New Year, New Me?

So I'm not completely with the idea of resolutions, and particularly new year resolutions, but sometimes you know that if you want to make a change its good to a metaphorical starter's pistol go off in your ear and hit the ground running. 

One of my big goals this year was inspired by a kooky dream I had -  

I was in an op shop, looking thru vintage knitting patterns when I decided to make a purchase. The sales assistant said she couldn't take my money as she had no change, but there was another way. She opened up a huge big book of appointments and told me I had to give blood. The appointment she gave me? 01 January. 

I know that the red cross blood bank is bleeding for donors (couldn't resist the pun) but I haven't quite been brave enough to bleed for the cause myself. I took this dream as my subconcious telling me to 'harden up, princess' and start donating this year. 

I happen to not be overly fond of needles (the non-knitting kind:). 

In order to face my fears I got a small tattoo in 2003 to 'beat the fear of needles'. However, lately I have been beginning to feel unworthy of such a tattoo if I am still giving into the fear when it comes to donating blood. 

I did get really close to donating once - I went in the door, filled out the questionaire and then got the finger prick test to check a few levels. It happened that my haeimoglobin was right at the bottom of the healthy range - and would have dropped into the unhealthy range if they had taken a couple of pints out of me. 

The plan to see this one thru comes with a little help from The Man - who is a regular donor. We are going to make appointments at the same time (as soon as he can donate again) and he will be there to hold my hand. He is also planning to feed me a heap of red meat the week before so I can get my iron and haemoglobin levels sky high so I don't work up all that nerve and then fail at the last minute.

If you would also like to join me in bleeding for a good cause check out the Red Cross Donate Blood webpage.

My second goal is to get moving - and start running a little more. This has been partly inspired by webgoddess and brave-and-slightly-crazy and partly inspired by a quote I read somewhere about "the black dog is lazy, if you exercise he won't bother to chase after you" (lucky Pierre hasn't a lazy bone in his body and enjoys runs with me in the park!)

I am aiming to do the couch-to-5km, but may do a couple of the sessions for more than the usual 1 week. The aim isn't to go fast, but just to get moving and build up a bit of endurance. If you're keen to see how I am going I have added my nike+ mini to the right sidebar. (the mini is also on my facebook profile.) So far the running is going well - although the forecast in Melbourne on Wednesday was for 39C, so I got up and went for a run at 6:30am when the temp was 31C (it only dropped down to 28C overnight) so I wouldn't have to worry about going to a run in the hottest part of the day when I got home from work. Ironically, the cool change came through at 9am and we dropped down to 21C. My desire to avoid the hottest part of the day had me running right in the middle of the heatwave :)

And the third wish for the new year? To get a haircut. Seriously. It has been more than 18 months since I last got a haircut so I am a little overdue. The plan was to go to the verrry cool gothic hair salon down the road and get the type of haircut that would dishonourably discharge me from the military (seeing as I no longer have to conform!). There were pipe dreams of dark, dark brown hair with blue/magenta and fire-engine red accents, but that will have to be put on hold for a while. Due to the office closing over the new year I ended up having to take over 45 hours of unpaid leave - so my paycheck was more than a week short this month. I may have to go somewhere for a bit of trim in the interim until I have some play money I can splash out on lavish haircuts. 

The loss of a colleague

No longer a close friend of mine, but someone I went through all the stages of my interviews, recruitment, basic training and some of my application course with him. Sometimes he was pure mischief, trouble or a headache - but he was always good for a laugh. The world shall miss out on many a joke with the loss of him.

NAVY MOURNS LOSS OF SUB-LIEUTENANT JAMES BENNETT

Royal Australian Navy Officer, Sub-Lieutenant (SBLT) James Bennett, has been tragically killed in an accident at Devil’s Pool, Babinda Boulders, 70 kilometres south of Cairns.

SBLT Bennett went missing on 30 November 2008 when he fell victim to strong currents while swimming at the popular tourist destination. He could not be reached by the other members of his party.

An extensive search involving the Queensland Police, the North Queensland Fire and Rescue Service and an Emergency Services specialist dive team located a body on 2 December, which was today confirmed as SBLT Bennett.

“Our deepest condolences are extended to James’ family and friends during this very sad time,” Chief of Navy, Vice Admiral Russ Crane, AM, CSM, RAN said.

“This is a tragic accident that has touched many of our Navy family. James was a promising young junior officer full of potential. He will be sorely missed.”

SBLT Bennett was serving in the Mine Hunter Coastal HMAS Norman, which was visiting Cairns before returning home to Sydney, NSW.

Norman was returning from a very successful South East Asia deployment, during which he participated in Exercise Bersama Lima in the South China Sea and the Minor War Vessels Fleet Concentration Period in the North Australian Exercise Area.

Media release taken from the DOD website

CCCX - Kniterature with the Harlot and sans Dolores...

Oops - sorry to leave you hanging after my last post. I seem to have lost track of a week or so. In fact, I lost track of the fact it was November and was planning to join up for daily blogging for the month to get back into the swing of things. Perhaps December shall be the month of daily blogging for me...

Anyway - what did I recieve in the mail to make life so sweet after a crummy day of commuting?? Only two of the worlds cutest books ever...

The Yarn Harlot's newest book - Free Range Knitter
...and...
Franklin's book of cartoons - It Itches!

First of all - I have to say that this...

Is the best book written by the Harlot since this...


These books are not the "knitter-beware" instruction manuals about how to get the most out of your knitting while still remembering the knitting goddess watches when you swatches (and gives you tangles and ill fitting garments when you don't) - which is what the Harlot has been force feeding us anually for the past couple of years...

