Wedding Cake Challenge

No, it's not my wedding anniversary, the occasion is this. While the Commentbox family slept in I jogged down to the beach and tried to capture some of the excitement of the morning. There wasn't a huge crowd, mostly young families and friends cheering each other on. As you can see, it was quite hazy, and the water did seem greyish but believe me when I tell you that it was hot as an oven. It's in these hazy conditions that tourists forget to apply sunscreen, thinking that the sun isn't as strong. Big mistake. Huge.

So you see, I braved the hot dust for you, my dear blogging buddies. I just knew that you'd love to share this morning with me.

I stood near the finish line and managed, by sheer luck, to capture these two friends as they greeted each other at the finish line. The pure joy on this woman's face actually brought tears to my eyes, it was just so honest and fresh and full of life.

P.S. Saw Time Traveller's Wife and Invention of Lying yesterday. Rushing off to see A Serious Man now. More detail to come!

So random

Such a lovely evening, not lovely for any particular reason, or maybe so. The hot day has become a warm evening, feels like holiday weather. There's a feeling of winding now, Christmas parties, finalising of projects, endings rather than beginnings. Master CB's friend from across the road has arrived to sleep over, apparently his sister has a friend staying with her and they won't let him use the bathroom because they're waxing each other's legs. He walked into our house with that confident, joyful strut he has, went straight to the fridge to pour himself a glass of juice (I buy it with him in mind, it's his favourite) and then told us about his sister. I remember when he was 3 years old. I remember changing his sister's nappy (his mum and I had a little babycare co-op going for a while, just the 2 of us).

They've all gone up to the local DVD rental place up the road and they promised to bring me a Magnum, hopefully they'll have the one with almonds. I'm sitting here thinking that I might eat it in the bath, if I have the energy to run a bath. It was a long day at the library today, I think scriptwriting is like patchworking, once I write down the basic "look" I start cutting things up and moving them around. I'm not a patchworker, so it's been a long day. I've been drinking a lot of water lately, I think I've been dehydrated and that's why I've been lethargic and headachy, or maybe it's just life.

Had such a wonderful dinner with a group of Sydney bloggers on Wednesday night. I'm too lazy to link, sorry, I know I'm terrible, but I only have energy to type, not click. It was Kim, Duyvken, Mary, Fe, Fifilastupenda and Easternmax. I looked at these women and they glowed with such beauty, and I felt such a calm, warm feeling - these women whose words I read and whose art and craft I admire, live, around a table, laughing and laughing and laughing. Bloggers are my safe place to fall. Kim is at Sewjourn this weekend, I'm so excited and happy for her that I can't contain myself, yipeeeeeeeee!!!!

Tomorrow Mr. CB and I are planning a movie-going marathon, we'll try to see as many new films as we can in one day. I'm telling you, having older children is the BEST!!! They are, however, taking a very long time returning home with my ice-cream. Oh, wait, I hear footsteps outside....I do believe the ice-cream deliverers are here!!

I was going to write a post about Christmas, but I forgot. Just remembered now. Oh look!! Almond Magnum has landed, so I'll quickly finish off. Where was I? Oh yes, Christmas. Thought I'd give you a few titbits about what it's like growing up in an Orthodox Jewish school. We weren't allowed to write "Christmas," we wrote "Xmas" because Christ means "the Lord" and we don't believe Jesus is The Lord. Also we always wrote BCE and CE instead of BC and AD for the same reason. I don't remember ever feeling left out of the presents and celebrations, but then again, my parents spoilt me terribly! Really, and they continue to spoil me to this day. And the last Christmas trivia of the day: I absolutely love reading all of the Christmas posts from all over the world. Love them.

Off to run my bath, eat my ice-cream and plan movie-marathon-day xxxxx

Results

Have a look at this. Read some of the comments too, if you have time.

It fascinates me to see how passionate commenters are as they either attack or defend the Twilight phenomenon. I can't help but laugh at the commenters who are shocked that such "trash" should be so universally loved. They're missing out on so much fun!

