tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-48342278412166613342023-11-17T07:20:18.092+13:00Yeah, nah, not even owWrite On NZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13416592664421382772noreply@blogger.comBlogger41125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4834227841216661334.post-88726459379004229202012-02-23T13:24:00.003+13:002012-02-24T23:36:14.889+13:00#EQNZ<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">At midday on 22 February 2011, I had less than 30 tweets. Yes, 3-0. I was on my lunchbreak, but hadn’t left the office.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead I was chatting to <span style="color: #cc0000;">@saralynam</span> on facebook who’d recently moved to <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">London</place></city>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She told me to swap to twitter and she’d show me the ropes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #e06666;"><span style="font-size: large;">I only followed a handful of people on twitter, one of whom was my friend <span style="color: #cc0000;">@mattymcleanTVNZ</span>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of a sudden he tweeted that there had been another quake in <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Christchurch at 12.51pm.</place></city><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It didn’t seem too out of the ordinary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then Matty tweeted that he was being flown by helicopter to <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Christchurch</place></city> to report on it, that there had been some major damage, possibly to the Cathedral.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Apparently the earthquake had a magnitude of 6.3.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #e06666;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span>As a news junkie, my interest was piqued.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Surely not? No way…the Cathedral couldn’t have suffered any damage. That just seemed so unlikely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was such a solid looking building, and it had stood there for decades.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I opened up the "stuff" and "yahoo" websites, but they were taking what seemed like ages to update information.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Grandma & I outside the Cathedral in 2001</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #e06666;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">And then there was a flurry of information. Twitter, facebook, news websites, television, radio...it started coming in from all directions. Mother Nature had dealt a cruel blow to Christchurch, the city known in New Zealand "The Garden City", and internationally as "the most English-looking city outside of England". Our family had spent Christmas there 19 times, and we'd had numerous other holidays in Christchurch after my Grandparents had moved there in the mid-seventies.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #e06666;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">I'd never heard of the Pyne Gould Corporation (PGC) building or the CTV building, but both had suffered serious damage. The PGC building had pancaked. Pancaked? Wtf did that mean? And liquifaction? What the hell was that?</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #e06666;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">And, then the worst of all news started filtering in. People had died. One, two, eighteen, thirty-six people had been killed by falling masonary. More than forty...fifty...sixty...seventy people had died. There may have been up to one hundred lost lives. No way. Not in my beloved Christchurch.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">* * *</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #e06666;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">A year has now passed. The anniversary was marked beautifully in Christchurch, throughout New Zealand and indeed around the world. In total, one hundred and eighty-five people lost their lives...ordinary people going about their ordinary stuff on an ordinary February day. Numerous other people suffered horrific injuries requiring amputation and on-going medical care. Thousands and thousands of people lost their homes, livelihoods, possessions and pets. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #e06666;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">But we gained something. We gained a real sense of community. We gained belief that as a nation, we will get through this together. We will continue to provide support where needed for all affected Cantabrians and family and friends of victims around the world.</span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Christchurch, we are with you. You will always be in our thoughts and hearts. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">And to those one hundred and eighty-five people...I listened to each and every one of your names as they were read out yesterday during the service. May you rest in peace.</span></div>Write On NZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13416592664421382772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4834227841216661334.post-41964497236061066372012-02-13T21:02:00.001+13:002012-02-14T13:22:22.697+13:00Jimothy Lightson<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Meet Jimothy Lightson, a character I invented many years ago. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">He's always been a patient little fellow, eager to please and happy to go with the status quo. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Well, that was until yesterday. Now, Jimothy has had the tiniest taste of stardom and he's absolutely chomping at the bit for worldwide success. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I've been trying to tell him that there will be a lot of hard yakka between now and then, but he's been dancing a jig for the last day, and isn't listening to me at all.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">I don't know what to do. He's driving me crazy!</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">It all started because of Brian Thompson of Thorny Bleeder. He hosts several different podcasts, and the one that I listen to religiously is The DIY Daily podcast. Essentially, its 15-20 minutes of hardcore motivation aimed at all those creative types amongst us, and people into marketing, branding or simply just bettering themselves.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">His messages quite often boil down to "just do it". </span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">I was listening to another of Brian's podcasts on Sunday morning in bed, and Jimothy's story was in the back of my mind. All of a sudden, I had a lightbulb moment, and I thought that I'd get up, join Soundcloud and record a podcast too by reading Jimothy's story.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Yes, I was nervous. I was worried about how my accent would sound. I didn't know if I could even get Soundcloud to work properly. But, it was Sunday and I had all the time in the world.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">I went for it. You can listen to it here:</span><br />
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<a href="http://soundcloud.com/yvonne-milroy/jimothy-lightson?utm_source=soundcloud&utm_campaign=share&utm_medium=blogger&utm_content=http://soundcloud.com/yvonne-milroy/jimothy-lightson">Jimothy Lightson</a></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">And now, here I am 34 hours later, and this is what's happened since I hit the record button on Soundcloud:</span><br />
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<li><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"><em>The podcast has been played 132 times</em></span></li>
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<li><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"><em>Its been tweeted and mentioned on facebook by loads of people, some of whom I don't even know (unbelievable)</em></span></li>
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<li><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"><em>The number of followers on Jimothy's facebook page has doubled in size. He doesn't even have hundreds of followers, but he certainly has way more than Saturday</em></span></li>
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<li><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"><em>I received countless messages from people saying their kids absolutely loved the story (whew!)</em></span></li>
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<li><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"><em>Kevin Helas (of Roger London), a friend of mine since we were 11 and who drew Jimothy's portrait initially, became aware of what was going on via facebook and emailed me from England about finishing the illustrations (so we could publish the book in both hard and e-copies)</em></span></li>
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<li><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"><em>A kids radio station based in Melbourne, Australia has asked for the track to be re-recorded so they can play it.</em></span></li>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">This hasn't quite been an overnight success story, but if I hadn't leapt out of bed on my lazy Sunday and given Soundcloud a whirl, I wouldn't be sitting here now, typing this blog with my heart racing and swelling with pride and my mouth hanging open from shock (oh yeah, I'm looking gawgus at the moment).</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">So, in closing...you know that thing you were going to do, but haven't quite gotten around to doing yet? Yeah, that thing. Just do it, ok? The results might just blow your mind.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">What?! Jimothy can't believe you haven't heard his story yet or liked his facebook page, so he's insisted that I include links to make it easy peasy (his words, not mine) for you.</span><br />
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<a href="http://soundcloud.com/yvonne-milroy/jimothy-lightson">http://soundcloud.com/yvonne-milroy/jimothy-lightson</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.facebook.com/#!/Jimothy.Lightson">http://www.facebook.com/#!/Jimothy.Lightson</a><br />
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<a href="http://soundcloud.com/yvonne-milroy/jimothy-lightson?utm_source=soundcloud&utm_campaign=share&utm_medium=blogger&utm_content=http://soundcloud.com/yvonne-milroy/jimothy-lightson">Jimothy Lightson</a></div>Write On NZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13416592664421382772noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4834227841216661334.post-81826597867148368912012-02-01T13:52:00.001+13:002012-02-01T13:52:55.871+13:00February?!<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">February...what are you doing here so early? Huh? </span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">January and I were just getting used to each other and our new routines, and now you saunter in and ruin the party. I am happy to see you, but just a bit shocked that you appeared out of the blue so soon.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">FYI February, just so you know...here are some of my newly developed rules:</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">1. No McDonalds. At all. Full stop. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">2. A minimum 500 calories dealt to per workout, minimum 5 workouts per week.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS-E3T4Z2bymgZOoJQdEsUWeNehsJc5Yu66D0nmUtKcwZutrGEosTT8-5jfxTWfNSUZAIwKLG1fGXUKD25ECFAbWrq7kzTBZ5_slLqexHrTwl3qLkMrkNqJoTiDmbr0xkWy-Wd1KJKANcS/s1600/Gym" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS-E3T4Z2bymgZOoJQdEsUWeNehsJc5Yu66D0nmUtKcwZutrGEosTT8-5jfxTWfNSUZAIwKLG1fGXUKD25ECFAbWrq7kzTBZ5_slLqexHrTwl3qLkMrkNqJoTiDmbr0xkWy-Wd1KJKANcS/s320/Gym" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">3. Keep chipping away at Linked In. I'm still not quite up to speed with it, but slowly getting there and building my connections. I am pleased that I've finally started giving it the attention it deserves.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">These aren't actually resolutions, they're just rules that seem to have developed during January's visit.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Now, February, I know that you're feeling quite flash, because you've managed to score 29 days on all the calendars around the world this year, but...there's no need to rush. Ok? </span><br />
<br />Write On NZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13416592664421382772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4834227841216661334.post-66176498837561728292012-01-23T12:18:00.000+13:002012-01-23T12:36:00.304+13:00Wordsmithery<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">One of the coolest things about growing up in my family was that my mother encouraged my sister and I to be imaginative, especially when describing things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A newly invented phrase or word would always be eagerly welcomed into the family vocabulary.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Below is a selection of words that you’ll find in my family dictionary:</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">An On</span> – abbreviation of “Aunty Yvonne”, coined by my niece Foxglove*</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">Flying Daddylonglegs</span> – otherwise known as a Crane Fly, but they’ve always looked like a Flying Daddylonglegs to me</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">Heel-highs</span> – variation of high-heels, coined by my sister Dolly*</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">Lipsticker</span> – Again, a word invented by Dolly*</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">Ninny</span> – Mum’s word for when a child rub’s its fingers against a blanket or soft toy whilst also sucking their thumb</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">Ninon</span> – another of Mum’s words, which refers to a light fabric. I refuse to use this word, it drives me up the wall</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">Par Cark</span> – One of Dolly’s* mixed up words for car park (“parking lot” for the Canadians who are reading this) which seems to have stuck.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Fast-forward to present day, and overactive imaginative me and my big tweeting mouth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was chatting with <span style="color: #cc0000;">@gr8dairynobull</span> on twitter, and somehow coined the phrase “absomootely”. That was added to their own “moovelous” and the new Collective Dairy catchphrase “<span style="color: #cc0000;"><em>absomootely moovelous</em></span>” was born.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Within days, Collective Dairy had added our catchphrase to their marketing material. How absomootely cool is that? Its even on the home page of their website! </span></div>
