Car registration and licence renewal - sticky business.

Why is it so hard to remove the old registration sticker from the windscreen? My old one was peeling off on one side and tricked me into thinking it would be a piece of cake to remove it.  Boy, was I wrong! How can it be that one half of something just peels itself off and the other side requires a sand blaster and at least a week to remove?

Armed with my bottle of eucalyptus oil and a palette knife, I thought it would take a few minutes. Half an hour later, the windows were fogged and I was as high as a koala on eucalyptus. It seemed little progress had been made, but there was a carpet of tiny, sticky shavings of the old blue registration sticker all over the front seat.

At last I felt that enough had been removed to allow me to apply the new sticker. I pressed very lightly, hoping that this time next year, the removal process would be quick and easy. I have this thought every year. Every year I am disappointed.

The digital age is yet to reach Vic Roads. Surely we should just have a permanent bar code or a chip or something, but we're still on old, cumbersome technology.

I was actually late with my payment and realised the same day that my driver's licence had also expired. It hadn't been a problem because I only drive occasionally and I had been away travelling interstate. I logged onto internet banking ready to make the payments. I looked at all the paperwork I had received and could find no information about how to pay electronically. I called the call centre and was invited to pay over the phone - a method requiring credit card with only Visa or Mastercard offered as options. I enquired about BPay and was advised that because I needed a photo for my licence that option wasn't offered. In relation to the car registration, I was not able to pay by BPay because the payment was overdue. I would need to go to a Vic Roads office.  I opted to pay by credit card.

When I asked the woman about the lack of flexible payment options, she reminded me that my payment was overdue. Eternal damnation for me!

I confirmed with her that now that I had written the receipt number she provided on the driver's licence renewal I should take that to a "photo point"...? This seemed to be what the booklet and the form suggested.

"NO! Because your payment is overdue, you need to wait for me to send a zero balance data card to you in the mail. You then take that to the photo point. They won't take your photo if your renewal notice is showing a balance."

"Okay. But if I had paid on time, over the phone, I would be able to go to a photo point and they would take my photo?"

"Yes."

"But the renewal would not be showing a zero balance...?"

"I've already explained that your payment is overdue. I've explained that to you."

It truly did feel that the minute the clock struck midnight Vic Roads was going to make the process unbearably difficult - perhaps to motivate me to be more organised in ten years' time when my licence expires!

In the meantime, my car smells like eucalyptus and the new sticker is threatening to curl its corners.

Creature feature - from the bottom of the toilet

HELLO! I've had a little journey. First for work and then to celebrate my birthday (Halloween) with family in the country. Long days of work and then other things to pay attention to, meant that I haven't been here.  Back and refreshed now!

On arrival home at about 9:30pm, after I put my bags down and turned the hot water service back on (I turn it off when I'm away to save electricity), I visited the toilet.  When I lifted the lid, there was a critter in there! A long critter; a spiny critter; a critter with more than four or eight legs. It had antennae too.

I stared at it, trying to ascertain whether it was alive or dead. I'd never seen anything like it before, so I had no way of knowing. It seemed to be moving, but that could have been the water making it move.  For my homecoming, I had not planned to find myself starring in my very own creature feature.

I'd been away for over a week, so I knew it hadn't come out of me!

Images of horror ran through my mind.

The creature was activated by the light let in when I opened the lid, growing enormously as it emerged from the toilet bowl and devoured me whole.

If I sat, I risked the creature finding its way to my brain via a lower orifice. It would control me. From the outside I would look the same, but there would be a flash of something in my eyes that people would think they saw, but wouldn't be sure.

What if I flushed and it was still there? What if it wasn't really there and I was imagining it? What if I looked in the mirror and saw it standing behind me?

I looked more closely. Maybe it wasn't organic! It might be some kind of high tech wizardry, made to look organic, but actually it was a literal bug...but what a strange place to put it? It would be hard to hear my conversations from the bottom of the loo. I don't really have many conversations there. Maybe it was a government surveillance device, designed to assess my diet or see whether I was being affected by some secret chemical they are covertly putting in the water.

Taking a breath, I decided that it was just a strange thing that had somehow crawled through or been washed through and landed in my pristine toilet bowl. I sat. Very focussed on whether I could feel any creepy crawly sensations. There were none. I tried to see if it was still there before I flushed, but the view was, ahem, obscured.

I paused. Had one of my freaky imaginings come true?

NO.

I flushed.

As the creature surfed his way back to the sewers, I imagined that he would join the secret colony of sewer creatures. Maybe he was an advance guard, doing reconnaissance to find a new home. What if he came back? With his whole family?

I lowered the lid, turned off the light and closed the door.

Was that a sound I heard? Why was I suddenly itchy? ...

Have you ever found a creature at the bottom of the toilet? What was it? 

Behind the scenes - my Million Dollar Minute

My latest outing on television game shows aired this week. I can now reveal, for those who didn't see Million Dollar Minute, that I am not a millionaire. Repeat, NOT a millionaire. I'm not even a few bucks richer. They gave me a box of chocolates - a nice gesture, but of course I don't eat sugar. It's moments like these that I realise how sugar driven the world is. Small rewards usually come in the form of sugar. Even an order of sock yarn arrived with a lollipop in the package the other day.

