Flying legs.

It’s true that every cloud has a silver lining. Some people may not see this particular lining as silver, perhaps more a dull grey, but for me it’s beautiful and gleaming. As you are all probably sick of hearing, I’ve been feeling a bit down about my decision not to fight in Fight Night. I was talking about it some more with my trainer last night and he came up with a great idea. Now that I don’t have to do the 12 week regimented program I have the ability to be more flexible with my regime.

So I’m training to be a kickboxer.

It was Doug’s idea and I jumped on it. I’m not sure that Shaun thinks it’s the best idea, but it serves him right for vetoeing FNII. So I had my first session last night and I was (surprise surprise) instantly addicted. When I started boxing I thought it was the hardest workout in the world. Boy was I wrong. Kickboxing steps it up 10 fold. After an hour of consistently kicking for three minute rounds as WELL as boxing, it’s fair to say that I was a bit wobbly on my feet. But that’s cool… I love a challenge. I’m going to continue boxing 5 days a week and just kickbox on Thursdays.

For now, anyway.


Girls and cars

I love speed. No matter what I’m in, I put my foot down. It makes some people nervous. According to Shaun, no one in my family is known for their driving ability. I am definitely the only one that has a speed problem though.

I especially love driving Shaun’s car. It’s a turbo. You put your foot down and you just GO. He has tried to lay down a whole lot of rules. I just ignore them. Until last night I didn’t think that little old me could really do any serious damage to that big old car. But more on that later.

I have always been competitive. If someone is sitting beside me at the lights revving their car, then I just have to take them. Well, try at least. So the other weekend I was coming home from boxing on Saturday morning. There is this stretch of road coming up to the motorway that has three sets of lights at it. I was sitting at the first set when I noticed the car beside me revving it’s engine and riding it’s clutch. I didn’t give it a very careful look. It was some kind of white ute. (Even if I had’ve given it a very careful look that’s still what it would have been.) When the lights changed I peeled away and smoked it. Booyah!

He didn’t like that apparently. The same thing happened at the next lights. Smoked. Then he put his window down. I put mine down. He noticed I was a girl (he couldn’t see through the tints). That seemed to make him particularly mad. The revving and the riding got worse. We were at the last lights before the motorway. It was a 90 degree corner onto the on-ramp. I had the inside lane. I was feeling cocky.

The light changed.

I put my foot down and the turbo kicked in. I couldn’t see the guy. But then suddenly I could hear him. There was screaming of tires and burning of rubber as he passed me going sideways. I thought he was going to plow into the side of me. He slid sideways all the way down the on-ramp and corrected as he hit the motorway. That’s when I noticed that he was driving a brand new SS ute with a World Drifting Championships bumper sticker and the license plate DRFTR. Bastard.

A similar thing took place last night only this time Shaun was in the car. We were heading home from a friend’s place after dinner and I was driving. The guy beside me was clearly trying to provoke me. When the light changed I planted my foot. It became apparent that I was in third gear. That didn’t stop me. I was determined. I managed to pull slightly in front.

It was then that the terrible burning smell infiltrated the car.

A majority decision.

So after months of soul searching I’ve decided not to fight in Fight Night II.

I went to the introduction seminar last week to get all the info. I had a plan. I figured I’d remind them of my seizures and see if they said that I couldn’t enter. That would make the decision for me. They didn’t. So I walked out feeling as confused as ever. I went home and talked to Shaun about it some more. His position hadn’t changed. He brought up the ‘feeding me with a spoon for the rest of my life if something goes wrong’ argument. Great.

I brought up the ‘how is it any different from the sparring that I do now?’ counter-argument. Not so great. That made him challenge the fact that I spar at all. Shite. What was I thinking? Maybe I’ve already taken too many head shots!

The one thing that had changed for me was that I was starting to realise that the training regime is pretty inflexible. It would actually involve less training that I currently do, but there would be more variety. Unfortunately you can’t just do it when you want. There are compulsory Saturday morning sessions. Considering I seem to actually be home about 1 in 4 weekends, that could be tricky. I was still keen though.

I decided to talk with my trainer. I laid it all out for him. He told me that he’d support me no matter what decision I made. Well, that was a good start. If he had’ve said he wouldn’t, I’d wonder what the hell I was doing there. Then he delivered the clincher.

If the people that love you aren’t behind you, you’re not going to enjoy the journey.

So there you have it folks.


This morning I woke up with the most unbelievable hayfever. It didn’t actually have anything to do with hay, probably more likely cats, but it sure was debilitating. Unfortunately I didn’t really become aware of it until I was half way to the gym, by which stage it was too late to do anything about it.

So I suffered through step class choking on my own snot. My eyes closed up to small slits and I felt like scratching all my skin off. I wet my towel and used it to try and cool the burning fire that was my face, but it had limited results.

As soon as the class was over I drove to work at 2 billion kph (it may have been closer to 1 billion, but I’m using a bit of storyteller’s license here) and ate all the antihistamines that I could find in my desk before hitting the showers. By the time I was clean, the fever had passed.

It got me thinking about the magic that is drugs. OK, modern medicine to be more precise.( I spent all of my 20s marvelling over the magic that is drugs.) How did someone figure out what chemicals to use to fix hayfever? Of ALL the chemicals in the world, how did they figure out which ones would work?

