tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24993724572002865942024-02-18T23:42:52.616-08:00facetious and fabulousk a t i ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10168432270220552256noreply@blogger.comBlogger23125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499372457200286594.post-57198502200872214242011-03-14T15:32:00.001-07:002011-03-14T15:55:44.073-07:00I'm the gingerbread man!Over the weekend, I had a little bit of a bright spark moment. One of those times when you're idly going about your business, not really thinking of anything in particular, when BAM, something goes off in your brain. I happened to be reading my daily horoscope, reading with interest about how best to woo lovers on the 19th between such and such a time, and then something that I would normally scoff at more than wooing lovers caught my eye a few lines down. It went a little something along the lines of "....and if you've been thinking of running a marathon, this is the time to commit to it". Well, whatdya know, I had been thinking of such things. Why, you might ask? Well, I ask myself the same question.<br /><br />It came about when Cam decided he was flying off for a weekend to run a marathon. I mean, who randomly decides to do such things? Then, a few weeks ago, as he was busy training and I was busy deciding which side I prefer sleeping on in the early morning light, I had a thought. I mean, why shouldn't I do that? On re-awakening hours later to a sweating, staggering semi-corpse gagging for breath, I wasn't as put off as I imagined in the cold, harsh light of day - I mean, if he can do it, why can't I?<br /><br />This is where the trouble starts. I think I may have mentioned in previous posts and vlogs that I have what might be described as a mild competitive streak. I mean, some who are close to me, such as <s> any single person who has known me for longer than 18.7 seconds </s> my mother, would suggest it might go further than that. I have been known, on some occasions, having not won a certain competition or failed to beat my way to the top via any means neccessary (cheating, biting and king hitting featuring highly on my list of 'means') to sulk so severely I wouldn't speak to or in fact leave my room for several days. When it comes to a <span style="font-style: italic;">boy </span>'beating' me? Don't even get me started. When asked yesterday why Tinkerbell made her own movie without Peter Pan, I carefully explained to the 3 year old inquisitor all about equal opportunity, womens rights, feminism and a nice little speech on never letting anyone keep you down, sister. Again, a small knot of panic gripped me when I realized all 9 males seated around me were clutching their beers to their chest in horror, openly staring with eyes filled with fear, before I put them at ease by letting 2 of them beat me at an arm wrestle. (See? I can handle defeat well some of the time!)<br /><br />The more I thought about it, the more I want to do it. I googled some marathons and their running dates (no pun intended!) and think late July/mid August is a fairly good time frame to realistically be able to run. And when I say run, I mean to start off as small as possible, then consider the 14km City to Surf in Sydney, wherein lies another problem. I know Cam and his brother in law are considering signing up, and if so, I don't think I'll enter. This is where the competitive demon streak comes out - I know, theoretically, I wont be able to beat them. Ever. I mean, in all seriousness, I'd be lucky to make the entire thing without actually dying. But knowing someone will be running, I know myself well enough to know I'd take that as some kind of challenge. And if, as Cam horrifically suggested, he'd keep pace with me, I don't think I'd be in a mind state to be responsible for my actions. See, I already feel he's implying I'm never going to be good enough, and therfore he'll do worse to please me. Already! So, I've decided to do this on my own. I won't be training with him and his marathon boys, I will be slogging this out on my own, with Phoenix by my side and with Lady Gaga screaming in my ears, and with mental images of PT chasing me with a large whip urging me to run faster, longer and harder.<br /><br />So, from today, I will be documenting my efforts to get this goal on its way to a reality. As from now? I'm about to tie up my laces and go on my first official run. Seriously, how hard can this be?<br /><br /><br />... Well, I mean, in theory. Now would probably be a good time to mention I could count on one hand the amount of times I have run in my life, most of which involve chasing a stray horse or missing a bus in the rain. Back to my mantra... anything you can do, I can do better!k a t i ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10168432270220552256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499372457200286594.post-8187198925671651242011-03-12T20:52:00.000-08:002011-03-12T20:52:10.762-08:00Sunday Ramble<iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/FCI5-fL4-JI?fs=1" allowfullscreen="" width="425" frameborder="0" height="344"></iframe>k a t i ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10168432270220552256noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499372457200286594.post-461243791098738782011-03-06T16:32:00.000-08:002011-03-06T17:04:22.779-08:00Um... woops!<div style="text-align: center;">So, that posting every day for a month thing? Fail.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />Still, at least taking three days off means I've got an abundance of exciting things to blog about, right? Well, sort of.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhABHtfrgHnPy4qvlY-r_u2NYrMINGQp0h4pWyZnk-iPrcn0S5b_0x77FCQfOBZ5CjGW8tQL2JyadiLxQJmJ5YlPUsdbf0__OLEv2RaEiHDZ7mnxX-52ldhLn2bU960tcc1_K3L6q_SbxmI/s1600/IMG_1703.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhABHtfrgHnPy4qvlY-r_u2NYrMINGQp0h4pWyZnk-iPrcn0S5b_0x77FCQfOBZ5CjGW8tQL2JyadiLxQJmJ5YlPUsdbf0__OLEv2RaEiHDZ7mnxX-52ldhLn2bU960tcc1_K3L6q_SbxmI/s400/IMG_1703.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581135652953223602" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">Soaking up the sun @ The Nobbies on Sunday.</span><br /><br />Thursday was spent getting my bottom kicked at a personal training session, followed by wielding the vacuum and a duster like a man-woman in an attempt to make the house vaguely presentable for Cam's mum to visit. I did good, too - I didn't hide anything flammable in the oven like I tend to do last minute, only to remember when acrid smoke billows forth when I attempt cooking a few days later, and technically only hid the three washing baskets of socks etc in a downstairs cupboard purely because <span style="font-style: italic;">I don't have enough wardrobe space*.</span><br /><br />Friday? Friday I slogged away for 3 hours retyping resumes and cover letters for various roles with my Job Agency Representitive (who happens to be a good buddy, so it wasn't exactly tedious beyond belief) and then spent the afternoon in a blur of tiredness from the previous days activities.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP_pP6pp4oDGZsvmAlO4EHW49nDnzsHGpJM-s_EfuNFEpgbwqdpxL-a9i6Rn9Pq5ibzhd9LU-bcUxsSj4VlDyw0-he_O-K0RMXB6aHA7JbIsCJ_y-Tzxahm-bDiFMx8U1kQ8jMeNrkKb3m/s1600/IMG_1677.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP_pP6pp4oDGZsvmAlO4EHW49nDnzsHGpJM-s_EfuNFEpgbwqdpxL-a9i6Rn9Pq5ibzhd9LU-bcUxsSj4VlDyw0-he_O-K0RMXB6aHA7JbIsCJ_y-Tzxahm-bDiFMx8U1kQ8jMeNrkKb3m/s400/IMG_1677.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581133491964641794" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">Ista, Darcy, me and Altibo.</span><br /><br />Saturday... Saturday was one of my favorite days for a long time. I spent about 6 hours with the horses, had a lesson on Darcy from a girl at my yard who made him look like a superstar dressage horse in a matter of minutes, and gave me more confidence in my riding than I have had in a long time. It was the first nice day of weather for a long time, and the only downsides were Cam's spectacluar disembark from Altibo, and the chiropractor confirmed Ista as being the 'worst horse I've seen in years' in regards to his back and muscle problems. He ended up having injection upon injection and manipulation of his neck, back and legs. Hopefully there'll be some improvement in the next few weeks. It breaks my heart to see him so sore and feeling sorry for himself.