howls for attention. Now, dear friends, we all know how much I love my sleep, so I am almost ready to make him a permanent outdoor boy, food optional.

But then he sits and behaves for twenty minutes... and I think of the stress of cars whizzing by, big mean doggies, and violent boys, and I love him all over again. Plus I don't think the local wildlife would survive him.

Seriously though, he's got some strange habits, like, why does he scratch the wall, instead of his litter, after relieving himself?! And he never cleans himself properly, so he gets little clumps that we have to chop out - we do brush him! And what's so great about sitting in the sink?

Pfft, at least he's not throwing up furballs (please don't let this be a jinx!).

PS - if anyone gets my obscure Futurama reference, Stu will buy you lunch!

Hard work

I rode 15kms on my bike last night, and refused any warm beverages or desserty things after dinner - I'm so behaved!
But then dinner was pretty satisfying - grilled corn fed chicken breast with capsicum relish on a bed of baby spinach and polenta. 5 points per serve.
Man, polenta is the most bland of things to pass my lips in a while! I think it needs to be cooked with stock next time...

Outrage!

The Age is my newspaper of choice. No superfluous diagrams, no sensationalism, no dumbing-down.
Usually, they exhibit a respect for all possible readers - executives, wage slaves, immigrants, stay at home mums. If you were to guess at their political alignment, it appears that they are skewed towards more socially responsible attitudes... dare I say Labour?
So imagine my horror to read this yesterday, in relation to proposed VCE English reforms:

A compulsory subject that is to be relevant, important and useful to a highly academic student from a private school in a leafy eastern suburb vying for a position in a medical or law faculty at a prestigious local university must be just as appropriate, significant and pertinent to a student in a western suburbs school from a non-English-speaking background. Such a student may still be at school only because there are no other viable alternatives.

Bastard! How dare he imply that a person's heritage or location determines their intelligence or desire to achieve!
I am not in either of the groups he speaks of - I am not from the western suburbs, English is my first language, I did not go to a private school, there are leaves in my suburb - so I am not personally offended.

I am, however, angry for all of the people who are diminished by this ridiculous statement. Those who are wildly successful, intelligent, compassionate, and return home to a family who share the day's events in Cantonese. Those who love nothing more than curling up in a cosy nook in their Melton residence and absorbing great literary works which satisfy their thirst for masterful prose. Those who will not try to excel when morons like this one don't expect them to.
A good English program is one which will inspire students regardless of where they live or how recently the began to call Australia home. It will put an end to ineffective communications, like text messages which read 'R U redi 4 da party, dont B L8!!!!!' It will stop retailers from using terms such as 'drive thru', 'lite', 'kwik' and every other possible molestation of our language. It will not be so contrived that it is relevant only to those living somewhere between Sandringham and Elwood. It will not be so common as to not challenge students to develop their skills.

Grrr. Stupid literati - I blow my nose at you!

Gifty goodness

I must say that Christmas is by far my favourite holiday, what with the anticipation and the reciprocity and the gingerbread.
Birthdays are pretty good too, but you don't get to decorate a tree for your birthday, and it's less of an 'us' time, than a 'me' time.

Alas, despite my best efforts to forget, my family keeps reminding me that the 23rd annual Janstravaganza will take place in a month. 'Give us a list of what you want!' were the cries that rang around the table last weekend. What a decadent idea, creating a list of all the things your heart desires. So here goes...

In car charger for 20 GB ipod
Digital kitchen scales
Subscription to Who Magazine
Subscription to OK! Magazine
The Best of Martha Stewart Living Weddings (Hardcover)
Memoirs of a Geisha: Images from the Film (Newmarket Pictorial Moviebooks) (Hardcover)
Ralph Lauren 'Romance' (preferably EDP)
L'oreal - Home Microdermabrasion Set
Alicia Keys - MTV Unplugged Album
India.Arie - 'India's Voice'
Vouchers - for movies, spa treatments, department stores
Dusk scented votives or container candles
Imaginatively labelled wines - I prefer chardonnay
Contribution to outdoor setting

This pretty much sums me up... some stuff for the house, some good sounds (in my opinion, I respect the fact that not everyone likes my music), some nonsense, some little luxuries, and a desperate plea to get my complexion glowing.

This list is tailored to suit the differing capabilities of my loved ones to pay for gifts, and will hopefully cover Christmas as well. Some items aren't available yet, and note that I didn't include a Kompressor, or therapy, or a view of the bay from my window - all things I'd love to have, but let's be realistic!

