A Tale Of Twin Sisters

Stranger than anything that a soap-opera writer could come up with - because it's true.

There were once twin sisters. They loved each other deeply and did everything together. Unfortunately, they fell in love with the same man. He was exotic, handsome foreigner with no place to stay so they invited him to share their home. He moved in and was soon making moves on both of the girls and both were incapable of resisting his charms.

One night, one of the sisters admitted tearfully that she loved the handsome stranger. This made the other sister break down and regretfully admit that she felt the same. It was a quandary as he loved both of the girls equally and none could bare to be the one to walk away. The twins decided that their love for each other was strong enough to stop any jealousy and that the only thing they could do would be to share him.

And sharing worked fine for a while. They were all living happily until one of the girls became unwell. She realised that she wasn't able to procreate and this made the most fierce jealousy rise in her breast. All of a sudden she couldn't bear the sight of her twin and did anything to make her look bad in the sight of the man. And in an ultimate act of desperation, she faked a pregnancy then stole her sister's offspring.

THE END

Actually it's not really a story about people. This melodrama has been played out in my backyard in the chook pen. I've mentioned before about the tall, handsome (to some eyes) stranger.



Personally I don't see the attraction - but I'm not a chook. He has become a permanent fixture in the chicken run and the girls seem very happy to share their food with him.

One of the chickens started laying weird eggs. I suspected that she had a calcium deficiency.



But not long afterwards she began to kick the other hen's good eggs out of the nest so we were getting one weak egg that was sometimes broken and the other egg was being smashed on the ground. A bit of layer's feed has fixed the calcium problem but now our jealous, calcium deficient hen has become clucky.



She won't leave her nest unless I force her out. And she won't let the other hen roost. The other day I decided that the best way to fix her would be to block her out of the hen house. She was not happy - and neither was her fine-feathered friend who had nowhere to lay her egg. But I guess laying an egg is a little like going to the toilet - when you've got to go, you've got to go! She found an alternative - an old cement laundry tub that is now a planter. She layed her egg only to have her nest immediately overtaken by the clucky hen. She claimed the egg as her own and set about trying to incubate it. Talk about delusional! I'm thinking we might have to add anti-psychotic drugs to her water.

Does anyone else have weird pets?

Feeling Strong

Today I had the best speed session that I've had since September last year. And that's without exaggeration. I document all my speed sessions - keep a record of the session, my lap times, my heart rate and even the weather. (Okay , so it might make me look a little obsessive-compulsive but I'm now at an age where I don't really care what other people think)

We've done this session at least once a month over the last couple of months. It's 1k reps with a 100m walk recovery. I personally think 100m isn't quite long enough so I compensate by walking really slow. At the beginning of October I did the session with my first rep starting at 4:37 and my 5th rep being 5:10. So much for keeping it consistent.

Two weeks after that we did it again and I started out slower (having learnt from the nasty experience before). I started with a 4:56 then it was 4:44, 4:54, 4:58. And the final rep I only made it to the 500m mark before having to walk. My other runs were going pretty badly too BUT I had a plan of action (which I mentioned a few weeks back) to work on my strength and to increase my protein intake.

So fast-forward five weeks. I felt like I was taking it easy on the first rep - but I always feel like I'm taking it easy. I thought about my running form. About having a faster cadence and to try to keep my bodyweight over my landing leg. I lapped my watch at 4:37. Not too bad, but probably a little fast and I would be paying for it later. For the second rep I concentrated on the same things as the first while playing the last song I'd heard on my car radio over and over in an endless loop (Don't know the name of the song but the only words I know from it are 'you'd better run, better run, outrun my gun') Time for the second rep was 4:38.

Now I knew that I was definitely going to pay for my foolhardy ways. The next rep was going to really hurt! But I kept my legs ticking over and pushing and lap 3 finished in 4:41. I did two more reps - 4:49 and 4:48 - and they felt hard but I did not feel at any time that I was going to die! (Which may or may not have happened the last few time I did this session)

And this is coming just a day after a 10k run where my average pace was 5:21/k. Lately I've been running around the 5:40-5:50 mark and, admittedly it was a little cooler, but I know I'm feeling stronger and way less tired just generally. So am I happy - hell, yes!