But I digress.

Watching the show was strangely nerve wracking, even though I knew the outcome. I think I was worried that my slow start would leave me looking like some dumb person who answered one question and it was about Versace. You know?

While there's lots I'm contractually bound not to talk about, I can say that game shows are a fascinating opportunity to examine a cross section of the community. A bunch of twelve or so strangers are flung together in the green room for hours on end. It's easy to spot the ones who are deadly serious about their purpose: they don't say a lot and when asked anything they are reticent. Being the extrovert that I am, I talk to everyone and find out as much as I can, meanwhile, there's a guy asleep on the couch (how did they remove the sleep lines before he went to air?)

With the daily newspapers at hand, I decided to lead the quizzes. This is a great way to test the mettle of the deadly serious ones. They can't help but reveal their knowledge. At this point I ask if anyone needs me to shut up. They laugh and the crew who is minding us says "no" in a "thank god you're here" kind of way. It's their job to sit in a room babysitting adults all day. They were terrific.

A television, tuned to the home network, plays in the corner. It's infomercial hour, so after ten minutes of that we're all ready to shoot the television. DVDs have been provided for our entertainment, as well as several jigsaw puzzles. No Scrabble set though. I choose a retrospective of the comedy show "Fast Forward" which proves to be a hit. We all marvel at the cleverness and the fact that much of the humour would not be allowed on television today (think Magda Subanski in black face!). Ages of fellow competitors were revealed as people in my age group could quote along with the skits and characters.

There were some formalities - rules, contracts etc - and the opportunity to practise on the buzzers and the touch screen. I was first in and happily got all five questions in the practise round correct. Julius, one of the other contestants, said my name was written down by everyone else when I got the question about the fennec fox correct . It's renowned for its large ears. Apparently. I fluked that one, but they didn't need to know that.

I was glad to have my knitting with me. It's always handy for passing the time when you have to just wait. Nothing else, just waiting. We were in a time vortex with nothing much happening, but immense anticipation in the air. Contestants would come back from their filming either jubilant at winning some money or devastated after losing their chance.

I will confess that I sledged the champ in between sessions. Nicely. But I did want to get under his skin and rattle him a bit. He was an air traffic controller and cool as a cucumber. Meanwhile, I was in some weird tunnel for the first round. It took ages for me to hear and process the question before I could even get around to pressing the buzzer. I gave myself a good talking to and things picked up from there.

In the end, I got the second last question wrong which locked me out for the next one (which I knew) and I was beaten by 15 points. The champ had bought 15 points earlier in the game. It was an exciting battle at the end. It would have been more exciting if it was me playing for $20,000, but that's life.

My next sit-com idea will be set in a the green room of a game show.

Have you won anything lately?

Ladies and Gentlemen - The art of being MC

I've spent the last three days as an MC at Work Safe Week at the Melbourne Convention Centre. One of the great things about being an MC is that you get to meet lots of really interesting people and learn from them. I've spent time learning about everything from manual handling risks and solutions to removing slip, trip and fall hazards; the impact of fatigue on safety at work to how injured or sick people think. I've chaired panels of Work Safe Inspectors and Health and Safety Representatives and there was never a moment when I was anything less than interested in what I was hearing.

There was a common passion all of these people had - the desire to make sure everyone comes home from work safely and the desire to support people in workplaces across the state to help make this a reality.

At the end of each presentation I facilitated a Q & A session. Generally people had genuine questions and were pleased to have the opportunity to ask and respectful of the people asking them. Occasionally, the soap box would be wheeled out and an audience member would ramble on with a story, or argue with the answer they had been given. On one occasion, an attendee attacked the panel on the quality of their presentation. My other favourite thing is when someone argues from the floor about whether or not they really need to use the microphone to ask their questions. Usually the audience will tell them that they do need to use it, as they struggle to actually hear what is being asked.

It's these moments that cause clients to congratulate themselves on the decision to hire an MC, presenters to thank the gods that they don't have to manage the situation. Other members of the audience will breathe a sigh of relief and silently (or actually) applaud when tricky audience situations are sensitively and firmly handled. It's moments like these that cause me to wonder what's going on for a person who feels the need to publicly have a go at volunteers who are serving their workplace community.

The Sufi saying about being aware that every single person you meet is in a silent battle with something that you don't know about, springs to mind.

One of the themes for the event was that change begins with a single action. I asked participants to consider what "one thing" they would do when they returned to their workplace.

My workplace varies wildly from day to day; often I'm at work at the kitchen table at home. My apartment was built in the days where each room only had one power point, so I have electrical cords running all over the place. I'm off to buy some gaffer tape and some extension leads so I can secure the cords out of the way and reduce my risk of a slip, trip or fall at home.

I spent the whole event working in the one room with the same tech guy. He was great to work with and instilled confidence in me and the presenters that he would make sure everything worked smoothly. I spent time every day talking to him and appreciating him; this morning I gave him a small box of chocolates to say thank you. He was chuffed. It was a small gesture that was easy to do and sincerely intended and I know that I have someone in my network who would not hesitate to recommend my work.