By no means is this list gospel. If all I get are handmade cards and a home cooked meal, I will be over the moon, as it's the togetherness and thought that means the most to me... the candles will melt, the perfume will evaporate, the magazines will be devoured then consigned to the rack. But experiencing these things will be another subconscious reminder of the fact that I have a warm, loving family deposited about my home town, ever ready to shoulder my burdens and celebrate my successes. Ah, I'm so sentimental!

Oh - progress!

Well, not much progress, but progress nonetheless!

I lost 0.5 kgs last week. Only 0.7 so far, but as granny would say, that's better than a slap in the belly with a wet fish.

I'm still going to lower points to 21.

Shoe shopping and family fun (Saturday)

We did nothing of note on Friday! Well, I took a driving lesson, I only almost killed us once... trying to overtake a slowpoke at 100 kms on the long, hilly roads of Somerville.

Saturday was shoe shopping for Bec's matrimonial extravaganza. Now Bec is very much the sort who wants both of her bridesmaids to be wearing same dress, same shoes, same nail polish... can't say I subscribe to that - my friends are individuals, and I will be treating them as such. But I am a dutiful maid of honour, and went along for the ride. It was actually kind of hassle free. Everyone was very polite about what they wanted, though I was afraid that I'd end up in sky high baby pink stillettoes. After many examples of the fact that baby pink is not the colour of the season (Bec seems surprised by this...), we decided that silver shoes would be best.
Sounds tacky, I know, but they look really nice, even on my shovel feet. Of course, we found them in the very last place we looked! Just three narrow straps cris-crossing over the front of the foot, one of them studded with diamantes. A tolerably high kitten heel, and a very reasonable price tag. I suggested that Bec have her florist include some silver ribbon in the bouquets to tie the theme together, happy days.

That night Stu and I got together with my family (Mum, Dad, John, Bec and Nathan (Bec's fiance)), for dinner at a new Chinese restaurant at the glossy entertainment precinct of downtown Karingal. The food was pretty good, but the service was awful!

We were seated on a kind of podium for larger groups, which was hidden behind a carved Chinese mirror. This meant that the waitstaff couldn't see us, and thus forgot that we had actually come to eat. After much waiting, Dad had to chase someone down to take our orders, which were supremely messed up. Stu and I had decided to share an entree dish of two steamed dumplings between us - one each. After much checking from the waitress that only one serve of two individual dumplings would arrive at our table, lo and behold, four dumplings are placed before us. Dad's meal came a good twenty minutes after all the others, and only after we enquired as to its whereabouts. Several trays of drinks were misdirected to our table which, even though we sent them back, were charged to our bill. And it was a pretty small restaurant...

We decided over dinner that we would see Charlie and the Chocolate Fatory, but not before we went to Rubee's for frozen custard. I had once read about these frozen custard shops on Gaijin Geisha (kanzashi central!), and got all excited about their low fat contents and all natural ingredients, but was realistic about the fact that I wasn't likely to see one of these places any time soon. So imagine my delight to see that this was to be a part of the suburban entertainment experience! Why they decided to establish their flagship at our end of the world is anyone's guess, but hey, I'm grateful.
This stuff is wonderful. They have base flavours of chocolate and vanilla custard, to which you add fudge flavours and/or mix ins like nuts, fruits, choc chunks, whatever. You can taste the honey and real milk in it, and the consistency is sooo smooth.
I introduced my family to it a few weeks back, when I brought some take-home packs to family dinner. The take-homes are about $13 per litre... but they are cheaper than Tutti Frutti in Mornington, where they want a whopping $26 per kilo. I just couldn't justify the expense that I would incur for our dairy friendly clan... so perhaps we'll save Tutti Frutti for an event!
I had a small one with white chocolate fudge and macadamias (leave me alone - I needed a treat!)... yuuuumm.