How to halve your age in 2 hours

I've just returned from the cinema where I watched "New Moon," surrounded by many women of varying ages and a surprising number of men too. I have not read the books, so the Twilight films' plot is wonderfully exciting to me. I was completely and absolutely enchanted and I felt like I was 18 years old again for a very brief moment in time.

I adore the way Bella wears plain jeans and sweatshirts, while the men walk around shirt-less for much of the film. I loved watching Edward's loving, conflicted gaze, his sparkly skin, the shadows under his eyes, his self-control in the face of strongest temptation. How wonderful is Jacob too, with his long black hair which is then cut as he grows into the man/wolf he is meant to be. When I first saw the wolves in the forest (oh the forest, such a divine setting for it all) I giggled like a schoolgirl, loving every minute of this modernised, teenaged version of the very best fairytales ever written. Bella doesn't want to grow up into a grandma, she wants to remain fair and young forever.

I don't understand the terrible reviews which have been written about this film. It's perfect for what it is - a fantastic romance accompanied by violins and shivers of sexual excitement, an innocence hardly ever seen in cinemas any more. Oh, for goodness' sake, we have a heroine who knows who she loves, proves her strength and the power of her conviction, and still has hardly been kissed. Surely there's something gorgeous about that concept?

Of course it's silly, but the best things in life are often silly aren't they? I mean, really, are the stories of Sleeping Beauty or Cinderella or Little Red Riding Hood not silly? They're absolutely ridiculous in the most wonderful, enjoyable, entertaining and subversive way.

Long live Edward and Bella, for if they can't, then what hope do we mere mortals have?

More results

"New Moon" broke the all-time record for opening day in the US with something like $73M. It took 12.5M in Australia in only 3 days. Amazing.

You cannot argue with results like this. You can criticise the story, the adaptation, the directing, the acting, the message, but the truth lies in the results.

Results

Have any of you seen "New Moon" yet? It opened here at midnight last night, and I think it made about 4.4 million (Aussie) dollars in its opening day here. I haven't seen it yet, but I definitely will, and in the meantime I'm tracking the international figures here. The story of Bella and Edward is a money tree which just keeps growing and blossoming, a phenomenon which I find both invigorating and perplexing. The critics have, on the whole, absolutely hated the film, but the film's target audience is clearly ignoring the reviews and voting with bums on seats.

I cannot abide the many snide, snobbish reviews which have popped up around this film. These reviews seem to have grown overnight like noxious weeds, obliterating the obvious beauty of this rose of a story. Life is hard enough as it is without having to defend the power a story can have on its audience. I wish the film experts would at least admit, if only briefly, that the Twilight series has captured the heart and imagination of a global audience, and that this is good.

Several months ago I purchased the first book of poems published by young emerging poet Emma Jones. I wasn't in the right frame of mind for reading poetry at that time, but I was intrigued by her story and so I kept the thin volume on my night-table. Last night I couldn't fall asleep, so I picked up the book of poems and started to flip through it, looking for a flash of comfort, or inspiration, or joy. The poems spoke to me in a different way last night, and it felt like many of them had changed completely since I had last attempted to read them. Half the battle with reading poetry is, I think, to wait faithfully and patiently for the proper frame of mind to visit you, even if that might be at one o'clock in the morning.

Isn't it exciting to discover a new young poet who, a mere 8 years after graduation from the University of Sydney, has already made a name for herself? Well, apparently it isn't very exciting because the critics are busy dissecting her words until all that's left is a pile of polished, sterile bones. Emma Jones' target audience could very well be young women, those same young women who rush to see the Twilight films, but it seems she's been hijacked by a group of academics who are far too busy asking each other about Emma Jones' "voice" than Emma Jones' ability to connect with her readers. How much more wonderful is this one review which I found here. This reviewer actually wrote "Thank you Emma Jones." That's exactly what poetry, film, art should be about really. It's all very well to study all of these art forms in universities, but at the end of the day, or in the very middle of the darkest night, it's just you and the artist and a collection of imaginative images which might be useful in the most wonderful, meaningful and non-academic way possible. Or they might not.

