Where are all my favourite authors?

I love nothing more than a good "Chick Lit" book but, because I've been reading so much lately, I've read all my favourite author's books.  I wish they'd bloody put out some new ones - don't they know that I need something good to read.  I've been using the library lately in the hope of discovering a new favourite author but so far, NOTHING! 

Some of my favourite "Chick Lit" authors are Maeve Binchy (all time favourite), Cathy Kelly, Marian Keyes and Monica Macinerney so, if by chance any of you are reading this, then can you do me a favour and get writing.  I love your work.

Nothing is nicer than getting a new novel from one of your all time favourite writers, making a hot cup of coffee, curling up in your favourite chair, opening a cherry ripe and starting the journey - meeting the new characters, learning to love (or hate) them and becoming engrossed in their world.  This is Bliss!

On the other hand, nothing is worse than starting on a book that you just can't warm to.  It is so depressing - the coffee and the cherry ripe are fine but I am no longer bothered to read books all the way through if I'm not enjoying it.  If I'm not into it in the first two to three chapters then down it goes. 

Life is too short to read crappy books.  In fact, when I think about it, in my opinion life is too short for a lot of things like:

• Drinking wine from cheap glasses (doesn't matter if the wine is cheap),
• sleeping on less than 500 thread count sheets,
• Eating dried pasta and not making your own (try it, you'll love it and its very therapeutic),
• Drying yourself with rough towels (they have to be soft and fluffy)

If anybody knows any great chick-lit authoris, please let me know.  I'm willing to give any of them a chance with a coffee and cherry ripe.

Final Dose of Chemotherapy

Today is a very auspicious day for me - I had my last round of chemotherapy.  It is very early days yet but I actually feel OK.  I feel a bit flushed but not sick and I enjoyed dinner this evening with all of my taste buds in tact.  What more can I ask for?

As usual, the nurses in the Bundaberg Hospital oncology day ward were nothing but wonderful and presented me with a stunning purple orchid before I left to mark the occasion.  I'll miss the girls up there - I see them every week and have spent hours with them during my treatment days.  They have become a bit of a security blanket for me.  I know that makes me sound a bit needy but during this time they have been the people with all the answers and I've grown to depend on them so much. 

On a more positive note (there is always a silver lining), I have had the PICC line removed from my arm so I can now shower without a plastic bag on my arm and that I can assure you has been a long time coming.  Hopefully, I will be able to sleep on my side tonight and not flat on my back which has been a necessity in recent months.  It's amazing how we take these small things for granted. 

I just realised that I will now be able to go swimming and for those of you have read my earlier blogs, I can get back into my new sexy swimming cossies that I bought to celebrate my sea change to Bundaberg.  Life is getting back on track!!!!  The boogie-boarding may have to wait until the warmer months but I think I can manage the local heated swimming pool. 

Before I do this I may have to invest in a bathing cap because I don't want to be scaring small children with my bald head - actually it has a bit of a fluffy thing happening and looks scarily like a baby orangutan.  For the first time in my life the only body hair problems I've got before donning my bathers is the hair on my head.  Makes a change from shaving, waxing, depilitory creams and bleaching doesn't it?  In hindsight, I will never complain again about hair removal treatments but will gladly embrace them and enjoy the feeling of having body hair ripped from my skin with hot wax because I now know the alternative is far worse. 

The chemotherapy is the first 'therapy' in the line-up with my next challenge being radiotherapy which starts in mid September and goes for six weeks.  In the words of Scarlett O'Hara in 'Gone With The Wind' though, "I shall think about that tomorrow."

For now, I am going to enjoy my time not having to go for Chemotherapy and think about my new townhouse which, if all goes to plan, settles in early September. The move into my own apartment is a big milestone in my journey towards independence and I am getting very excited about this.  It is scary to be doing this on my own without Alan but I know I can do it, I just have to stay strong and focused and learn to ask for help from family and friends.  What I've discovered since moving back to Bundaberg is that my family want, and are happy, to help me so sometimes I have to be a little less independent and accept their assistance.