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4rEwbZzRFv4-33Ypa1rs6LzjckoDkQ8TyXhXtOlS4azWfczP5qDKqtVmKsrovSBZN282fkLPNOLf_caB26PRVc5JblC1iK04roALtuvLHxNW7OPySrJUOlOWhYfrKZENT0iqlMjnxmQzx/s1600/IMG_1699.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4rEwbZzRFv4-33Ypa1rs6LzjckoDkQ8TyXhXtOlS4azWfczP5qDKqtVmKsrovSBZN282fkLPNOLf_caB26PRVc5JblC1iK04roALtuvLHxNW7OPySrJUOlOWhYfrKZENT0iqlMjnxmQzx/s400/IMG_1699.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581135270326934290" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">One of my favorite places, The Nobbies @ Phillip Island</span><br /><br />Sunday was gorrrrrgeous. Sunny, 28c, roof down road trip to Phillip Island, which ended up in an ice-cream eating, ocean-paddling, mini-golf-playing, sun-worshipping, tourist-sightseeing sort of way.<br />And then, dinner at my Mums, the first episode of The Amazing Race, and the long drive home singing along to Benny & The Jets etc. All in all, a good weekend... and it just occurred to me, that's four days off. Goodness, I've been naughty!<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkckarIOhXR0ui7IbtwF_Kvd8h9i0YV8UVHoKCKFB5DHotYT5ZYFWLfiGSmyclM-9n5UzDywbKYSyMVFKH3MYrvF0061FTiDHJ5XOaS3pVCqCO8PxQjRgq0SdGlQRas2-sUZLccrKxgjkA/s1600/IMG_1706.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkckarIOhXR0ui7IbtwF_Kvd8h9i0YV8UVHoKCKFB5DHotYT5ZYFWLfiGSmyclM-9n5UzDywbKYSyMVFKH3MYrvF0061FTiDHJ5XOaS3pVCqCO8PxQjRgq0SdGlQRas2-sUZLccrKxgjkA/s400/IMG_1706.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581135965668379698" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);">There is a baby penguin in there somewhere, I swear!</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />*Hi Cam. Yeah. See how good I was at putting the floordrobe away? I could put it ALL away if I had more room! Wink wink, nudge nudge..<br /><br /><br />Oh yeah...and I lost 3.6kg in the past two weeks. What did I do? Reward myself with a nice, yummy hot chocolate... Oops again!<br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaI3NFPKMdkZ2XafxnqVPYgr36agr8MtpveL2_HqN3Bmnq49c1pkw35PRF99j4IA95-z8gC_oSGI9rcUX9LtrOyChtUqIt-ueqib01Zz6ZrY-CJYX06X_HO78senWz5Snl_MPC3UYUvEzT/s1600/IMG_1634.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaI3NFPKMdkZ2XafxnqVPYgr36agr8MtpveL2_HqN3Bmnq49c1pkw35PRF99j4IA95-z8gC_oSGI9rcUX9LtrOyChtUqIt-ueqib01Zz6ZrY-CJYX06X_HO78senWz5Snl_MPC3UYUvEzT/s320/IMG_1634.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581134073392560306" border="0" /></a>k a t i ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10168432270220552256noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499372457200286594.post-82235171019462102862011-03-01T21:07:00.000-08:002011-03-01T21:07:24.527-08:00Random Rambles<iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/MJ2oM8AUQpo?fs=1" allowfullscreen="" width="425" frameborder="0" height="344"></iframe><br /><br />A) I don't know why this isn't stellar quality.<br />B) I don't know why I look like such a whale in these videos. Even when filming them, I don't look that big.<br />C) I need to go hide all those shoes before The Enforcer gets home.k a t i ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10168432270220552256noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499372457200286594.post-67268706830357574822011-02-28T15:02:00.000-08:002011-03-01T20:32:52.013-08:00Speaking of memes......I feel the need to ramble on in video form again - I actually quite enjoy it, minus the watching it back again and thinking "need to do more arm weights" and/or the constant "do I REALLY sound/look like that?!" - but it's quite therapeutic while I'm actually filming! So aside from the video, I thought I'd do a quick meme I found online today. In the mood to talk? Yes. In the mood to type? Not so much. I'm dopey from a bad night of sleep. I don't have a heap of time. Sahara is informing me she would dearly like to go out into the nasty, windy and cold day and gallavant around the neighborhood with me on the end of her leash. Excellent timing, as it's starting pouring rain with a vengeance.<br /><br />So, to begin...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Are you a touchy person or do you prefer not to be touched by others?</span><br /><br />Unless I truly and utterly trust someone beyond any shadow of a doubt - do NOT touch me. I literally freeze up and squirm - I truly detest it. Having said that, my massuer Glenn*, and my PT Dale are the only two fella's I let in my personal space without feeling the need to gounge their eyeballs out, which is generally handy.<br /><br />*Unless he touches my toes. I despise having my toes touched, to the extent I will inadvertantly kick the daylights out of anyone who does it.<br /><br />(side note: Glenn and Dale? Now referred to as Up Hill and Down Hill... what's with the topography names of my man servants?!)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">What was your last conscious thought before dropping off to sleep last night?</span><br />The last thing I remember was without doubt unsuitable for general blog consumption. Mmm. Mmmmm....<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">What's your most outstanding virtue?</span><br />Right, this is something I need to work on: not being so self effacing. I notice especially on vlogs that I'm like 'Hi! I'm shit, let's deflect any positive attention away from self and focus on the negatives!" and I MUST stop this. I mean, I'm fairly awesome some days. Let's concentrate on that, Katie! So, outstanding virture. Uh... compassion. I like small animals.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">How many different species of birds could you recognize on sight?</span><br />I was going to say, like maybe 5, and then I think about it, and I'm pretty good at this. Especially in Africa, when I had some time-zone differences I would sit and read the bird-spotting book (*cough* Geek! *cough*) and I learnt quite a few there, too. So I'd say...maybe 30? 50?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">What are you avoiding?</span><br />Er. Putting my floordrobe away.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Look around you: list the first 5 things you see that bring back good memories.</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">1. Photos of my horses</span>. They fill my heart with joy. <span style="font-weight: bold;">2. Sahara.</span> We've had the best times together. Running through parks, swimming in the sea together, cuddling on the couch, moving houses 6 times. Uh...not that's she next to the bed, Cam, if you're reading this... <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">3. Positive sayings cards.</span> Cam gave me these for my last birthday - one of the sweetest things I think he's ever given me. They say things like 'I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning how to sail my own ship' (Louisa May Alcott) and 'Can you imagine what you would do if you could do all that you can?' (Sun Tzu). They are a little reminder to not dwell on negatives, realize how blessed I am and reflect a little bit when I'm down about how nice it was having my family here for my birthday last year. And they have really cute bird cartoons on them. <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">4. Big black pebble.</span> I stole this from the bathroom in Fiji when I'd had one too many cocktails. There was some kind of flower arrangement with pebbles in it and I was busy concentrating on standing still without the world falling over and thought how lucky I was to be in such a gorgeous place after island hopping on a yacht all day, and took a pebble to remind me in future. It sits on my night stand. <span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">5. Clothes/jewelry.</span> I seriously struggle to throw anything out, simply because everything has memories for me. If I put on something I haven't worn in a while, I will actually stop and think "Ooh, I wore this at that fabulous restaraunt/on a gorgeous Summer day/snuggled up with movies" and it kind of sets the mood for the day. I LOVE getting dressed up, and knowing something is new makes it all the more exciting, but wearing something I love makes me feel really special.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">How do you respond when someone says something unexpectedly kind to you? </span><br />Did I mention I needed to work on being nice to myself? Each night, Cam and I make a point of saying something nice to each other before bed, and getting it back in return so I can work on accepting compliments is not something I find easy. I truly believe 80% of the things he says are lies - how sad is that? I automatically assume the worst and look for ulterior motives when I get a compliment - unless it's about my leg length. I accept those ones, because I've learned to love them. Just gotta work on the rest!