Postcards

In my last post, I referred to a new project I'm embarking on.  The "Send-A-Friend-A-Postcard Project".  You see, I'm a postcard hoarder from way back.  I can never walk past an Avant Card stand without grabbing a few, plus whenever I go on holiday somewhere, I tend to pick up free postcards, or buy postcards from various places as mementos, so over the years I've built up quite a collection.


Currently, the bulk of this collection sits in a box in my study, along with an assortment of birthday cards, Christmas cards and gift tags. I never thought I'd be the type of person who has one of "those boxes", but I am.  Thankfully, I have yet to become as OCD as my mother who has her box of cards indexed.  Yes, INDEXED.  There's birthdays (sub-sectioned into ages 1-10, teens, 18th, 21st, various milestone adult ages, regular adult, funny adult, inspirational adult); anniversary; engagement; marriage; birth; illness; blank; and sympathy.  Thankfully, I don't need to keep a stock of sympathy cards handy.  But as LB is 73 now, and lots of her friends are popping their clogs, so she gets through a good stack of sympathy cards.  She also goes to a lot of funerals.  They're quite the social occasion for the over-70s.


Anyway.  


My box of cards does not contain any sympathy cards, or illness cards, or even anniversary cards; but it does contain a lot of postcards.  And I've decided it's time to start using them for their intended purpose.


It saddens me sometimes that in our modern, technologically advanced world, you can end up going for weeks, sometimes months without receiving a piece of handwritten mail.  That is, mail which is not a bill.  When I was a kid, I had several pen pals - one of whom to this day is still a very dear friend, whom I've visited several times in her homeland of Sweden.  That excitement of receiving a handwritten letter from a friend can never be replaced by email; and so I've decided that I would like to share a little excitement with all my friends, by sending them postcards.  I'm not going to do it all at once - I'll only do a few a week, but it's a project I'm determined to devote at least an hour each week to.  


This is the first card I sent.  

I took a bunch of these "Thank You Project" cards when I first saw them in an Avant Card stand a few years ago and thought they'd be good ones to start with.  It also dawned on me, as I was flicking through my address book trying to decide who to send it to, that my lovely friend Shelley (who came to NYC with me and whose gorgeous swimming pool saved me from dying of the heat in Adelaide at Christmas!) and I have been friends for 20 years.  Scary, but true.  So I thought I'd remind her of that fact, and let her know how much I value her friendship.  She loved it so much she put that photo (above) on facebook to tell the world, which in turn, made me feel good for sending her the card!  Just a win-win all around I'd say.


So I'm going to keep on sending out postcards all year long.  No one will know when they'll get one, or what it will be of (the one I sent my friend Kat was from New Orleans - Bourbon Street - circa 1995), but I'm hoping that when they do, they'll smile.  And maybe do a little jig of joy or a squee of delight.




x

Directions

While clearing out the study at LB's place at Christmas I discovered a box of old bits and pieces from my move overseas as a young, green, twenty-something. A large number of the discovered items were binned, but some I thought it worth keeping.  Like a huge bunch of postcards, which I am using to embark upon a "Send-A-Friend-A-Postcard" project.  

But that's another post.  This post is dedicated to Directions.  Yes.  Directions.  Before the wonders of GPS there were paper maps. And handwritten directions.  Not always the most reliable of things, but then neither are Garmin and Tomtom.

When I first went to the USA in 1995, I took with me an Amtrak pass.  Seemed like the best way for me to cover as much ground as possible.  However, staying in a hostel in Santa Monica, I got to chatting with my fellow hostelers who all said that Amtrak was rubbish.  Trains ran at odd times, most of the stations were in dodgy locations of the city and not within easy reach of hostels, you had to use the whole pass up within a restricted time period and you couldn't go "off the beaten track" so to speak.

They (helpfully) suggested the best way to see the country was by car.  Trouble was, I wasn't 25, so I wasn't allowed to hire a car.  What to do, what to do?  Hey, I know... "buy a car" said a couple of my hosteling mates.  S'easy. 

So I did.  I bought a car.  A silvery-bronze Pontiac Sunbird.  It was a cracking little car.  Took me all around the USA - 32 states in total.  We went through a lot that car and I.  So many stories.