Did you go to the Work Safe Week event? What's the one thing you need to do in your workplace to remove a hazard or risk? Do you go out of your way to show appreciation to the people you rely on? How easy are you to work with?

And lastly, having spent three days in the MC role and contemplating my appearance on Million Dollar Minute (on the television in 8 minutes) I do wonder why game show hosts are usually male. Why is that?

View from the office - Melbourne Convention and Exhibition Centre

This week I'm MC at Worksafe Week at the Melbourne Convention and Exhibition Centre. It's a really interesting - if tiring - gig.

This morning on the way in to prepare for the morning's first session, I stopped to pay attention to the building. It is enormous and I find it very appealing. There are many angles and I enjoyed stopping to take some photographs.

© divacultura 2013

Looking out.
© divacultura 2013

Looking down
© divacultura 2013

Looking down at an angle
© divacultura 2013

What was the view from your office today?

Support Travellers' Aid - grab a funky myki cover

I just discovered this fundraising activity for Travellers' Aid, an organisation that provides assistance to people needing extra help when using public transport. (Thanks Daniel Bowen.) You can order a funky holder for your myki card and help support a good cause at the same time. Covers are free and you pay $2.50 postage and handling.

I walk past the Travellers' Aid centre at Flinders Street station most days, on my way to platform 10 and have often wondered what they do. After reading their website, I was very happy to also make a donation to support their work. As well as providing physical facilities in four Victorian locations, they also provide people - carers and medical companions for people who need assistance to attend medical appointments. I imagine that this service is appreciated and valuable for many people.

One of the benefits of having my myki is a special cover is that it will help me avoid the embarrassment of accidentally using something like my library card and wondering why the gates won't open!

They'd be a cute stocking stuffer for the public transport user in your life at Christmas time too.

Which one/s do you like?

All the world's a stage.- including the hospital ward

Here's what my office looked like on Friday:

My favourite workspace
© divacultura 2013

I spent the day lying in bed and receiving bad news, repeatedly.

Sometimes I was required to react angrily and other times I was directed to be shocked or disbelieving. Usually I reached the point of tears, depending on the interaction with the particular doctor.

Students (practising surgeons) were receiving feedback on their communication and ability to manage emotions. Generally they did very well. What struck me during the debriefing was how sincere they were about wanting the best outcome for their patient (me). Where a mistake had been made, they were appalled on my behalf.

Wardrobe and special FX done.
© divacultura 2013

In the debriefing after scenarios where I had been directed to be angry and was introduced to the students by my own name, some of them looked a little wary. I always wave and smile and introduce myself in the friendliest way possible to prove that the threat is gone. Once they realise this, I notice many of them looking at me, fascinated. Only a moment before I was lying on a hospital bed, the day after my operation, attacking them and wanting to find someone to blame; yet there I am, moments later, looking and sounding completely different.

I love this work!

One of the students had a lovely way of contextualising each piece of information he provided. He explained afterwards that we all come with stories - the patient, the doctor etc - and that each event or interaction adds to that story. I loved his way of thinking. He was wonderful to talk to - empathetic, respectful and caring.

Wardrobe and makeup was really easy. Hospital gowns are the least flattering garments on the planet, but they ARE comfortable. The bandage on my arm is to keep my fake IV in place and I have a hospital bracelet to make sure I'm identified correctly as the simulated patient.

As in life, my simulated husband's presence was repeatedly requested by the doctors. My simulated husband was not there when I needed him. He was running his simulated business but was going to pick up the simulated children from school and come in later in the day.

Everytime I cry during these jobs, I receive questions about "how do you do that?" I now borrow my friend's response: "How do you do surgery?"

In my line of work, all the world IS a stage and they don't call it an operating theatre for nothing.

On my mind this week...ramblings.

I've been thinking.  Here's what's been on my mind this week.

Some people are really bad at hiding when they're about to tell you something they are uncomfortable with.  They think they're hiding it by not "saying" it.  But they are saying it - with their ticks, gestures and shifting eye contact.

The power of saying sorry, sincerely, and taking responsibility is immense.

What's the gracious response to such power?

Everything depends on all people being clear about their role and equipped with the skills to fulfill their role.  (My favourite question I ask when I'm leading people is "is there anything I'm asking you to do that you don't know how to do?")

Accounts departments in big organisations (eg universities) should pick up the phone more often.  Why do they dwell in the world of letters and post when a conversation over the phone would address many things?

People seem very confronted by shows of intense emotion, even when the emotion is a valid and reasonable response to circumstances.  Human beings are emotional creatures.  There is never a time when we are without emotion.

Music is a powerful expression of emotion. It unites. It divides. It can provide an outlet. It can empathise. It can mean different things in different situations.  It can be universal.

Plastic bags and old towels do not go in the recycling.  Neither do carpets.  Or bodies.

When a friend says he's "putting the chooks in",  "the oven" is not the only way that sentence can be finished.

I had the best end to an intense day at the end of an intense week. I walked out into the sunshine with three friends and colleagues. We were silly and playful together.  Intense feelings dropped away as laughter took over.

What's on your mind this week?

Farewell Amanda - reflecting on life and death.