Patience.

Here is a sample of Emma Jones - which I type from page 9 of her book "The Striped World":


Goldfish

The sea's not wide but it is full.
I have my castle and my load of gold.
See how the chest flips up to show
its plastic pennies and its bouldered hearts
with each great current, while in droves
we follow close the circular turret -

The sea's not wide but it is full.








Thank you Emma Jones.

The party's over now

Hands up who woke up with a hangover this morning....hmmm...thought so....best party EVER!! Thanks Eurolush, and here's to next year!





Because it ain't over until the Eurovision lady sings.

Happy Birthday Your Royal Lushness!

Today is a very special day in the Kingdom of Blog. Just in case any of you are newcomers to The Kingdom I have put together a quick historical recap:


This is how I discovered Eurolush's blog - via her commentbox in blackbird's blog...look for Eurolush's comment and my commentbox a little bit further down. It makes me laugh, like looking at old school photos of myself and my friends. If you know what I mean. And I bet you do.

This is my first commentbox from Eurolush, I was very very excited!

This is my first commentbox in Eurolush's blog, little baby steps...

This is the very first time I courageously teased Eurolush, I'm even better at it now.

This is when blackbird mentioned both of us in a post last year, and we're still have fun with it, thanks bb. Mwah!

This is how I celebrated Eurolush's birthday this time last year.

Now....

Dear Lushy,

I know that you have a very busy day planned, what with all of that beer-drinking and pastry-eating on the agenda. However, please take just a moment to think of all of us - the members of the Eurolush Fan Club (President - Eleanorfromthecommentbox, secretary - The Bluemeister) who are gathered in your commentboxes today, celebrating with you.

Thanks for the good times, and may they continue for many years to come.

In what is now an annual birthday tradition I am once again disabling my own commentbox (sharp intake of breath, shock, amazement) and sending everyone to Germany for the PARTY OF A LIFETIME.

Love, E xxxx

The door to Grandpa's library

I recently received a comment from a new reader who has a beautiful dog not unlike my Blue. She is an extraordinary artist and a fascinating and refreshing blogger. I visited her earlier this evening and found this post which reminded me of my grandfather.

You may remember that my grandfather shipped me his entire library a while ago, and I dedicated several posts to the beautiful books I received. Since Grandpa's death it has been hard to look at the books, and what should be a comfort is still a reminder of the loss. However, herhimnbryn reminded me with her short quote from the Rubaiyat of the joy my grandfather spread with his love of poetry and books. So, without further ado, I bring you Grandpa's (and my) "Rubaiyat of Omar Khayam", Heritage Press, 1946, illustrations by Arthur Szyk:

P.S. Only one more sleep until Eurolush's birthday.......................................

Un, deux, trois!

Only 3 more sleeps until someone's birthday!!!!!

I thought and I thought...how shall I celebrate the countdown to Eurolush's grand 29th (teehee) birthday?

And then it came to me...

Of course...

Critical acclaim

Do you take much notice of film reviews? The average film-goer doesn't. Nowadays word of mouth is the strongest factor in the box-office success or failure of a film.

If you want to get a real feel for the content and quality of a film you should really talk to a film distributor, not a film reviewer. You see, a successful distributor must always put aside personal opinion and think only of the film's target audience.

Have you ever read a scathing review of a rom com and then noticed that the reviewer was a 50 year old man? How about a review of an action-packed movie about giant transforming robots written by a 40 year old woman whose favourite film is "Casablanca". It would be silly to take any notice of such reviews, and the general public is not silly.

So how about the latest Australian film "The Boys Are Back"? Here are two reviews. Would you like to see the film now?

I saw this film at an industry screening, and here's what I saw:

One man in his late forties, a hardened businessman, crying so passionately that he was unable to hold a conversation following the screening.