Then off to the movie. This new theatre prints seating allocations on the tickets, and as such, we like to sit in those given to us. Most of the time, local public moccy wearers like to plop themselves down wherever suits them, and my family puts me in charge of dispelling these heathens. If it's just Stu and I, I wouldn't bother, but when it's a larger group, and we have scored ourselves good seats, I'm prepared to state my case. This night was no exception. I felt a tiny bit bad, because they were sitting in our seats as his had Coke spilled on it, but really, they need to report those problems to management, we can't help that maintenance was poor.
Anyways, I really liked the movie... I thought the song routines were cute, imagery was inspiring, and it was great that they didn't have the great big scary ceiling fan bit, or the creepy rowboat scene. Can't say I liked the father flashbacks that Burton inserted... as Charlie says, 'Candy doesn't have to have a point', and likewise, Willy Wonka's loopy lolly love does not need justification.
My main gripe was the audio. We were in a Vmax cinema, which is meant to have a superhuge screen (which you really don't notice), but the sound system had an annoyingly obvious echo - like a one second delay, which really distracted us in parts. Boo!
But this is the same complex where the power cut out halfway through the final installment of Star Wars, in the cinema's gala opening weekend. The power was fine outside of the complex... so we went to the other cinemas 3kms away and watched it again that afternoon!

Ummm... I think that's all for Saturday.

Tired tunes and lost lust (Thursday)

So, the Boyz II Men concert was all that I expected : underwhelming. It was at Festy Hall - the worst possible venue for anything.
Random were the support act - fneh (yep, that's right, fneh).
We endured about an hour of some ageing hip hop guy trying to stretch the fabric of time while they struggled to get the system working.
Once, the Boyz finally found the stage, they admitted that they didn't think anyone would come, and then launched into it. I didn't know any of their new stuff, but it seems that they expected that, and didn't play much of it. They had a 'throwback' section, where they basically did obscure covers of 70's R'n'B stuff which probably 99% of the audience had no idea about (including myself), but we played along. Then some of their classics, which became a big sing along. Terrible accoustics, not a single live instrument, but an okay night (mainly because it only lasted just two and a half hours, including support and procrastnation!).

Funniest thing was bumping into a guy from high school, MB. My God, how times change.
I, from the ages of about 13 to 16, adored this guy. No secrets, everyone knew, even his mum. Sure there were other guys, but where MB was concerned I was a love sick puppy who just held out for a glimmer of hope.
However, I'm not completely stupid, and when Bec (my sister!) started going out with him, it became blatantly obvious that it wasn't going to happen. I cannot describe to you how much I cried about that - I was as devastated as a hormonal teenager could possibly be. I put up a wall of silence to my whole family, as even my mum said "It's not like he was ever interested in you!". Harsh, but true. So the wall crumbled, other guys came and went in my life, time went on. In fact, it was fairly soon after that Stu and I started making goo-goo eyes at each other.
Bec and MB lasted about a year, when he dumped her so that he could become a degenerate without feeling guilty about his girlfriend. Bec's moved on to become generally gorgeous and happy. I myself had completely forgotten about him, and had found happiness of my own.
But my oh my... MB hasn't changed a bit. Well, apart from the fact that he has crazy clown hair and seems shorter, and slightly wider... he's still not reaching for the stars in the personality stakes. We found him waiting for his friends outside Festival Hall, beer in hand, draped in Adidas, torrent of 'f' words spewing from his poorly maintained head. Bec and I restrained ourselves from flashing our symbolic diamonds in his face, and made polite small talk. Later on, inside the hall, we saw that he had upgraded to a beer in each hand - how talented!

Makes you thankful that fate knows what you need!

Long weekend

My multitudinous hoardes of fans would have noticed that Friday went post-free, in a week of many posts. Yes, I got to take Friday off of work. Still waiting for approval for Christmas break...
We have an on-ramp to the information super highway at the lovenest, but I'm generally too busy conjuring up things to post about to do any blogging from home. Besides, I have to leave myself something to do at work, don't I?

That was the best thing about taking Friday off - there were so many things to read this morning! Even Dawei updated - congrats to him on a full year of loving the cap, and the guy underneath it. (Y'know, sometimes I worry that the things I read about at work are going to get me fired... how would I explain myself out of all the naughty words that have graced my monitor?)

I'll save your delightfully intelligent brains from too much of a work out, and break the weekend into daily accounts. So here goes...

Real estate, shmeal estate!

Oh, how I loathe real estate, and the ninnys who deal in it.

Okay, I'm a young-un, so still at the renting stage. Yep, we could probably buy now if we wanted to, but would be sacrificing the lifestyle that we love for the sake of a 'renovator's delight', which we have no intention of renovating. I'm a high heels, pretty nails kinda gal, and even if my history in Industrial Design renders me the perfect candidate for driving nails into walls and installing Corian benchtops, I'd prefer to just move into something gorgeous and enjoy it straight away. Besides, the amount you need to spend to turn a dilapidated wreck into a swanky retreat negates the initial sacrifice.