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<a href="http://www.thecollectivedairy.com/"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">http://www.thecollectivedairy.com/</span></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRIeiNCDeojhzvHIg467YTYalQdIbiixnwFZfksRoLi4sxgo8i2OTYjlL0pUkCF6KcScd7PvoA8EkNPgovfTltemTHxM0X1L3g4Yc-hVwAWGoQ2NcxN3TqxtKa6cRAgXOpIKsw_bRYfywu/s1600/Absomootely" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" nfa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRIeiNCDeojhzvHIg467YTYalQdIbiixnwFZfksRoLi4sxgo8i2OTYjlL0pUkCF6KcScd7PvoA8EkNPgovfTltemTHxM0X1L3g4Yc-hVwAWGoQ2NcxN3TqxtKa6cRAgXOpIKsw_bRYfywu/s320/Absomootely" width="213" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">The Collective Dairy is a New Zealand company that specialises in delicious products such as "Russian Fudge Yoghurt", yoghurt drinks and soft cheeses. Their products can be found in most supermarkets and many speciality stores around the country. </span><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">So, if you want a cool catch phrase or new word, come and see me. I dish them out for free...because quite frankly, I can't help myself.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">* Not their real names</span></div>
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<br /></div>Write On NZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13416592664421382772noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4834227841216661334.post-52232654053778209362012-01-07T18:49:00.000+13:002012-01-09T11:15:42.014+13:00Kits & Cats<span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large;">Yesterday on Facebook, I saw a plea from the Waikato SPCA for kitten food. The Waikato branch has always held a special place in my heart because that's where I met the love of my life, Edelweis.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIljSWz0kTXs_6I1okPwHUQSSGorwMopASNBi1EBRREAi9Vd9fNRMnuJIqvp2CYp3JDhTC1lvManrAk7_YOaZwDwlX5DuTuxgxYBpr9tTq-K8g8TAQAIEnNya1HXxCBH02n5m5_yKvS_b2/s1600/Edel9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIljSWz0kTXs_6I1okPwHUQSSGorwMopASNBi1EBRREAi9Vd9fNRMnuJIqvp2CYp3JDhTC1lvManrAk7_YOaZwDwlX5DuTuxgxYBpr9tTq-K8g8TAQAIEnNya1HXxCBH02n5m5_yKvS_b2/s320/Edel9.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large;">Ever since that meeting, I've donated to the SPCA and sung their praises to all and sundry, especially those looking for a new pet.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large;">I've kept Edelweis up-to-date on his former abode, and when the kitten food plea was posted, we discussed it at length, and he asked if I could spend some of his pocket money* on kitten food. Bless.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large;">My first stop today in the pouring rain was the local supermarket, where I picked up several boxes of kitten food.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Ggt3ieP2RWoIKccLGV44IBWOHyQpGNUmoVlmIYcBw4rfZ7o6rVvL6RsG4canbh4arL1-du-SM2YAYqRYAvUGl1J19TnFhpnks9OdlF55leHaF0rT8_hTfBJWeMJwN7ef1e3EpSpFRsXC/s1600/SPCA5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Ggt3ieP2RWoIKccLGV44IBWOHyQpGNUmoVlmIYcBw4rfZ7o6rVvL6RsG4canbh4arL1-du-SM2YAYqRYAvUGl1J19TnFhpnks9OdlF55leHaF0rT8_hTfBJWeMJwN7ef1e3EpSpFRsXC/s320/SPCA5.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large;">The supermarket has a food donation bin specifically for the SPCA, but it was full to overflowing and this time I felt like delivering Edel's donation personally.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large;">The next stop was the Waikato SPCA located at 219 Ellis Street, Frankton, Hamilton.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large;">Although it was absolutely hosing down, the car-park was full. The reception area was jam-packed with new adoptive and foster families. Some fluffy darlings were in cages in reception to entertain and entice the visitors. Other fluffy darlings were in cages ready to be taken to their new homes by their new parents. The staff were flat-tack on the phone and dealing with the enquiries at the counter.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large;">Out of the blue, a favourite childhood rhyme** sprang to mind:</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><em>As I was going to St Ives</em></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><em>I met a man with seven wives</em></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><em>Each wife had seven sacks</em></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><em>Each sack had seven cats</em></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><em>Each cat had seven kits</em></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><em>Kits, cats, sacks and wives</em></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><em>How many were going to St Ives?</em></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span> <br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large;">What I immediately wanted to know is why the hell they were going to St Ives via the Waikato SPCA? </span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large;">A volunteer took Edel's kitten food donation and added it to a growing pile of cans and packets (which was heart-warming to see), and then I went out to the cattery to visit some of the current fluffy darling inmates.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large;">Oh. My. God.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large;">The place was heaving with cats, they were literally crawling up the walls. I've never seen so many there in all my life. And kittens...crikey...so many kittens of every colour and degree of fluffiness imaginable.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin1g8ZJfU6gUFr2yvnE2JzS9WBnK3i5msUMP4D9u6vELdobVf5ZXO-TbKLQCHyB39F8i01giOANxWdnNwf89HEUIi1_SzPiJu2Gs2K-LRiZ_LcO0ha1vPuBev9bzaGO5oexSWbhSKI3qbI/s1600/SPCA1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin1g8ZJfU6gUFr2yvnE2JzS9WBnK3i5msUMP4D9u6vELdobVf5ZXO-TbKLQCHyB39F8i01giOANxWdnNwf89HEUIi1_SzPiJu2Gs2K-LRiZ_LcO0ha1vPuBev9bzaGO5oexSWbhSKI3qbI/s320/SPCA1.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large;">Every little fluffy darling looked happy and healthy. They were doing kitten stuff, and argh...kitten stuff is so damn cute! Bouncing, pouncing, teasing eachother, sleeping and generally being 100% gorgeous.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf-Ipv44x1ygNSrkyRQr6Kvg-S2vOu17AsDWNit4hi_r987LjI1R_5IHFsF1jRkYQd3ueS5eq_4-5dEOmiiC8E8T_H5def7N2EZTm9qq6iphs1Wqfvp_yZEQ40-cbvLHemeTBOVY8S2Ad_/s1600/SPCA2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf-Ipv44x1ygNSrkyRQr6Kvg-S2vOu17AsDWNit4hi_r987LjI1R_5IHFsF1jRkYQd3ueS5eq_4-5dEOmiiC8E8T_H5def7N2EZTm9qq6iphs1Wqfvp_yZEQ40-cbvLHemeTBOVY8S2Ad_/s320/SPCA2.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large;">And along with the bouncing pouncing fluffy darling kittens, there were some adult cats who were as equally beautiful.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhJzifo3Wzs1bfqI-CL0CYfliJW3Mtah0zXonDho11WJNrIQR9IV2FDrV5UzMBYMXf1UD1wZ25hyphenhyphenp8rx4NCDQBi5d70nDrAnNrgsb9X5CRzb2ybWnqb0vBYtY2Z_NTaFXIdeohkEfLZBHF/s1600/SPCA3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhJzifo3Wzs1bfqI-CL0CYfliJW3Mtah0zXonDho11WJNrIQR9IV2FDrV5UzMBYMXf1UD1wZ25hyphenhyphenp8rx4NCDQBi5d70nDrAnNrgsb9X5CRzb2ybWnqb0vBYtY2Z_NTaFXIdeohkEfLZBHF/s320/SPCA3.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large;">I have been a self-diagnosed "Crazy Cat Lady" since I was 8 years old. Even my twitter profile states my love of cats. But today, I felt overwhelmed. Completely overwhelmed. Would I really cope with a house full of cats in my old age? I have to admit...no. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large;">Today, I realised I was a one-cat crazy cat lady, not a multiple cat crazy cat lady.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large;">But that's ok. I've decided that if I can't be a crazy cat lady in the true sense of the moniker with multiple cats, then I CAN BE a crazy cat Aunty. I'll continue to Aunty the cats at the Waikato SPCA by taking them food and toys, and visiting them on occasion. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large;">And, if you're reading this, and you think there is a place in your heart and a space in your life for a fluffy darling (either a kitten or cat), please go to the SPCA and adopt or foster one.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large;">And maybe if you can't adopt or foster, you too could be come a crazy cat Aunty. Just maybe?</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDswZsgvBVHRftFBBZuhaDpo8oAtMr4YUerT9xo_MnahMXHcPJEvMH4WzRy_q07eZj5Tsza-FUaKBd3iijnwQ5nDbop2e2kJU6cw7-Dc0b-HkWucyZUxRENf-FFJvzx6FI4GAWIMV2CcwF/s1600/SPCA6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDswZsgvBVHRftFBBZuhaDpo8oAtMr4YUerT9xo_MnahMXHcPJEvMH4WzRy_q07eZj5Tsza-FUaKBd3iijnwQ5nDbop2e2kJU6cw7-Dc0b-HkWucyZUxRENf-FFJvzx6FI4GAWIMV2CcwF/s320/SPCA6.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large;">*Edel's pocket money is also known as my savings account</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large;">** Click on the link <a href="http://bit.ly/hFARa">http://bit.ly/hFARa</a> for an interesting discussion on how many were actually going to St Ives</span><br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: large;">POSTSCRIPT:</span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large;">Hey everyone, meet "Dust" who was adopted by a friend of mine, the day after this blog was first published. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRNp6VBsInRSyBCZD2pVHONyiDf-rf41iUEOq0vvXBGWlVCduag47i1_XC90bdkt0SN9NF6AqrX3xJMWzzQiktHzMxL5Y0i975lwaSP3jRMQ6WoV9VFjA_Qc9DQ_tfmSQ9lP17C4mo5Wry/s1600/Dust.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRNp6VBsInRSyBCZD2pVHONyiDf-rf41iUEOq0vvXBGWlVCduag47i1_XC90bdkt0SN9NF6AqrX3xJMWzzQiktHzMxL5Y0i975lwaSP3jRMQ6WoV9VFjA_Qc9DQ_tfmSQ9lP17C4mo5Wry/s320/Dust.jpg" width="238" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large;">I had several other friends take food and donations into the Waikato SPCA on that particular day. It just goes to show the power of the blog. I'm absolutely thrilled :-)</span></div>
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<br /></div>Write On NZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13416592664421382772noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4834227841216661334.post-39881205759843181352012-01-06T22:28:00.000+13:002012-01-06T22:29:49.758+13:00Codes'R'Us<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Ok, this may seem dorky, but I don't have the guts to write down the three things I want out of 2012. Why?</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Because of this:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">I would DIE of EMBARRASSMENT if I got hit by a bus and kicked the bucket, and then while family were cleaning out my apartment (after a stunning funeral) found the "Three things I want out of 2012" list. OMG, yes, I'd be in heaven DYING watching them reading the list, especially if I hadn't achieved them.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">In fact, I'm actually embarrassed for the ghost version of me just thinking about the possibility that my family would read my list following my passing.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">If you can follow that logic, well done. That's how my mind works.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioe-kB0-KTTSYnyAEOt6jr-U9AmzXyWrhfJnSYL6bVlR2_5ww94GiwBI8hwA2mBL7fyJkRD6Xcg3fdZhaOgFIf6zTswzh5IZnd7CKXpKlogoWNH8-zWqTVL9L2hdekXHVHPv2OyS6sdNTr/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioe-kB0-KTTSYnyAEOt6jr-U9AmzXyWrhfJnSYL6bVlR2_5ww94GiwBI8hwA2mBL7fyJkRD6Xcg3fdZhaOgFIf6zTswzh5IZnd7CKXpKlogoWNH8-zWqTVL9L2hdekXHVHPv2OyS6sdNTr/s320/photo.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">But, I guess I could write them in code. Oooh, let's give that a whirl.</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Three things I want out of 2012 (in code)</span></em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Times; font-size: large;">1. GTM </span></em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Times; font-size: large;">2. Done</span></em></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<em><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Times; font-size: large;">3. Ralph</span></em></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Hey, that wasn't so hard to do! And now my future ghost will be able to rest easy (whilst eating as many ghost chips as I please - Kiwi joke).</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Are they achievable? Well, yes, two of the three definitely are. They will take determination and dedication. The third is slightly out of my hands, but life can throw the odd curveball in one's favour occasionally. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">So, bring on the favourable curveball and let's tick off the stuff on my coded list. </span><br />