A woman in her forties who proclaimed loudly to all around her (and the director was present at the screening) "This is the worst film I have ever seen."

Now do you see how difficult it is to properly review a film? A distributor, however, would have absolutely no problem with this situation. He/she would probably realise that the target audience for this film is a certain type of middle-aged male. Then he/she would start thinking of how publicity and advertising can target this quadrant, he/she might also keep in mind that it's women who usually make the decision about which film to see, which complicates the marketing of this movie.

My own personal opinion about the film? My initial gut reaction as the film ended? I felt very resentful and sarcastic. Here was a film which I had expected to be aimed solely at me as target audience, the trailer made it look like a type of chick flick, and yet it made me seethe with rage. Then I noticed the man who was weeping, and I realised that my personal opinion was not as important as the realisation that I was simply not the target audience for this film.

As "The Boys Are Back" begins, we read the line "inspired by a true story." Throughout the film I kept waiting for something momentous to occur, that elusive something which would astonish me and make me say "Wow, and this is based on true events!!! Unbelievable! How inspiring!" But nothing, nothing happened......a man manages to care for his two sons following the death of his wife....was THAT IT??? Is that the "true story"??? That's when I started talking sarcastically to myself "Stop the press, read the headline, man is able to parent his children, all by himself." Then I started talking to the film's protagonist in my head "Erin Brockovich looked after THREE children, without an education, without a fancy-shmancy sports journalist's job, without a loving mother-in-law who lived up the street...what did you do buster? HUH??? Did YOU then discover a huge cancer-causing cover-up??? No. You didn't. Didja????"

But this film makes men openly weep in cinemas, truly it does. That man I saw at the screening was the first of many who have been moved by this film. It would be unforgivable to discount the ability this film has to touch its target audience, and I so wish that film reviewers might be able to take a step back from their own world of high-brow, film-as-art philosophy and watch the film with an audience in a packed cinema on a Saturday night. Or better still, watch the FACES of the audience members as they LEAVE the cinema after the film has ended. If a film manages to move grown men to tears then it's a great film, end.of.story.

Taming of the Shrew

I just returned from seeing "The Taming of the Shrew" with my mother and Miss CB. Most wonderful production!! All of the actors were women, which added so many interesting layers of meaning. Modern music was used throughout to great effect, and the theme from this movie was played as we exited the theatre:




Now I can't stop humming it.

10:37pm

I would like to start by saying that this live-blogging has brought out the very, very, very best in my commentboxes. People, my god, you are HOT!! I just sat down and read your comments, laughing hysterically, then Mr. CB sat next to me and we read them together, out loud, and laughed together. You make me so happy!!

I think I'm going to do a live-blog every Day One, it's better than a couple of Naprogesic, hot wheat-bag, Imigran, vodka and staying in bed all day.

For sure. It's the CURE.

Now, Book Club.

My BC is not the usual BC. We pool our resources to purchase 1 or 2 newly published books every month, then take turns reading them. The suitcase is the accumulation of several years' books, with many many cullings along the way. Each month one of us gets about a dozen books out on spec from the local bookstore, we vote, and then return the rejects the next day.

What I ate:
Zig-zag twisties
Banana lollies
Strawberries & cream lollies
Snakes (but not the green ones, I hate those)
A slice of lemon tart
Some grapes
Some mango
Lemon tea

Burp.

I can't remember much about any of the books. I told them that I had read "Her Fearful Symmetry" and loved it, but they told me that they agreed with Badger and that I didn't know what the fuck I was talking about. Did that use of the f word sound convincing?

Na. I know. I'll keep trying.

Then I told them how I also read "The Neighbour," and that it was a piece of crap, but a really great read. It was kind of like those banana lollies, highly addictive, fake, not especially good for you and leaves you with a strange aftertaste. Then they talked about a few books, can't remember them. Honestly, I can't. It was after my bedtime!