We're good tenants. We treat the house we live in as if it were our own. We tend the garden, keep everything meticulously clean, to the point where the agents at my last real estate said that it was a pleasure to inspect the property we'd just vacated, as it was so well maintained. We've come to expect general gushing from all who are welcomed into our home, as it's a nice place to be.

So that's not where my problem is - the drama lies in the administration. These people are paid to keep keys, and give them to people so that they can access particular houses. Surely there is a filing system so that once it is established to which house a key belongs, it can always be found?

Apparently not at any real estate I've dealt with! At the last house we lived in, whenever it came time for routine inspection, they would try a few times to get in themselves, then admit defeat and book a time when we could let them in. I made copies of our keys, and left them with the real estate, but it seems that they just couldn't get their heads around the 'stick key in lock, turn key, open door' philosophy.

Despite their praise of our treatment of this property it took two months to get my bond back! There is a law that stipulates bond is to be returned within 10 days of vacating a property, so of course I tried to investigate. By investigate, I mean 'attempted fruitlessly to contact my agent'. I left so many messages, I thought they might take out a restraining order. I was always polite (maybe that's why I was ignored), but it wasn't until I actually spoke to a human being about four weeks later that I was told, 'Oh, your application was rejected by the RTBA because your signature has changed'. Que?! You couldn't have told me this weeks ago? I had to get a statutory declaration made up to prove I was who I claimed to be, and after a few more weeks of agent fiddling, was rewarded with my funds. I wasn't in desperate need of the money, but what happens to the people who use their last bond to fund their next bond? I was apparently within my rights to report this, and the real estate would have been fined, but I'd just rather move on...

...to the next real estate. Where they gave us the wrong keys on moving in day. Where they didn't keep a set of keys for themselves. Where they took four months to give us keys to our side door, so that we could enter via our garage, instead of quickly closing the automatic door, running underneath it, and entering through the front door.
Replay 'agent can't inspect property without flow charts and guide dog' scenario. We made them a set of keys. Which they thought belonged to some other property, which we apparently owned. Then they thought we wanted to rent that imaginary property. Then they thought we were vacating said property.
They also advised us the wrong date for the inspection, so that eventually we had prepared for this visit 3 times! Doesn't everyone shine their place to perfection when an agent will be traipsing through? How frustrating!

The first time I paid my monthly rental installment for the lovenest, I had to do so in cash at their office, as they had not set up my 'easy payment' account. And thus I got to have another glimpse of these fools in their natural habitat. There were tenants having to enter properties through windows, for lack of correct keys. Lots of mistaken identities, general dimwittedness all round.

I received a letter from them the other day, declaring 'new payment system!'. Hooray, says I, their 'easy' system was a headache, which they actually charged you extra to use.
'Simply mail or email us to cancel your old service', exclaims the letter. So I worded an enthusiastic, yet concise request to this effect, and popped it in the digital mail.

A reply comes back that afternoon from the 'Assistant Portfolio Manager' : read 'filing monkey'. Three paragraphs, containing one comma, one full stop, completely italicised in giant text. 'You will need to call XXXX to do that...blah blah...I think I might have told you before in a previous email'

Um, no, we've never emailed before. And the letter stated that you would organise cessation of lacklustre service. Why didn't you just include that phone number on the letter? Are you lonely? Do you need me clogging up your already failing routine with correspondence? Are you missing visits to your optometrist?

What a box of tools.

Whooo! Memoirs gets ever closer!

Okay, I'm such a nerd for geisha... I seriously considered Japanese theming for the wedding (but thought better of it, though there may be subtle influences discernable to the trained eye). I have kimono, so many books, kanzashi... there are people out there more die hard than myself, but I'm a major fan.

The culprit for all of this geisha mania was Arthur Golden's controversial masterpiece 'Memoirs of a Geisha'. It was such an accurate glimpse into the secretive 'flower and willow world', the woman he credited with bolstering his knowledge sued him for exposing her, and published her own account of geisha life. I hungrily devoured this and every other book I could to increase my own understanding of these hidden icons.

So, imagine my joy whan I find out that a film adaptation was in the works. Years pass, several possible directors are linked to its creation, but still nothing. This story is quite a contradiction - violent and gentle, painful and joyous, and not many of Hollywood's big names could do it justice. So it was quite a surprise to learn that Rob Marshall (responsible for all the high kicks and brash personalities in the film version of Chicago) was taking his turn at the helm. Finally, we started to see some progress happening, auditions were taking place, sets were being built, and fans were getting excited.