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">If you could be any book character, who would it be?</span><br />I don't know about a book character, (Hermione! Hermione! Hermione!!) but if it were TV/Movie I would LOVE to be a cross between Samantha from Sex & The City, Karen Walker from Will and Grace, and Cameron Diaz in general. Hot, with balls.<br /><br />Right, that small time frame I had is officially over. Breakfast time, salon time, dog walk time, horse feed time, shower time, boxing session time then dinner and bed... did I forget anything? Oh yeah, applying for another bunch of completely unsuitable jobs....joy! Have a great day, y'all!k a t i ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10168432270220552256noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499372457200286594.post-59256381654028557022011-02-27T22:44:00.000-08:002011-02-27T22:44:41.081-08:00Random Question Tag<iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/MjFedQTkZBM?fs=1" allowfullscreen="" width="425" frameborder="0" height="344"></iframe><br />I love that the first comment I got when Cameron walked through the door was not "hello, darling, how was your day?" but rather "Oh my f**k, please tell me you didn't show your slippers on your new vlog!"<br /><br />Rude. Very rude.k a t i ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10168432270220552256noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499372457200286594.post-64490641536038374342011-02-27T22:31:00.000-08:002011-02-27T22:31:04.404-08:00Mock My Accent!<iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Nx7bLW7FAXg?fs=1" allowfullscreen="" width="425" frameborder="0" height="344"></iframe><br />In response to the awesomeness of Melisa with One S from <a href="http://thesuburbanscrawl.blogspot.com/2011/02/it-may-not-be-spelled-q-pon-but-thats.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+SuburbanScrawl+%28Suburban+Scrawl%29">Suburban Scrawl</a>, I thought I'd have a crack at this meme vlog. Hope you like it!k a t i ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10168432270220552256noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499372457200286594.post-10828539850540923512011-02-27T19:07:00.000-08:002011-02-27T19:43:17.845-08:00Committment<div style="text-align: center;">Isn't it funny, I typed that blog title post to explain to the world that I, Miss Author Of This Blog, am committed to posting each and every day for a whole month in an effort to get myself back on the blogging wagon, and then got so busy in my brain thinking about committment and other C letter words I forgot what I was going to say.<br /><br />As usual, while try to doze off to the land of nod last night, there were several (million) thoughts running through my brain. Most of which, at one stage or another, I thought would make brilliantly witty, utterly amazing blog posts, to which people would respond with glee and hastily proclaim their undying love to me via the comment form (located below this post, y'all). Upon waking, however, those aforementioned brilliantly witty future posts have vanished from my head, leaving nothing but reminders to remove my nail poish, and the usual longings for Subway. Nothing new there.<br /><br />So, what to post? What to post indeed. I could discuss the fact my phone was cut off this morning, leaving me staring at my iPhone 4 screen with sorrow and lust for all the poor, unanaswered text messages that were sure to be loitering in my inbox, only to be reconnected 15 minutes later with not a single message awaiting me. Horror. I could mention how cold and dreary and miserable it is outside, and how unmotivated this makes me to get anything done, but then I start to think about all those loads of washing I need to get dried and... well, let's move on. I could point out the adorable kitting asleep on my leg, making creepy little grunty snuffle sounds, but then I'd have to take a photo to show the adorabless... Oh, go on then! While that's downloading off my phone, might I take this chance to point out my new background/header/general betterness of this blog? I feel marginally more at ease here, rather than at The Old Blog. Any thoughts/pointers/suggestions?<br /><br />On that note, I'd better listen to my own brain's suggestions to get my butt into gear, get this washing done, jobs applied for, ass beaten at gym, and some horses ridden and dogs walked. Oh, and find my nearest Subway for a quick fix...<br /><br />Check back later for my Accent video, plus a random questions tag vlog, too :D<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih2BBp-KBTy57CYUSZnt3dyFV6HYfkgOnAg8yPkVlvpRhK4lXJ3P-nXwvZ_lFM2HgfMrVWhD8f1oF6G7jtcKUCkm3ERH1iDZEtooneyFLhFFTBAokM19HFGnxHCVu2pubdfQrrL0eessTW/s1600/IMG_1054.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih2BBp-KBTy57CYUSZnt3dyFV6HYfkgOnAg8yPkVlvpRhK4lXJ3P-nXwvZ_lFM2HgfMrVWhD8f1oF6G7jtcKUCkm3ERH1iDZEtooneyFLhFFTBAokM19HFGnxHCVu2pubdfQrrL0eessTW/s400/IMG_1054.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578580108842052786" border="0" /></a> I thought about it, for all of 2.7 seconds. I'm not quite that desperate. <span style="font-style: italic;">Yet</span>.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq1IQDSMt9mruMUlV8MBF0Fqg0Ux-1pO6E7ujKLgpCRLI2gMWmpfefi8uIvxymUuEqXJuZuHk39RWZDfaKa_SyAxcngcJeGa9gahyR0kwaBf62vp4Etq2V5PkkLLucYJwbhN6bOlrqqEk8/s1600/IMG_1327.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq1IQDSMt9mruMUlV8MBF0Fqg0Ux-1pO6E7ujKLgpCRLI2gMWmpfefi8uIvxymUuEqXJuZuHk39RWZDfaKa_SyAxcngcJeGa9gahyR0kwaBf62vp4Etq2V5PkkLLucYJwbhN6bOlrqqEk8/s400/IMG_1327.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578579877016908706" border="0" /></a>Phoenix and I after a long, <span style="font-style: italic;">long</span> day at the St Kilda Festival for the RSPCA.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY22SgMe_kjItRpzLaFgkhidoJ2qZu7vOXQ6idrlwA8nXDOGqokld41TDxZ-5YqoXJTiFkzEGYir92dfCP13idvUEyMhuoHWF5CP1njBm0FIcMk8SB5m1Eok1KNS4iUGLA6MRtAYPFptrv/s1600/IMG_1506.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY22SgMe_kjItRpzLaFgkhidoJ2qZu7vOXQ6idrlwA8nXDOGqokld41TDxZ-5YqoXJTiFkzEGYir92dfCP13idvUEyMhuoHWF5CP1njBm0FIcMk8SB5m1Eok1KNS4iUGLA6MRtAYPFptrv/s400/IMG_1506.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578579657932678226" border="0" /></a><br />Yes, I freely admit I am getting old. Glasses for me...*sob*<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg62RrXmIknKnbq8MEsZXo3BEVjVPhcQ4IBluj0bc8JxlKZS1jfmlUnZMVAT0Jvt9Tt2J67EjmODBGgD7mxv9t20gkH1EtseF65zg4YIAki8MTnBy1dCWp9X_GHaI0Z1UJC0ZEexzRPW5LO/s1600/IMG_1595.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg62RrXmIknKnbq8MEsZXo3BEVjVPhcQ4IBluj0bc8JxlKZS1jfmlUnZMVAT0Jvt9Tt2J67EjmODBGgD7mxv9t20gkH1EtseF65zg4YIAki8MTnBy1dCWp9X_GHaI0Z1UJC0ZEexzRPW5LO/s400/IMG_1595.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578579477766168258" border="0" /></a>Turn off the light! The liiiiiight! I'm meltttttting!<br /></div>k a t i ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10168432270220552256noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499372457200286594.post-43571221202395381022011-02-27T01:36:00.000-08:002011-02-27T01:38:08.023-08:00Grr!So, I was coming on here to type out a post committing myself to blogging each and every day for a whole month, NaBloPoMo stylin', and got utterly sidetracked but how hideously unattractive this blog is. And then tried to fix it. And failed.<br /><br /><br />This blog background is named Katie Girl, so clearly I had to install it. But not only do I despise a white or neutral text background, I can't get rid of that damn logo in the top left corner. I believe I'll attack this tomorrow, when I'm not rushing to type between visits to vomit. Ah, what a wonderful weekend...k a t i ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10168432270220552256noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499372457200286594.post-10070819089482658972011-02-14T14:59:00.000-08:002011-02-14T15:06:47.769-08:00Oh, blog...What can I say? I have given up. Blogging here is like visiting the dentist - I know I need to, I get so far as building up the courage to do it, then ... blah.