I had one enormous map book (which is still at LB's with all my markings of where I was going/where I'd been) and lots of those fold out maps for individual cities/towns which you'd buy for $2 at a gas station.  Don't know what became of those... think I binned them at the end of my time there.

Sometimes though, you needed a bit more detail to get where you were going.  And sometimes you just needed a cheat sheet for easy reference when you were in a car without a navigator (especially when you were still adjusting to driving on the opposite side of the road in a car where the gear stick was on the opposite side of where you were used to it being).

That's where these came in handy:

1.  

2.  

3.  

Hand-written directions to the places I needed to go.  Classic.  

1.  Directions to the Osbornes'. The Osbornes are my cousins.  I stayed with them most of the time I was in the States.  They. Are. Awesome.  Despite the fact that they're family.  They were on a work exchange program to Vienna, Virginia for a few years and I spent many happy days in their company, taking in the sights of the local area, sampling the the local restaurants/bars or even just picking up the mini-Osbornes from school and hanging out at Borders reading magazines and drinking Pink Lemonade Snapple.  Obviously after a week or so, I no longer needed these directions, and I'm pretty sure that even today I could drive you there from memory; but I like that I still have them.

2.  Directions to Michele Straka's.  Michele was introduced to y'all in this post.  She's my Blizzard of '96 buddy.  I did get slightly distracted on my way to her place - spent a day or two in Baltimore checking it out.  My favourite thing about this particular set of directions is the horseshoe diagram I've done to indicate which apartment she was living in.  OCD much?!

3.  Directions to Chris Sullivan's.  Sully, as he was soon to become known to me, was an old high school friend of Michelle's who was studying at Georgia Tech, and offered me a place to crash when visiting Atlanta.  This "place to crash" was in fact, a frat house.  Yes. A FRAT HOUSE.  Not the one shown, unfortunately.  That one was built in 2010.  The one I stayed in was probably built in the sixties and bore more than a passing resemblance to the frat houses depicted in Animal House.  Never in a million years would I have expected to end up staying in a frat house.  Probably neither did anyone else who knew me at the time.  But I did and it was awesome.  Sully was awesome, all his frat buddies were awesome, even if they did nickname me "LK" (which stood for Little Kangaroo), and the frat's president (Retz - yes that was his name) had his best friend (Jenn) visiting the same weekend I was there, so I wasn't the only girl in the house.  

Good times.  Good times.

They're the kind of memories you don't get to keep when you've got GPS.  Although Garmin's placement of me on my most recent US trip did make me giggle.

I think another road trip may be on the cards.  Except I don't have a car.  Hmmm.  Slight problem that.  Perhaps I just need to find a willing partner-in-crime with wheels and a bit of spare time up their sleeve.  Any takers?

x

Sugar Sugar

So today I finally ticked off one of those really annoying fixit things from my to-do list. 

You know the ones.  Those little fixit jobs that you know will only take about ten minutes, a little superglue and a pair of steady hands to fix, but you put off. And off.  And off.  Until you wind up shoving the broken item away in a drawer/box/cupboard, only to be discovered years later when you're moving house.  At which point you throw said item in a box with a mental note to "fix that when I'm in the new house".  Except you don't.  You get to the new house, unpack the box and shove the broken item in another drawer (which you know you'll hardly ever open) with another mental note to "fix it later".

Well today... TODAY was later.

To be fair, I did open the drawer and discover the broken item wrapped in butchers paper about three days ago and sat it out on the kitchen bench; to remind myself to fix it.

Then yesterday I got the superglue out of the toolbox in the utility cupboard and sat that on the kitchen bench next to the broken item; to remind myself to fix it.

So essentially, "today" is actually three days in the making.  Well, three days and more years than I care to remember.

But what the heck.  Tonight, I fixed the item that's been broken for (I'm guessing) about eleven years.  

I'm giving myself a huge high five.  

Yep.  A HUGE high five.  

For FIXING THE LID TO THE SUGAR BOWL.