I've been kept up to date here, but am sad to say the progress of this film has not been without its own controversy. Firstly, there has been much debate over the nationalities of the actresses playing the lead roles. Zhang Ziyi and Michelle Yeoh are just two of many people of varying origin linked to this film - Chinese girls in a tradtional Japanese story? I'm no authority on such things, but I've come to expect that Hollywood is prone to choose a big name actor over accuracy (Kevin Costner donning the folkloric English green tights, anyone?), so it is the least of my worries.

I do have an issue though with aesthetic accuracy, and unfortunately, it seems this film will fail us there as well. Geisha have a very defined style. Sleeve length, application of makeup, and specific hairstyles all denote a girl's passage from maiko (apprentice) to geisha (artist). Apparently the design team have taken some creative license, in the hope that Western audiences won't be 'scared' of the geisha's traditional appearance. So their makeup is less obvious, their hair is completely wrong, and the colours and patterns of their kimono are unsuitable for the ages of the wearers and the seasons depicted. Looking 'good' and looking 'right' don't have to be mutually exclusive!

Grrrr. But, you know, I'm so eager to have this film made, I'll just have to swallow those thoughts, and simply hope that they have honoured the story. So I'm ecstatic to find that a trailer has been released in Japan, where they are calling the film 'Sayuri' (there is even some misunderstanding amongst Japanese about the role of geisha in their society, so they're trying to avoid negative connotations, by naming it after the heroine). There's a link at this favourite haunt of mine.

They say it's already an Oscar contender... regardless, I'll be there, proudly wearing my kanzashi, as soon as it's released. Can't wait!

I'm better

Maybe I'm not meant to have eight hours sleep? Last night we were bemoaning the fact that we were late to bed again, yet this morning I feel a lot brighter than yesterday. That doesn't mean that Stu and I didn't go through the whole "Let's not go to work", "Let's lie around with the cat" scenario - that's just become a part of our daily routine, but we always deny ourselves the luxury.

Well, not entirely, we hope to be taking Friday off, as I'm going to the Boyz II Men (don't tease!)concert with Bec on Thursday night. Our location means a long drive home, and subsequently, a very late night. Stu also has a production meeting scheduled with his software development team on Saturday, so it will be nice to give the house a final polish on Friday, instead of rushing around in the evening, when I'd rather be reading a magazine.
Friday might be a nice day, depending on the weather, to show Stu the absolutely beautiful house I found tucked in a little private inlet on the beach. We'll have to schedule our walk for low tide though, or it might turn into a swim!

I think I might submit another annual leave form at the same time, requesting the Christmas to New Year's period off. I've not yet had a holiday since I started here over a year ago, and had gone a long time at my last job without one as well, so I'm desperate for some respite. We were thinking of taking some time at my birthday in October, but with our anniversary and the party coming up, we have some other things to distract us from the daily grind (and absorb our money), at the moment. Stu's building shuts down during the Christmas period, so it makes sense to book my holidays for the same time.

I am happy to say that all invitations are sealed and delivered, though I haven't yet cleared the aftermath from the dining table. Perhaps tonight... however, we are grocery shopping after work, so the job may be overlooked until I have the time to face it on Friday. I'd like to overhaul my entire craft filing system, as I've acquired so many papers and tools and such, and really need to organise them if I ever want to find them for another project. Less residential clutter might just improve my mental clutter!

I'm soooo tired

Ridiculously tired.

I even got eight hours sleep (well, it was punctuated by ensuite time - my stupid body couldn't possibly let me rest without needing to wake up for the bathroom), and we left for work pretty much on time this morning... but I'm just feeling sluggish.
I'm getting all the vegetables and proteins and such that I need... I just can't figure it out. I've stopped drinking coffee recently, after a very bad episode of sickness and rush to hospital - maybe I'm suffering withdrawls? I had a killer headache last night as well, I had to down two Panadol tablets and lie on the bed with the lights off, followed by some electrolyte drink to make sure I was properly hydrated.

I think it might be psychosomatic... my kitchen table is absolutely invisible under a glut of craft supplies, as the lovenest has become the engagement invitation factory. I feel like I'm back at uni, getting all my pieces done for a big assessment. The only difference is that I'm not pulling all-nighters to get it done.