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<br />Write On NZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13416592664421382772noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4834227841216661334.post-19241292580477143002012-01-03T22:19:00.000+13:002012-03-14T09:13:51.709+13:00Don't find excuses, find solutions<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">One of the conversations that really resonated with me in 2011 was with my Personal Trainer. At the time, I was working full time, writing part-time, studying part-time, tap dancing and seeing my PT for a single hour long session per week. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Quite frankly, he was a bit ticked off at my results, and although my cardio fitness was improving, he was giving me a lecture about squeezing in more individual gym sessions between our workouts. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV_57JHYzl4_YQXrNaVrceCCftXJaL9qiPmkT_TOxxoTAk5-WZ5Bpylpa_oLb_xYnNhzRTBzAP9ge7c8f-74koAAt-_NiT09O-dsiKtde5ZTtO-bF7heiFXL4ay93AjZTCS4ZVXDRWkAbb/s1600/pixlr+%25281%2529.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV_57JHYzl4_YQXrNaVrceCCftXJaL9qiPmkT_TOxxoTAk5-WZ5Bpylpa_oLb_xYnNhzRTBzAP9ge7c8f-74koAAt-_NiT09O-dsiKtde5ZTtO-bF7heiFXL4ay93AjZTCS4ZVXDRWkAbb/s320/pixlr+%25281%2529.png" width="238" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I was mouthing off as usual (we have the best PT / client relationship ever) saying "I'm busy with work, writing, study, tap, blah blah blah and I can't get to the gym", while he was saying that he "didn't give a toss, that I needed to find the time to haul my ass to the gym". The language was slightly more colourful, but you get the gist.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">His final parting words were "don't find excuses, find solutions". </span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Going to the gym at 5.30am (or in fact any time before work) was NOT an option for me because my sleep patterns were, and still are, up the doodaa. I either sleep like a baby (thanks sleeping pills) or hardly sleep at all (thanks to kicking the sleeping pill addiction). </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Lunchtimes were ok-ish, but during that period in my life my real job was hectic, and often it was easier to stay at the office, and work through my lunch break rather than try to get to the gym and find a car-park (close to impossible). </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">After work was also ok-ish, but often I had meetings or tap which would exhaust me.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">What. To. Do. ?</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Luckily for me, I had another night of insomnia. Eventually, I could no longer accept any of my excuses. They were feeble. They were weak. And I felt like a loser with every scenario that I was able to dream up. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Then the sun came up. I had a lightbulb moment. </span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;"><em>Hallelujah!</em></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">What if I split the hour long sesh with the PT into 2 half hour sessions? That would ensure two kick ass workouts per week, then I'd only need to find space to get to the gym 3 times. That just seemed so much more manageable than 4 overwhelming times. Uh, hello...one extra session with the PT was really going to make that much of a difference? Yes, it was. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">To cut a long story short, that's what we did. Two shorter PT sessions per week, then three individual cardio sessions. I'd found a solution to what had initially seemed impossible and easier to duck out of with one of a multitude of excuses. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDDtZcwF95izxMVGg0EhAw8VQt7bYni37DWCU6FtdK4AU4qzeV8skg5IKjNGHaR290Y-w0lD5lyLWgo0XeST5r0Zp7KmtBMr3bW6jWd0bcz7qnrZ2dJ4wZItNlWe8vUqOLPRlx125hzfdn/s1600/Gym.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDDtZcwF95izxMVGg0EhAw8VQt7bYni37DWCU6FtdK4AU4qzeV8skg5IKjNGHaR290Y-w0lD5lyLWgo0XeST5r0Zp7KmtBMr3bW6jWd0bcz7qnrZ2dJ4wZItNlWe8vUqOLPRlx125hzfdn/s1600/Gym.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Since then, I've applied to "don't find excuses, find solutions" mantra to many aspects of my life (diet, finances, housework!). And although excuses are invariably easier, solutions are invariably more satisfying. Try it. No excuses.</span><br />
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<br />Write On NZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13416592664421382772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4834227841216661334.post-62889505820609573452011-12-30T00:35:00.003+13:002011-12-30T20:28:46.925+13:00See ya 2011, wouldn't wanna be ya.<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">We're on the verge of kissing goodbye 2011. And when I say "kissing", I actually mean decking it. This is has been a pretty sucky year, especially for the Cantabrians in New Zealand. Mother Nature needs to get over herself. And soon.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">As always, the end of the year provides an opportunity to reflect, reiminisce and decide what changes to make when moving forward into the next year.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">I've always been pretty good at keeping resolutions, and I intend to keep my 2012 resolution too. What is it? This:</span><br />
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<span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"><em>My 2012 New Year's resolution is to start preparing lunch at home each morning and taking it to work with me, rather than buying my lunch which I probably do 4 out of 5 days a week. However, I have a long-standing lunch date with my BFF, so I will allow myself one bought lunch per week.</em></span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">I've already been dreaming of shreded turkey, colby cheese, lite mayo & lettuce sandwiches (washed down with an antihistamine to counteract my newly developed allergy to boring old lettuce). Yum! In fact, if I had the ingredients here, I'd make one right now.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">It might sound simple to some, but I'll have to break some pretty serious habits to get this one cracking. For example, I'll have to have groceries in the house AND will have to get out of bed earlier each day (except Thursday). Yikes!</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Thats me...what are you resolutions for 2012?</span>Write On NZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13416592664421382772noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4834227841216661334.post-18165840606397682982011-12-21T09:07:00.005+13:002011-12-21T09:25:10.724+13:00Santa, I've been veeeery good<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I've been good this year. Yes, really! And, I've put up with all sorts of things that a sane person of good moral standing should not need to put up with. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Everyone else is doing it (yeah, yeah...they're all under ten years of age...whatever), but anyway, here's my Christmas Wish List. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">For your purchasing convenience, I've included some piccys. I wouldn't want you to waste your hard-earned pingers on the wrong thing.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"><em>Twelve Kartell Louis ghost chairs. To have less than 12 people at a dinner party is a crime. One must always have the obligatory twelve, in which case, one must indeed have the obligatory twelve Kartell Louis ghost chairs</em></span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"><em>A Kindle. Word on the street (at the North Pole) is I'm likely to get one, so this is exceptionally good news for both me and Amazon.</em></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"><em>La Premiere movie tickets for a year. I live in the city which boasts New Zealand's best movie theatre. And oh em gee, it is flash as ow. Its like being in a five star hotel. The La Premiere class is waitered and catered, and the food on the menu is divine.</em></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"><em>A Dutch style bicycle with a basket on the front so I can take my cat for a ride. He'd love to feel the breeze blowing through his whiskers. You might think I'm nuts, well, you haven't met my crazy cat who delights at sprinting up and down the footpath on his lead showing off to all and sundry. A basket on a bicycle would be like cruising town in a chauffeur-driven Ferrari for him.</em></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Only four days left until Christmas. That should give you plenty of time to organise one or all of the above items for a self-proclaimed very good girl.</span></div>Write On NZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13416592664421382772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4834227841216661334.post-37441405149931968022011-12-02T11:41:00.001+13:002011-12-02T22:13:02.832+13:00Follow Friday<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Awww, check this out!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Best #FF ever in the history of Best #FF’s.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">And because it was so good, I decided to blog my #FF’s today.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Admittedly, I usually stick to the same old bunch of tweeps, but this time I’m gonna step waaaaaay out of my comfort zone, and suggest some of the odd-bods in my timeline.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">@hello_im_megan</span> The poor thing has a psycho ex-doghandler living in her house, sleeping in her bed even.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, what’s worse is that she spends her days knee deep in the bodily hair of her newly waxed clients.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yeow!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Guaranteed to make you die laughing.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="color: #e06666;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">@blakamin @feefeebofaye @evilkud @JumpinJen @V8Matty</span> </span><span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Arial; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Arial; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type: symbol; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">ß</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial;"> these are the people I am about to become insanely rich with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Somehow I wangled my way into their twotto group, and every week we take turns at buying lotto tickets, and then tweeting our disappointment after the stupid lotto machine invariably chooses the wrong numbers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, this week, we’ve all got a good feeling about the tix because I’m pretty sure I saw the nice lady press the secret “holycowthispersonsoneedstowin” button as I handed over my $24.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well done nice lady. The “holycowthispersonsoneedstowin” button has a direct link to the ball sucker thingie at lotto headquarters, and I tell you, this week, our balls WILL be sucked!</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">@kixy_stabbs</span> One of my <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Vancouver</place></city> tweepettes and fellow crazy cat lady.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My cat loves her too because she always likes his instagram portraits.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Last night, Edel even posed so he could send her a special goodnight picture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d say that she would be my major competition in the CATegory of “Twitter’s Craziest Cat Ladies”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of the two of us will win.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Guaranteed. Also, she's a real life bestie of <span style="color: #cc0000;">@loveyourcake</span>, so you get to see all kinds of weird and wonderful hashtags if you're following both of them.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">@alexmc183</span> I've only just met him recently, and wow...he's giving <span style="color: #cc0000;">@kyleipryor</span> a run for his money in the "nicest guy on twitter" stakes. Often his tweets will be filled with stuff about VoIP and techy computery stuff that only <span style="color: #cc0000;">@5hameless</span> seems to understand. I glaze over when he's tweeting stuff like that, but when he tweets about BMW's, he has my full attention because he always refers to them by their entwicklung codes. Very cool. By the way, <span style="color: #cc0000;">@alexmc183 @kyleipryor @5hameless</span> and I have our own secret language. Nothing like a good nipple in your gomez, is there boys?</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">@websam</span> Another of my local tweeps, he is responsible for putting together the logistical nightmare that is #nzsecretsanta. He also specialises in giant pumpkins, you know, the ones that take up the WHOLE of the back of a ute. So awesome. If you have ANY giant pumpkin queries, he is THE man.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">And finally, because I know she was busting for me to #FF her, meet <span style="color: #cc0000;">@SimoneBairdNZ</span>. Apparently we live in the same city, but we've never crossed paths (that I know of). I'm not even sure she's a real person, but we are facebook friends so that does give her a bit more street cred. If she's not a real person, she's doing a damn fine job of pretending to be one. Another crazy cat lady, and always pottering about on twitter, ready to tweet when you least expect it.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">I've read back and realised that I did mention some of my faves amongst this odd-bod list, but twitter becomes a small place after a while and everyone kind of ends up knowing everyone else. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Anyway, there's some #FF lovin' for ya. Hope you've enjoyed it.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Writey x</span></div>Write On NZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13416592664421382772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4834227841216661334.post-42136997560878637472011-11-24T15:02:00.001+13:002011-11-25T08:49:34.588+13:00What do you think of your children?<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I used a blog topic generator to come up with today’s topic, because I don’t feel like writing the “<span style="color: #cc0000;"><em>Amazing men and their overwhelming desire to marry revolting women</em></span>” blog (I’ll write it one day, promise).</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And the topic: “<span style="color: #cc0000;"><em>What do you think of your children?”</em></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Woah. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Ok, generator. You suggested it, so I’ll write about it.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">My extended families (both paternal and maternal) are huge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My sister and I have hundreds of cousins (first, second, third, etc) in every direction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A real sense of family was instilled in us from a young age, so it made sense that I was “Aunty” to her dolls and teddy bears, and she “Aunty” to mine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">As we got older, the title of Aunty extended to living things – guppies (they were ALL called <span style="color: #cc0000;">Larry</span> because (a) they all looked the same and (b) they all swum around the tank “happy as Larry”), goldfish (<span style="color: #cc0000;">Fisher <span style="color: #e06666;">&</span> Paykel</span>), cats (<span style="color: #cc0000;">Friesian<span style="color: #e06666;">,</span> Fluffy<span style="color: #e06666;">, </span>All Black <span style="color: #e06666;">&</span> Wallaby</span>), a goat (<span style="color: #cc0000;">Bartley</span>) and a horse (<span style="color: #cc0000;">Tootsie</span>).