Eleven years and I finally have a sugar bowl with a lid again.  Sure, I could've binned the whole thing when it was smashed by an old flatmate (who was, bless her, rather on the clumsy side) and bought a new one.  Most normal people would have done that.*

It's the lid for a sugar bowl.  

It's not Wedgwood or Spode or any other brand of fine bone china you'd be thrilled to discover was worth a gazillion if you took it to those lovely chaps at the Antiques Roadshow.  It's just a regular sky blue china lid for a regular sky blue china sugar bowl.  

BUT... it was my grandmother's sugar bowl.  Every time I make a cup of tea I'm reminded of her and it makes me smile.  Grandma Nell was the sweetest, gentlest person I've ever known. I spent every summer with her as a kid and never, ever heard her raise her voice at anyone.  She also made an awesome cup of tea and the best scones this side of Cornwall.

I think she'd be pretty happy I refused to throw her old sugar bowl out.  Pretty ticked off it took me eleven-ish years to fix it, yes.  But pretty happy nonetheless.  

(Even if it is a bit of a botch job due to a few slivers going missing, so it doesn't quite fit together properly.  But then no one's perfect. Not even the lid for a sugar bowl.)

x




* And let's face it. Normal is not a word you'd ever associate with me.

Snails move faster...

This day has been ridiculously slow.  RIDICULOUSLY SLOW.


Really.


It's my second day back at Melbourne HQ of the biz of show, after three weeks in Radelaide, visiting my family and "working" on A Chorus Line.  I use inverted commas on the word "working", since I doubt very much that turning up for 1.5 to 2 hours and handing out a maximum of 3 tickets per show qualifies as actual work.  Still, it beats taking three weeks of annual leave.


There are no major musicals on in Melbourne at the moment.  A grave oversight by the producers of Australia in my opinion.  Melbourne is always packed full of interstate and overseas tennis fans in January and they're used to having their choice of shows to see when they want a night off from the tennis.  To come to Melbourne and discover there is nothing on in the way of musicals is incomprehensible to most of them.


Epic fail, Frosty, Rigby and co.  Epic fail.


So here I sit, contemplating my navel whilst I tell the rare person who does wander in that there are no shows they can see in the next few weeks.


It's very boring, but it has inspired me to do a little CV updating and job hunting.  Or at least figuring out what I'd like to do for a job.  Sure as hell can't stay in ticketing another year - it's doing my head in.


Stay tuned peeps.


In other news, I am about to embark upon a French Regional Cooking course with my friend Jerry.  Five weeks, including one week of "Cooking with Wine" and one week of "Cooking with Cheese".  If that's not reason enough to enrol, I don't know what is.  Can't wait.


I'm also investigating art courses.  As in, how to draw.  I'm the world's worst, even at stick figures (although I did do rather well in high school when we did cubism) and I have an idea for a story which would include illustrations (no - not a children's book), but I'd rather like to be able to draw them myself.  Any suggestions on good short courses, Melbourne people?


I'll leave you today with an article from the New Yorker, written by one of my favourite writers/actresses, Mindy Kaling.  I think she's hilariously awesome.  If we knew each other, I'm sure we'd get along swimmingly.


x

Tidbits from today

1.  I have a cold.  It's totes annoying because I have heaps of things to do in the next few days and all I want to do is curl up in bed feeling miserable.


2.  Going out drinking with my lovely mate Bridget was not perhaps the wisest of ideas when I have a cold, but it was fun nonetheless.


3.  I bought a new top.  In Zara.  Which I vowed I wouldn't go into here in Melbourne because I don't think it's as good as it is in Europe.  But the top was essentially free, because the head office of my company sent us all $50 Visa cards today, so technically, I haven't broken my vow.


4.  Police Academy is on TV.  So unashamedly sexist and ridiculous.  I'd forgotten how wonderfully bad it was.  I'd also forgotten: (a) how hot Steve Guttenberg was when he was young; and (b) how attractive Kim Cattrall was before she started in on on all that surgery.


5.  Apart from one last purchase, which will be made on the way from the airport to LB's on Saturday morning (because there is no Bunnings within easy PT distance of me here in Melbourne); my Christmas shopping is done and dusted, kippers and custard.  Aces.