Amanda with the Love Rug knitted for her, square by square.
Used with permission.

Today I went to a funeral. The funeral was for Amanda Rynne about whom I've written before. Only two years ago, I wrote about the contribution I'd made to a "love rug" for her following the news that she had breast cancer.

Today we said goodbye.

I didn't know Amanda that well, but am very close with people who were very close to her.  I went to her funeral to mark the fact she and I were connected and show myself as part of the community of people touched by her.  I also went to support my friends who were also close to her.  A very large church was filled with people dressed in red at Amanda's request.  There was laughter and there were many tears as stories were told and life and death contemplated.

Melbourne turned on wild and unpredictable weather. Throughout the service, the wind sounded like a woman humming.  I imagined that it was Amanda singing as we heard about Amanda's love of music.  This contemplation was interrupted by the sound of a baby gurgling or crying. I thought about the bookends of life; beginnings and endings; innocence and pain.

The blanket we made for Amanda rested on her coffin today.  My first glimpse of it caused the first tears of many to flow.  I walked out with a handbag filled with soggy tissues.

Forty-one is young to have life taken away.  I reflected on my own life and wondered whether I'm living it in the best way, fulfilling it in every aspect. It's good to think about these things.

I drove another friend back to her home afterwards and we shared a cup of tea together.  Her extroverted four year old daughter came out and introduced herself.  She gave me a hug and asked where we had been.  I told her that we had been saying goodbye to a friend.  Of course she asked why we were saying goodbye.  I told her that our friend wasn't coming back anymore.  She thought about this and nodded and then told me she really liked my shoes! It was lovely to be surrounded by the life pulsing through this little girl.

And so life goes on.

The news on the radio in the car as I drove to work carried a story about new drugs available for the treatment of breast cancer.  I hope they work. Too many lives are affected by this disease.

One thing that has stuck in my mind from the homily was that there are only three things you need to be able to say to the people in your life: I love you. I'm sorry. I forgive you.

Amanda, I'll miss seeing your gorgeous photographs on Instagram.  It was nice to know you Amanda, even a little bit. It was clear from today's turn out that you touched many people. A life well lived.

My Million Dollar Minute - airdate

I was recently a contestant on the new quiz show called Million Dollar Minute.  (It's the thing I did that I couldn't talk about.)  I still can't really talk about it, but I can tell you that if you tune in on 23 October you will see me competing.

The thing I really like about this show is that it's the old-fashioned - but enduring - quiz with buzzer format.  You can play along at home.

Going on game shows is something that I decided to do one day and I've been lucky enough to be selected as a contestant on a few.  It's a bit of a love/hate relationship actually.

Have you ever been on a television game show?  Did you win?

myki public transport ticketing designed by Kafka

And we're back...Inspiration left me for a while there.  I think it was because I did something exciting that I can't tell you about just yet.  Time had to pass so there was space for something else to focus on.  And what better way than to talk about another bizarre process that I've discovered with Melbourne's public transport ticketing system, myki.

Things have been running fairly smoothly lately.  Generally, I've always thought that the day to day transactions with the card have run fairly well.  It's when you head into the "back office" process that the Kafkaesque trouble starts.

Last Thursday I travelled all over the place and then when I arrived at my home station, I could not find my myki.  Luckily I had registered the card so could immediately call and have the card blocked.  This protects any balance remaining on the card.  So far so good.  I also wanted the remaining balance returned to me. This is where the complexity seeps in.  They will transfer the balance onto a new myki and send it out in the mail as a result of my telephone request.  Sounds straightforward, except that I don't want or need another myki.  I have about half a dozen sitting on my desk.  These have been acquired for friends visiting or when I've arrived at the station and discovered the ticket isn't in my handbag so I've had to buy a whole new one (this could be rectified if there was a short term ticket option, but that has been explicitly ruled out by the State Government). I also acquired a couple through tasks required while I was a member of the customer experience panel giving feeback about all aspects of my experience with myki.

I asked for the balance to be put on one of the other cards that are registered on my account.  I was informed that the only way that can be done is if I fill in a paper form and post it in. The money is then transferred onto the card with the number nominated on the form. (Surprisingly) I don't even have to send in the myki I want to transfer to.  Why is a paper form required when all the details of registered cards are on my secure profile? (See what the Minister said about this issue in February 2012.)

"Why?" I asked.  "Because that's the process," came the answer.  To confuse matters further, the name of the form is "Refund and Reimbursement" which isn't really what we're talking about - it's a balance transfer.

Then I was informed that I was getting the benefit of a new card without having to pay the $6 purchase price.  That's true, except that I don't want or need another card and this is a public cost which is unnecessary.  What I want is my unused balance from the lost card to be put onto one of the cards I already have.  The cost would be minimal - especially if I could do it myself through my online account. Under the current process, the cost of a new card is added.

In the interests of highlighting problems so they can be fixed, I lodged feedback, specifically asking about why this is the process. Today I received a call from Kylie who informed me about the process.  I told her that I already know what the process is and I'm interested to know why this is the process. The conversation was pointless.

"All I can do is tell you what the process is and all you keep asking is why!"

"Well that's actually what I want to know."

"Well all I can tell you is what the process is."