</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, once an Aunty, always an Aunty, right? At this exact moment in time, my sister and I each have one child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She has a wonderful daughter Foxglove* aged 5 ½ and I have a son, Edelweis.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“Edelweis, isn’t that the name of your cat?” I hear you say?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Just because my son is a quadruped, is covered in fur and purrs when happy doesn’t mean I love him any less than I would a human.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">He is the love of my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I’m at work, driving around town, flying around the country, in fact, anywhere except for home, his dear little face pops into my mind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And when I think of him, I smile and get that warm, contented, excruciatingly happy feeling that can only be described as love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Back to the generator question…what do I think of him?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, I think he’s witty, silly, loyal and incredibly photogenic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Occasionally I think he’s a grumpy little so and so.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It makes me proud when he patiently puts up with children patting him and tugging at his fur.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It makes me extra proud when greets each visitor to our home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I love that he always answers a question and believes that his tail is a separate entity to the rest of him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I love that he trusts me so wholeheartedly that he can fall into a deep sleep with all four legs in the air.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> And I adore that he is a stickler for routines. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Most of all, I love that he is my son, and that the Universe meant for us to be together. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Well played Universe, well played.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">*Not her real name</span></div>Write On NZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13416592664421382772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4834227841216661334.post-27197240593066745262011-11-21T09:01:00.001+13:002011-11-24T15:22:07.048+13:00"Meet Me" - The blogger behind this blog<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">My blogging idol and dear twitter friend <span style="color: #cc0000;">@loveyourcake</span> had a brainwave, and that was to encourage other bloggers to do a post called "Meet Me". Here's Cakey's Meet Me blog: <a href="http://bit.ly/vc3Gf8">http://bit.ly/vc3Gf8</a></span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Accordingly, here's a little glimpse into my "real" life.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Let's see, I might start with stuff you've already garnered from previous blog posts:</span><br />
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<li><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">I'm a New Zealander, but lived in Australia for 7 wonderful years</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">I am the smothering mother of one extraordinary fluffy white cat who is the absolute love of my life</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">I love public speaking, Princess Diana and Instagram</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">I was at a brothel on the day of 9/11</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">I've been on a date with Tom Cruise</span></li>
<li><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">And, I can't sleep with one foot hanging over the edge of the bed for fear of the crocodile who lives under the bed eating my foot during the night. I even tried last night, and lasted about 5 seconds before I had to retrieve my foot from certain doom</span></li>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Now that you can see that I am completely sane, I'll present you with some pictures of my life.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj32SZF9KMkn7sl2ZeSJJZOSo4918wHmP4sUskf89cbfWuUNBdF8UYgiuftzcKpukFXsNKCA6Jl4WVCGbk6tWb8QAkX9DtZpSil1jX_8Tililkj75n5Ks9BexPv_U_bWdT2cRmqjVaanDTG/s1600/Scooby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" hda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj32SZF9KMkn7sl2ZeSJJZOSo4918wHmP4sUskf89cbfWuUNBdF8UYgiuftzcKpukFXsNKCA6Jl4WVCGbk6tWb8QAkX9DtZpSil1jX_8Tililkj75n5Ks9BexPv_U_bWdT2cRmqjVaanDTG/s1600/Scooby.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: small;">I have a Velma Dinkley fetish, </span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: small;">and go out dressed up as her about twice a year. </span></em></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Y6_QCBqE-pEM_m_Cw7Qe5BEA-ORfEgMKhvD6ghO8JYVd9nqtRKNEmpgaYBjZHAEpKSc4oCZxIJ9bZnT-5UUYLGU7WEsEl0qdhwMbMwtbCg-Dbytn6BR_JN_9GsP3jLYh_pK3JAkfLcPm/s1600/Gentleman.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" hda="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Y6_QCBqE-pEM_m_Cw7Qe5BEA-ORfEgMKhvD6ghO8JYVd9nqtRKNEmpgaYBjZHAEpKSc4oCZxIJ9bZnT-5UUYLGU7WEsEl0qdhwMbMwtbCg-Dbytn6BR_JN_9GsP3jLYh_pK3JAkfLcPm/s320/Gentleman.bmp" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><em><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: small;">Grauman's Chinese Theatre, Hollywood - My right hand is </span></em><br />
<em><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: small;">EXACTLY the same size as Marilyn Monroes!</span></em><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsZgDxKxvPpJdF3cUgNg5z24pfek1XcyJZjEHCNYGtLHauC-QXMLZZNClzARbmlB2Hb2_3bn33rIKrC5fN4c2F7jk7d3gYNSWYV5L4-gBYiY42PSTQxPDcSLWmaNRLsGNBcQlYfbnpVTUY/s1600/Costume6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hda="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsZgDxKxvPpJdF3cUgNg5z24pfek1XcyJZjEHCNYGtLHauC-QXMLZZNClzARbmlB2Hb2_3bn33rIKrC5fN4c2F7jk7d3gYNSWYV5L4-gBYiY42PSTQxPDcSLWmaNRLsGNBcQlYfbnpVTUY/s320/Costume6.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><em>My other alter-ego is "Sista Mary Speights" </em></span><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><em>and often I can be found out on the town in a full habit. This picture was taken last month on a temporary ice rink brought into the city during the Rugby World Cup.</em></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjupM8xAPhfRMwxTJtexYj1rqqyIAh_OH_eEH0kd1Be4RuikgElTsDkkqB1T_NRgIMSO8rDNwrTuW4-ocJyrLbbc19KAGbKs_pt94fB3BvznK2a7M9qoH8EoZU3vO5AaTsXgnSLc8VU-cXY/s1600/Lead.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hda="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjupM8xAPhfRMwxTJtexYj1rqqyIAh_OH_eEH0kd1Be4RuikgElTsDkkqB1T_NRgIMSO8rDNwrTuW4-ocJyrLbbc19KAGbKs_pt94fB3BvznK2a7M9qoH8EoZU3vO5AaTsXgnSLc8VU-cXY/s320/Lead.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><em><span style="color: black; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">My adorable cat LOVES going for walks on his lead. He chooses where we go, and I just follow along </span></em><em><span style="color: black; font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">(sometimes at pace if he's cantering in order to feel the breeze flowing through his whiskers).</span></em></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOHc0YK4Zj0gOzi-1_4U5dYc-N16J3vvlFjog86MmjNw7vesAAcJiJpuiN5izpYWwdNZD_Y07BEyn4H4VjoAG16KLTTlbc3HSKMV5vGDZpLnSrAR_gE7ww_B1ZMnhk7i6QCYoo4p90S4CC/s1600/Diana1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hda="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOHc0YK4Zj0gOzi-1_4U5dYc-N16J3vvlFjog86MmjNw7vesAAcJiJpuiN5izpYWwdNZD_Y07BEyn4H4VjoAG16KLTTlbc3HSKMV5vGDZpLnSrAR_gE7ww_B1ZMnhk7i6QCYoo4p90S4CC/s320/Diana1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><em>Grandma's piano at my place. My most </em></span><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><em>beloved possessions sit on top of it. I don't play as often as I should. I must remedy that soon.</em></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyhmiOzXcBCOlb7jcukR4U5Wbo0_7oH9vpij7wQP_0fsO7YnThxauSrAtrEHt5HeGmWJiyBO4YmabmOX6giAO999y7vRtwOTwaaMJttaDMD-6tinVGrEapM-VwMf0KYcX35C_Cztk1cnlZ/s1600/Tap.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hda="true" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyhmiOzXcBCOlb7jcukR4U5Wbo0_7oH9vpij7wQP_0fsO7YnThxauSrAtrEHt5HeGmWJiyBO4YmabmOX6giAO999y7vRtwOTwaaMJttaDMD-6tinVGrEapM-VwMf0KYcX35C_Cztk1cnlZ/s320/Tap.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<em><span style="font-family: Courier New; font-size: small;">I took up Tap Dancing several years ago, as I didn't learn to tap as a child. This is me treading the boards last week as a haggard housewife (middle of picture, holding a black cat) in the dance school's end of year recital.</span></em><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So, there you have it...a photographic insight into the real me (a costume-loving, tap-dancing, crazy cat lady whose right hand is exactly the same size as Marilyn Monroes and who doesn't play the piano as often as she should).</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">PS. My right hand slid into Marilyn's hand print as though I'd made it myself. My left hand didn't fit as well in her hand print, but I can't remember if mine was smaller or larger than hers. I'll have to pop back to Hollywood to find out, I guess.</span></div>
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</tbody></table>Write On NZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13416592664421382772noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4834227841216661334.post-22477243318121466832011-11-17T09:55:00.001+13:002011-11-24T15:21:41.405+13:00Tweet Number Twenty-thousand!<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This blog marks my 20,000th tweet. And, this milestone will be beyond my mother's comprehension...I can hear her saying "<em>Twenty thousand?</em> W<em>hat on earth do you twit about</em>" (yes, "<em>twit</em>", not tweet. Remember, we are talking about the woman who rings me every so often to ask me how to twink (white-out) things off her computer screen).</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Anyway, back to No.20,000. I thought what better way to celebrate it than mention a few of the tweeps who've made my twitter experience so enjoyable.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU3zo5earlxWiaukDAilgeU5eYewgKQo5Y0DLYbnLhfrX-4F6t63kzcbKgbspj7f7iOMouSo_CmJDByov0tDIIXFxTWC0xnVvG5TX8isdJreHjpFFa1O_VEA2dFm9wAVIGGD3U-0n6MlQ0/s1600/Insta3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hda="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU3zo5earlxWiaukDAilgeU5eYewgKQo5Y0DLYbnLhfrX-4F6t63kzcbKgbspj7f7iOMouSo_CmJDByov0tDIIXFxTWC0xnVvG5TX8isdJreHjpFFa1O_VEA2dFm9wAVIGGD3U-0n6MlQ0/s320/Insta3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Feel free to follow some or all of this unruly lot, they're all gems in their own right.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">@mattymcleanTVNZ</span> - Matty and I met during a fundraising event I managed a couple of years ago. He was my guest speaker and had the crowd in stitches. Matty was my first "celeb" friend on twitter, and incidentally it was he who I was tweeting on 22 February 2011 when #eqnz turned our world upside down. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">@HauteOnMyHeels</span> - In the olden days (as in twelve months ago), the home page of twitter would show trending tweets. I saw one of Haute's and died laughing, so decided to follow her which then lead to me discovering...</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">@LoveYourCake</span> - Cakey! My beloved Cakey who gave me my first twitter nickname "Writey". How cute is that?! Cakey was the first person to DM me that I didn't know. And I FREAKED OUT. She said she loved my twitter profile and just wanted to say it was the best one she'd ever read. I didn't know how to respond. Was she chatting me up? Was she making a move? What the hell was going on? I gingerly responded and since then have even talked to her on the phone during a tweet-up at her place.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">If you follow Haute or Cakey you immediately get wrapped up in this funny little place called Vancouver. And their ice-hockey team the Canucks. And a national delicacy called "poutine" (from what I can gather, its fries covered in gravy and cheese curds). I'm still not convinced that its yummy though...curds? It sounds like regurgitated stomach lining to me. Your Vancouver experience won't be the same unless you also follow <span style="color: #cc0000;">@BretInVancouver @VancityAmy @kixy_stabbs @LindsayDianne @TheFalconer @suitoflights @hurrrdurrr @SSDated @cicychan @MetalBlonde @schneidz @CeciBruja @causticchick @korvan @g_bugg @Babe_Chilla @geoffgauthier @WinnieIsAwesome @TessTattles @PirateMeghan @SarahSpizzie @teapleeze</span> and honorary BC-er <span style="color: #cc0000;">@MattyDorf</span> - there are heaps of them. If twitter had an award for the most tweety-ish city, it would HAVE to go to Vancouver. My apologies for any of the regulars I've left out. I will keep amending this list.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">@TiffanytheTaxi</span> - I met this Sydneysider on the night of Wills and Kate tying the knot. She was also using the hashtag #RW2011 and we got chatting. I've mentioned her in this blog before and can't wait to meet up with her irl. Thanks to Tiff, I'm going to take up crocheting!</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">@LABeachmom</span> and <span style="color: #cc0000;">@phxguy88</span> - I can't remember how these two wriggled their way into my timeline, but oh my god...you have to follow this gorgeous, platonic, sweet friendship. Someone HAS to make a movie about them! Both are hilarious, and one is always pulling the other up by the bootstrings in a flirty, fun-loving way. I can't explain it. Just follow them, will ya? PS: We're talking MAJOR eye-candy here too folks. Sweet, all round, I promise.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">@VaginaDesigner</span> - Another tweep I found out about via the social butterfly Haute. The poor thing gets to flossy up women's nether regions by way of waxing and vajazzling. Can't say I'd be brave enough to do that, but on behalf of all the husbands, boyfriends and partners of your clients in Los Angeles, THANK YOU for going there! And when we grow up, Jen and I are going to live in the same town and go everywhere in costume. Her costume fetish equals mine! Unheard of, I know.