<br /><br /><br />It's all just too hard. You see, I Tweet. I Facebook status. I Daily Booth, sometimes even thricely Booth. I upload Vlogs, which are a whole lot easier, and a whole lot more fun than these 'every day' blogs. The main problem, though? I just don't like this blog. I miss my Made in Melbourne days. Specifically, having a pretty blog with a million (or at least like 200+) posts behind me so that fellow bloggers actually <span style="font-style:italic;">knew</span> a bit about me. Another downfall to my blogging? It doesn't like me posting photos. My fancy smancy new camera has far superior photographic capabilites than simply using my iPhone, and blogspot.com does not appreciate that. I literally can't upload a single photo of my Africa Safari awesomeness, and that makes me a little said. A picture is worth a thousand words, in my mind, and I'm clearly not pumping out anywhere near a thousand words in my lack of blog posts.<br /><br />So, what to do... Attempt a NaBloPoMo style intervention on myself, and MAKE myself blog each day? Head on back to Made In Melbourne and try and ressurect the past? Move on entirely and spend hours exasperatedly trying to find a new blog title and/or pretty background and start afresh? Or simply live via my iPhone and keep FBing, Tweeting and Daily Boothing in the convenience of my own bed/car/shopping centre, instead of having to file every witty line I later think I'll type out on here, then consume a glass of wine and forget entirely what it was I was thinking? Decisions, decisions.<br /><br /><br />(in the meantime, you can check out my vlogs to get a little dose of me...<br />http://www.youtube.com/user/KistaKatix?feature=mhum )k a t i ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10168432270220552256noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499372457200286594.post-75167143010033100242011-01-27T15:12:00.000-08:002011-01-27T15:20:44.099-08:00...finally!I am back! Yes, yes, I know, I know...again. Who would have thought I could destroy a laptop so thoroughly, so many times, in such a short period of time? (In all honesty, Sahara's claws might have been to blame once or twice re: the horrible screen damage, but being a proud mumma of some of the biggest talons seen since the Triassic Period, I choose to overlook those bleak, computerless times).<br /><br />So, since my last blog, I believe I have had several (hundred) things to blog about. My first Christmas not spent at my family home? Check. The first - and possibly last - turkey to ever be cremated by my man and myself? Uh huh. The two most amazing weeks of my life, spent galloping over the African wilderness with herds of kudu and impala running alongside? Days spent feeding elephants, touching wild lion cubs, stalking hippo in Chobe national park? Yep, that'll all be in here too, once I've got everything ready and I'm in a bloggy state of mind.k a t i ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10168432270220552256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499372457200286594.post-69164449206283404782010-12-23T23:43:00.000-08:002010-12-23T23:46:12.458-08:00Love."Only once in your life, I truly believe, you find someone who can completely turn your world around. You tell them things that you’ve never shared with another soul and they absorb everything you say and actually want to hear more. You share hopes for the future, dreams that will never come true, goals that were never achieved and the many disappointments life has thrown at you. When something wonderful happens, you can’t wait to tell them about it, knowing they will share in your excitement. They are not embarrassed to cry with you when you are hurting or laugh with you when you make a fool of yourself. Never do they hurt your feelings or make you feel like you are not good enough, but rather they build you up and show you the things about yourself that make you special and even beautiful. There is never any pressure, jealousy or competition but only a quiet calmness when they are around. You can be yourself and not worry about what they will think of you because they love you for who you are. The things that seem insignificant to most people such as a note, song or walk become invaluable treasures kept safe in your heart to cherish forever. Memories of your childhood come back and are so clear and vivid it’s like being young again. Colours seem brighter and more brilliant. Laughter seems part of daily life where before it was infrequent or didn’t exist at all. A phone call or two during the day helps to get you through a long day’s work and always brings a smile to your face. In their presence, there’s no need for continuous conversation, but you find you’re quite content in just having them nearby. Things that never interested you before become fascinating because you know they are important to this person who is so special to you. You think of this person on every occasion and in everything you do. Simple things bring them to mind like a pale blue sky, gentle wind or even a storm cloud on the horizon. You open your heart knowing that there’s a chance it may be broken one day and in opening your heart, you experience a love and joy that you never dreamed possible. You find that being vulnerable is the only way to allow your heart to feel true pleasure that’s so real it scares you. You find strength in knowing you have a true friend and possibly a soul mate who will remain loyal to the end. Life seems completely different, exciting and worthwhile. Your only hope and security is in knowing that they are a part of your life."<br />— Bob Marleyk a t i ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10168432270220552256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499372457200286594.post-85355610277143346232010-12-12T17:49:00.000-08:002010-12-12T18:06:04.292-08:00Silly Season Shenanigans, animal style<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvCu_7T_J7Eo9_dIFklca_ksFg171LZECW0hbMG1P2R_H_ZkYgdBXEZfU8mqBQjmfeaPvWrPr-Q20DlLKVWyEWCtiDihRvJICe-BHyZG3rWN7Tmn4-JwoL6YblQ6lryTchMF2qx6dmzgIc/s1600/157092_10150097841037640_706797639_7095856_5757750_n.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 298px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvCu_7T_J7Eo9_dIFklca_ksFg171LZECW0hbMG1P2R_H_ZkYgdBXEZfU8mqBQjmfeaPvWrPr-Q20DlLKVWyEWCtiDihRvJICe-BHyZG3rWN7Tmn4-JwoL6YblQ6lryTchMF2qx6dmzgIc/s400/157092_10150097841037640_706797639_7095856_5757750_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549980843917467522" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">- altibo bay & mr darcy -</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Just can't help yourself, can you Darce?</span><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBSKMY8nGMkP9fcnF6YWFZ-iIV6op56Rrgz7ijLe0RDZCu3XKLcTn8IeMhyphenhyphenxo_YyH3Has6D2F3rODd2ozTgibDAVC0pCOmY4TrEEZ1n47TXoZ1DqjN3hMqIXSaldBCFFqyyUs5xQmf0szo/s1600/157084_10150099481007640_706797639_7118154_111823_n.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 298px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBSKMY8nGMkP9fcnF6YWFZ-iIV6op56Rrgz7ijLe0RDZCu3XKLcTn8IeMhyphenhyphenxo_YyH3Has6D2F3rODd2ozTgibDAVC0pCOmY4TrEEZ1n47TXoZ1DqjN3hMqIXSaldBCFFqyyUs5xQmf0szo/s400/157084_10150099481007640_706797639_7118154_111823_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549980753756204738" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">- phoenix -</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">"It's PLAY time!"</span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZmuqK2mJfMS6T6MdEzoj5tBPFAO6vh85vzxIEWROsEUx57pLaLRtrqkQPtolx-SC7FO7p2FGZ8PG4Vu5H-2ioRRiOWpgS5HSOcWdpcjvMFwvyst8DypwMK-wIQp1z6trnqJ13_p8d7VOQ/s1600/IMG_0230.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZmuqK2mJfMS6T6MdEzoj5tBPFAO6vh85vzxIEWROsEUx57pLaLRtrqkQPtolx-SC7FO7p2FGZ8PG4Vu5H-2ioRRiOWpgS5HSOcWdpcjvMFwvyst8DypwMK-wIQp1z6trnqJ13_p8d7VOQ/s400/IMG_0230.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549979893875695074" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">- sahara & i -</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Yes, well. We don't get out much....</span><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFJk5cTFu4LGFpyOBYVjV5-Ea0_H7Se6IPhQXjAtGmBz6qpgKozkEPsmyIbfWOh8kKQIRY2P94qohxM00DcS2ZLTBhCvN1sZjqjF_lyF-D_B3yQnke0i6pCwgGM2t9v_dZWUtSwEtzi2gp/s1600/149654_498302077639_706797639_6916218_2968215_n.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 298px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFJk5cTFu4LGFpyOBYVjV5-Ea0_H7Se6IPhQXjAtGmBz6qpgKozkEPsmyIbfWOh8kKQIRY2P94qohxM00DcS2ZLTBhCvN1sZjqjF_lyF-D_B3yQnke0i6pCwgGM2t9v_dZWUtSwEtzi2gp/s400/149654_498302077639_706797639_6916218_2968215_n.