But on a less happy note - we had a little visit from our neighbour the other day. I think most neighbourhoods has one of these people - an older lady who rarely leaves the street, knows exactly what's going on and is happy to let you know when your noises are bothering her (I still think she hasn't forgiven Sam for all those morning trumpet practices of The Last Post when he was 12). She stopped Iven and I as we were trying to make a quick get-away in the car to let us know that she wasn't happy with our recent installation of a garage door because she couldn't tell if we were home or not.

She leant into the window and it was then that I noticed that the most strategic of her buttons had come undone AND she wasn't wearing a bra under her dress. Poor Iven! He had the best view. He swears he didn't look but I'm sure he got a quick peak before he realised he had to look away. I don't think he'll ever be able to look her in the face again.

52 Cupcakes and a Leotard.

My last two days have had a small degree of insanity thrown in. A few months ago a running friend asked me to do the cakes for her 30th birthday party. She was flattering about my cake-making ability and my ego ended up getting in the way of common sense and I agreed. Fifty cupcakes and a big cake. All caramel mud. Yep, no worries.

It's no worries when you agree to it six weeks out. But as time gets closer the worries start to happen. What if the cakes flop. What if the weather's really bad and the icing flops? And what the hell am I going to do with the big cake? Decorating cupcakes are a breeze now but big cakes are another story.

Anna was having a disco party theme and really wanted peace signs on the cakes. At times like this I wished I live in the States. I could get some sent over but no one outlet had enough and then their was the time issue - would they get through Customs in time? Anna was on the hunt too and she found some Edible Images that were appropriate. They're little discs of printed rice paper and she picked some with disco balls on them and others with silhouetted disco dancers. A few days ago I decided to have a trial run with them and it was a disaster! The rice paper had been affected by our humidity and they had turned to mush. We needed a plan B.

Plan B was just to colour the icing really bright. But before any decorating could happen I needed to bake some cakes. It took 6 batches of caramel mud cake and my oven blazing for 3 hours to get them all done but I managed it without any disasters. Then the cakes had to survive night-time kitchen raids from hungry boys before I set about decorating them. I was relieved to still count 52 cakes the next morning.

I started early on Friday. Made caramel buttercream and dirty-iced the big cake. Then I rolled out the plastic icing and prayed I would get it over the cake in one piece. Success! I just had to smooth down the sides and trim off the edges and it looked good.

Next was making a double batch of fluffy frosting. I've had some problems with this over the last couple of weeks but again it all went beautifully. But the colouring was actually more challenging than I thought it would be. The violet paste I had was not the pretty purple that I had imagined in my head and I had to use so much yellow colouring that it softened the fluffy frosting so when I piped it I was afraid it would just go limp over the cakes. But I told myself that it would be good enough (I'm such a perfectionist that I worry over every perceived flaw) and it was a good time to go get a coffee.

And that's when the real fun began. Someone (and I'm mentioning no names, Luke) had left my car cabin light on all night and the battery was totally flat. I stomped back upstairs in a coffee rage and hit Luke over the back of his head then realised that Josh's car was there. He let me borrow it (he was half asleep when I asked and probably didn't know what he was agreeing to). I jumped into the car and got half way up the street before his really loud music almost shot me through the roof. If I wasn't already strung out, I was now. I almost got to the shopping centre when I noticed that his empty fuel gauge light was on. Great! How long had it been on? Had he been driving around with it on for a while? Was I going to get home? My personal stress level gauge was flashing red. I finally got my coffee and sat down with a sigh and then the girl in the seat next to me picked up her piano accordion and started playing - badly. Who does this in the food court of a shopping centre?!! And why did she wait until I was in desperate need of some peace?