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">@kyleipryor</span> - I've often referred to Kyle as "<em>the nicest guy on twitter</em>" and I stand by those words. Apparently if you're into Spartacus, he's kind of a big deal, but I've never watched it/that...what is it, a movie, a series, what? I've challenged KP to an arm wrestle which will be moderated by the equally lovely <span style="color: #cc0000;">@5hameless</span> (one of my local tweeps and go-to guy when I'm having iPhone issues). I'm pretty sure that KP is shaking in his boots at the thought of my guns taking down his in the upcoming arm wrestle. And oh yeah, KP and I are getting married in January. Damn, I forgot about that. Don't tell him I forgot, ok? And best of all, KP is often on set when "Embarassing Teenage Bodies" airs, so he watches it a few days later after we've all recovered. Seriously funny.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">@thornybleeder</span> - Move over Bryan Adams and Justin Bieber, I've found a real Canadian muso on twitter. He trawls the net all day and night so that you don't have to, and instead you can focus on your music, social media or whatever career while he sorts out the good from the bad. And, once you're aware of him, you soon realise that he is everywhere - twitter, facebook, various websites, instagram, even your email inbox if you sign up to his DIY Daily newsletter. And if he's at none of those places, well, he's probably at Kitsilano Beach in Vancouver where he and his gorgeous dogdaughter Koda check out their mayoral realm twice a day. Warning: Just when you think you've never met anyone cooler, he might tweet something out of character. Definitely cool 99.99999% of the time. If he has a rare out of character moment, just gently ask him to LISTEN TO SOME SEPULTURA FORTHWITH! </span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">@Hilary_Barry</span> and <span style="color: #cc0000;">@MrMikeMcRoberts</span> - For those outside New Zealand, these two read the 6pm news AND TWEET LIVE DURING THE BROADCAST! It's fantastic! Quite often they'll mention twitter at the end of the show (go us!). Best of all, they let us know what the upcoming stories are before they tell the rest of NZ. Awesome. Talk about being in the know. For a news junkie like myself, it's heaven on earth...well, heaven in the twitterverse. Mike gets extra points from me because he married one of the cool girls from a few years ahead of me at highschool <span style="color: #cc0000;">@paulapenfold</span>. FYI, I WAS the coolest of cool in my year at highschool, thank you very much.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">@perstephanie_</span> - An absolute sweetheart, and I have no idea how I found her. She LOVES that I colour-code my books in my bookshelves. It sounds like her closet is the ultimate in colour and style arrangement though. I'll need a picture of it oneday gf!</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">@Mammy_P</span> - introduced to me by <span style="color: #cc0000;">@BretInVancouver</span> who we refer to as BIVVER. Somehow, I got the nickname VIVVER and she's PIVVER. Regardless of all the ivvering, she is exceptionally kind and funny, and because shes in the UK, I can usually rely on her being online when I'm going through a bout of #insomniargh in NZ.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">And finally, some of my own personal highlights on twitter:</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">1. <span style="color: #cc0000;">@DavidHasselhoff</span> follows me. Why, I have no idea. Am I stoked? HELL YES!</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">2. <span style="color: #cc0000;">@LA_Reid</span> tweeted me last week, which in turn made my dear little twitter profile trend in NZ. WTF? OMG! </span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">3. #smcHam or #smcTron - My local tweeps are the best bunch one could wish for (outside of Vancouver). Although I don't always get to the tweet-ups, they're supportive, fun and some of them are verging on new BFF tag. Ok you lot, I said "verging", not that you had made it...yet. Plus, they make 4square heaps more competitive. The local 4square battles are full-on, hard out wars. Suck it down, all the cool mayoralties around town will be MINE!</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">4. The various friendships I've formed from following or using these hashtags: #RHOBH, #OW, #TBLFAS, #NZNTM, #ANTM, #BFGW, #GoGirls, #amwriting and #EQNZ amongst others. Oh, I better give a shout out to all the cat-lovers and the insomniacs too. Argh, too many people to mention! But here are some of my favourite gfs: <span style="color: #cc0000;">@amandimoo @L_To @kathadu @WendyWings @jstcamel @bexielady @aimewee @hello_im_megan @jinnee79 @brenasmith @PaMelville @feefeebofaye @Chandy229 @muffinmum @meegandale83</span>. Again, I'll amend this list.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Seriously, a big thank you to EVERYONE that I interact with on a daily basis on twitter. Your humour, your compassion and your odd ways of looking at life all make the twitterverse the completely sane / crazy place that it is.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Cheers</span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Writey x</span>Write On NZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13416592664421382772noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4834227841216661334.post-63672888365508095982011-11-16T14:30:00.001+13:002011-11-17T09:54:45.539+13:00Roo-muh-neyt-lahy-tis<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><em>"Its best not to let her ruminate".</em></span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">I suffer from chronic ruminatelitis (I also suffer from makingwordsupitis). If I'm not busy, I begin to ponder, and when I ponder I get depressed, and when I get depressed, yada yada.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">I'm on the verge of another episode of ruminatelitis because in the last month I've completed my latest qualification and as of last week, my tap lessons have finished for 2011.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Essentially, this means that I've freed up about an extra 15-20 hours per week. I'm sure some of you would be stoked with the extra time, but it doesn't work like that for me. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Extra time = more time to ponder = ruminatelitis </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">I still work 40 hours a week at my real job and "Write On" takes up a good 30+ hours a week. Sessions with my PT and my own training take up approximately 7 hours per week. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Ooh, oh...lets do some maths:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Real Job 40 hours</span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Write On 30 hours</span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Gym 7 hours</span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Sleep 49 hours (if I'm lucky, that another blog in itself)</span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Living <u>25 hours</u> (housework, groceries, visiting friends)</span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">TOTAL 151 hours that I'm doing stuff</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Which means I have 17 free hours, 17 hours to ruminate.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPd76Ugx7USdmkWVhNuw2sRC6iaxk0Krfy1we3ztNaQrpsSFLIMTIpwc-ksqgDpf30Ml-fdXufvEf_nDTHX_paz8JfqtRS4250dUGDRCu405jBaXqnTgI2kktVmqtHrw8wMnBrXeXknm05/s1600/Seventeen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" nda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPd76Ugx7USdmkWVhNuw2sRC6iaxk0Krfy1we3ztNaQrpsSFLIMTIpwc-ksqgDpf30Ml-fdXufvEf_nDTHX_paz8JfqtRS4250dUGDRCu405jBaXqnTgI2kktVmqtHrw8wMnBrXeXknm05/s1600/Seventeen.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">This is not a good thing.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">I need to fix this. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">ASAP.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">I don't want to sit in a pub or restaurant and get drunk. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Unfortunately I can't do any further study at the moment because there weren't any tempting summer school courses. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">What. To. Do. ?</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">All suggestions appreciated. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"> </span>Write On NZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13416592664421382772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4834227841216661334.post-9052244940689421662011-11-08T10:51:00.001+13:002011-11-11T10:07:54.707+13:00Some Facts About Me<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">For those of you who don't partake in twitter, there's often a trend going on. The current one is #SomeFactsAboutMe. I've had to censor myself heavily (and resist tweeting a lot of interesting facts) because of my desire to keep my public twitter profile reasonably goody two-shoes-ish. But I do have one absolutely extraordinary fact that is always a good one to drag out at parties or when meeting people for the first time. The details of the fact are too long to tweet in 140 characters. So, here it goes. A fact about moi.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">I have been on a date with Tom Cruise. Yes, <em>THE</em> Tom Cruise. The couch-jumping, Scientology-following, Hollywood superstar Tom Cruise. Yes, little old me, originally from Te Anau, Fiordland, New Zealand.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Eleven years has now passed, but out of respect for the people involved in the story, I've decided to leave out some names and details which could identify them. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Firstly, I have to start by saying that my life in Sydney was <u>very</u> different to the one I lead now. There are some aspects of it that I miss, but all in all, I got to the stage where "I'd been there, done that, got the postcard" and it was time to move on. Cue a return to Godzone and a far simpler, slower lifestyle. Enough said.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">I had the amazing fortune of sharing Tom Cruise's best friend in Sydney. I met the mutual best friend through my job, and eventually left that job to work for the mutual best friend. Tom and Nicole spent a lot of time in Sydney, maybe even more than people knew, primarily because Sydney was Nicole's home town, and also due to both Mission Impossible II and Moulin Rouge being filmed there.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">The back story: For the sake of this blog, we'll call my then boyfriend..."Dick". Dick was actually quite a twat, but I was mesmerised by the boat(s), car(s), the private jetty at the bottom of the garden, the wealth, blah blah. He had the most incredible wardrobe...in fact, his whole spare room was full of racks of fantastic clothes. He dressed really well and had the height and physique to always look great. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Dick is the one that introduced me to Veuve Cliquot. Every Sunday we'd jump in one of his boats, sail over to the Sydney Fish Markets, buy Lobster, go home, he'd cook it up and we'd drink a bottle or two of Veuve. Yes, as I said earlier, my life was incredibly different back then. Dick never wanted to hang with my friends, instead we either hung with his friends or stayed in. Yup, a warning sign which I chose to ignore.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Anyway, Dick was supposed to attend the mutual best friend's birthday party with me. On the day of the party, two awful things happened to Dick. His little brother walked in on an armed hold-up in a petrol station in outer Sydney (but escaped unscathed) and Dick's Grandfather died (he had been ill for quite some time). I couldn't get hold of Dick on the phone, so drove over to his place so we could catch a cab together to the party. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">I knocked on the door. Dick opened it and was standing there looking like, well, an absolute dick, to tell you the truth. He was wearing the most hideous ensemble from his spare room. I'd never seen any of the items he had on. It was a complete mismatch and for a moment I thought he'd gone insane because he was always impeccably dressed. He burst into tears and said "...(little brother story, Grandfather story)...I don't know what to wear to meet Tom Cruise...I don't want to go to the party...no-one will talk to me...I'll have a bad time...lets just stay at my place and watch a movie...please stay here with me...etc, etc". </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Uh, hello Dick. Stay in with you AGAIN, or go to my best friend's birthday party which was also going to be attended by TC? I was annoyed that he hadn't rung me or returned my calls, and for once I thought nah, I'm going to do what I want to do, not what Dick wants me to do.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">I leapt in my car and drove towards the mutual best friend's house where the party was being held. All of a sudden, I felt like the loneliest person in the world. Dick (again) had chosen not do something with my friends, and I was going to turn up alone. I started crying. I rang the mutual best friend and told him what had happened. He told me to forget about Dick, to get my ass to his place pronto, and that his party would suck if I wasn't there. The mutual best friend was so wonderful during that phone-call that I then knew that I couldn't miss the celebration. Bro's before ho's, right?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Tom had gone to the party on his Harley, and the paparazzi had followed him there. I saw the photog's milling around the front of the property, so parked a little way up the street, wiped off the runny mascara, applied some makeup and went in.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial;"></span><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">I walked into the living room and then completely unexpectedly this happened:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Tom Cruise, my teenage crush, one of the greatest Hollywood stars ever, stood up and walked over to me. He reached for my hand and said "<em><span style="color: #cc0000;">Hi. I'm Tom. You must be Yvonne. I'm here without a date, and I understand that you are too. I was wondering if you'd be my date for the evening</span></em>". OH MY GOD. OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG. The mutual best friend had obviously told him what had happened with Dick, and here was this superstar, who I'd never met, doing his part to cheer me up.