I chose a book,which I'm quite excited about. Then we argued about how to parent teenagers, different nail-polish colours, and whether we should cull any of the books.

I was the last one to leave, it's the only way I can be sure they won't gossip about me. I'm a professional Book Clubber my dears, profesh.

Good night all, and thanks for being there for me on Day One. Mwah xxxx

8:24pm

All right, all right. HERE is proof of cooking. Or would you like me to also hold today's newspaper as proof of day?

Here is the Book Club suitcase before I pack it up and heave it into the Noddy Car and trundle along to the hostess's house.

Please tell me if you see anything you recommend (hopefully you can double click to enlarge the photo). I have read very few of these books. You see, I am an HONEST blogger.

7:12pm

PROOF OF COOKING:

2:18pm and 5:46pm

2:18pm

I'm back! Same colour, dark brown. Same cut, shorter in the back than the front by a little bit, natural curl, but a leeeetle bit shorter in the back than last time.

I used to obsess about going to the hairdresser, but not now. Now I just walk up the hill to the local place and I trust Chicky. Chicky's a petite, torn-jeans and nose-ring wearing Chilean gal with dead straight hair. Last month it was fluorescent red but today it was jet black.

Chicky understands that I don't want to chat. This is the most important thing when it comes to getting my hair cut. I.don't.do.the.chatting.

5:46pm

Sorry about that, my parents dropped by with cupcakes to celebrate Miss CB's final exam. My father was taken aback by the 2 roast chickens in my fridge (one for tonight, one for the freezer) and he said in Hebrew "Al zeh amru, im tirzu ein zo agadah" - "That's what is meant by "If you will it, it is no dream.""

Then I decided that it was too wasteful to eat the 1st chicken tonight, when it too could be frozen and served on Friday night. That's right, that's right...I'm cooking because my parents are going away on holiday. We will not be going to my parents' place for Friday night dinners for several weeks in a row. We will not be receiving roast beefs and lasagnes (lasagnas?)and fancy pickled vegetables in plastic containers for many weeks in a row. Also no more cakes and no more brownies.

So, where was I? Yes, so I went and bought some fish - trout - which I will bake for the family, with rice and a steamed vegetable. Because I'm saving the chicken for emergencies.

Tonight is Book Club night, I shall post about the latest gossip and what food was served. I might also tell you what everyone was wearing. I'm shallow like that.

Live blogging

I'm not in my usual routine this week. A couple of projects have come to an end, I've been busy with paperwork for Master CB's change of school, and MISS COMMENTBOX JUST FINISHED HER VERY LAST HIGH SCHOOL EXAM.

I am celebrating by getting my hair coloured and cut, and my appointment is in 15 minutes.

I shall continue to check in every hour or so with the latest trivialities of my day. I call it "live blogging" although it really isn't.

It's Day One (hello Badgerxxx), plus I have taken my migraine medication which makes me feel a little light-headed.

I have never written a post like this before. I'm discussing menstruation and medication. I truly do not feel like myself.

But I still can't type the F word, although I know it makes Kim so very happy when I'm "bawdy". If I did type the F word here, you'd all burst out laughing, really, you would. Even typing WTF is hysterical when I do it.

As I type this I can hear Miss CB rummaging through the papers and books in her room, it sounds like the demolishers are in. There may be a bonfire in the backyard tonight.

Also, roast chicken. I actually COOKED A CHICKEN for dinner. Already.

I'm making my family very nervous, and I feel terribly out of sorts.

Off to get my hair sorted. I may be trying something radical.

Yeah. Right.

Fun link

This is what blogging is all about - FUN. It's simply the best fun to visit RW, for example, and discover a new singer who puts a smile on my face. The bit with the dancing grandma, that's so totally Eurolush in about 40 (50?) years, don't you reckon? All right...maybe 60?

Thanks RW, you WIN!!!!

I immediately went to YouTube to see what else Pomplamoose has out there, and look what I found!! Small world, hehehe:





P.S.
Ran 10 laps of the beach today and thought of each of you the entire way. I pictured all of your commentboxes encouraging me to carry on. Thanks everyone!