"That's terrific, but I already know what the process is.  I actually want to understand the thinking that designed the process and point out how silly it is."

"All I can do is explain the process."

"What's the purpose of this phone call then? Was my feedback request not clear?"

"It was clear, but all I can do is explain the process and you keep asking why."

"Who should I be speaking to then?"

At the end of that exasperating exchange I was told to contact Public Transport Victoria via email or mail.

"Where are you from then? I thought I had contacted PTV initially."

"I work for PTV."

"Isn't that who you've said I have to talk to?"

"Yes, but I'm only in the myki section."

"But I'm wanting to talk about myki!"

"You need to send an email."

It's fitting really.  With such a costly, old-fashioned and convoluted process to get $4.84 back I don't know why I thought the feedback process would be smooth, streamlined and efficient. The other thing about all these processes is that the work onus is on the customer not on the service provider.  There is a benefit to Australia Post, so that's something.

I knew it was going to be weird when I had to go through an identification process to have the feedback conversation!  I refrained from asking the one question that was on my mind: why?

Talk about pop music - what's it all about?

In one of the offices where I work, there is a radio tuned to commercial radio and it is on all the time. Without this, the space would be deathly quiet and the only sound would be me, talking on the telephone. I quite like working in an environment with a level of noise, so it doesn't bother me.

In the last few days, it has been quieter than usual. In this quietness the music becomes even more prominent. I noticed it when some singer was pleading to please be allowed to see inside, you're beautiful.  That's how I heard the lyric.  The lyrics are actually "would you let me see beneath your beautiful?"

With the realisation that I was imagining a  non-existent apostrophe, came an even larger realisation about just how ridiculous this song is.  What - or where - exactly, is my "beautiful"?  Do I even have one? How do I find it? What will happen if I do?

I spoke one of my thoughts aloud (if that guy asked to see my beneath beautiful, I'd punch him on the nose) and that led to the silence being broken by a lively discussion about the commercial radio playlist. 

"I wish that girl who's on fire would just burn!"

"I'm sick of Rhianna!"

"And they always play Adele."

"There's a fire burning in my heart...even Adele is burning!"

"That guy will be back wanting to see my beautiful in a couple of hours. I don't think I even want to see his!"

"Do boys even have one?"

I started thinking about the winning formula for current commercial success: angst, whining, some connection to incendiary devices, dodgy metaphors and bad grammar. At the risk of being accused of being a 19th Century grammarian, apostrophes matter!  (As opposed to apostrophe's matter, which is a completely different proposition.)

So my answer to the question dominating the airwaves is "please state your request clearly and avoid the use of metaphor!"

Would you let someone see beneath your beautiful? Can you draw me a diagram?  What songs are driving you nuts at the moment?

Quitting sugar - FAQ

Yesterday's post about the impact of a year without sugar raised some questions amongst readers.  I'm happy to answer them all.

Lots of people wanted to know about the affect, apart from the lab results.  I've dropped a dress size.  I don't have cravings. My appetite is more stable. I eat less. My skin is clear.

I've really noticed the 3pm sugar run that people in the office have. There's a line to the biscuit tin, the chocolate box and the lolly jar. It's so great to be free from that kind of slavery.

The other question I received was about whether I eat fruit. The answer is: "rarely". I now eat fruit when I'm at an event and the only other food on offer is sugar laden cakes and biscuits. I will also choose the fruit carefully and pick high fibre or berries, ie avoid watermelon and dates and choose the pineapple, pear (skin on) or banana. I never have juice. Juicing the fruit turns it into almost pure fructose when the the fibre is removed. I also avoid dried fruit because the fructose becomes concentrated.

Some of you also wanted to know about my porridge. Breakfast was actually the meal that I had to change the most.  I used to be a yoghurt, fruit and muesli girl. That had to go. I discovered Vita Brits, just with milk. As my palate adjusted I discovered a natural sweetness in many foods that I would not have previously identified as being sweet. Porridge is my new favourite breakfast during the week. Oats are also recommended for lowering cholesterol. I buy rolled spelt and mix it with rolled oats, cook it on the stove top with some added chia seeds and then serve with milk and a sprinkle of seeds and cinnamon. You can sprinkle the chia seeds on top instead of cooking them in if you prefer. This is a long way from brown sugar and maple syrup that I used to love.

If the supermarket has other rolled grains available I buy them and mix them in too.  I cook two thirds of a cup of grains with twice the amount of water and find the stirring at the stove with my myrtle spurtle a quiet moment of morning meditation. This keeps me going until lunchtime. Ground cinnamon is an easy ingredient to sprinkle over if you need a little sweetening. With time, I've discovered that there is a natural sweetness in the oats and it's not needed. I haven't gone down the Scottish path of adding salt.

Anything else you'd like to know? Just ask me.  Thanks for your interest.

Quitting sugar - it paid off!

It's been almost a year since I quit sugar.  I did it at the suggestion of my doctor when my blood results showed an elevation in liver enzymes and cholesterol going in the wrong direction.  That day, I read Sarah Wilson's I Quit Sugar and I started immediately.  I viewed food with sugar as not being food.

So today, I want to tell you a good news story.  I received my latest blood results today and I can tell you that I've never been so excited.