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549981833908346850" border="0" /></a><div><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">- ista kareem -</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">"... and he said, why the such a long face? AhahAHAhAhahaha...."</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div></div>k a t i ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10168432270220552256noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499372457200286594.post-56372753996958083852010-12-08T13:16:00.000-08:002010-12-08T13:34:38.039-08:00Miso soup, dog legs and robot waiters.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Issb0AiqLGWlLkrmVIDqIIoGjtw6rdNL_AHMjNaP7a4clgBWbuBxnhyaUlZcAS76E1kFc2ysNXe1TascGX2-n3qkNaq_HZYJC1kV8IKNia8Hky6OR3uYCOwcTj2_29FY1i_GODhqR76Y/s1600/1007MRnobu_605.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7Issb0AiqLGWlLkrmVIDqIIoGjtw6rdNL_AHMjNaP7a4clgBWbuBxnhyaUlZcAS76E1kFc2ysNXe1TascGX2-n3qkNaq_HZYJC1kV8IKNia8Hky6OR3uYCOwcTj2_29FY1i_GODhqR76Y/s400/1007MRnobu_605.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548427376151276018" border="0" /></a><br />Gosh, my blog is just so <span style="font-style: italic;">blah</span>. I fiddled around a few weeks ago, trying to make it all pretty, but fail. Epic, epic fail. Sigh...<br /><br />In other news... I dined at Nobu on Saturday night. I have always wanted to go, more because I associate the name with celebrities, rather than flacid dead sea creatures sitting on my plate waiting to be attacked with chopsticks, but alas, there were none there Saturday. Celebrities I mean; there were plenty of the latter.<br /><br />There's a few things I learned from my dining experience, some of which I shall share with you.<br /><br />1. Everyone - and I mean everyone - is so busy looking at the people on next table to see if they've been in any recent blockbuster videos, they can barely concentrate on conversation. I walked in, down the stairs (requiring careful navigation and excellent balancing skills as I teetered on my 5inch heels on the narrow steps, all the while trying to cover my cooch as my dress was, I fear, a little on the short side) and the heads that turned my way had nothing to do with aforementioned lady bits hanging out, it was the cursory "Do I know her?" look each new person received that night.<br /><br />2. Anything covered in tempura is delicious. Carrots, pumpkin, things I'd never thought of deep frying before...delicious.<br /><br />3. Speaking of delicious, all I'm going to say is 'sake'. Lots, and lots of sake.<br /><br />4. The waiters were clearly cloned from some sort of eerie robot man with stellar communication skills - I have never seen anything like it in my life. First instance, a man dropped his beer and it shattered in a foamy mass all around him. Within the blink of an eye, there were 3 staff, mops in hand, whispering into their ear pieces and efficiently mopping up the spill, removing the glass and replacing another beer in the blokes hand before a waiter at another restaurant could roll an eyeball. It was creepy. Case in point: our own waiter, who happened to be some sort of European underwear model or A grade actor taking a night off, was so attentive I could barely take a sip of sake without it being replaced. And how on earth they could be so attune to the fact my miso soup bowl was still 1/4 full, when the empty one had been whisked away without even touching it to test for weight, is beyond me. Now, why can I never find a boyfriend so pyschically in tune with me?<br /><br />5. There were things on that menu I would never dream of placing in my mouth. However, I tried to be adventurous, and did attempt tuna sashimi. I say attempt; I took one sniff of my handroll and nearly vomited into my magically-still-in-front-of-me miso soup. Seriously, all I could think about was how I feed practically the same thing to my cats each night, and it kind of lost its appeal.<br /><br />6. Speaking of miso soup, I've worked out what it reminds me of. My dog, Phoenix. No joke: it smells like the soft furry bits on his back paws. I know, I know, I sound more mental than usual. But anyone who has a dog surely must know how nice the backs of their legs smell? Well, now you know what my dog smells like. Miso soup.k a t i ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10168432270220552256noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499372457200286594.post-43974935601846263872010-11-28T19:56:00.000-08:002010-11-28T20:23:25.379-08:00Hi, I'm Katie, and I'm stronger than I thought.After one helluva nightmarish weekend, one in which I can safely say I went to hell and back, kicking and screaming the whole way there, there's some strange kind of tentatively optimistic hope left. Isn't that just bizarre? I spent hours, sprawled in my wardrobe, perched on my bed, howling tears so painful and soul destroying I literally forgot the simple fact that breathing out comes after breathing in. I can honestly say I never knew emotional pain could be so physically excruciating - I literally felt like my heart was aching.<br /><br />And now, two days on, where am I?<br />I'm in bed still, feverishly doing the things I should have done a long, long time ago. I've barely moved from the spot I first sat in, laptop on legs, phone in hand several hours ago. And in that time, like in the last two days of soul searching, I've done more than I have in months.<br /><br />I've applied for three brilliant sounding jobs - in aged care. That feeling I've had for as long as I can remember - primary school? - that I've wanted to be around elderly people and give them the opportunities to not only reminisce and tell stories from the past I find so interesting, but to also give them a good few hours a week in the present. Something to do with always loving my own grandparents war time stories, and dreaming of the time I most wanted to live in, long ago, and in England, when things were so much more simple.<br /><br />I have joined the gym. Pilates, Zumba, yoga, boxing and aqua aerobics, 5 days a week. No more crying each morning when I don't fit in my clothes, no more looking back at my old photos and sobbing for the thin girl trapped in this body I so severely despise. No more selfishness about feeling fat, and most of all, growing up and taking care of my body the way I should do.<br /><br />I start meditation and 'anxiety awareness' classes on Thursday. Stop this stupid, stupid, stupid self conscious crap I've lived my life doing - and maybe calming myself down when it comes to situations that freak me out. If I can learn to stop hyperventilating at the very thought of an airplane, I'll be happy. And better yet, stop thinking the "she's so much thinner/prettier/funnier/more self assured and therefore better than me" that rules my life.<br /><br />Called my mum and emailed her a list of houses available closer to me, the arm length list of events happening under my very nose in my local community I didn't even know about to entice her to move closer so I can see my best friend every day - or more than the once a fortnight trek one of us makes at the moment. How utterly brilliant would going for a coffee, walking the dog then going to the local markets, sailing classes, art demonstrations, free movies and all manner of things I never knew existed at my doorstep be, and even better, to be able to do it with my mum?<br /><br />And, from the above mentioned productivity, comes the most important thing for me: meeting new people, making new friends and having experiences I've spent my life fighting myself for. If anything comes from this weekend, it's knowing the people in my life I truly want there are few and far between, and the people I thought closest - who I've known for some time now aren't to be trusted as much as I'd have liked - are actually not the people I need around me. This is where that strange optimism seeps through my veins, like little bubbles of hope... and it's now or never. This life is what I make it, and I've been so utterly terrified of living it recently it's beyond scary. My head is out the sand, my heart is on the line, and my instincts tell me this strange silver lining is to be snapped up at all accounts; whether that heart gets broken or not. I'm living for me from now on, and I can honestly say, even though I hope with every fibre of my being that I'll have a certain someone by my side, I'm almost certain I can make this by myself. And I know I'll need to; not only for my own sake, but to make sure I give that person the best self I have, if there's ever going to be the chance to make us whole again.