Happily I made it home without any problems and my piano accordion-playing friend also survived despite my better judgement. The rest of the cake icing went smoothly and my day finished with a visit from my friend Karen, who was picking up the cakes, a chat with Coach Chris and a 2 hour coffee with another friend Natalie. I also got my car battery changed. But I got no sewing work done at all so my leotard count for this week is a measly one.



I'm relieved to have my second big cupcake order done and it's reinforced that I'd never really want to do it as a career. I'm just too much of a stress-head.

Oh Christmas Tree

After a crying jag on Tuesday I'm feeling a lot better. It's funny the way you can start crying for one reason and then all the negatives that have EVER happened in your life get included. I'm so grateful that I only had one client on Tuesday cause those red eyes were not pretty. But I am glad I got it out of my system. It was really cathartic. (I will point out that I'm not a big crier. The last time I had a good cry for a legitimate reason, not just an Australian getting a medal at the Olympics, was probably when I lost my Grandma about 10 years ago)

So it's back to business as usual but things haven't been quite usual in my workroom. Something has died in the little storeroom which is at the back. And with the weather the way it's been (hot, humid and horrible) decomposition was well underway on Tuesday when I walked in. UGGH! I'm pretty sure the something that died was a rat (Iven put some rat baits down about a week ago) but locating and disposing of the corpse was an impossible task. Impossible because the storeroom is full of stuff (because it's a storeroom, duh!) and because, even if I found it, I wouldn't want to touch it.

I did have a cursory look around. And the buzzing flies gave me the hint that I was in the right vicinity. I actually have a sneaking suspicion that my little rat friend has made our Christmas tree his last resting place. He had a penchant for the Christmas tree a couple of years back and made a nice little nest in the box, probably raised his family there and felt the loneliness of the empty-nest syndrome when they left for greener pastures.

Our Christmas tree has not been used since. There was not enough pine-scented freshener in the world that could cover the smell that our unwanted house guests left. Next time there's a council clean up our tree will go on the top of the pile and I pity the scavengers that decide they'd like a new tree from our pile.

I considered sending Bubbles in to take a look too. Bubbles has a good amount of fox terrier in her and foxies are used as ratters so maybe her primitive instincts would come to the fore. But apparently Bubbles sees herself more as a girl than a vicious killing machine that rodents fear. She took one whiff and ran out of the room - the room that I had to spend the rest of the day working in.

Luckily the vile, stinking weather has done a good job along with the maggots that I'm sure are crawling around the Christmas tree, and the stench is starting to dissipate. I never thought I'd be so grateful to the process of decomposition and fly larvae. And really if you think about it we could probably still use the Christmas tree - spray paint all those juicy maggots silver and they could give the illusion of icicles. Just a thought.

Stuff

Just feeling a bit sad today. Sam and Hannah have broken up and I'm feeling a little like I've broken up too. Hannah has been accepted into Medicine down in Sydney (a four year course) and because of a host of different factors they've decided to split.

Hannah has been coming around for more than three years now. When she came over the first time, I couldn't believe how quiet and shy she was. But over time she's relaxed and grown to be like one of the family and I guess that's why I'm feeling it. It was so nice to have a girl around the house to help dilute the testosterone - especially one that would laugh with me at the boys and their strange male ways.

But as much as I'd like to - I don't have control over the situation so I have to just get on with things. As does Sam. He started his Physiotherapy course yesterday and has a lot of work ahead. It's so exciting for him - this is what he's always wanted to do. It was his first choice of course when he left high school but he didn't quite get the marks to get in. So he's had to do things the long way round but has showed such determination and tenacity to get what he wanted. I'm just so proud of him.

The weather has been vile here for the last week. And today was the most vile of all. The temperature didn't drop below 25C /77F last night and when it came time for speed session it was a very unpleasant 27C / 80F with a humidity of 92%. Coach Chris showed compassion and gave us equal recovery to repetition but by midway I found I was walking some of the recovery. But I figure we should get extra brownie points for just showing up on a day like today. Thank goodness there's a cool change forecast for Thursday.

