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Blogging American - as the Yank in Oz

 
Former American city girl now living in the bush in Australia. I am a freelance column writer for a Central Queensland newspaper. I love my life, I love my kids, and I love being a Yank in Oz.

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Hen's, condoms and vacuums.

August 24th 2010 01:06
Marriage; two people meet, fall in love and vow to spend eternity together in wedded bliss. But somewhere along the historical highway of holy matrimony, someone invented the hen and buck’s nights.

I decided before attending my first hen’s night a few days ago, to look up the origins of this fascinating rite of passage. I found out that many years ago a stuffy Dutchman, expecting nothing less than Prince Charming for his spoiled offspring of a daughter, was at best disappointed by her choice in suitors; a poor miller having not much to offer in the way of a dowry.


The well-intentioned friends of the Dutchman’s daughter decided to mend fences and showed up on her doorstep laden with gifts and crafts to try and bridge the gap between the miller’s miniscule possessions, and the expectations of the father. It worked, and thus began the story of the pre-nuptial gathering of women, gifts and frivolity.

So you must understand my confusion when (seated next to my mother-in-law I might add) I had not predicted that we would be, oh, how should I say this...smelling prophylactic contraceptive devices to guess the flavour, for a prize. And the worst part is I only guessed three out of five correct; who would have thought you could get the smell of kiwi into one of those things?

So after many games like making a wedding dress out of toilet paper and moulding various objects out of Play-Dough – with one attempt at a “vacuum” looking a little too structurally close to a part of the male anatomy – it was time for gifts.


There were the usual negligees, panties and oils, and one gift in particular that if I were to explain it here, they would have to put an “R” rating on the column. But it did serve as the catalyst for some of the best laughs I’ve had in a long time.

So although I’m sure the Dutchman’s daughter didn’t receive g-strings and body paint, the foundation of what they started all of those years ago still continues; to bring people together in support of a love story.

And isn’t that what it’s all about anyway?


image credit: Really Long Link cards
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Meditating on the buttocks...

August 16th 2010 00:26
Being the mother of two small children certainly can take a toll on you in so many ways. You lose sleep, are the last to eat and refereeing fights over one, broken crayon can almost send you to the loony bin.

So in an effort to keep my sanity and not give my children a reason to invite me on the Jerry Springer show one day, I signed up for an eight-week course on meditation.

Upon arriving at the first class I realized that you cannot make assumptions on the types of people who choose to learn this 5000 –year old craft, nor the reasons they do it. The ages ranged from early twenties to sixties, and varied from people needing help with anxiety to one woman saying she just wanted to see what all the hype was about.

So after small introductions and a few tips on how to deal with the inevitable mind chatter awaiting us as we started our new journey, our instructor informed us she would be helping us by doing a guided meditation of the body.

As we sat in our meditative positions and listened to her calm, soothing voice saying, “Head...eyes...mouth...neck.. .” I realized I was breathing deeply, calmly falling into the sound of her voice as I imagined energy moving from one part to the next and so on.

This was easier than I had imagined. I was able to stay focused and move through my body imagining the healing light enveloping every cell. Until...
“Chest...stomach...BUTTOCKS.” I stifled a giggle.

I slightly opened up one eye just to see if anyone else had noticed how funny the word “buttocks” sounds when everything else in the room in silent. No one even appeared to be anything but Zen.

“Okay, you can do this,” I thought. “Do not embarrass yourself over the word ‘buttocks’.” I begged myself.

“Feet...ankles, lower leg, thigh...”

“Here it comes again,” I thought.

“BUTTOCKS.”

I bit my lip and blew a small laugh out of my nose. All I could think was that although getting the giggles feels great to the person who gets them, you always look a tad insane to those who have to witness it.

Thankfully before I could worry about losing it worse, the meditation was over. So I’m no Dalai Lama, but then again, maybe he’s never heard the word “buttocks”.


image credit: Really Long Link
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So as of last Thursday I am now officially a thirty-eight year old. I may as well have just written “alien crop circle maker” because it would have seemed just as unbelievable to me.