The Lady beckons

I just realised that in the last chapter of "The Lady of the Ring" the Lady and her sister turn on the radio as they're driving along in the little red car, and the song which comes on is "Single Ladies."

As the song reaches its conclusion, the sister slowly raises her left hand from the steering wheel, and it looks exactly like Beyonce's robot hand with a huge diamond ring on the fourth finger. She waves it at the Lady and winks and then they both burst into hysterical, happy laughter.

You've gotta keep your sense of humour.

Proclaiming the winner

Hear this, hear this!

I hereby proclaim that I have succeeded in reaching the pinnacle of jogging-related happiness.

Should I never slip on a pair of runners again, I will still die happy in the knowledge that I succeeded in fulfilling my jogging dreams.

Last night I found myself feeling quite unexpectedly cranky. I felt that the weekend was a disappointment. Family members were not doing what I wanted them to do, when I wanted them to do it.

Weekends have always been a challenge for me. There, I said it (I must feel very safe in this bloggy environment).

You understand, as a stay-at-home mother I never knew how to view the weekend. Is it my time of rest and relaxation, or is it my time to embark on an even more hard-working attempt at organising, feeding, pleasing and humouring all family members? In addition, I love schedules and time-tables. Nothing makes me happier than waking up on Monday morning and knowing that the children MUST be in school by 8, Mr. CB must be at work by 9, and I must be at work by 10. This is why I could never, ever home-school my children. It is also why I cannot work from home, and have therefore set up permanent camp in my local libraries.

Where was I? Oh, yes, so now the weekends have changed because I have two teenagers in the house. But I'm still finding it incredibly difficult to match my weekend expectations with reality. Last night I wanted to organise a family activity, but we couldn't all agree on on one. I wanted to have a family dinner, but I wanted someone else to cook it. Then I started becoming highly irritated at the smallest gesture made by any one of my "people." Was that an insolent shrug? Was that an offensive rolling of the eyes? I began to pace from room to room, suddenly noticing all the jobs which still need to be done by my people, dirty clothes, mildewy towels, dog-hairs, overflowing recycling bin, shutters which have been broken, missing toilet paper, bowls left in the kitchen sink with hardened cornflakes stuck on them.

Stop. Breathe. Yoga pose. Ommmmm....

SO THAT'S WHEN I GRABBED MY SHUFFLE, PUT MY RUNNERS ON AND LEFT THE HOUSE.

I did not slam the door, but I almost did.

I ran 8 laps of the beach instead of the usual 6 and I felt like a champion. A CHAMPION I say. I was floating, and I was blasting the music very very loud. I listened to this, and this, but I really got going with this song:




I may have even done some of those sexy dance moves, and a couple of elderly gentlemen walking their dogs got quite a show. Best Saturday night ever.

I returned home to my people energised and buzzing with joy. My people greeted me at the doorway with apologies, hugs, a huge salad and steaks cooking on the barbecue.

MY JOB IS DONE.

I WIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You can tell by the way I use my walk

Still stayin' alive here, just me and The Bluemeister, a brother and a mother, using our walk.

Peace

My neighbour: "Hi Eleanor, I saw you power-walking yesterday, down at the beach! I waved but you didn't see me."

Me: "Oh, yes, I've started walking every day...sorry...didn't see you.

Me (inside): "WHAT THE??? POWER-WALKING??? I WAS JOGGING, and I probably didn't see you because of the sweat pouring down my face."


True story.


But you know what? Disco makes everything better.

Oh, Hells Yes

The Bluemeister is gettin real angry. It seems that Lady E and Lil T offended The Bluemeister. And when The Bluemeister is angered he is also ENERGISED.

Step aside, Euromush, 'cause The Bluemeister is keeping his eyes on Lil T.