Those liver enzyme markers were back to normal.  All the cholesterol and fat markers are back where they should be. Everything is looking great!

Here's the interesting thing - all I have done is cut out sugar (fructose).  I eat a balanced diet but you should know: I eat cheese; I use butter; I eat red meat, sometimes with the fat on. I eat the skin on chicken. I do not eat fructose. I also eat multi grain porridge (oats, spelt, barley etc) sprinkled with chia seeds.

This is what all the books say will happen.  The science around fructose is that the body processes it into fat through the liver and causes issues with cholesterol, appetite regulation and so on.

I was a bit nervous as I waited for my doctor to explain the results.  I really hoped that the early struggle and now my mindset had paid off with positive health results.  It did!

What's your view on sugar? When my doctor asked me that a year ago my answer was, "I love it!"

Taking stock

Spring seems like a good time to take stock and I've been inspired by this list over at Meet me at Mike's.

Making : Socks
Cooking : silverbeet, feta and lentils
Drinking : tea with milk, no sugar
Reading: The Accursed by Joyce Carol Oates
Wanting: my knee to heel - NOW.
Looking: in my yarn stash
Playing: Bach on the piano
Wasting: nothing
Fixing: other people's mistakes
Deciding: on surgery
Wishing: I didn't have to
Enjoying: being able to dry sheets and towels on the clothesline
Waiting: for nothing.
Liking: my life
Wondering: if it will all be okay
Loving: my friends
Pondering: creativity
Considering: tax
Watching: Season 4 of Justified.
Hoping: client bookings will pick up soon
Marvelling: at how fast the year is going
Needing: friends
Smelling: Magnolia perfume
Wearing: pink
Following: the saga of the Australian Labor Party leadership
Noticing: grey hairs
Knowing: more will appear 
Thinking: about why a particular person drives me up the wall
Feeling: that I should not let her drive me up the wall.
Admiring: Ella Fitzgerald's vocal quality
Buying: John Mayer's latest album, Paradise Valley
Getting: ready
Bookmarking: catch up TV for the new season of Survivor.
Opening: up
Giggling: frequently.
Feeling: blessed.

How are things with you?

Leaping into the unknown - in front of other people.

Sitting in my second jazz vocal masterclass, my teacher had just presented the three songs that three students would sing.  I knew one of the songs pretty well and the other two were new to me.  One of them had a chart but no lead sheet, so I was learning the song completely by ear and feel.  After hearing the teacher sing, the three students in her "team" were to go on stage and sing the three songs and based on how they sounded, a song would choose us.

"Who would like to go first?"

I leaped up without hesitation.  One of the other women in the group commented on how she loves the fact that I never hesitate and always just dive in.  "How do you do that?" she asked me.

It was easy to answer and something I now don't even think of.  It's the improvisation rule of "say yes" and fits with my personal motto of "start where you are, use what you have and do what you can".  With this mindset I am liberated from the pressure of perfection and fear of failure.  I'm learning new songs so there are bound to be mistakes!

I started with the song that I knew least and that had no lead sheet.  I was finding my way in the dark, but that was okay.  Then I sang through the song I had never heard, but at least had music to read.  Lastly I sang the song I knew best.  I knew that I would be unlikely to choose that song to work on, so decided to seize the moment and give a performance of the song.  It was beautiful to be accompanied gorgeously on the piano by Bob Sedergreen, shed inhibitions and really commit to the song.  There were moments when I had goosebumps and I could feel the energy of the "audience" (my fellow classmates) really feeling the song with me.  I received an appreciative round of applause and loved having the opportunity to sing "The Man I Love" by George Gershwin.

The other two singers in my team had their turn at the songs and it was immediately clear who should sing which song.  I have come out with the song I struggled with most, but really enjoyed the humour.  It's an old song called "Hard Hearted Hannah (the vamp of Savannah)".  A few people said that I should sing the Gershwin because it sounded great.  It sounded great partly because I already knew it.  What would be the point of starting out with something already known and spending a term working with that and missing the chance to discover something new.

Fear is the antidote to leaping in.  I'm so glad that it's been overtaken by my willingness to say "yes" and the mindset that creates.

My favourite gig OR why I was being paid to lie in bed and wear pyjamas.

"I can't believe that you don't have a brain injury!" Ordinarily these words might be an insult or cause for concern; today they were the best compliment I received all day. Today I was being a simulated patient in a ward with three others and a mannequin.

The patient had fallen off a ladder and now had a brain injury. Such a simple thing and suddenly this woman is confronting a completely changed life. Her walking, eating and cognitive function is affected. After my recent mishaps (the bag falling on my head and my knee injury) I have new perspective on the fragility of being okay and fully functioning in the world.

Be careful on ladders!

This week I've been working with different groups of students across the full spectrum of healthcare. Saturday and Sunday was the gynaecologists and obstetricians; Monday and Tuesday it was mental health nursing; Wednesday I was working with orthoptics students; today was nursing, physiotherapy, occupational therapy, social work, nursing and medicine and tomorrow, international medical graduates. It's such a privilege working with these students as they develop their skills and identity within their chosen field. Mostly they are excellent - really interested in people and ready to help; occasionally I notice that they've already lost their empathy.  I think it's because they focus on skills and knowledge and forget there's a person at the centre of it.