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">I accepted his offer, and he proceeded to sit me down and then bring me a drink. Tom was amazing.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">He was attentive, kind, interesting, completely down to earth and hilarious. The two conversation topics that stand out the most in my memory were about (1) cheeseburgers - he couldn't believe that we put egg and beetroot in Kiwi burgers, and (2) worm-farming. Yes, worm-farming. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial;">He never mentioned religion. We didn't talk about anything Hollywood-related. He wanted to know about me, my life, interests, etc. Tom was a complete gentleman. </span><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial;">Nicole was in Romania filming "The Others", which is why he was there alone. She rang during the party and was thrilled that he had a date for the evening. Bless. She is a sweetheart.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Now, not that this is one of my drinking stories, but those who know me and who've seen me in the vicinity of a piano when drinking, know that I like to tickle the ivories when under the influence. The mutual best friend had a piano in the living room. I was full to the brim with Cosmopolitans. The piano beckoned. I played.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">The party literally became a repeat of <em>that scene</em> from Top Gun. Tom shared the piano stool with me and everyone else gathered around and sang as I thumped away on the piano. He was Maverick and I was Goose. Together, we rocked!</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Obviously, there is way more to the story, but I'm running out of time, and again, out of respect for some people, I've decided to withhold some of the details. Lets just say, it was one of the most amazing birthday parties I've ever attended. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Anyway, there you have it, my friends. The Readers Digest version of the night when I went on a date with Tom Cruise.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">And Dick? We parted company, eventually.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<br />Write On NZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13416592664421382772noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4834227841216661334.post-36913153011605566642011-10-31T16:47:00.000+13:002011-10-31T16:58:01.885+13:00Taking stock of life<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A friend just posted this on facebook, and I decided I'd rather share it today than blog. </span>Write On NZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13416592664421382772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4834227841216661334.post-22339003423210265552011-10-20T14:37:00.001+13:002011-10-20T14:40:12.854+13:00Sisters are doin' it for themselves<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Last night, Hamilton hosted it's inaugural Women's Forum. The panel included our Mayor Julie Hardaker, Dr Sue Dymock (I've known her since I was about ten), Sarah Seel, an Engineer (cool, huh?), Raewyn Hamilton, a business woman based in Auckland...and little old me! Kaye Gregory was our vivacious and witty MC.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Tickets to the event had sold out within a blink of an eye, and before I'd even known they'd gone on sale. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">As panelists, we'd been given the questions about a week ago, so we weren't flying by the seat of our pants. Of the seven questions, there were only 3 that I was able to prepare for because I wasn't under 30, wasn't over 50 and don't have kids (two questions were related to parenting). </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Here are the 3 questions that I did tackle (and roughly the responses I gave):</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">a. What have I gained the most from my relationship with my grandmother?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Given that I had the coolest grandmother that ever walked this earth, this one was easy as. To me, Grandma gave me a real sense of self, an understanding of why it is that I love music, fresh flowers, watercolours, historical novels, Sherlock Holmes, silly television adverts, cats...its all built into my DNA. Grandma celebrated my uniqueness, and loved my quirkiness...she never once baulked at any of the strange things I did or said or wanted, she purely loved me for being me. Her passing was one of the most traumatic moments of my life. I still miss her every single day. The last thing I ever said to her, just a week before she died in 2003 was "I love you Grandma". Best. Final. Words. Ever.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Following the death of my Grandfather several months ago, we cleared out his house. Amongst the things, I found a little book I'd given Grandma for her birthday in 1992. I'd actually gone through and underlined some of the phrases in pencil that were peculiar to our relationship. These included:</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
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<em><span style="color: #a64d79; font-size: large;">"Good grandmothers let you tell them the entire plot of the film </span></em></div>
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<em><span style="color: #a64d79; font-size: large;">they too watched last night on television. </span></em></div>
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<em><span style="color: #a64d79; font-size: large;">With suitable amazement".</span></em></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
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<em><span style="color: #a64d79; font-size: large;">"Grandmas sometimes race you to the next lamppost...</span></em></div>
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<em><span style="color: #a64d79; font-size: large;">but then they sit on a wall, </span></em></div>
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<span style="color: #a64d79;"><span style="font-size: large;"><em>and go a funny shade of yellow".</em></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I finished that section with one of my all time favourite phrases..."Be who you are and say what you want because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter, don't mind" Dr Seuss.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">b. If you had the ability to turn back time to improve one aspect of your life, when would it be to and why?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Hindsight: wonderful and torturous all at once. My overall response that I wish I'd listened more often to my gut feeling...and gone with what I'd thought was right instead of pandering to others beliefs and desires or being railroaded by the bolshy people in my life (I didn't say that bit, but I was blimin thinking it!).</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">But I can put my finger on an EXACT moment in time. When I was 22, a local radio station that my employer had a lot to do with was looking for someone to work the graveyard shift. I'd done some voiceover work for them, and was good friends with a lot of the team at the station. They asked me if I wanted to take on the shift (yes, the hours would have fitted with the job I had at the time and training was no problem), but I declined the offer. Everyone said things like "they're not gonna pay you enough" or "those hours suck" or "I'll never see you" or "do you really want to work in radio, its boring", et cetera. And idiot me didn't go with my gut feeling. Idiot me went with what everyone else said. I have been kicking myself ever since. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">I would have LOVED a career in radio or on tv...something media/journalism oriented. Now I just have to make do with flirting with tv and radio hosts and their sidekicks on twitter...you know who you are ;-)</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">c. How do I foster healthy communication in a day when technology has altered the way we communicate?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Ok...so the audience was 100% women! Yeah, I was really surprised at that. I thought a few husbands or fathers or brothers would pop along, but no...it was a chicks only event. But it was cool! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">The youngest there was 17-ish, the oldest about 80-ish, and the bulk of the audience would have been in the 50-70 age bracket. I wouldn't go as far as to say that they came from all walks of life, but certainly there was a wide cross-section of nationalities represented. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Thankfully, several months ago, I'd had a one on one Skype power session with @thornybleeder (shameless plug), and a lot of what we'd covered was in respect of communication in this day and age, and in particular women and social media.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Accordingly, I was armed with all sorts of stats (women aged 55+ are the fast growing demographic on the internet) and knowledge in order to answer it. My main response (from a business point of view) was that as women, we need to embrace technology as a method of communication, that modern business is all about talking with people, not at people. I explained that old school advertising was dead (yellow pages, billboards, newspaper, etc) because companies were no longer getting the return on investment that they did using those methods say, even 5 years ago.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Then Kaye asked me to explain twitter. I tried to be succinct. I just have so much to say about it. I was practically jumping out of my chair talking about it! However, omg, get this. A friend of mine, Tania was there in the audience, and following my brief enthusiastic description, she signed up to twitter as I continued to speak. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Fast-forward to the dessert break --> I tweeted that Tania had signed up, and within a few minutes she had 13 followers although she still hadn't even tweeted. Good work team! You guys rock.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9tj-_Jg5VmgahgbIfIz5RXCUaTBIoT9UpSiwhXbnRlmDtM5-YG2FP5SyHWDSxO-FNQebEWCHFZO6wSfqNnEQsINV7gHrpWucIT1_oE1aLE4EDLUF5WX-xXUaH_W5JYyb_2qHo9S60SsP-/s1600/photo_0001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" rda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9tj-_Jg5VmgahgbIfIz5RXCUaTBIoT9UpSiwhXbnRlmDtM5-YG2FP5SyHWDSxO-FNQebEWCHFZO6wSfqNnEQsINV7gHrpWucIT1_oE1aLE4EDLUF5WX-xXUaH_W5JYyb_2qHo9S60SsP-/s320/photo_0001.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Anyway, back to the event. It finished with some questions from the floor including "What is your most annoying habit?" and "What poster was on your wall when you were a teenager". FYI: Jon Bon Jovi, of course, the man I have been in love with flat-tack for 27 years, without ever waivering in my devotion to him.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Every so often Kaye would throw in a light-hearted question to put us on the spot, and all in all, the event was hilarious, convivial and a tonne of fun.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">The evening finished with a brief speech by Julie, then it was home, into my PJs and onto twitter and instagram.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">I had two highlights from the event: my passion for public speaking was rekindled (gimme more someone!), and funnily enough my second highlight was the natter that the panelists, Kaye and I had in the green room prior to the event starting. We could hear the audience arriving and talking and laughing, but for an hour or so we just talked about our backgrounds, being stuck in the lift with movie stars, you know...that general chit chat you get. Fantastic.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">A special thanks to Bronnie for inviting me to be a part of such an auspicious panel. It truly was one of the best nights I've had out this year.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>Write On NZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13416592664421382772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4834227841216661334.post-67469774196639506012011-10-14T14:52:00.001+13:002011-10-14T14:52:29.341+13:00A curious thought<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">No blog today folks, just a really cool quote that I found:</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"><em>"It is a curious thought, </em></span><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"><em>but it is only when </em></span><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"><em>you see people looking ridiculous </em></span><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"><em>that you realise just how </em></span><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"><em>much you love them"</em> </span></div>
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Agatha Christie</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg12MP3MfIxRsVc24iRYi7XlHWvcAa4mhuPyTkbvZoMjmRRNGVUbJu4zzxcZ8M4_h9mnFEp8MnqVm7TPIYrcLbDDEDvF7cUNa1X3HUYpg3TOACS5eUhvy-FErfB7Mn_azFb9O9igcN5-8AD/s1600/Paws.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" oda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg12MP3MfIxRsVc24iRYi7XlHWvcAa4mhuPyTkbvZoMjmRRNGVUbJu4zzxcZ8M4_h9mnFEp8MnqVm7TPIYrcLbDDEDvF7cUNa1X3HUYpg3TOACS5eUhvy-FErfB7Mn_azFb9O9igcN5-8AD/s320/Paws.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #e06666;">And awww, I found the purrfect picture to go with the quote. How many other cats cross their paws at the ankle when in polite company? Yup, thought so...just my often ridiculous cat. And, I can't begin to tell you how much I love him ;-)</span></span></span></div>