6.  No matter how hard I try to not let it bother me, it really, REALLY bugs me that I've still not heard a peep from (former) Bestie P.  No word after the birthday card I sent her at the beginning of December; no word after the Christmas card I sent two weeks ago; and no word after the Christmas present I sent my gorgeous god-children a week ago.  I know I need to just let it go, but it's still really difficult.


And on that cheerful thought... I'm off to bed.  Gotta kick this cold in the gonads.




x

Saturday... hurry up

I'm really feeling the pull to write at the moment but I have very little time this week - both my jobs have kept me busy and I've had a load of other stuff on.

But Saturday I have free*. Saturday is all mine and I'm going to dedicate at least a few hours to writing.

I'll be posting something. Not sure what yet, but I will.

Promise.

* When I say "free", I mean I don't have any appointments, or meetings or social engagements. I do have laundry, a house to clean, grocery shopping and packing for 3 weeks in Adelaide over Christmas to do, but that's just stuff.

Daily Reminders

I stumbled across this today:

• Be aware.
• Anxiety is fear of the future, depression is fear of the past.
• Most people don’t do anything with their lives because the mediocrity they experience is not painful enough to motivate them. Feel the pain and be motivated.
• Being realistic is the most commonly tread path to mediocrity.
• There is no reason for a Plan B – it only distracts from Plan A.
• Exercise daily.
• Drink water.
• Eat as fresh as possible.
• Don’t eat things that come from those which have a heart beat.*
• Don’t smoke.
• Don’t drink too much.
• Be honorable in acts of sexuality.
• Be strong.
• Be total feeling.
• Be noble.
• Be clean.
• Be on time.
• Be patient, prepare for the long haul.
• Scarcity is powerful, but make yourself available to those who need you and are worthy of your time and attention.
• Live up to your own expectations.
• You are tougher than you think you are and you can do more than you think you can.
• Don’t be a pussy.
  
  
• “Make friends with pain and you can never be alone.” Ken Chouber.
  
  
• “The world is large but in us is as deep as the sea.” R. M. Rilke

I like it. I'm adopting it. Apart from the one about not eating things that come from those which have a heart beat... I'm a useless vegetarian!

The Little Things

Small things that have made me happy today...

Getting my nails done
There are two nail places adjacent to my local Woolworths, one was offering shellac for $50, the other for $30. I went for the cheaper option, because they were less busy. Next time I'll go the more expensive option and wait patiently. It's not the worst shellac-ing I've ever had (pun intended), but it's not the greatest either. Still, my nails are a nice shiny brown-black colour and look way better than the weak, peeling, splitting mess they were.

An afternoon nap
More commonly referred to in my world as a disco nap, nanna nap, or kip. I was about to start reading my new book (Gretchen Rubin's The Happiness Project), when I had an overwhelming desire to close my eyes. So I set my alarm and forty minutes later woke up feeling refreshed and ready to get on with it.

Catching up on the blog rounds
In particular catching up on the blog of my gorgeous friend Debbie who has been re-doing The Artist's Way and has kept a blog of her journey. As someone who's done The Artist's Way quite recently, it's been fascinating hearing someone else's account of how they went and what they found easy/rewarding/difficult in comparison to my journey. I was also reminded today that we pledged to both do Walking In This World in February 2012 - I can't wait to get stuck into it!

Sock curls
On a whim last night while watching TV with freshly washed hair, I decided to do sock curls. I haven't done them since NYC. It's what my Granny would've called "rag curls" - only instead of bits of fabric you use socks. So today I've been walking around with curly hair, which (even when I'm wearing jeans and converse) makes me feel glamorous!

Talking to The Mater
My mama hasn't been very well of late. In fact she's spent more time in hospital in the last two months than she has out of it, and it's looking like a good portion of my trip to Adelaide at Christmas will be spent sorting her house out in preparation for the eventual downsizing that she's finally accepted will have to happen (let's face it, the upkeep on a 4 bedroom house with a granny flat and huge garden, is pretty demanding for a young couple, let alone a 72 year old widow living alone). Understandably, she's been feeling very flat and down, but today she sounded much perkier and was looking forward to an afternoon of Christmas cake preparation with her grandchildren, which will hopefully lift her spirits even more.

