Author: Alexandra

AMA #4

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Today I thought to answer a few questions asked for the AMA challenge.

What’s your comfort movie/show/piece of media, and – if you feel like sharing – why?

This one is easy. My go to comfort movie is The Fifth Element. I have lost count the number of times I have watched this movie, as I watch it at least 2-3 times a year. If I need a pick-me-up for any reason whatsoever, and sometimes, for no reason at all, I slot the DVD in, press play, and escape.

If you were going to be stranded on an island by yourself for 30 days, what are the top three things you would take with you and why? No need to take food, clothes or basic supplies, as those will be provided.

I would have to say:

  • A wind-up radio so I’d have the news and music whenever I want.

  • My bed, of course, so I’d get a decent night’s sleep every night under the stars.

  • And, of course, finally, the OH as I’d never hear the end of it otherwise.

Guilty pleasure?

Ha! As anyone who knows me and knows me well will tell you, it’s Marmite. Yes, I am one of those people.

If you could have any one superpower, what would it be and why?

When I was a kid and read way too many comics (DC and Marvel, I wasn’t picky) I loved Wonder Woman and wanted to be her when I grew up, but also wanted to be Superman (well, I suppose, Supergirl) because he could fly. The idea of being able to just leap up and fly off somewhere, anywhere (and not freeze to death or suffocate at altitude) appealed to me big time.

If you happen to win the lottery, what would be the first transaction you would do with the new wealth?

Easy. Buy a house big enough for me and mine, that would have enough room to house friends as well.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Being Certified ‘Cool’

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I swear I need to go back to night school to take a certificate in Fridge Operating procedures as, even after 40 plus years, I still have problems. Despite having a temperature gauge inside the fridge, I never know if the interior is cold enough or not. As by the time I manage to wrangle the damn thing from its hiding place—middle shelf, back—the marker has moved from the green safe zone, into the red danger zone.

Do I have hot hands? Am I doing something wrong?

The consequence is, I turn the fiddly little dial from cold to colder. Which, of course, isn’t necessarily the right thing to do—just the knee-jerk reaction to seeing the gauge in the red. And while it seems like a good idea at the time, later, when I take out the steak that’s been sat the top shelf in the fridge, to cook for dinner. I realise it’s still frozen. And no among of staring at it, angrily, will defrost it.

Which then results in my taking out the temperature gauge, again, to check how cold the fridge is only to see the gauge has moved from to the other end, closer to that zone called ‘permafrost.’ 

My vegetables and fruit are about to become frozen, as the tea in the jug at the back, on the middle shelf, is creating its own ice crystals.

Tell me, what’s a girl to do to figure this fridge lark out? Because, clearly, I’m missing a key and essential life skill here. Is there some secret knowledge passed down from parent to child at some point, that I was away for? 

This is definitely one of life’s great mysteries and I obviously didn’t get the memo!

By Candle Light

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Can someone please explain to me what happened to lightbulbs. When did we go from having cheap incandescent bulbs that fuelled our winter-nights with light to read by, to mercury-filled, evil planet-polluting $6 spotlights which, while they are supposed to last several times longer, don’t?

I ask because yet another bulb plinked out of existence in the bathroom and plunged me into semi-darkness as I … eh, well, you don’t need to know what I was doing.

That’s the third bulb this month, which seems a little excessive to me for supposedly super bulbs. Seriously, this is getting out of hand. I might have to take out a Bank Draft just to keep up with the exorbitant cost of buying the damn things.

I think I need to write a letter of disgruntled complaint to our Prime Minister.

Dear Mister Carney … no, wait, he’s the PM, I have to get the opening salutation right. Dear Expletive …

Okay, forget the disgruntled letter.

Even if I could find a shop selling good old fashioned lightbulbs that have long since been discontinued. I have nowhere and no way in which to use them, given I live in a rental apartment—It’s spotlight madness in here—every room is fitted out as if I’m living in a Car Dealership showroom. I think they can see me from the Space Station at night!

What’s a person to do?

Please, send candles … lots of candles! Yeah, candles, that’ll work … won’t it?

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Time is what you make of it.

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Time, and indeed, life is what you make of it, as Lou Plummer states in his post, Time Is What You Make Of It. And, like Lou, after having to retire early because of a traumatic event in my life, I found myself on the precipice of a dark place. But even then, faced with a dilemma, I had a choice. So many things happened one after the other that year I could easily have slipped into a long depression. But didn’t.

I decided to get organised and, for the most part, I haven’t looked back since. I’ve done my best to stay positive, upbeat and forward thinking. I’ve tried not to dwell on the past. Or dwell on events I had no control over. Or people whose choices still baffle me to this very day. I try not to fret about things I cannot change and, instead, think about the things I can change, and for the better. That work for me, and my situation and circumstance.

And in doing so, I’ve found myself a niche and a routine where I’m able to be productive, feel enriched, and that allows me time to do the things I want to do. And even, experiment with new projects and pastimes.

No, no I’m not going skiing in the mountains, or anything as dramatic as snorkelling on a coral reef let alone deep sea diving. But, given my own limitations, and not letting them define me, I’ve tried to stretch myself in a number of ways while still staying somewhat within my safety zone (for physical reasons) because, at my age, there are things I will never be able to do anymore. And that’s okay. I’m okay with that. I never had a desire to bungie jump from anything, or skydive tandem or otherwise. They were never my thing.

But the things I do want to do? I will give them a go. After all, time is no longer on my side, and I have to make sure that I try to do as much or as little as I want each and every day. Because, when it comes down to it, I have no idea just how many days, like any of us, I have left.

So I do what brings me pleasure, what brings me joy, what gives me a sense of calm, or peace, or makes me smile, or happy, or comforted. Even if that’s sitting on the balcony, drinking a cup of early morning tea watching the cloud drift lazily across the sky, listening to the sparrows chirrup, as the sun comes up.

That’s fine by me too.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Spider, Spider

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“Incy wincy spider crawled across the wall
Incy wincy spider doesn’t care at all
As incy wincy spider know I won’t squash him
Or squish him with a tissue and throw him in the bin.”

Despite being terrified of spiders as a child — and for good reason, living abroad meant we were in contact with monsters that grew to a seemingly unnatural size — as an adult, I have become more tolerant and even, dare I say it, almost best friends with one particular variety of spider. 

The dashing and rather well named Zebra Spider. This tiny little fellow is a voracious hunter whose territory is large and all encompassing. They patrol day and night all over the floor, walls, and yes, ceiling, looking for pray and, I am reliably informed, will eat just about anything that moves. Thankfully, that doesn’t include me or mine, otherwise … well, it would be all out war.

I got over my fear of spiders years ago, no thanks to two older brothers who did their best to terrify me almost constantly by capturing and letting lose the biggest spiders they could find, into my bedroom. Usually at night, when I was sleeping. 

Why? Well, other than terrifying me and the thrill, I guess the fact I could literally scream the house down for several minutes in a crazed hysteria, till all the offending culprits were squished, or captured and released. And, no matter what punishment was doled out to my brothers, they continued for a number of years. 

I got my own revenge when I found out that both were equally terrified of snakes. Over a several month period I captured the odd snake, here and there, and put them in their beds. (Yes, I did make sure they were not poisonous. Of course I did, I didn’t want to kill myself over revenge!)

It was an epic battle of wits between siblings! 

Détente eventually followed, I’m not sure why or when. But I’m sure my parents were happy when it did.

Funny thing is, these days I actively encourage Zebra spiders to roam the apartment as champions feasting on all the unwanted insects prone to bringing nasty diseases into our lives. 

All hail the Zebra!

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