Iit will be wonderful getting all my own possesions arounds me again and eating what and when I like and watching anything I like on TV, having the dog inside with me, grocery shopping, sleeping in.  On the downside though I will have to do my own washing and ironing.  I guess not every cloud has a silver lining after all!  (Thanks Mum)

Neenish Tart - Always the Bridesmaid, Never the Bride

Having come back to live in Bundaberg after just thirty years it was nice to wander around the central business district to see what shops were still around from my teens.  You can’t imagine my delight when I saw Lushus Cakes.  It just goes to show, you can’t keep a good cake shop down.

The memories came flooding back to me.  As the office junior back in the 1970s my biggest priority of the day was to collect morning tea for the guys in the office.  I know, I know – things were a lot more sexist back then and because I was not only the office junior but a ‘girl’ as well meant we didn’t even bother to draw straws, I was it.

Every day I’d head down to Lushus Cakes with a cardboard box to buy copious quantities of cream buns, cream donuts, cottage pies, sausage rolls, buttered Boston buns, apple turnovers and vanilla slices and the very occasional Neenish tart.   It was obvious that high cholesterol wasn’t a big deal back in the mid 1970s.  It still amazes me how much the guys in that office could devour – just at morning tea!

As I stood looking in the window of Lushus Cakes there sat a lone Neenish tart looking very sad and neglected calling out, ‘pick me, pick me’.  What is it with the Neenish tart?  I think it is the most under-appreciated baked item around.  Is it because it is smaller than a cream bun or a vanilla slice (aka ‘snot block’) and people don’t think they’re getting value for money?  Have people actually tried a Neenish Tart to see just what delicacy lies beneath the elegant icing? 

Within the realms of baked goods, you have competitions for the best pie or the best vanilla slice and this has helped raise their profile.   In the meantime, the poor old Neenish tart is treated like some poor relation, doomed to be left on the shelf when all the more glamorous cakes and tarts have been devoured.

Sadly, the Neenish tart is always the bridesmaid of the cake world and never the bride.

Don’t be lured by the giant calorie-laden, cellulite-generating cakes in the shop window that should come with a year’s gym membership.  Give the Neenish tart a try and I think you will be pleasantly surprised when you crack open the unassuming two-toned icing on top.  Remember, good things come in small packages – just like the small and elegant Neenish tart.

Hair - what hair?

Well, it's finally happened.  My hair is now a distant memory and I've taken to wearing a wig.  At this point, I'm not sure what to do with my eye brows though.  Unfortunately, the left one is disappearing way faster than the right and I suspect I have one ear just slightly higher than the other.  Perhaps this is just to take the focus off being completely bald - just for the record, it's not working.  I'm now walking around with my head slightly tilted.

On the bright side though - there's always a silver lining.  It feels fantastic having a shower and feeling the warm water running over your head.  It feels all tingly and relaxing and I'm loathe to get out of the shower.  The other good thing is my underarm hair is all but gone but my leg hair is hanging on for all its worth - it is putting up a mighty fight so I have to admire them for that.  I need to remember to take a leaf out of their book and keep on fighting. 

In my quest for inner peace and health I have finally gone along to my first yoga class - one of the many things I've been 'gunnado' for years and something I promised I would pursue once I moved to Bundaberg.  I really enjoyed it, although it was difficult for me to do some of the exercises because of my two dodgy arms but the relaxation and meditation sections were fantastic and I am now sorry I didn't learn to do this years ago.  I could have saved a fortune by not watching shopping TV throughout the night!

At first it was hard for me to focus on relaxing and my mind kept skipping to other crucial things like, what am I going to have for lunch?  has my turban twisted around?  does my bum look big in these trackie dacks ..... etc etc.  But, the final relaxation/meditation session just fell into place and I was sorry when we had to come back to life.  I wanted to yell, "NO, LEAVE ME HERE TO SLEEP - DON'T YOU KNOW I HAVEN'T SLEPT SOUNDLY IN YEARS!"