The way I are

I'm very tempted this evening to lie about my running. I would like to tell you that I ran at least another 6/7 km. I'd even like to tell you I ran 4 km. But I do not tell lies in my blog. I ran 3 km and almost passed out, and it's all because I made the mistake of listening to this. You see, I really got into the beat and started speeding up instead of pacing myself. With all the excitement of the music I forgot that life is a marathon, and not a sprint.

So I hit the wall pretty quick.

Blue, on the other hand, whined miserably in the car all the way home. He had barely warmed up.

One thing is certain, Blue now associates my Shuffle with running so I have to hide it and be very careful if I ever want to listen to music without having to...you know...run.

Now, down to business:

• Today I unloaded and loaded the dishwasher.
• I made a peanut butter sandwich for Master Commentbox and put some crackers in a little bag for him. This is his school lunch. Judge me at your own peril.
• I talked to the nanny next door about one of her past babies who is now all grown-up and pregnant.
• I filled petrol in my car.
• I went to work and the library. At the library I told 2 of the librarians who had each put aside a book for me that they were officially my "library mothers" and that made them laugh.
• I took Master Commentbox to an interview at a different school (shhh...it's a secret) because we might be switching next year to a smaller, more "homey" school environment.
• I decided that when Master CB returns from his tennis training I will give him cash to walk up to the corner Thai take-away place to buy us dinner.
• Seeing as Mr. CB is away on business I like to live on the edge a little bit and not pretend to cook and then claim to be too tired and THEN pretend that the family is TALKING ME INTO getting take-out.

In conclusion:

It has come to my attention that several of my November birthday fitness challenge competitors mention "doing the laundry" and then add "plus drying, folding and putting away said laundry." This comes as a huge relief to me because I now realise that I may NOT be the only person who might possibly have family members who are not aware that "doing the laundry" BY DEFINITION includes the drying, folding and putting away of said laundry.

P.S.
I would like to say a HUGE thanks to the "anonymous" who left such a lovely comment for me earlier today. I have a soft spot for all anonymice because that's how I started off in blogland.

P.P.S.
Which reminds me...Laura...are you still out there? I miss you, and I still have the photo of Ellie's castle on my screensaver.

The race continues

I ran up and down the beach promenade 6 times this morning.

I almost got whiplash, twice, when Blue attempted to race after a bicycle.

I spent the rest of the day at a Melbourne Cup party. We had champagne and pavlova.

I know what you're all thinking...that's it? That.is.it?

No.

I also heated up some chicken for dinner....which my mother cooked for me because she knew I'd be exhausted from the party.

Shush, Paola, please...calm down...I'm still WAY AHEAD OF THAT PASTRY-MUNCHING, BEER-GUZZLING, RAP-LISTENING GERMAN GAL.

Because of the time difference.

She's so way behind me she will NEVER catch up.

But just to be certain, I'm doing a bit of extra preparation for Day Three of the November Birthday Challenge. It's late at night, and I should be in bed, but NO. I will not rest until I have:

ironed,

helped Mr. Commentbox pack for his business trip,

help Master Commentbox with his upcoming debating competition,

And cuddle my personal trainer,

All while listening to my new motivational song:

Things I did this morning

Ran 7.4 km.

Was overtaken while running by a pregnant woman pushing toddler twins in a stroller. She was talking on her mobile phone at the time.

Listened to "Ms New Booty" 3 times.

Listened to "Lipgloss" 3 times.

Drank 3 very strong coffees.

Filed/deleted old emails (all 678 of them).

Did 2 laundries.

Made perfect soft boiled eggs with vegemite soldiers for Miss Commentbox's brekkie.

Did the supermarket shopping.

PEOPLE, I AM ON A ROLL.

A ROLL I TELL YOU!!!

November birthday fitness challenge

Eurolush issued the challenge. So I had to do some quick calculations.


4 miles = 6.4 km


Hahahahahahahahahahaha.



Oh look, it's 7am Monday morning and I'm just about to take Master Commentbox to school and then go for my 7.4 km run.


See ya.