(okay - I will probably get some hate mail here if I don't clarify this. The Harlot's recent books have been preaching to the choir - They are kinda like a really rich chocolate mudcake - one piece and you are perfectly content and statisfied. Eating the cake makes you feel ill and slightly queasy at the thought of mud cake for the next little while. Read all the Harlot books one after another, and you'll begin to get sick of them too...)

ahem...

These Harlot books - books of essays - are for all knitters (not just those Knitters with a capital "K".) If you know a social knitter in your life (as opposed to us die-hard Addict Knitters who live, eat, sleep and breathe yarn) they will enjoy this book of funny, sweet or just downright gorgeous annecdotes that relate to knitting without feeling like they need to start spending all of the play money on yarn (I hear some people have other entertainments to waste cash on... Like food...)

This is also the type of book you could give to a casual knitter who has no knowledge of the interwebs, thinks blogs are something unfortunate that comes out of your nose when you sneeze and a ravelry is a hootenanny good time spelt wrong. Those knitters out their that have never heard of Ms. Stephanie Pearl-McPhee or the Yarn Harlot would not miss out on single word of enjoyment typed in this book.

So far The Free Range Knitter has accompanied me each way on my daily commute. The book is about the same size as a paperback novel, but hardcover - so once you take the dustcover off it is perfect to keep in your bag. The annecdotes and essays are a good length too - my 15-25 minute commute meant that I could read 1 or 2 stories a trip - a great way to block out the rabble on public transport.

A great gift for yourself (or if you're really feeling generous, someone else) so go and find yourself a copy. And if you haven't read The secret life of a knitter - find that one too.

Now my lunchbreak is up, so I need to get back to work. Kniterature on Franklin's first solo publication will have to wait until the next post. I'll try not to leave it so long... okay.... ?

(PS - for those wondering, the Man, Pupster and I have moved to the inner North Eastern 'burbs of Melbourne... and I now have interwebs at home, but my computer can't hack these hot pre-summer days too well, hence the blogging during the lunch hour)

CCCIX - Commuter Hell...

Yesterday Connex (AKA Melbourne Public Transport) chewed me up and spat me out.

My morning run was interupted by a delayed train, followed by a late train - which was pack to full capacity and NO-ONE at my station could get on and at which stage I went hunting a tram (that drops me off a kay down the road from work, rather than the 200m re: train station)

The afternoon run was worse. After noticing the train at my station wasn't going anywhere, which was followed by a mass-exodus of people out of the train station I decided that the tram would be my friend for the second time that day. Except every passenger in the NorEastern suburbs was told at earlier train stations to get on that tram to Clifton Hill station where they would be able to catch a connecting train. FIVE trams went by without stopping at all (because they were packed) in the forty minutes I sat at my tram stop. The next tram stopped and a slim little lady of asian persuasion got off. I decided that if one person got off, one person could fit on and spent quite a bit of time redefining my personal space. At Clifton Hill station all the train commuters got off and I actually got a seat (and my core body temperature dropped back to normal levels again due to recieving actual air flow)*.

I thought this was the last of my woes. Alas, no. To complete the trifecta of badluck ticket inspectors got on the tram. And my 10 x 2hr ticket had expired that morning. After explaining that I couldn't purchase a ticket due to the earlier crush, and after hanging on the the rails by my fingernails I just collapsed into the first vacant seat without any further thought of purchasing a ticket I was directed to the metcard machine. Where I discovered that, in anticipation of actually catching a train that day, I had no coins on my person (and tram machines don't take notes.) At that point I got off the tram before any details were taken and words such as 'infringement' and 'fine' were thrown about. Lucky for me The Man was able to cruise by and pick me up...

When I got home I discovered my luck had changed.... (see next post)


*Apparently a jumper was the cause for the shutdown of the line between the city and Clifton Hill station. Grr...

CCCV - A little less exhausted...

I think I may be getting back into the swing of this full time job thing. Today I actually had energy to go to the shops before coming home and collapsing on the couch :)

The new job is going well - the office is small and friendly, and very keen to help out an eager young upstart who wants to learn the ropes. I love the freedom of not being a uniform -but it does make for some hesitation in the morning while I am deciding what to wear (twice now I have driven into carpark just in time to see my train pullout of the station - luckily I have calculated a little leeway into the travel plans.)

Unfortunately my new life is having a bit of toll on the pupster - poor Pierre is at home for up to 12 hours without my company. He is rather hyperactive when I get home, and then switches to burr mode.

The Man and I knew that we needed to pay some extra attention to the furkid, so on lovely sunny Sunday we took him for a walk along the river. Wanting to give him a little extra freedom, we let him off the lead while we walked along the boardwalk. All fine and dandy until Pierre started bounding down the steps. At the rivers edge he stopped, sat, and stared into the perfectly still water, with algae and reeds sticking out... before leaping into the river...

Now might be a good time to tell you just how much papillons HATE water - the surest way to turn my adorable puppy into the mutt from hell is to turn close the door to the bathroom, turn on the tap and watch him panic!

...so we are fairly certain that Pierre didn't realise that he was jumping into water, and not onto solid ground.

For what felt like forever, the pupster completely disappeared. When he finally popped up (doggy paddling for his little life) The Man was emptying his pockets getting ready to jump in after the pup, while I was laying stomach down on the deck trying to fish out Pierre (that bronze medallion training from high school finally paying off). The Man picked up on what I was trying to do, lay down next to me and had the extra length in his arms to actually lift the dog out of the drink.

The Man took a few photos of our glorified drowned rat with his phone, but due to a software and/or cable problem I can't share them with you.

However, the river dip did solve the green paws problem:)