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</div>Write On NZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13416592664421382772noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4834227841216661334.post-8109102889900170782011-10-11T15:55:00.002+13:002011-10-12T08:50:02.857+13:00Pain explained<span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">***NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART, ICKY MEDICAL STUFF INCLUDED***</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">You know those severe cramps you get after eating something dodgy? Well add that feeling to someone continually stabbing stiletto heels into the lower part of your stomach. Got that? Then add Edward Scissorhands sitting inside your stomach waving his hands around. Then add searing pain that travels down the front of your thighs to your toes. Add sweat. Add inability to speak. Add inability to cry. Then make that combination of feelings last for 6 to 24+ hours.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFuaJJQMpPCr-FKnu9lWOBOfQE4PMQG6cWF018EDMGHjgIOyoC8UXyMPU25tyw3awYKQEtcMsB1vf2iof5-igkqx5kkJ-UgRm3gEgHPT6Sn0DV1dXlqU94yKAT2QFXK1p6pZvnIUvSA6Ag/s1600/Heel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFuaJJQMpPCr-FKnu9lWOBOfQE4PMQG6cWF018EDMGHjgIOyoC8UXyMPU25tyw3awYKQEtcMsB1vf2iof5-igkqx5kkJ-UgRm3gEgHPT6Sn0DV1dXlqU94yKAT2QFXK1p6pZvnIUvSA6Ag/s1600/Heel.jpg" /></span></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC8in4FYikLNldVHTW2nXJyY0PlUrPw1fwmVW6FAwM6z4Hayc4HcgSrQMIQDLpMxBdQJ62yYM-emungVeCK-SQF46HqekFnn3Z0ZYkUrrPP8xT4T3C-WMtPvvHcV7QUvXcZTr6u2Kchnpc/s1600/Edward.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgC8in4FYikLNldVHTW2nXJyY0PlUrPw1fwmVW6FAwM6z4Hayc4HcgSrQMIQDLpMxBdQJ62yYM-emungVeCK-SQF46HqekFnn3Z0ZYkUrrPP8xT4T3C-WMtPvvHcV7QUvXcZTr6u2Kchnpc/s1600/Edward.bmp" /></span></a></div><span style="color: #e06666;"><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">And, that is what Endometriosis pain feels like to me. I've been hospitalised numerous times for pain management, and usually only find relief after being put onto a self-administering morphine pump. I've had eight operations to remove it, and am now so riddled with scar tissue and nerve damage that there is nothing more they can do from an operative point of view. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Not even removing a good portion of my innards will remove the disease, its too extensive. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">My most recent operation has been hailed as the "deepest Endometriosis excision ever performed". Photographs and video footage have since been shown worldwide at medical conventions. The Doctor who performed the operation has published his findings in countless medical journals. Some of the endo he removed was more than 20 years old. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">But, if it had been in there for 20 years, why hadn't it been removed in one of the earlier operations, I hear you ask? Because they didn't have the technology or skills to do it back then.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">I've seen the photos. The really old Endo looks like slimy black tar. The newer stuff ranges from light pink to blood red. I've got a great photo from halfway through one of the ops about 6 years ago. On one side is the hideous endo in all its endo-ish glory, and on the other side, you can clearly see the organs that its been removed from.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">I'm now under the care of a Pain Specialist because its inoperable, and they need to figure out a plan so that I can manage the pain myself until I head off to heaven. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Last night I had an excruciating episode, so bad that I considered going to A&E for the second time in a fortnight. Just as I was at my wits end, I got in touch with the Pain Dude and via his suggestions (then me upping the dosage a bit) we eventually managed to make the pain bearable enough that I could remain at home. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Today, I feel exhausted, and as though I did 5,000 sit-ups yesterday. The aching never goes away, but I'm used to it now. Its the excruciating episodes like last night that wear me down, physically and emotionally.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">I can't figure out how to finish this blog. I just sincerely hope that none of the women in your lives ever have to suffer through it as I do. </span>Write On NZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13416592664421382772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4834227841216661334.post-7642679899133765552011-10-04T16:31:00.002+13:002011-10-05T10:13:41.752+13:00Instagram 101<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Following on from my worldwide phenomenal smash hit successful blog "Twitter 101" published 18 July 2011, I now present you with its cousin (once removed) <span style="color: #cc0000;">Instagram 101</span>.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">Step 1.</span> Buy an iPhone (I don't believe that the Blackberry/Android versions of Instagram have been released yet - please correct me if I'm wrong);</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">Step 2.</span> Download the Instagram app (and guess what, it's free!);</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">Step 3.</span> Take a photo using Instagram, then apply one of the filters, possibly do some funky in focus/out of focus stuff with your image;</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">Step 4.</span> Add a caption (or not). You can even geotag the picture so people know roughly where you were when you took it. Its entirely up to you.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #cc0000;">Step 5.</span> Download it to facebook, twitter or flickr.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">ANYONE can be a whizz bang photographer with Instagram. Anyone. Even me. Here are some of mine:</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicwJMP_ue4doxqxmNlDYl9jAbDQvopyHhNrJ2DsyOGK3LhwhU3HOR4JPUaycJaCHAdtpL5q-bjZfktvJhL0ZmOClKVsE7f4MBH9KkmrNuDQqDCemuzsa9U3dYneYbPE91NUKMvVpfOYrUV/s1600/Insta2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicwJMP_ue4doxqxmNlDYl9jAbDQvopyHhNrJ2DsyOGK3LhwhU3HOR4JPUaycJaCHAdtpL5q-bjZfktvJhL0ZmOClKVsE7f4MBH9KkmrNuDQqDCemuzsa9U3dYneYbPE91NUKMvVpfOYrUV/s320/Insta2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLS1AbTWLXzo9vbHZkyFB9gt0WZD1NLOpOZ0AWiNtZLc0EHaef_F8xzcbN-o3BrzBV2LXgYTQFb1lSK6dgzRHGIgYwbkg5A7zlKI_kvuveqjf0yb-BD3Ld2XeP1499oi2jKVekw-XZhY2Z/s1600/Insta5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLS1AbTWLXzo9vbHZkyFB9gt0WZD1NLOpOZ0AWiNtZLc0EHaef_F8xzcbN-o3BrzBV2LXgYTQFb1lSK6dgzRHGIgYwbkg5A7zlKI_kvuveqjf0yb-BD3Ld2XeP1499oi2jKVekw-XZhY2Z/s320/Insta5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZisG7h5rpqqc5DAFc9bn_mlu2Da7jTxUADEv87Ln7wyhJBB0NkMUzQCw1PtMIXn7x2C-XGRwBQg3454hOihp2vLy7B8PKMQt70-8NfPGYJzYA_2hHhTpg_Nmln2rVmhbDZNy68CFs4oPw/s1600/Insta6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZisG7h5rpqqc5DAFc9bn_mlu2Da7jTxUADEv87Ln7wyhJBB0NkMUzQCw1PtMIXn7x2C-XGRwBQg3454hOihp2vLy7B8PKMQt70-8NfPGYJzYA_2hHhTpg_Nmln2rVmhbDZNy68CFs4oPw/s320/Insta6.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIQTEX9HvM9i_PhyD2ieEnpbb6BpoN4psGZfZpRNPbryfIbf9CDWXc3rrK-LoC8fwOcfOjARERHMqjFlQ0pUyRU4nVPgSepvvasBcE2HX08da-LFo8UhxpBXvOpMGVC9ltUayus3LL7nTr/s1600/Insta4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIQTEX9HvM9i_PhyD2ieEnpbb6BpoN4psGZfZpRNPbryfIbf9CDWXc3rrK-LoC8fwOcfOjARERHMqjFlQ0pUyRU4nVPgSepvvasBcE2HX08da-LFo8UhxpBXvOpMGVC9ltUayus3LL7nTr/s320/Insta4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">If you'd known me as long as I've known me, you'd know that my photography in the past has sucked. Really, really sucked. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I only took ONE good photograph in the whole of the 80's. Ok, so I was a kid, but still. A whole decade and only one decent pic to show for it? That is sad. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">By the way, another cool thing about Instagram is that you can follow your friends who are using the app too. Once you're following you can "like" and comment on their pix.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">I know that if I can't sleep Kate from the UK or Team Vancouver (too many to name) or Eston of Kenya will have uploaded something interesting to look at on Instagram. Buildings, traffic, seasons, planes, pets, kids, food...the list is endless.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Oh, one more thing. Instagram has already taught me to find beauty in the most mundane things. Even letterboxes. Here's one I took last week.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg22K0hXgV2txgDzzKAjo-omBm5DHwNP0oScx4P0tF-h81D1N8clleT5J4bNin_ZPApjpqWh1G30FlflBTwqgLs5ZlVG7LeZeywyigeoh-9DK8WHsynSkmZ47BK58v0Jd69hQY8S-0ecPHC/s1600/Insta7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg22K0hXgV2txgDzzKAjo-omBm5DHwNP0oScx4P0tF-h81D1N8clleT5J4bNin_ZPApjpqWh1G30FlflBTwqgLs5ZlVG7LeZeywyigeoh-9DK8WHsynSkmZ47BK58v0Jd69hQY8S-0ecPHC/s320/Insta7.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">How pretty is that? It even looks like a real photographer might have taken it, not someone who only took one decent photo in the whole of the 1980s.</span>Write On NZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13416592664421382772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4834227841216661334.post-67698121867596704392011-09-27T14:36:00.000+13:002011-09-27T14:36:47.272+13:00Life is for living, dammit<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Some people have been a tad surprised at me putting it out there yesterday. In reply, I'd just like to make a couple of points (bad language may follow):</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">1. <span style="color: #cc0000;">IF</span> I had followed "advice" given to me, I wouldn't have entered Miss Waikato, and gained 2nd Runner-up;</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">2. <span style="color: #cc0000;">IF</span> I had listened to those who were snarky and said I couldn't do it, I wouldn't have moved overseas and started my degree, and in turn finished the whole thing six months early;</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">3. <span style="color: #cc0000;">IF</span> I had followed "advice" given to me, I wouldn't have become the leading female luxury car sales person in Australasia;</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">4. <span style="color: #cc0000;">IF</span> I had listened to all the negative people in whom I'd confided my plans and dreams, there's a whole stack of other things I wouldn't have achieved (of which I am damn proud).</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">In The Muppet Movie, Fozzy said "<em>turn left at the fork in the road</em>", and I guess that's what I've always done. I haven't gone with whats perceived to be "right", I've chosen various challenges because, well...they were mine to choose and for one reason or another they appealed to me.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg7w1ThlhHW1FhyphenhyphennO8wSnXotTzaSNCAgj0Bw4Db09a7-ErZo9uDEINMhtO05i_ELmf1VXfkzZdHE7ea0kNb_y-IPfTxYgK73MplZhGMlSunoxRtZhWQeWLHrsGPYYtqCQ3O-aRJYIBwHw0/s1600/Fork.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg7w1ThlhHW1FhyphenhyphennO8wSnXotTzaSNCAgj0Bw4Db09a7-ErZo9uDEINMhtO05i_ELmf1VXfkzZdHE7ea0kNb_y-IPfTxYgK73MplZhGMlSunoxRtZhWQeWLHrsGPYYtqCQ3O-aRJYIBwHw0/s1600/Fork.bmp" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Life is for living and I truly believe that deep down inside YOU alone know what is right for YOU. The next time someone tells you that what you want to do is the stupidest thing they've ever heard or that you won't succeed, don't listen, ok? You'll never know whether or not you could have achieved it, if you haven't given it a whirl. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Oh, by the way...this doesn't go for people who attempt things half-heartedly. You've gotta give it all you've got. Work harder than anyone else you know, especially if you're in a competitive situation. Prove those fuckers wrong. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Imagine being on your deathbed with a "I wish I'd done such and such" list so long, that you died before you could remember everything on it? How annoying would that be? ;-) I, for one, will not die wishing that I'd given something a whirl.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Oh, and by the way...maybe if I was to re-write the above list in another five years time, my fifth point would look something like this:</span><br />
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<span style="color: #ea9999; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">5. <span style="color: #e06666;">IF</span> I had listened to all those who were snarky and said my script would never amount to anything, I wouldn't have won an Oscar.</span>Write On NZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13416592664421382772noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4834227841216661334.post-69031586173208985322011-09-26T15:59:00.004+13:002011-09-27T13:44:07.895+13:00"Out damn script, out I say!"<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18pt;">A picture speaks a thousand words, right? One single photograph in a Cleo magazine captured my heart and imagination when I was at high school, and has gone on to speak tens of thousands of words to me since that time.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18pt;">The image was of a girl wearing an <place w:st="on">Arran</place> sweater and sitting amongst beautiful tussock-like beach grass. She had her back to the camera, was hugging her knees and her stunning long brown hair was windswept. The photo was part of a series of winter wear, and other images showed her with her boyfriend and other friends. Everyone at school bought a copy of that magazine, and we all cut out THE picture and hung it on our bedroom walls. Eventually the picture must have made way for something a bit more "mature", and it was lost. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18pt;">During my teenage angst, I'd gaze at that photo for hours and wish I was that girl (either literally her or who she was representing). And after hours of gazing, a story began to form in my mind, a story so compelling to me about why she was on that beach, who she was, and who she was pining for, that I HAD to write it down. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18pt;">The words tumbled easily through the end of my biro and began to fill up an exercise book. I also wrote notes on other scraps of paper and soon had a scrapbook full to the brim that needed to be molded into a novel. A family friend gave me an old laptop just before I finished university and I started to type the novel into Microsoft word.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18pt;">Uh oh. This is where the problem began. For some strange reason when I was no longer handwriting my story, I began to see camera angles. I could hear music in my head and I could see more than clothes, they were costumes; ends of sentences became ends of scenes. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18pt;">The opening scene became apparent, and so real that I could literally feel the icy grass crunching beneath my feet as the mist swirled around the group of people I was with. The titles, the music...everything...this was no longer a novel, it wanted to be a screenplay.