Walking
I often forget how much I love walking. Walking anywhere - the city (NYC - where I'd walk 40+ blocks a day), the country (Sussex - long walks through the country fields with my cousin's wife and her dogs), or just around Melbourne and its gorgeous suburbs. I only walked for about an hour today, but I felt so much better afterwards and full of ideas. It reminded me of what Nietzsche once said: "All truly great thoughts are conceived while walking".



Well, that's it. I'm off to make dinner. Pan fried haloumi and fresh salad. Yummmmmmmm. That's another little thing that will make me happy today!

What little things made you happy today?

The Blizzard of '96

In last week's brief, but gushing post about my lovely new Coach wallet, I made reference to the story of The Blizzard of '96.

Yesterday, as I was framing my gorgeous poster obtained at the Alexander McQueen exhibition in NYC in July, I discovered some photos taken during that blizzard. (As an aside, heavy photo albums are great for flattening out posters prior to framing them.)

Thus I was reminded of my promise to tell the tale of the Blizzard of '96.

We'll start with an excerpt of my journal entry from Sunday 7 January, 1996:

"After dinner, Michele and I went to her friend Regina's house on E66th, between 2nd & 3rd, which was absolutely gorgeous! Three bedrooms, a big lounge, kitchen, dining area and is really, really nice. We just sat around until 2am talking - Regina is really nice and has offered to put me up when I come back. Which I definitely will - we saw jack shit today!

We got up late - around 10.45-ish and went to NYC Bagels to get breakfast (didn't see Cindy Crawford again though!). Afterwards Michele and I dropped our stuff back at her car and went to: (1) The Empire State Building (visibility was zero); (2) Rockefeller Center (skating rink was closed); (3) NBC (Michele's friend Kurt wasn't working and they'd cancelled the tours); (4) FAO Schwartz (we got there at 3.35pm, they were closing at 4pm so they wouldn't let us go upstairs to the 'Big' piano). We were freezing and it was snowing pretty badly by then, so we decided to ring Regina for advice. She said we should try to get out of the city ASAP so we did! Had to dig the car out, and it was a pretty hairy drive, but we made it to Michele's grandma's house [in Weehawken, NJ] and here we are!"

The following two and a half days were spent with Michele's grandmother - stuffing our faces with her yummy spaghetti and meatballs, watching soaps and shovelling snow.

And when I say snow, I mean SNOW.

Want proof?

View of NYC from the street outside Michele's grandma's house in Weehawken. That's Michele's car in the middle.

Me standing next to Michele's car. Yes. NEXT to it. That's how high the snow was. We'd already dug out the snow on the passenger side. (Remember, this is in the USA - the passenger side is the driver's side in Australia).

Post-shovelling. Our hair is frozen. Solid.

A day after this photo was taken, we managed to make it back to Philadelphia, where we then had to dig out my car, so that I could travel home to Virginia. That drive, much like the drive from NYC to NJ, was another "hairy drive", mostly due to the fact that the tyres on Michele's car were so worn that we had almost zero grip and were sliding around like a pair of first-timers on skis. It was alternately thrilling and terrifying. Actually, more terrifying than thrilling. I do recall at one point thinking "I can't die here, I haven't even been to the top of Rockefeller Center yet!". Still, at least it would have been an interesting way for a shy young girl from Radelaide to die.

But we didn't die. We weren't even injured. Just cold and tired and a bit sore from shovelling so much snow. My memories of that weekend are mostly (with the faded hindsight that comes with 15 years passing), of it being so much fun, of sharing such a crazy once-in-a-lifetime experience with a good friend. Someone, I am proud to say, who has remained a good friend, no matter how much physical distance is between us.

As Michele would say... "no worries".

One in 8 Million

A sure-fire way to distract me from what I'm supposed to be spending this sunny Sunday afternoon doing (writing copy for a mail-out):


One in 8 Million


So many stories. So many amazing differences, yet so many amazing similarities.


So much inspiration.


x