When I first started taking antiseizure meds, they contraindicated with antihistamines. I took both one day as a sort of experiment and fell asleep at my desk. I went to the gym to try and wake up and I fell asleep in the middle of the bench press track in pump class. Literally. Lucky it wasn’t the squat track. It would seem that my body has become used to the combination because now it doesn’t seem to be an issue.

So anyay, I wonder if someone gave a rat hayfever in the olden days and then tested chemicals on it.

Counting the years

So it was a weekend of anniversaries for me. Saturday marked 10 years at Xerox. Where the hell did that decade go? I started working here part time while I was at university. I was basically a receptionist. Somehow I managed to infiltrate the organisation, using my girlish charm and exceptionally high stillettos, and have been webmaster for the last 8 years, and part of the development team for the last couple. I expect it’ll be the only corporate job I ever have. I’m definitely enjoying running my company better than working for someone else…

Interestingly enough, I started here because running a company wasn’t right for me when I was younger. Admittedly I was 21 when I last tried it. And it was architecture. I was really disillusioned when I graduated architecture school and got out into the real world. While I was studying I believed that I was going to change the world. It was all so romanticised. The reality was that someone would save up ten grand to get their bathroom remodelled and they already knew what they wanted. I just had to draw it up. It was going to take a long time to save the world that way. Unless the world was dying from some kind of toilet related illness.

So yesterday was my first wedding anniversary. I spent the majority of it away from my husband. I was down country and he was getting drunk at the cricket. In an effort to make up for that I decided to cook him one of his favourite meals – mince and cheese pie that you heat up from the freezer section of the supermarket. No one could call me a bad wife.

I went out and bought the stupid pie and was coming home when something went terribly wrong. The lock on the front door got jammed and I couldn’t get inside. Since the burglary a couple of years ago when we lost everything, our house is like a fortress so there was no way I could break in. I spent 45 minutes swearing at the front door and trying to make the lock work. No go. Shaun’s advice was to ‘give it a good jiggle’. Ah, yeah.

It finally started getting dark and I was starving. I went down the road to get Chinese. When I got home Shaun was inside.

Just as well. I was on my way home to kick the door down.


One of my close friends turns 40 this weekend. He is significantly older than the rest of us but you wouldn’t know it. No one even thinks about it. Except him, it would seem. He’s gone all weird on it and has gone away to hide for the weekend. No one is allowed to discuss it. At first he tried to make us say that he was 39, but I don’t buy into that kind of crap. I’ve never really considered my age to be a liability. I’ve never really considered it at all. I suppose that might be different when I start to notice changes in my body or something, but that’s just how life is. If you let it get you down it will.

Having said that, I got a shock the other day when a 20 year old called me a MILF. I was flattered, but then I wondered when it was that I stopped just being a hot chick (yeah, yeah… you have to start being one in order to stop – but this is my fantasy so let it ride) and started being categorised as an older woman. Holy shite!

So speaking of birthdays and celebrations, this weekend is my first wedding anniversary. Last night Shaun and I went to The French Cafe for dinner to celebrate. We made a rule when we got married that each year we’d take turns to organise a weekend away. This year we’re finding it impossible to find a weekend when one or the other of us isn’t away (possibly why our marriage works so well) so we settled for dinner. It was, without a doubt, the best dining experience I’ve ever had. Both the food and the service were phenomenal.

Needless to say, I got a little boozed and we got on to talking about birthdays. I turn 33 at the end of this year and Shaun asked what I want to do to celebrate. I’ve decided I want one of those mobile petting zoos with miniature animals.

How great is that gonna be??

I’m finding myself quite attractive.

Today is proving to be interesting. I have training after work so I showered at home this morning. That went OK. It’s actually something of a novelty. I’m so used to showering at work that it feels like sleeping over at someone else’s house when I’m home in the mornings. When Shaun leaves for work I pretend that the cats are my flatmates.

Anyway, I digress. So I went to put my deodorant on and I couldn’t find it. Weird! I haven’t noticed Shaun smelling like a girl and I’m fairly sure the cats haven’t taken to wearing anti-perspirant, so I don’t know where it went. I have a few meetings today so I didn’t want to risk not wearing any, and I was running a bit late so I knew I wouldn’t have time to stop at the supermarket. I decided to wear Shaun’s.

Now every time I move I smell like a boy. I’m finding myself quite attractive.

Last night we went out for dinner and I drank more than my share of wine. Way more. So I’m a little slow on it today. I sat down at my desk and decided that I was hungry. I tried to fill up on ibuprofen and NoDoz but it wasn’t doing the trick. I was figuring out the best course of action (I thought maybe eating would be it) when a couple of guys from another part of the company came around with huge baskets of food. They chose today to deliver breakfast to us as a thankyou for the work we’ve been doing. (Well, not me specifically, to be fair). Blinder!!

So we’re gathered around eating breakfast when this unusual guy from our department walks in with a plate and proceeds to gather up approximately half the food and walk off. We all just stood there dumbfounded. It looked like he was going to visit someone in hospital or something.

It’s occurred to me that neither of those things are particularly interesting, so I apologise if you feel like you were lured here unfairly. Blame the painkillers and the caffeine pills.

As you were.