Flinders Street station

 
I’ve gathered a few interesting tidbits this week to add to this little spiritual journey I seem to be on. There has been eye-opening reading/discussion about yin and yang (which I never knew much about before), how our subconscious mind affects our conscious mind (both directly and indirectly), and evidence of how decisions informed by the heart are more important than purely logical decisions. I just finished reading Blink today, and I would recommend it, although the author did tend to rehash his earlier arguments a bit more than I would have liked. Very enjoyable, easy read, though.

On the negative side, I am frustrated by my frustration. My heart tells me that I need to remain kind and compassionate toward Mr Honey because it is in my nature, but my mind is sending signals that tell me to tense up and act like someone I don’t want to be and am usually not. It is this constant fight of compassion vs. distance, kindness vs. aggression. I normally feel quite confident and intuitive around people, but my encounters with M.H. v2.0 bring out this awkwardness and defensiveness that is just horrible because I can’t read him and feel like I don’t know him at all, therefore I don’t know how to act. I perceive no sense of humanity, and his warmth seems to have dried up and disappeared. I hate it. And I hate how I don’t feel like myself after these encounters because I am not behaving in a way that I feel is true to me. Because he’s not himself, I end up not behaving like myself. I suppose it’s all about balance, and time.

The results of the food intolerance test were interesting. Findings include a very slight intolerance to wheat, a big intolerance to cheddar cheese (but not milk, yogurt or feta cheese, thank goodness), chocolate, black tea and coffee, and a huge intolerance for anything alcohol-related.

I was advised to eliminate all the “bad” foods for a minimum of eight weeks to see what happens. I avoid most chocolate except for the occasional hot cocoa, so that won’t be hard. I’ve cut black tea down to once a fortnight, if that, and I only drink coffee for deadline emergencies, which works out to about four times a year, so that will be easy, too. And alcohol? I hardly knew ye. I’ve eaten almost no bread since finishing off the prized loaf of sourdough stashed in my suitcase, but eating only Corn Flakes for awhile could be a bit tricky (sound familiar, Sherry?). Cheddar cheese is a different story [insert crocodile tears]. We’ll see if not eating it has any positive effect before I get too distraught.

The test measured other weird stuff, including viral something or other, which apparently confirmed that my illness is on its way out. And my lymph nodes were normal. Yay!

I had a horrible experience with public transport this morning, which — in the condensed version of the story — was mostly caused by the shambolic mess that is currently Spencer Street station. I got to work 3 1/2 hours later than planned. After work and on the way to meditation class, I stopped by the place that made the Turkish eggs again because it had been a long day and I wanted to eat something beforehand. Sooooooo delicious, and when I said, “No toast, please,” with a sad face, the chef responded, “What about gluten-free?” Score! Probably a bad idea, though, because my stomach audibly digested the meal throughout the class. I was surprised by how much I enjoyed it, though, especially after not falling in love with yoga. And I felt much more relaxed (mentally and physically) afterward. What a shock to go from peaceful meditation to full-on Thursday night on Brunswick Street! I will definitely be going back next week, and Mom, you should sign up for that class near you.

Before I forget, I told the chef I would spread the word to my friends because A) he made the eggs three hours after they stopped serving breakfast, B) did I mention they are delicious?, and C) I still got to eat toast.

dolce bar cafe lounge
230 King St, Melbourne
www.dolcelounge.com

I also added the missing picture to the last post, so check the archives if you haven’t already seen it.

Beach Street, Port Melbourne

 
What a whirlwind week.

Met up with Bron and Pats in the city on Saturday, and it was great to catch up (even if Pats and I have been through a bit of similar crap of late). I also had what I will dare say was the best breakfast item eaten in my 27 years of life — turkish eggs — at this cafe we found on King Street, just off of Bourke. I know it doesn’t sound great by description, but you’ll have to trust me. The eggs were poached in that sour, beautiful, Middle Eastern yogurt, drizzled with oil and sprinkled with spices. OH MY GOODNESS were they ever delicious, especially when you scooped them out of their dish with the yummy toast. Barb, are you reading this? Because you would nearly have died.

I have seen so many hot guys this week that it has been unbelievable — even at the train station out in Woop Woop where I work. Have they really been there all this time and I haven’t noticed because I’ve been a good, faithful wife? Or is the universe sending them to me now as a present? (Thank you, universe!) I’ve ended up chatting to quite a few (my favourites so far have been the chef, the physio and the snowboarding instructor [hey Sherry, are you reading this?]) but am saving my energies for the 30+ age group, who have yet to make their presence known. I know you’re out there.

Got into work yesterday to find the new job description from the rival employer sitting in my inbox. Apparently, what she said would take her “awhile” to complete took less than a day, so I guess you could conclude that they want me to work for them. I am going to have lunch with her tomorrow. Even more exciting: after the lunch meeting, I’m going to get tested for food allergies/intolerances in Kew. I’m sick of the dark spots under my eyes and wouldn’t mind feeling better anyway. Hey, it worked for Sherry and Kristy, so why not me? (Please, universe: do not let sugar or dairy products be on the “no” list!)