<br /><br />In the meantime, for the first time in over a year... I know what I want. And even better... I'm fighting for it.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 102, 204);">"This life is what you make it. Not matter what, you're going to mess up sometimes, it's a universal truth. But the good part is you get to decide how you're going to mess it up. Girls will be your friends - they'll act like it anyway. But just remember, some come, some go. The ones that stay with you through everything - they're your true best friends. Don't let go of them. Also remember, sisters make the best friends in the world. As for lovers, well, they'll come and go too. And baby, I hate to say it, most of them - actually pretty much all of them are going to break your heart, but you can't give up because if you give up, you'll never find your soul mate. You'll never find that half who makes you whole and that goes for everything. Just because you fail once, doesn't mean you're gonna fail at everything. Keep trying, hold on, and always, always, always believe in yourself, because if you don't, then who will, sweetie? So keep your head high, keep your chin up, and most importantly, keep smiling, because life's a beautiful thing and there's so much to smile about" - Marilyn Monroe.</span><br /></div>k a t i ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10168432270220552256noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499372457200286594.post-5185575327102244362010-11-25T05:02:00.000-08:002010-11-25T05:07:51.549-08:00I'll regret this in the morning.I've had about 7 new posts waiting in the wings, just waiting to be sent into cyberspace to appear on this blog, but something stopped me posting them, for one reason or another. And, upon reflection, I am kinda glad I didn't post them. Amazing, that: not jumping into things without thinking.<br /><br />Speaking of strange things, and ideas that are foreign to me...<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Rub and Tug (urban dictionary definition):</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">A name for a massage parlour or place in which after the massage is given, it is ended with a Happy Ending.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">A place or way in which a man can get 'relieved' and it not be considered cheating.</span><br /><br /><br />NOT considered cheating? Well, not only is it considered cheating by me, it's considered to be completely fucked up.<br /><br />And yes, I am sure this is one of those posts that should be sitting with its friends in drafts, too.k a t i ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10168432270220552256noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499372457200286594.post-83998636099833399442010-11-06T16:12:00.000-07:002010-11-06T16:50:54.148-07:00SaharaI'm feeling a bit... blah. For the past 3 years, I've had this constant, consuming fear of Sahara, my dog, hurting herself again, and have lain awake night after night wondering where that would leave us both. Now she's had her surgery for the exact thing I spent all that time worrying about, it's actually more acute fear than before. The first day was almost euphoric - I had my girl back, she didn't have any severe complications in surgery, she was alert and didn't seem in too much pain; all seemed well. As of this morning, she seems to have regressed and is refusing to put weight on her leg, and as usual, the first sign of anything wrong makes a cold hard lump of dread knot in my stomach. I called the vet clinic, but being Sunday, they only offer an emergency service, so I made a deal with myself I would wait a few hours to see if she shows any improvement before calling her specialist or surgeon on their emergency mobile numbers. I've dosed her with pain relief. I've given her more toys to play with, and some cheese to cheer her up. I've done all I can for now, but nothing takes away this awful feeling, like I'm being weighed down with worry.<br /><br />I wonder why I keep doing this to myself - this was ultimately my decision, and one I thought long and hard about for weeks (if not months in the dark of night whilst I couldn't get off to sleep). I considered the other option - the only alternative being having her put down. As much as the very thought brought me instantly to tears, I had to consider it for her sake, as she was in pain and had very little quality of life for a few weeks there. But I know how resilient she is - heck, this is the girl who had a 90% rupture of her anterial cruciate ligament and presented, repeatedly, as less than a 10% tear, and who has flown through the previous surgeries with attitude and aplomb. It wasn't the surgery having an impact on her that really worried me; I knew she would be sore, stiff and restricted for movement for a few weeks, but I knew it was something she could handle. Here's the bad part...it was me that I was worried for. 8 weeks of not being able to leave the house for any period of time longer than to grab some milk from the corner store. No random trips to the shops to waste some time; no ability to enjoy daylight savings riding my horses into the sunset. No nights out with friends. No trips to see Harry Potter. A quiet, excitement free Christmas, and canceled weekends away i the weeks before. A special dog minder to take her when I leave for Africa, which I have meticulously planned her x-rays, surgery dates etc around, simply so I could go and not worry about how she was doing whilst I was away.<br /><br />Yesterday was fine. I did things around the house, and spent all day with her, moving her bed around as I moved room to room. I got the downstairs room painted, a feat I had talked about for over a year. All in all, it was fine, her first full day out from surgery. But already, this morning, I am struggling a little. Sunday is my day to go to the market, go grab breakfast out, have a lazy day shopping or walking around garden centres or riding my horses. That's fine; a week or so off doesn't bother me at all, I'm quite happy my man and I are home to put in a whole irrigation system by ourselves and do the sorts of things we never seem to find time to do. But one look at Sahara's pinched and drawn face, one glance at her leg hanging limply, and I'm plunged into doom. What if she has done something to the pins in her leg? What if she needs surgery, at a cost of $5000 again tomorrow morning? Where does that leave me? And then, the overwhelming guilt - I had a few moments wishing I could duck to the shops for a coffee and mooch around the garden centre, but felt I couldn't leave her yet, and felt kind of pissed. Guilt for wanting to have a normal weekend, when I knew what I was getting myself into. Guilt for maybe a tiny bit wishing I didn't have this burden of looking after her, especially when I feel so utterly alone in doing so. Carrying her out to the toilet - all 36kg of her - at 2am in the cold, dark night while all I can hear are people my age screaming and shouting and singing drunkenly at parties...there was a split second of wondering why I chose this, and quite a bit of wondering why it is I feel so lonely in my choices.<br /><br /> My man backed this surgery financially, and I am eternally indebted to him for doing so, but emotionally... I feel completely unsupported. I have all these emotions running rampant, while I've got a sleepy dog dead weighted in my arms as I trudge around the garden to find a spot she'll wee in, and I feel I have no one to share them with. When he marvels I can hide 3 tablets in a single piece of cheese and get them down her throat in a second, or am elbow deep cleaning up the mess when she couldn't control her bowels due to her medication giving her problems, it makes me feel a bit shitty (no pun intended). Why is no one handing me the correct dosage of medication to hide into a sausage?Why doesn't he have her specialist, surgeon, local vet and 3 emergency vet clinics listed in his speed dial? Why am I told there's so much guilt I have to stay home with Sahara he's canceled all the plans I never knew he had, and have to be grateful to be second best?