Unfortunately, when I tried the technique on my own at home to try to get to sleep I had no luck.  I suspect I need the background music, soothing voice and tinkling Tibetan bells.  Needless to say, I'll be back there next week if all goes to plan.  Even if it just to have a good 30 minute power nap.

A friend of mine from New Zealand sent me a message which is "Kia Kaha" which means 'stay strong'.  I love the way it sounds and am trying to live the message as well (just like my leg hairs).

Vintage Cars - definitely worth recycling!

Windscreen Wipers – why bother?

Who’d have thought that there are whole clubs dedicated to old cars?  Heaven help you though if you call it an old car ... from now on I shall refer to them as hot rods or classic cars.

As far as I can tell, the one thing they all have in common seems to be their windscreen wipers – or lack thereof.  They either don’t have them, have only one, or they just don’t work at all.

Here I was thinking that the owners didn’t take their cars out in the rain so as not to spoil the duco. Now I know the real reason.  Bloody windscreen wipers don’t work!

I had my first ride in a hot rod just recently so I was quite excited.  I watched a couple of old Happy Days episodes for a refresher course on being ‘cool’.    I’m not sure I could tell you what type of car it was but it was beautifully painted in orange and had luxurious cream leather upholstery.    

Everything was going well until it started to rain so, to overcome the lack of adequate windscreen wipers, the driver sped up.  I am guessing the theory behind this mad stunt was that speed would deflect the water off the windscreen.  Yeah, right!  That might have worked with a modern-day, sloping, aerodynamically designed windscreen but not your straight up and down vertical model. 

Owners of these cars are able to replace entire motors but can’t get the windscreen wipers to work!  Do they not think that’s an important safety feature?  I notice that they put in seat-belts and I’m sure they didn’t come standard in the original versions. 

The windscreen wiper was invented circa 1903 and, just for the record, was invented by a woman, Mary Anderson.   I’m sure the idea came to her when she was travelling with a male partner who, way back then, also thought it was a good idea to speed up to deflect the water.  As the saying goes, “necessity is the mother of invention”.

On the other hand, maybe she invented it one rainy evening  stuck at home, bored to tears baking scones, making cups of tea for her husband and playing parlour games.  She possibly thought, “if only we could go for a drive on this rainy night and I could pay somebody to make me tea and scones and I don’t have to keep pretending to enjoy  playing bridge and charades”.  Next thing you know, cars are fitted with windscreen wipers.   As they say, the rest is history.  We now have coffee shops on every corner, Devonshire teas served in the country and all of this because of Mary Anderson.  I really don’t think she gets as much credit as she deserves. 

Anyway, back to my story.  On arrival at our destination on that fateful rainy night it was all I could do not to fall to my knees and kiss the ground in true Papal style.   If I had my own door, I probably would have but, being a two-door meant I had to wait for the people in front to get out and then I had to manoeuvre my sizeable butt out of the back seat making sure not to trip over the running-board.  This probably looked ‘uncool’ enough without falling to my knees and kissing the bitumen.  Also, never once did I see any of Richie Cunningham’s girls do that.  Mind you, they didn’t go out in the rain either.

It’s a shame that the beautiful cream leather upholstery now has my fingerprints permanently embedded into the back doors. 

Asked would I go again – hell yes!  I will, however, be sure to check the weather forecast.

When does Second-Hand become "Vintage"

Maybe I'm the only person who doesn't quite get "Vintage".  Is it just second-hand stuff and, if so, why not just rummage through the local op shops instead of paying top-dollar for old stuff?  At least if you go to the op shops you are helping out the needy in our society so not only are you getting something new (or old) you can easily justify the expenditure because it's actually donating to charity.  In fact, I wonder if you buy your stuff at op shops you can claim it on your tax?