That said, I'm enjoying the assembly of said invitations, it's nice to put my design hat back on. I think we've come up with an appropriately elegant, adequately decorated design, which pays respect to the colour scheme of the main event (black and silver). Each one incorporates three types of paper, three types of adhesive, satin ribbon, pewter embellishments, and loads of folding and measured cutting (And thus, loads of scrap materials and tools strewn about the place).

We always eat every meal in the dining area, so it's strange eating at the coffee table, and gazing over at the mess I've created! We have an open plan living/kitchen/dining/study area, so the two square metres of organised chaos makes the whole space feel messy. But I only have ten left to complete, so after a big clean up tonight, our house should be back to normal.

Perhaps then, my brain will be back to normal, and I'll get some benefit from my snooze time!

Trickery killed the radio star

My lovely sister, Bec, phoned Fox FM the other day, in response to a competition they were running.

So, the radio blares 'Win backstage tickets to the Black Eyed Peas, just answer this question... blah di blah!'. And Bec responds, 'Yes! I know that answer, Ima gonna get me some tickets!' (Except in her head, and sounding less like a yokel). Now this is an insight into Bec's character - she's optimistic, and will give it a try. I'm cynical, and don't think that they'll answer my call.

You know what - optimism pays - Bec got through to the top of the queue! Just before she was catapulted to the airwaves, she is asked by the phone jockey what she intends to say. After Bec offers her answer, phone jockey suggests that she try something slightly different. Ever compliant, on the air Bec repeats the suggested tidbit. Wrong?! Bastards!

Had she given her original answer, she'd be partying with Fergie and that weird Apple guy in a few weeks. Instead, she is due to receive a DVD of Gilmore Girls, season one, or some such nonsense. Poor girl doesn't even want it, as it will remind her how she was stooged.

Fox FM - Booooooooo!

Oh, the cuteness!

"Quick fact for you baby - you are one day older than Nick Riewoldt. And he likes the OC.
Love Stu"

That was the entire email - adorable!

For those playing internationally (or are just not interested in footy) Nick plays for the victorious St Kilda Saints. Fingers crossed they reign at this year's AFL grand final (but not in 2007, mkay?).It's generally accepted that Fraser Gherig isn't the most attractive creature, with his micro shorts and overgrown awkwardness, but I must say that Nick doesn't really bake my biscuit either... I'll leave him to the fangirlies.

But really, how can you not like the OC? Okay, please don't give me reasons, I know that it makes no contribution to our society other than giving teenage girls some boys to lust after, and documenting many of today's social ills, but it's just so trashy that it's tasty! It's like Who magazine, but with less Mischa Barton, and no crossword.
It's saving grace is that it knows that the entire soap-drama genre is a load of self-important drivel, and stands as a parody of the industry - satire and intrigue - I love it!

And what a cliffhanger! Marissa's going to have to answer to the law after shooting Ryan's brother, Seth and Summer are going to break up and make up again fifty times, Kirsten's been sent off to recover from her alcoholism, and God knows what's going to happen to Julie!

My bets are that Julie will have the finger pointed at her for Caleb's death (she had intended to kill him anyway, but then had a mushy moment and decided against it). It will look especially suspicious because she had been cheating with her ex husband (Jimmy, Marissa's father) throughout the marriage. She only broke up with Jimmy because he went bankrupt, after embezzling funds from his clients - so it may appear that she only married Caleb to fund her lifestyle with Jimmy... maybe I'm reading too much in to this!

I'm going to shut up about the OC now!

Disappointment?

I lost 0.2kgs last week. Not impressive in any way. Meanwhile, go DJs!
But it is a loss, and I refuse to let a slow start stop me from continuing. Just think, I might have registered a gain had I not been so behaved on Friday - every little bit counts.

I have a plan B, which is to possibly drop my points, should 22 points per day be ineffective. I have always maintained a diet of healthy dinners, sensible daytime eating and daily walks, even when I wasn't really paying too much attention to maintenance, so perhaps I need to make my metabolism sit up and listen.

I really can't go under 18 points per day, as it would be completely unhealthy for my composition, so I would need to look at the kinds of foods I'm eating if I continue to only have small successes. I would probably need to replace some carbs with proteins, and have less cups of milky tea.

I will give 22 points another week, and if it's not working - it's down to 21!