Yesterday was the first time I've worked with orthoptists. They come with a lot of equipment and have spent their time practising their technical and clinical skills on each other.  I noticed that many of them didn't explain what they were going to do before they approached the simulated patient. They would just lean over and peel the simulated patient's eyelids back and wonder why there was  a reaction. The were great with equipment and not so great with the people. I asked if any of them had ever suffered the complaint that the simulated patient had (double vision).  None of them had. I asked if they had considered what it would be like to have double vision. None of them had. I asked them who drove to university that day. Sadly most of them had. I asked them how they would have made their way to university if they had double vision. They started to think about life from the patient's perspective. Here was the "ah-ha" moment.

A few of the nursing students today had already developed what I call "nurse tone". There's a particular brand of condescension - talking overly loudly, slowly and using terms like "we" when they mean "you". I really hate that.

Working as a simulated patient has made me a better real patient. Talking to my GP the other day about a referral to a specialist, she asked me what kind of doctor I wanted. "A good one" was my response. She asked me if I was okay with someone who is very direct. Initially I said yes, but then I pictured myself in conversation about my particular issue with a very direct person. I realised exactly what I wanted AND what I didn't want: "I want to be a person, not a [insert body part here]." My GP selected a different doctor for referral.

I'm not sure I would have had the awareness of being a body part, or an illness before working as a simulated patient.  Many times I turn up to play a role and am not referred to by my own name, let alone my character's name.  Instead we gather to cries of "Lungs in here!", "Cancer in room three!" and "Depression follow me to the basement!". So the rot has started to set in as administrators and educators strip the person from the situation and turn us all into cases.

I push back, not moving until I'm referred to by one of my names. I correct people who say they've been happy to "use me" as a simulated patient, suggesting instead, it's a been a pleasure to work with them.

It's wonderful that health care education now gives students the opportunity to work with simulated patients as a proxy for real patients.

Spending the afternoon lying in bed, wearing pyjamas and talking to enthusiastic young people is a gig I love!

ETA on public transport? Five and a half hours early.

Public transport gets me where I need to go, when I need to go, most of the time.  On Sunday I bumped right up against its limitations and instead of paying $3.50 for all day travel on Saturday and Sunday I had to drive my car.

I worked all weekend and had to be ready to start at 8am on Sunday morning, just near the MCG.  As usual, I used the Public Transport Victoria Journey Planner to search for my best transport options and said that I needed to arrive by 8am.

It gave me four options and the best option had me arriving in plenty of time...at 2:34am after a journey involving a train, two buses and two periods of walking and a total travel time of 1 hour and 12 minutes!  I wasn't sure what I would do with the spare five and a half hours before start time, I looked at the next arrival time.  That had me arriving late at 8:07am (assuming it was running without delay) and took 1 hour and 22 minutes after travelling on a bus, two trains and three intervals on foot.

I decided to drive instead.  The journey took me less than twenty minutes and I parked on the street for free.  I had always wondered why people chose to drive to attend church when they are right next door to tram lines and railway stations.  Now I now.

If I didn't have a car or wasn't in a position to drive I suppose I would have to take a taxi or plead forgiveness for being a little late and prepare for the epic journey.  I suppose cycling is another potential option.  I can't comment on this as I'm not familiar with travel times or methods for cycling, but I would require facilities at my workplace to enable me to change, store the bike on so on.

I don't expect that public transport options on a Sunday morning are going to be as available as they are during a weekday peak, but with changes to work patterns and lifestyles, this serious lack of public transport must be problematic for many people.  Even if I wanted to arrive at the same destination by 9am, my best travel option requires me to be on a train at 7:58am and I arrive 33 minutes early.  The option before that is the one that delivers me at 8:07am and the later option would see me arrive at 9:11am and take 33 minutes, station to station.

Melbourne is a great city.  Indeed we're the world's most livable city.  What must the public transport be like in other cities?  And now we are further condemned to languish with a new federal government which stated prior to the election that they would not be funding urban rail.  They're all about roads.

Overheard - I wonder who this woman was.

I don't know who she was talking to.  I do know it was a woman I could occasionally hear on the other end of the phone call.  The young woman sitting on the tram was apologising and acknowledging her mistakes repeatedly - in a really loud voice.

There was a story about a Serbian woman whose husband had died. His car was now to be transferred into the daughter's name. The girl on the phone had incorrectly advised that they needed to have a roadworthy inspection completed. She'd given this advice in a letter she had written. She admitted that when she looked over the letter again, the key paragraph was unintelligible - she didn't even know what it meant.

This young woman had owned her mistake to anyone who would listen.  (And everyone else in the train carriage - she had a very loud voice.)  Someone called Rob was going to be really angry and she wasn't sure what else she could have done.

She told the woman on the other end of the phone: "I make mistakes.  I do.  I do make mistakes.  I know that I do.  Everyone needs to know this."

Then:  "I don't know who to ask for help.  I've been teaching myself.  I have been.  But clearly I don't know everything that I need to teach myself."