And on the work front I've gotten quite busy - ridiculous at this time of the year! All of my rhythmic girls have decided to get sorted out early and all of a sudden I have a pile of designs on my workroom table. It's actually quite a fun thing to do when there's not the pressure of other work and I've finished 2 in the last week




Both still have to be blinged up but I'm pretty pleased with how they've turned out.

Is There Something Wrong With Me?

There's a lot of happy on my face today. It's a tired kind of happy and it's all because of my run. As all you regular readers out there know, I've been having some injury issues for 3+ months now. I haven't had to stop running but my running has been uncomfortable and post-run it's been quite painful at times. I've been doing all the right stuff - massage, physio, active release, stretching, strengthening and, recently, a plyometric program designed by #1 son Sam. After today's run where there was minimal pain and, more importantly, minimal post-run pain he has been elevated to #1 in more than just birth order - that is until he leaves his undies on the floor or a sink full of dishes and it'll be back to status quo.

I wrote last week about how I psychologically screw with my husband's head. (I'm betting some of you thought that last Saturday's post had something to do with the happy on my face - well the guilty parties can wash their minds out with soap) I realised that I do it to my animals too. I'm guessing there's not too many sick and twisted 'animal-lovers' out there who do what I do.



For dinner last night I decided to have a chicken salad and microwaved potato in the jacket. I had a cooked chicken in the fridge but there wasn't much left so I picked the carcass clean. Then what did I do with the bones? I did what every vet recommends that you shouldn't. I gave them to the dogs. But I didn't just give them to the dogs. I tossed them out the window so the dogs would have to race outside to have what amounted to an easter egg hunt. And I did it in full view of our chickens. No wonder we've been getting a regular supply of eggs - they know their fates if they don't perform.



My cooked chicken came with stuffing which never gets eaten by the family. Stuffing is basically 100% carbs and if I give that to Nelson he ends up with the most vile and prolific flatulence. So where did the stuffing end up? I gave it to the chickens. And took a lot of pleasure in watching them stuff themselves. I'm sick I tell you!

Wednesday Workout

I love Wednesdays. It's one of the few days of the week where I can turn the alarm off and wake when I want to wake. I'm generally still in a good mood from my Tuesday speed session and I'm starting to plan where I'll go on my Thursday run.

But just because I'm not running doesn't mean that I'm lazy. Wednesday has become a strength work-out day and I'm really starting to love those sessions. Sam has changed my program up so today was the first time doing a lot of the exercises. Man, I can be a bit gumby until my muscles have learnt what they're supposed to do. My favourite today were dropping off the coffee table into a semi-squat and straight away into a long jump. I land like an elephant and I'm wondering how long our floor boards will cope.

It's gotten SO hot lately. I had been doing this workout in my pyjamas but until they bring out technical pyjamas I've had to change this habit. Because it's so hot, the more skin exposed to the air the better so today's ensemble was a fetching pair of shorty shorts (okay they were my pyjama bottoms but they were due for a wash) and a crop top. Unfortunately I didn't put the crop top on till I'd remembered that I'd be sweating up a storm and the getting on of the top was a workout in itself. I managed to get it bunched up around my sweaty shoulders and had to do this contortionist act to roll it down. And in the rolling-down process I managed to tangle up a sensitive part of my anatomy in the elastic. I didn't realise that I'd hurt it though until I hit the shower. It reminded me of the times when I was breastfeeding my teething babies. Ouch!

Having a shower this morning was not the normal uncomplicated event it normally is wherein you turn on the taps, adjust the temperature and hop in. I turned on the cold tap and nothing happened. But being a modern, capable woman I did not ring my husband in a flood of tears and insist that he come home and fix it. I decided to investigate myself. Still in my workout/sleeping clothes I took my sweaty self down the front stairs in search of a burst pipe. There was no puddles/pools/lakes of water to be seen which was a good sign so my next step was to check the water mains. Before I got close I could see what the problem was. My neighbour had plumbers in and they'd turned off our water instead of his. They quickly turned mine back on and I even got a hug out of them - pity it was from the old one who was missing half his front teeth. Why couldn't he have a young, muscle-bound side-kick who has to do all the dirty, sweaty work?