I also got an e-mail from a lawyer who is closely connected with my job, in regard to the first-person letter I published this weekend to say why the job is finishing up. His response:

Well done-you can write my obituary any time.

I will take that as a compliment.

Kristy and I drove out west today to pick up what could very well be my new car, an old red VW Beetle, to get it checked out by a mechanic in South Melbourne. As she followed me back to the city, she (illegally and dangerously) sent me a text message that said, “you look very cute in that car”. I had to agree.

A digression: My first car was a 1974 VW Beetle named Monte (Carlo). He was my first love, and when he crashed, I was absolutely heartbroken. He was unsalvageable, and if you had a look, you would have wondered how I escaped alive. Monte had the cutest horn in the world, which would put smiles on people’s faces when honked. Before they scrapped him, I asked my Dad to rescue Monte’s heart (horn). Yes, I am sentimental.

When I got my second (1970) Beetle, Ralph, I made sure we tested the horn before purchase. Ralph was sold when I moved to Missouri because no one wanted to test him out over that kind of distance. I never got over my Beetle love, though.

Before I left the U.S. last month, my brother found Monte’s horn in my parents’ garage and made a snide comment about why we were keeping it. It’s pretty ugly and looks like a scrap of metal with a bunch of wires coming out of it, but, like I said, I am sentimental.

Fast forward to my test drive on Saturday in the new car, when I ask (of course) about the horn. It turns out the original horn was broken, so the owner replaced it with a horn from a completely different type of vehicle. So instead of going beep beep, it goes BWAHAHAPEEEEEEEEEEEEEP. Like puberty or Barney from the Simpsons belching, but worse. Well wouldn’t you know, I have just the horn to replace it with!!! (See, this story was going somewhere.) I asked the mechanic today, and he said it would cost $20 to do a swap. Hooray! So if I end up getting the car, my dad has promised to mail Monte’s heart this way. Oh happy day.

I should also mention that I’ve had a thing for the colour red lately. Red is supposed to be a scorpio colour, but I’ve never really paid any attention; I like what I like. But I’ve been wearing lots of red clothing (and not wearing, if you include the two red winter coats I bought in Missouri), the new car is red, and the signature colour of the employer I’m lunching with tomorrow is — you guessed it — red. I have also been finding too many red patterns for my quilt. What this means I do not know. If anyone out there is so enlightened, please inform me.

The Candle concerts were brilliant as always, but even better because they were smoke-free. This no doubt had something to do with the fact that Marty’s partner was pregnant (!) and at the show, and Kimba is preggers with #2. Tali is now married, too. Not sure if I’m ahead of them all with my d.i.v.o.r.c.e or behind it.

Kylie mentioned she’s going to try to wear scarves for one week. Not the wintry type but the square chiffon-y and silky things. Is anyone keen to take up a scarf challenge? We could all try it out for the same week and see what happens. I bet we’d all feel more glamorous.

Miko appraises the quilt in progress

 
I started working on a giant patchwork doona/comforter/duvet cover last night — giant individual squares, not the finished product (see a similar example here). I realised after I brought the square template home that it is nearly the size of an album cover. I felt silly because I could have saved money and just cut around an album cover, but then I realised most of my fabric (90% of which was purchased secondhand, usually pillowcases) has tatty bits that need to be avoided, so clear plastic is helpful.

Kylie and I had a look through all of the fabric I’ve been stockpiling, and it seems as though the prints fall into two camps: bold, geometric, mostly monochromatic patterns on white backgrounds (see above), or really out-there vintage floral prints. The two don’t seem to mix, so I decided to work with the first group for now.

I have never read any books about quilting and don’t plan to now. I’ve already run into a potential problem because I’ve cut a few squares on the bias — the white fabric with curved black lines looks cool now, but it had the ugliest turquoise tulips that I managed to avoid with this method. I have no idea, however, what this is going to do to the finished product, and I probably committed a quilting sin. Oh well.

On the job front, I heard back from one of the rival employers yesterday. They asked me to take a particular position for the third time, after dangling a better one and then saying they can’t make room for the better one in their budget. I should mention that it is a really good job, and most people would be happy to take it, but I know it’s not what I want to do.

This time they’ve added on extra responsibilities to the unwanted job, supposedly to make it more appealing to me. I’ve already said no twice, and it was no different this time. Except that this time I said I would rather flip burgers than do this particular job (yes, I really said it). Then we had an hourlong conversation where I explained, in detail, what I *would* like to do and gave them a few options. I then told them I would need to have a position description before I would consider anything. I wonder where this bravado came from?

I saw the counsellor today, and she noted that my life would be easier if I could be so clear and specific about my relationship needs as I am with my career needs. Today’s theme was mostly about grief, though. Someone asked me if I still love Mr Honey, and the truth is that I don’t know. It’s a very strange thing to feel (or not feel) because I thought a part of me would always love him. He has changed so much and he has hurt me so much that a more accurate way to describe it would be to say the person I love(d) is hibernating and most likely dead, but I have to live my life as if he is dead. In a sense, the grief is worse than if he actually had died because there’s no real sense of closure.