<br /><br />And, as I carry her wiggly butt outside for another wee, spraining a muscle in my back in the process, it clicks. How can I be alone when I have this writhing mass of fur in my arms, looking at me with eyes so full of love that I'm so close to her warm little body? I've got my best friend not just by my side like most dogs, but right there in my arms, utterly reliant on me - and completely trusting - that I will make this all alright for her. I can quite honestly say she's never doubted me for a second the way I doubt myself, she doesn't mind we're not out chasing sticks or swimming in the ocean; she's just happy she's got me all to herself. And, like that, I realize this is going to be hard, and painful for us both at times, but we're both in the same boat here - we're both sacrificing things we love for her to get better, we're both feeling sorry for ourselves and wishing things were different, but we're also both lucky to have each other. And that's going to more than make up for all these other niggles - I've always said I'd die for my girl, but I guess now we both need to work on the living part, and enjoying the moments we've got together, not worrying about what's going to happen tomorrow, or next month, or next year. And as I was scrolling through pages on the dogs old blog last night, giggling at old photos and smiling at memories I'd forgotten, I came across this quote by Gene Hill, and it seemed a bit too much like an omen not to share...<br /><br />"He is my other eyes that can see above the clouds; my other ears that hear above the winds.<br />He is the part of me that can reach out into the sea. He has told me a thousand times over that I am his reason for being; by the way he rests against my leg; by the way he thumps his tail at my smallest smile; by the way he shows his hurt when I leave without taking him. (I think it makes him sick with worry when he is not along to care for me.) When I am wrong, he is delighted to forgive. When I am angry, he clowns to make me smile. When I am happy, he is joy unbounded. When I am a fool, he ignores it. When I succeed, he brags. Without him, I am only another man. With him, I am all-powerful. He is loyalty itself. He has taught me the meaning of devotion. With him, I know a secret comfort and a private peace. He has brought me understanding where before I was ignorant. His head on my knee can heal my human hurts. His presence by my side is protection against my fears of dark and unknown things. He has promised to wait for me... whenever... wherever - in case I need him. And I expect I will - as I always have. He is just my dog."k a t i ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10168432270220552256noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499372457200286594.post-31065306520101378992010-11-04T17:09:00.001-07:002010-11-04T17:22:29.791-07:00...I'm back!After what feels like forever, I am BACK. I wasn't purposefully taking a break from blogging, it just kind of happened, and then once I stopped posting daily, or even weekly, it all seemed a bit too hard, or I simply didn't have time. Or, like recently, my lovely brand spanking new laptop fell under siege to the claw of my dog, and had been in Laptop Hospital having a new screen fitted...for four and a half weeks. Right at the time my iPhone died, and I was, thus, without any form of internet. How did I stay sane? you ask in horrified tones. I quite literally have no clue - all I recall from that hazy, horrible time was rather a lot of involuntary eye twitching any time I heard the word "google" uttered, and quite a bit of screaming, shouting and breaking of inanimate objects any time My Man dared speak of emails he had forwarded to me without thinking.<br /><br />So, what has happened in these past few months? Well, where to begin!<br />I started working for a jewelry company, I cried when horse got cancer in his leg which I am still treating him for, I stopped working for a jewelry company when they weren't paying me, I held the trophy for two of Australia's biggest horse races and sat at the owners table for the worlds best racehorse, I did a lot of boring every day stuff, I planned and plotted (and still am) for my trip to Africa in January where I will be riding horses for a week then traveling to Botswana/Zambia...<br /><br />wait. Surely I've done more than that? I'm adament there were all sorts of exciting things that have taken place recently...<br /><br />guess not. Today will be spent running around like a madwoman preparing for my pup's return from the vet hospital - complete leg reconstruction number four took place yesterday, and bionic dog had to stay overnight - and making a large batch of bone shaped cookies for The Man to say a big thank you for giving my dog a brand new leg via his credit card. And maybe finding some lacy knickers that don't leave large indentations on my thighs with the weight I've gained recently...still, I'll work on those cookies first, I think. (can't tell why this added blubber is creeping up on me...)<br /><br />So, I'm hoping to be back regularly with random updates. I find Facebook leaves me open to my great aunties second cousin - or, more worryingly, My Man's entire workplace - finding out about something I flippantly said in a status update 4 months ago after a gin and tonic or 9, and Twitter just isn't long enough for me to rant and rave... so blogging world, here I come!k a t i ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10168432270220552256noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499372457200286594.post-41765569553440828112010-06-02T18:43:00.000-07:002010-06-02T18:45:37.674-07:00I did it!<div align="center">After nearly hyperventilating with terror, I grew a set and...</div><p align="center"><br /> </p><div align="center"></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcYUmsW0MSnBp_n1xojuIAz6cNx1zwW2-3bTG1BvIc-DSeDxXeMhjGq8lrFhE8oQJGA0Z19A31HcyJaYtvZmRHlwB7W5tW8_CXkiG1MnW8eiqwjYQkdVwJS-G8IgbpR-YCoIOSTNOwG1k5/s1600/033.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478357206851258178" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcYUmsW0MSnBp_n1xojuIAz6cNx1zwW2-3bTG1BvIc-DSeDxXeMhjGq8lrFhE8oQJGA0Z19A31HcyJaYtvZmRHlwB7W5tW8_CXkiG1MnW8eiqwjYQkdVwJS-G8IgbpR-YCoIOSTNOwG1k5/s400/033.JPG" /> <p align="center"></a><span style="color:#6600cc;"><span style="font-size:180%;"> </span><span style="font-size:180%;">I DID IT!</span></span></p>k a t i ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10168432270220552256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499372457200286594.post-58260943220117103852010-05-27T01:52:00.000-07:002010-05-27T01:58:32.239-07:00Tattoo<div align="center"><br /><br /></div><div align="center">So, I've been planning getting a tattoo for years, and have always had the same design in mind. However, recently, the thought of getting something smaller and more meaningful has been running through my mind, and now, thanks to a new friend of mine who is a completely brilliant artist, I have the exact design I will be getting inked on to my inner left wrist.</div><div align="center"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjEjmBx6RsJQ5eLOoAEbz88meb3s4M9OCilKxu1tOu4s0grziSrAfqrjvrkPQ7OOdXOs3saR1hzjMjGUBLVBMlUSEQPCK_Xc491MdDCQMqUNEZHxyADO5nqNdi4qnO8VnH7F3D8OHMxyD1/s1600/B.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475870570543074082" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjEjmBx6RsJQ5eLOoAEbz88meb3s4M9OCilKxu1tOu4s0grziSrAfqrjvrkPQ7OOdXOs3saR1hzjMjGUBLVBMlUSEQPCK_Xc491MdDCQMqUNEZHxyADO5nqNdi4qnO8VnH7F3D8OHMxyD1/s400/B.jpg" /></a><br />The 'B' is for not only my mother, but my brother, my uncle, my best friend and my nan's maiden name - handy they all have that in common, no? The wings, to me, represent drawing stregth from things or places I can't necessarily see, and also as a reminder of my uncle, who died a few years back and who I loved like a father.<br /><br />The other tattoo - my 'main' one - will be inked across my shoulder blades, just above my bra, once I build the courage to get it done. I'm still modifying the design, but basically, it's the Sony Tristar pegasus!