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18pt;">Damn. I tried to ignore the screenplay issue. But then Matt Damon and Ben Affleck won an Oscar for Best Original Screenplay for Good Will Hunting. At that moment, the dream could not be denied. My story born from a picture in a teenage magazine, which had developed through novel form and was morphing into a screenplay now had a goal. An Oscar. I needed to win for me, for all the heartbroken, forlorn and angsty teenagers, and for my country <country-region w:st="on"><place w:st="on">New Zealand</place></country-region>.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18pt;">The next step was to research screenplay layout, and I painstakingly "tabbed" for all I was worth to put in dialogue, scene changes and action into Microsoft word. Courier New 12pt became my best friend.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18pt;">What next? Acting class, of course. I successfully enrolled in Michael Saccente's Meisner class in <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Auckland</place></city>. The two year course was brilliant, and I devoured every script that I was presented with and learnt more about script construction and indeed me, than at any other time during my life. If you don't know about the Meisner technique, Google it. Fascinating and extraordinary.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18pt;">Then I discovered the script formatting software "Final Draft". The order arrived from the Writers Store in <city w:st="on"><place w:st="on">Los Angeles</place></city> within a week, and tabbing became a thing of the past. Final Draft is so damn clever! It can almost anticipate who is going to speak next and where the scene is set. Best of all, you can assign voices to your characters and have your script read back so you can ascertain the flow of language and check that conversations actually sound like conversations in real life.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18pt;">Unfortunately, without the pleasure of being able to write full-time, boring stuff like work and study has inevitably held up the final push needed to complete the script. But, two weeks ago a competition was launched, and now I have that final kick in the pants that I need. I'm entering the script into <a href="http://www.makemymovie.co.nz/">http://www.makemymovie.co.nz/</a></span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18pt;">A requirement of entry is to produce a movie poster. A dear friend was happy to become my "star" on the poster, and via facebook, I was put in touch with an incredibly talented young photographer who leapt at the chance to be involved. We were supposed to shoot the poster yesterday, but the weather wasn't playing nicely. Hopefully, we'll get it shot next weekend, and then my entry will be complete.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18pt;">I’ll let you know when the entry has been loaded, then if you like the idea, I’d be thrilled to receive your vote so I make it into the next round of judging.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18pt;">If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be, right? And maybe, just maybe this story will stop gnawing at my soul, and begin to stir other people's souls as they watch the tale unfold on the silver screen. Just maybe.</span>Write On NZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13416592664421382772noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4834227841216661334.post-17279664656229745932011-09-12T10:32:00.005+12:002011-09-13T11:01:46.365+12:009/12<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Perhaps if I dug around in the shoeboxes in the spare wardrobe, I'd find my 2001 diary and be able to tell you what I did on the 11th of September. However, not knowing is almost a blessing. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">On our side of the international date line, it was probably just ordinary day, nothing too memorable. I would have gone to work, raced home, had a quick dinner then being a Tuesday, attended my Meisner class in the evening. Like I said, just another day.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">However while I slept, terrorists without warning, bent the world over and dealt to the whole entire planet. Not once, but four horrific times.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">On the morning of the 12th of September, I didn't turn on the tv to watch the breakfast news. My mobile phone was on silent, and I didn't have a landline in my little apartment. I just puddled around getting ready for work oblivious to the carnage caused in the outside world. Just as I was about to race out the door, I flicked on the tv to check the weather forecast.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Cue <span style="color: #cc0000;"><strong>HORROR</strong></span>. I sat aghast on the couch, not believing what I was watching. I grabbed my mobile from my bag and saw a myriad of missed calls. My mum, my sister, other family members, my best friends, my colleagues...everyone.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKL4Dlz52OgMutTmui73F8EsbAe9dyy9N4Ux55XreNttbanJx8Vlf6pSwT1Zko3FZ8MPda0Ni27xl6__1RK1CnJDmWpVclPwcr8HkOoTwGsIkM3c2m9IIt7ArR2pM3IYQTTiCntqsh-dHa/s1600/Sept.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" nba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKL4Dlz52OgMutTmui73F8EsbAe9dyy9N4Ux55XreNttbanJx8Vlf6pSwT1Zko3FZ8MPda0Ni27xl6__1RK1CnJDmWpVclPwcr8HkOoTwGsIkM3c2m9IIt7ArR2pM3IYQTTiCntqsh-dHa/s1600/Sept.bmp" /></a></div><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">I remember nearly every detail of the remainder of the day. The Auckland Home Show had finished a week or so beforehand, I was scheduled to follow up some prospects. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">On this particular day, the owners of a business were fairly sure that cash was being stolen and they wanted me to quote on covert cameras to watch over the cash register. From our perspective, the job was a simple one and I just needed to complete the quote in order to get a tech in there to wire up the job.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">I drove to the business in question. It was in an industrial area and looked like any other business. Oh, did I mention that it was a brothel? Sorry, I mean "a Gentlemens Club" (you say tomato...).</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">I waited in the library for the proprietor (Miss Scarlett in the Library with the Candlestick). Through some partially opened sliding doors, I could see the girls painting their toenails, reading the Herald and of course watching CNN. I literally had to pull myself together in order to feign interest in the job I was quoting.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">I'm not sure if the owner (a very smart young business woman) was trying to put me at ease or what, but she proceeded to take me on a tour of three of their four theme rooms - an aquarium room (thank god Goldfish only have a 10-second memory span), a grotto with the bed built into a cave and a jail complete with bars and handcuffs. The fourth room was occupied (at 9.30am so I couldn't be shown through that one). From memory, it was African themed. Rawr.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Every time we passed the lounge with the partially opened doors, I was torn between looking at the girls and staring at the big blaring tv. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Eventually, I had all the info I needed, and went out to lunch in a restaurant where again the tv was blaring. I ordered a Caesar Salad, and didn't even start it.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Elvis, Diana, Michael Jackson - I know where I was and what I was doing on hearing of their passing. Those stories are fairly vanilla. But jeepers, where was I during 9/11 (US time)? That story is far from vanilla, and not one I generally share when people are playing "remember when".</span><br />
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<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">I can't really say to people "Oh, 9/11? I was at a Gentlemens Club in Auckland being thankful that the African-themed room had sound-proofing".</span>Write On NZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13416592664421382772noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4834227841216661334.post-50450550413164496912011-09-06T11:58:00.006+12:002011-09-26T14:43:32.872+13:00Some words just plain suck<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Want to wind me up? Use one of the following words or phrases: </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></span></div><ul type="disc"><li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Amazeballs</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Awesomesauce</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Much</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">My Bad</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Nom</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Not </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></span></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; tab-stops: list 36.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Shitballs</span></span></li>
</ul><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="color: #e06666; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">I’d never seen “awesomesauce” or “amazeballs” before joining twitter. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only prefixes that should be attached to the word “balls” should be sports related – soccer, rugby and so on.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj2V7oa0NjslkSroLW8i87amAt288DlYY0Xws4Q6vnh5nuMSgamWHA2B9q3mop5ZveVTWzicf4JmrdIPMW-xtlEKi21R-Pyk-nrSN3ogNfNUWCmkNMTBSI6Iwec96YaI3DH9CNo6xl2Wan/s1600/photo+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" nba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj2V7oa0NjslkSroLW8i87amAt288DlYY0Xws4Q6vnh5nuMSgamWHA2B9q3mop5ZveVTWzicf4JmrdIPMW-xtlEKi21R-Pyk-nrSN3ogNfNUWCmkNMTBSI6Iwec96YaI3DH9CNo6xl2Wan/s320/photo+%25282%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="color: #e06666; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">Sentences that end in "much" or "not" show a complete lack of ability to write humorously.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sarcasm isn’t even a tiny bit funny. It’s pathetic, weak and totally unoriginal. Where the hell did “much” come from anyway?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Not” was bad enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="color: #e06666; font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">By the way, have you ever thought about the word much – how it sounds, how it feels to say it? Much is actually a ghastly sounding word. Even the f-word isn’t as hideous to say or hear as much. Much is so fleshy and salivary to pronounce. In fact, it’s down right creepy. Much. Much. Much. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="color: #e06666; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">As for “my bad”...that drives me INSANE.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> My bad is an appalling phrase that needs to be given the old heave-ho.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span>Shame on all the script writers who have included it in their scripts. Shame on you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bad script writers. Go to the naughty corner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></span><span style="color: #e06666; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Hearing it spoken on television and in movies just increases the desire of the masses to use it more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, the more I hear it, the more I want to hunt down the little idiot who coined the phrase in the first place and string him up by his goolies.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="color: #e06666; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">But the one that grates on my nerves more than any of the others is “nom”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Adults using “nom” to describe something appetising or to inform others that they’re masticating while tweeting is horrific. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="color: #e06666; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Nom. What the hell are you? Three?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel embarrassed whenever I see it. Seriously embarrassed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Surely rattling around in your vocabulary somewhere is a word better than nom. Look for it. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="color: #e06666; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">I was going to sign off with something witty that used all the words and phrases initially listed, but just couldn’t bring myself to do it.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div>Write On NZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13416592664421382772noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4834227841216661334.post-28454786974118145042011-08-31T20:59:00.005+12:002011-09-01T11:03:49.236+12:00DianaFourteen years has now passed since my beloved Princess Diana passed away in Paris. Her death was the first 'celebrity' death that knocked me for a six. I was devastated. I was completely heartbroken. And, I was truly shocked at the level of my grief for an amazing woman I'd never met or even seen in real life.<br />
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Diana changed the British monarchy for the better. Out went the stiff upper lip, the haughtiness, the lack of real human connection. In came fun, laughter and style.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmL9OfVljMIX2eD5Y5hzSrD4XVP5mFR1VXXzbpGPqS8PQzOSy2V3EXASIKeLh_nogKyfMhBXntpQN82TgcGtT1XTPVMuU54l6xhi-XDIrKyFb8ddNXr-aG5up2jiqanUEVYMpqdmhQCDlM/s1600/Diana1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmL9OfVljMIX2eD5Y5hzSrD4XVP5mFR1VXXzbpGPqS8PQzOSy2V3EXASIKeLh_nogKyfMhBXntpQN82TgcGtT1XTPVMuU54l6xhi-XDIrKyFb8ddNXr-aG5up2jiqanUEVYMpqdmhQCDlM/s320/Diana1.jpg" width="320" xaa="true" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em>Her portrait is amongst my favourite belongings on my piano <3</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>There are so many things I'd like to say, but once again I'm blogging from my iPhone (which is a total test of perserverance). Instead, I'll leave it at this:<br />
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Diana, you were known as "The People's Princess". To me, you were a fairytale princess who became the most beautiful shining star in heaven. <br />
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Rest in peaceWrite On NZhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13416592664421382772noreply@blogger.com0