A friend whose husband passed away told me she channels her grief into gardening, and it helps her to feel as if she’s created something from her sadness. Unfortunately, I have a black thumb. I have been focusing more on my creative pursuits, though, since someone brought to my attention that I have an actual need to express myself, that it’s a big part of who I am. I actually felt recognition and relief when I heard that, and it’s given me more reason to nurture the creative pursuits and elevate them from hobby status.

Now if only my social calendar would slow down so I could devote more time to my need!

Mommy at the airport, wearing her Christmas scarf that goes very well with her eye color, but you will just have to trust me on that because this picture does not do her justice

 
My mojo must be working overtime. I got an e-mail from a different rival employer out of the blue yesterday, encouraging me to apply for a photog job. I phoned the place where I’d applied for a job a few weeks back and was told I’d been shortlisted in a group of 20 out of 100 applicants. Then the temp agency called with a two-month-minimum position in my field of employment, not just office work. I had to decline.

I saw Pats after work yesterday and had to fill her in on the events of the past three months. Turns out she’s had a similar experience and is about three months ahead of me in the timeline, in a position I thought I might want to be in but she says I won’t. We’ll see.

Kylie and I saw Sideways last night at the Nova, and I enjoyed it, although I definitely think it was a mistake to give Sideways an oscar nod and not Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. I really liked the ending, though, and I am a very harsh movie-ending critic.

The really big news, though, is that we walked to the Nova and back, about 20 minutes each way, and I’d already gone for a 38-minute walk at lunchtime. NOTHING HAPPENED. I did not take a nap, nor did I feel the need to. I did not have a sore throat or headache, and I was not cranky.

I’d taken a 15-minute walk the day before just for the heck of it (no errands involved), which has not happened in probably 8 months. I was going to tell you all about it here after I’d successfully logged a week of walks-for-walks’-sake, but this is far more newsworthy. Especially considering how I used to feel! This could be for any number of reasons, so I invite you to choose your favourite(s):

 
While both Pats and Kylie were over last night, I got a phonecall from someone I’d met ages ago, wanting to have coffee and catch up. And each time I think about what I might do to occupy my time, someone rings up to say hello and provide an opportunity. I know it sounds strange, but I feel very in tune with myself and the world at the moment and am happy to just take a backseat and relax. After I go dancing on Saturday night, of course.

Buddy the wonder dog: shrinkydinks ID tag and sad, please-don’t-go-back-to-Australia face courtesy of yours truly

I’m typing this in the dark, on the borrowed laptop while sitting in bed. Miko is not sure what to think of the computer because it monopolises her favorite space. She is curled up in a ball, trying to push her way into the left side of my lap. Aside from this inconvenience, she appears to be extremely content and unfazed by the move.

Things have been interesting since I got back. I am much stronger than when I left, and I have revised opinions and ideas on a lot of things, so there’s a sense of deja vu rather than a continuation of the way I lived my life - as if I’m remembering and doing things I did in the past but as a different person.

I saw Mr Honey on Tuesday morning for the first time in two months and was pleasantly surprised by the encounter. Seeing him did not make my heart go pitter-patter and betray my hard-won logic. Most of the scenarios on my worst-case scenario list have not come true (or at least that I know). I have hope that there could be some sort of understanding in the future, and I get the sense that he’s not as ecstatic with his new life as he had let on before I left.

I have been quite the social butterfly this week, each time telling myself that I am going to just relax and read the magazine or book I have been waiting to get to, yet each time someone ringing up and providing effective persuasion that I should leave the house. I went to a party on Friday night and tried some sort of vodka-based drink called a flirtini. It tasted (and looked) like pink-flavoured Jones Soda and was much more to my liking than cider or wine coolers. No drunkenness to report.

Kristy came over last night, and we made a roast out of veggies I’d purchased that morning at the Queen Vic markets. Delicious, and my tip for the day is to include pine nuts, which roasted and combined flavours with the veggies brilliantly. We watched L.A. Story on the computer because I have no TV.

I got a copy of the Trading Post but have had no time to research getting a car (I’m currently driving a rental), so it might have to be public transport for awhile. I did research two share houses, but both spots had been filled. I think I was just testing the waters a bit, as I’m not sure I really want to live with others. There are distinct advantages and only a few disadvantages to living alone at the moment, so I think I’m going to see how it goes. Single life is pretty good at the moment, though, one of the benefits being the ability to eat weird food combinations that I would never prepare for anyone else or expect them to eat. It’s a very decadent sort of lifestyle, so I might try to live it up for as long as possible.

In the same afternoon: found out my job is ending next month and got (unofficially) offered another one at a rival employer that pays quite a bit more. Am still waiting to hear back about the other one I applied for, too. To tell the truth, I wouldn’t mind being unemployed for a few weeks. I suppose I should be careful what I wish for, though.