When I say the last ten years have gone fast, I am not telling anyone over the age of thirty-five anything new. I think everyone agrees that the older you get, the faster time goes. It seems like just yesterday I was making bad dating decisions, getting drunk too much and living in a small apartment trying to figure out how I was going to make rent that month


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Perception is a tricky thing. Your perception is moulded from all sorts of factors from life experience to even TV. For example, our perception of hot and cold weather varies from person to person or place to place. A cold winter to someone here in Australia is actually a beautiful spring day to someone like me who came from temperatures around -8 degrees Celsius during the coldest part of winter.

Another good example of perception is how various countries around the world view beauty. Brazil, according to the United Nations International Narcotics Control Board (INCB) “has the highest per capita consumption of weigh-reducing medication” since being overweight is not accepted there and nothing short of looking like Jessica Biel gets you a sideways look. Where on the flipside in Mauritania, a country in North Africa, men prefer their women, oh we’ll just say...robust. In this vast, desert covered land, the size of the women is considered a sign of their family’s wealth, so bigger is always better, as they say


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When rednecks dine out.

July 20th 2010 05:44
Let’s face it, after having kids little things start to fall to the wayside; romance, sleep, uninterrupted baths, so every now and then you have to take time out for yourselves and get back on the horse.

So last weekend the hubby and I decided to not only go on a date, but to go to a really nice restaurant we’ve wanted to try


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I'm not fat, you're fat.

July 16th 2010 08:45
So the contest continues; who can be the fattest country in the world. I’ve been hearing for a while now that Australia and America are neck and neck for the gold so I decided to do some research to find out the truth; who exactly is the fattest country in the world?

I checked with Forbes.com and found that we Americans, who are naturally competitive by nature, are giving it a darn good go to get to that top spot on the Flabby McFatty scale. But I was honestly shocked to find out that we came in a modest 9th place out of a possible 194 countries


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So the other day one of my well-intentioned friends (for lack of a better description that won’t make them cross me off their Christmas list) sent me an article about marriage complaints and how to handle them.

Why not? Even Dr. Phil was a student at some point. So, I decided to read the article. Now, right off, I have to tell you the author – who shall remain nameless – lost me when she stated, in the first sentence, that “During the first couple of years of marriage, you and your spouse will begin to get a feel for the idiosyncrasies you both possess


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Auf Weidersehn Fakebook

July 2nd 2010 00:57
Some friendships you just have to let go. They no longer serve a purpose and take up too much of your time while giving nothing in return.

Who is this friend you ask? Well, it’s Facebook. That’s right, I said goodbye to the social networking utility used by 5.7% of the world’s population


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Deadlines and nude oil paintings.

June 25th 2010 07:58
The affable columnist Tanya Lau once wrote about the difficulties on writing a column every week. At the time, I was a new columnist with a virtual mental hard drive full of humorous anecdotes and couldn’t imagine ever sitting in front of the computer screen staring blankly as the deadline approached.

Writer Douglas Adams once said, “I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by." I haven’t exactly heard the whooshing sound, but I blame that on the fact that perhaps Douglas didn’t have a one and three-year old trying to out-scream each other to see who could sound the most like a boiling tea kettle. They’re tied, in case you’re wondering


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Coke and a movie, now I'm broke!

June 18th 2010 03:16
It dawned on me lately – and yes, I just crawled out from under a rock – that all of the things in this world that you really need or want cost the most money. Grocery prices, ridiculous; batteries, so costly for those two minutes of annoying music you get in the kids’ toys; alcohol, sky high but necessary if you ask my dear husband; and entertainment, movies specifically, absurd.

Case in point: Harry Potter movies 1-5 earned a gross revenue of $5,234,335,499. Yes, that’s billion, not million. And it’s no wonder considering the price they charge us for a movie ticket


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