I was looking in a "Vintage" shop today and yes, it did bring back some memories of clothes my sisters and I were wearing in the 60s and 70s and I'm telling you, they didn't look that great back then and, in my eyes, they still don't look that great now.  Maybe your "Vintage Dior" or "Vintage Versace" may be worth the big bucks because I think they stand the test of time.  They genuinely are works of art with hours of labour going into creating the lace and beading but I think they are really pushing the "Vintage" tag to the extreme on a lime green cotton shift dress with machine-embroidered flowers or a multi-coloured crocheted poncho!

In the famous words of Darryl Kerrigan in "The Castle" - 'Tell 'em they're dreamin'.

It's not that I don't appreciate retro and vintage things.  There are many things that you have to love and admire from this era.  For example, old cars look fantastic and bring back memories of a less complicated lifestyle.  It conjurs up colourful images of Elvis and rock & roll, the drive-in movies, malted milks and sock-hops, pony-tails and cheer leaders.  Hang on - I have got to stop watching Happy Days!

Don't forget  the VW combi camper - how cool were they?  These were probably the original motor-home and shouldn't be thrown on the trash heap and I would encourage recycling of these. 

With "Vintage" clothes though - who decides when clothes become "Vintage"?  Are thereVintage police out there somewhere going through the big pile saying "Yes", "No", "Are they kidding?, "What the xxxx" , "What were they thinking!"

First Dose of Chemotherapy

Well, I've had my first dose of chemotherapy and am proud to say that I have survived although there were a couple of days there that my family may have thought otherwise.  In fact, I thought otherwise! I staggered from the bathroom to the bedroom, to the recliner chair and then to the lounge before going back to the bathroom to pee.  The peeing was endless.  No doubt that had plenty to do with the gallons of water I'd been told to drink. I was in the bathroom about every 90 minutes for the first few nights so sleep was very elusive.

It hasn't been quite a week and I am thinking one down and three to go.  I guess that is a positive and I haven't decided to quit after the first dose.

It doesn't matter what symptom I get at the moment, I blame it on the chemo (like blame it on the boogie).  The first few nights I was having weird nightmares where I woke up in a lather of sweat and screaming.  I haven't had nightmares like that since I watched  Silence of the Lambs.  I get weird aches and pains all over the place - in my joints and sometimes just a quick stabbing pain in my shin and then my shoulder.  I just hope this means it is doing its stuff like a little pac-man chomping its way through any stray escaped cancer cells it comes across.

The amount of support and information that is available for breast cancer patients is nothing short of amazing so, in many cases I think I may have been able to counteract some of the symptoms such as mouth ulcers and dry skin.  In fact my skin hasn't been this moist and supple in years because I'm encouraged to look after my skin and moisturise regularly because of both the surgery and the chemotherapy.  My hands and arms are now beautiful and soft and my nails are glowing from putting about 50 coats of nail strengthener on to combat possible breaking nails.

For years I've had this crease between my eyebrows (some people may call it a wrinkle but not me) which I thought was a permanent fixture but it appears that not working and looking after my skin with beautiful quality products (complements of Look Good Feel Better) has reduced this dramatically.  I can now see that there is a direct link between how well I sleep and the depth of the crease (or wrinkle if that's the road you're taking ).  Every morning I jump up out of bed, or at least drag my butt up slowly to check on the sleep-o-meter crease and it does me the world of good when I have trouble locating it.  I'm now a girl on a mission to get rid of it for good.  If it can disappear for hours at a time then it can piss off permanently.

The fact that I'm not working also gives me ample time to pamper my skin so I'm cleansing, toning, gelling, moisturising, eye-creaming, neck creaming daily and masking regularly.  Hopefully, if I have glowing pampered skin I won't feel so bad about things if and when my hair falls out.  On this matter though I have been trying on hats, scarves, turbans and wigs so I hope to be prepared and not have a melt-down.

Tomorrow I'm back to the hospital to get the dressing changed on my PICC line (for the uninitiated, this is best described as a direct link to drugs) and if I'm up to it, a visit to the wig shop just to see if there is anything there that takes my fancy.  Perhaps a blond bob like Julia Roberts wore in Pretty Woman .....