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3t8X1iqHURB2_Fi-sb1O-8TWXAyU6dxToPZ-c92mJItgupBmFTcjJDtLHJN_f6SpqVDSrcQ0k2Cq4aCrddjC_cY1afREAWfoxCvH7uC0CsJmuqnq7VcahlrMBUPX1silkd_TV0OZjAF7P/s1600/pegasus2.png"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 210px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475871427901053762" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3t8X1iqHURB2_Fi-sb1O-8TWXAyU6dxToPZ-c92mJItgupBmFTcjJDtLHJN_f6SpqVDSrcQ0k2Cq4aCrddjC_cY1afREAWfoxCvH7uC0CsJmuqnq7VcahlrMBUPX1silkd_TV0OZjAF7P/s320/pegasus2.png" /></a>k a t i ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10168432270220552256noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499372457200286594.post-76095396756375687672010-05-23T21:07:00.000-07:002010-05-23T21:37:09.592-07:00Another difficult decision<div align="center"><br /><br /></div><div align="center">So, after what seems like an age of being a nagging bitch of a housewife, things have taken a turn for the surprising. I've been having a somewhat negative outlook on things at the moment, and as a result, have been blaming peope other than myself for things I really shouldn't. So it came as a bit of a shock this morning to be asked my opinion on something I have dreamed about for a long, long time...something I have nagged about; begged for, and generally longed for since the weather decided to settle somewhere near freezing*.<br /><br />It involved the words 'holiday', and 'you choose'. You see my excitement?<br /><br />Now, it's somewhat more structured than that - I have two choices, due to some incredible Winter Warmer deal thing going on that the boy managed to locate in a travel agency somewhere. They happen to be two places I've always wanted to see, one a lot more than the other, but purely on an aesthetic level rather than an exploring and adventure one. All morning, I have been googling like mad, putting together lists and bookmarking pages; copying and pasting exciting bits of info to send via email to the boy, and generally doing my research. Turns out, the boy is more swayed by the first option, I more so by the latter (the aesthetic!).<br /><br />My two options are...<br /></div><p align="center"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 268px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474687733511946306" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh70l9dbko2JLcAP47iyVJz-ZGF7DlBxAcqi4xP6x7JjpzmDIE5H42IKn3X1l3-QF4kgX7D3qR30Dz5Nq9_h2paPMvQBoAmI_l7vuIeJO0LC96iGXSN9b9oCESfNq4bzqoC8r5ObQp7x79a/s400/westin1.jpg" /> <strong>Denarau Island, Fiji, and...</strong> </p><p><br /></p><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjePLbJHgUrxNK-rBmSjj0r2izElEXdrODTFsGTsEa5aigfjLAmK_BnJgtquppkvIxyfayid87WPr6ddj_M4wukT55sj2wPjO_6_2u9H0ks7AcIcMwA8oX1pj9D0bptlDS0E_eumW45dphi/s1600/beachclub.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 276px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5474687530761806674" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjePLbJHgUrxNK-rBmSjj0r2izElEXdrODTFsGTsEa5aigfjLAmK_BnJgtquppkvIxyfayid87WPr6ddj_M4wukT55sj2wPjO_6_2u9H0ks7AcIcMwA8oX1pj9D0bptlDS0E_eumW45dphi/s400/beachclub.jpg" /></a> <strong>Hamilton Island, off the coast of Queensland. </strong></div><p><strong></strong> </p><p align="center">Pros for Fiji: </p><p align="center">7 nights vs 5 at Hamilton Island</p><p align="center">New country to explore with more local traiditions and cultural things to see</p><p align="center">Horse riding (I plan on riding a horse in every country I visit)</p><p align="center">The hotel is the best in Fiji, and the same chain we stayed at in Kulur Lumpur which was beyond amazing.</p><p align="center">Day trips to many different islands and heaps of activities at the resort.</p><p align="center">The day spa looks to die for!</p><p align="center">The temperature is around 27c each day, so warmer than Hamilton for snorkelling and diving.</p><p align="center"> </p><p align="center">Pros for Hamilton:</p><p align="center">The infinity edge pool is absolutely amazing - drops off into the ocean.</p><p align="center">The resort is child free, and completely exclusive to members only, but we still have access to every other resort/amenity on the island.</p><p align="center">There's about 5 pool bars. I'm seriously considering making this 1st on the list.</p><p align="center">Sailing on a white yacht in the Whitsundays with beautiful azure water and bright white sand with endless snorkelling opportunities is on my Top 10 Things To Do. I can't think of anything in the world more romantic.</p><p align="center">I won't even go into the cons - the only negative thing I can think of involves flying to either destination, and once I'm in the air, I don't really mind how much further the flight is, it's the takeoff that destroys my soul.</p><p align="center">Ok, so I'm clearly leaning toward Hamilton Island, but having said that, it's based purely on what the websites have told me today - the sites for Fiji are fairly limited, and there isn't much information on day trips/things to see in the area online, but the boy has several brochures he's bringing home tonight with lots of info, so my decision can quite easily be swayed. I can honestly say, there is very few places I would rather go than actually to another country, and as we always find the most incredible experiences come from getting out and about on our own and exploring by making friends with other travelers and locals, rather than anything in a guide book, I can see Fiji being an absolutely blast.</p><p align="center">Any one want to help sway my opinion one way or another for me? Leave me some comments!</p><p align="center"> </p><p align="center"> </p><div align="center">*(or more realistically, around the 16c mark)<br /><br /><br /></div>k a t i ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10168432270220552256noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499372457200286594.post-4278585533197233242010-05-16T16:22:00.000-07:002010-05-16T16:34:29.249-07:00(In?) Sanity.So, I've been thinking about what this blog should be for quite some time. At first, I wanted an anonymous place to vent, then I wasn't so sure I didn't want my old blogging buddies not knowing about this after all, and now... well, I think it's just going to be a bit of a free for all.Take it as it comes, and, well, maybe cutting back on the bitching might not be such a bad idea...<br /><br /><br /><br />I came out of surgery on my arm this morning and am feeling utterly woe-begone. I'm not supposed to do any of the things I spend my life doing - driving, riding, walking the dogs - or, in fact, anything at all. Worked out well as I had a class on injection techniques in guinea pigs today, but still. I split the previous scar open only a few hours after the stitches came out last Thursday from the first op, so I promised myself I would be a good girl this time around. But two more weeks? We'll see how long I last before I'm back in my car.<br /><br /><br /><br />However, sitting on my ass wondering how to entertain myself (why didn't I pick up a weeks supply of chick flicks? InStyle? A new Jodie Picoult? Suduko, for goodness sake!) I read something rather interesting. Polar bears are left-paw dominant. And it got me thinking - animals have dominant paws? (Or limbs, hooves, you get the idea). I tried googling it, but could only find that dogs are 80% more dominant with their right paw. Then my thought process moved on to "well, I guess Panda's eat more bamboo with one hand than the other, and I suppose gibbons swing through the trees favoring one arm more..." and then I realized.<br /><br />I am going to go completely insane over these next two weeks, so what better time to get this blog started? Please... if you've got anything of interest for me, any suggestions for what to google next, books to read, movies to watch... I beg you, leave me a comment and keep me sane!k a t i ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10168432270220552256noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2499372457200286594.post-39765541646261674482010-04-08T20:41:00.000-07:002010-04-08T20:45:58.919-07:00PossessionLove this - from The Time Traveler's Wife.<br /><br />"What is it? My dear?"<br />"Ah, how can we bear it?"<br />"Bear what?"<br />"This. For so short a time. How can we sleep this time away?"<br />"We can be quiet together, and pretend - since it is only the beginning - that we have all the time in the world."<br />"And every day we shall have less. And then none."<br />"Would you rather, therefore, have had nothing at all?"<br />"No. This is where I have always been coming to. Since my time began. And when I go away from here, this will the mid-point, to which everything ran, before, and<span style="font-style: italic;"> from</span> which everything will run. But now, my love, we are here, we are <span style="font-style: italic;">now</span>, and those other times are running elsewhere."<br /><br />- A. S. Byatt, <span style="font-style: italic;">Possession</span>k a t i ehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10168432270220552256noreply@blogger.com0