Budget binge

We here at the Fizz Factory have a pretty good deal. We're a smallish company, so everyone tends to get along. I came third in the footy tipping (despite my general football ignorance), so I earnt respect, and a tidy return on investment! And when we make budget, management supplies a generous boozy lunch.
Now that's great, and in the interests of being a team player, I've previously indulged appreciatively in their offerings.

We achieved our target this month, good on us. So today will be decadent day. But this time, I'm taking a stand! No fried foods for me! No luscious roast chicken! No savoury snacks! No sweet treats! And certainly no alcohol!

I am weighing in this Saturday morning, and I will not have a bad result! While everyone else gorges on fish and chips, I will have two steamed dim sims (= two points), and my vegetable soup. Even though my usually shy demeanour could use a glass of wine, I will not relent - they are wasted calories, and I deserve success! I've found in the past that saying no actually makes me feel better than battered flake ever will, and strengthens my resolve.

I will pass this test, and then on Monday, I will hopefully blog about good times on the scales!

Beautiful surprise

I have a gorgeous little sister, Bec. She has been blessed with every possible positive attribute - great skin, tumbling curls, pretty eyes, fantastic figure, and a great personality to match. Everyone loves her, she's very easy to get along with. Despite years of silly sister fights growing up (I want that doll! etc.) she's now easily my best friend. I'm her maid of honour, she'll be my matron of honour (that always reminds me of A Country Practice!).

We have our differences - I'm eager to enjoy personal/financial success and delicious interior design with my delightful partner, sans kids (though I'm sure I'll end up with some, one day, so we're not lonely elderlies), and Bec's loving nature means that she is looking forward to having kids with her delightful partner, and settling down in a housing estate with a pseudo 4WD. But those differences reflect who we are, and we respect each other for it.

A few years back, on September 1st, one of us was pretending to be annoyed at the other, and said, 'You're off my Christmas card list!'. To continue the joke, Christmas cards were exchanged, good times were had by all. Ever since, we've exchanged little gifts between the two of us, every September 1st.

So yesterday afternoon I made sure to arrange for a bouquet of pale pink roses to be delivered to her work today, from my favourite florist. Pale pink is Bec's colour du jour, and she is using it as part of her romantic wedding theme. A little card saying 'Merry Christmas', and it was all set.

I didn't really give it much thought today, I knew they'd get there safe and sound. I went for my lunchtime walk, and came back to my own bouquet - lucky me! And it's beautiful! Red roses, white lilies, fragrant eucalyptus and palm fronds all combine for a striking display. Plus it's wrapped in red and green paper with red ribbon - so festive! Thanks, Beckles, for giving me a reason to use so many exclamation points!

And it's the first day of Spring! I don't think life can get much better!

Lucky us

Call me ignorant (well, don't, but you know what I mean), but why do people insist upon living in places where there is a 100% chance that natural disasters are going to occur?

I acknowledge that we Melbournians are blessed to reside upon a patch of land rarely devastated by more that a stiff wind. But surely this isn't the world's only safe haven?

Every single year we hear reports of hurricane Bob or Ellen ripping Florida to shreds. Is all that sunshine worth it if there's a high likelyhood your house will end up in the Atlantic?

On a regular basis the Land of the Rising Sun is shaken furiously at its roots. Now, of course the Japanese have used their collective brainpower to adapt many of their buildings to compensate for geographic unrest - but how stressful would it be to know at any time the earth might open up and swallow your cat?!

And the poor unfortunate residents of waterlogged Louisiana... my heart goes out to them, but why did people ignore the warnings? Surely a bit of maths would tell them a negative position in relation to sea level + lots of extra water = certain doom. Now with the bodies floating about... I shudder to imagine it.

They're saying that it could be three months before residents could return to their homes, but even then, their homes won't be worth salvaging, and all the things that matter - photos, letters, treasured items - will likely have been washed away.
I couldn't even imagine what I would do should I be displaced in that way... luckily, we live just back from the top of a cliff, so we're not likely to be flooded - but isn't fire a scary concept? Our area is an older one, full of cottagey weatherboard homes - one spark and half the street would be ablaze!

If I could only grab three things on my escape, I think I would save... my kimono, my box of cards and letters from Stu, and the cross-stitch my mum lovingly crafted for me.
It goes without saying that I would be accompanied by Stu, and Samurai, the most mischievous cat in all the land (Samurai would probably start the damn fire, just to annoy me!).

What treasured possessions would you save?