And: "Maybe I shouldn't just write letters and send them out.  Maybe I need to write it and then read it again before I send them.  Maybe I should even wait until the next day to read them before I send them out.  I keep making these mistakes."

The young woman had her back to me so I couldn't see her facial expression.  She sounded sincere, but she also sounded like she was signing her execution warrant.  I couldn't tell how old she was either.

"Clearly the problem hasn't just gone away because now the son is coming in with his mother on Friday!"  She sounded alarmed.

I wondered where this woman worked - a law firm? a government department?  She is either not very smart, but very sincere, or very inexperienced and unsupported in her work place.  The fact that she's prepared to say "I made a mistake" is in her favour, but I wondered at her ability to correct mistakes and avoid making the same ones again.  Has she perhaps mistakenly decided that honesty is all that's needed and application to avoid mistakes in the first place is secondary.

I wondered about the Serbian family being put through unnecessary bureaucratic processes and expense.

I wondered about the need to discuss all of this at the top of her lungs on a busy train.

Checking in - what are they typing?

I've often wondered what hotel, airline and rental car check-in staff are typing when I'm checking in.  While I rarely deal with airline check in staff these days (I've usually checked in online), this week I've checked in to two different hotels in two different cities and rented a car.

On arrival at the hotel in Sydney the other night, I was very tired.  The drive had taken longer than usual because of road works and Sydney drivers.  It was 8:35pm and I also needed some food.  I didn't get to my room until 9pm.  Why?  Because the guy was TYPING.  What? Surely he wasn't updating his facebook status.  Perhaps he was tweeting or writing a chapter in his novel.  While he was typing, he was grimacing. Was he struggling with syntax? Parsing a sentence or two? Quickly jotting down the next line of dialogue in his award winning screenplay?

I asked him if there was a problem.  He said there wasn't.  He continued to type.  After further typing and grimacing, he left the desk and loped over to a man sitting at a desk opposite where we were standing.  That guy started typing too.  After what seemed an interminable amount of time, my artist in residence, loped back and did some more typing.  

I changed tack and asked if everything was okay.  He said it was. I started to shuffle impatiently as he added a line or two to his sonnet. Then he handed me my keys and announced that I had been upgraded to a suite. I was relieved that I hadn't had my cranky pants on. Twenty-five minutes it had taken!

Fire plume over the Stadium, taken from the 12th floor balcony
 of my hotel in Olympic Park.
Picture copyright divacultura 2013

The suite had everything except a butler and a friend to share it with.  The spa was heaven sent after the physio had prescribed soaking in a bath for my knee.  There was room to sleep, room to work, room to cook (well heat stuff in the microwave), room to relax and room to swim laps in the enormous spa. There was a balcony to step out onto and view the fires in western Sydney.

As I stepped out onto the balcony, a sticker on the door caught my eye.  It warned me that "for my own safety" the door would close and lock behind me.  I gripped the door and didn't step too far out.  I imagined what would happen if I was trapped on the balcony with no mobile phone.  It would be hours before I was found.  It would be the cleaners in the morning.


That would give typing man something to write home about.  It would be a story for his blog that's for sure.

The morning after the fires, from the same spot.
Picture copyright divacultura 2013

Quintessential Melbourne afternoon - at the footy!

Yesterday I went to the Melbourne Cricket Ground to savour my first experience of attending a live AFL finals match.  My team, the Richmond Tigers had made it to the finals for the first time since 2001 and were playing Carlton.  The Tigers fans were out in force, highly visible in the distinctive yellow and black.

My first challenge was getting to my seat.  With my injured knee, this was quite a feat.  We took the lift to level four and showed our tickets to a man.  He looked at them and shook his head.

The ticket
Picture copyright divacultura 2013

"Oh well.  Now.  That's quite a long way up.  Yes it is. You'll have to just keep on going.  And be very careful on those steps.  I can't get up them myself. Very hard. Good luck." He spoke in a monotone, eyes darting.  I was afraid.

I have a dicky knee and I'm afraid of heights. I'm still recovering from the George Michael concert where I was seated right up the top of Etihad Stadium.

In case you need help working it up, row FF is 32 rows up and the only way to get there is the climb the stairs which are almost like a ladder.  I went slowly.  Going up stairs is actually almost back to normal; going down is harder. The sherpa we had booked hadn't turned up and my oxygen tank wouldn't fit in my handbag.





We reached our seats without mishap and this is what we saw.  We were a long way up which meant we could see the whole game, but had to look at the screen to admire the players' deltoids.

MCG crowd - over 96,000 fans attended
Picture copyright divacultura 2013

Across the other side - that's the suburb of Richmond in the background.
Picture copyright divacultura 2013

Now that I was in my seat, I was not going to leave until it was home time.

Work in progress - trying the beanie on to get the right amount of "slouch".
 I didn't wear it with the needles in!
Picture copyright divacultura 2013

The atmosphere was incredible and I was relieved that I had put the effort into finishing my beanie and made some yellow and black pom poms over my breakfast. Beanies don't really suit me, but as my friend pointed out, that's not really why you wear them.

Plaits and pom poms...go Tigers!
Picture copyright divacultura 2013

We had a devoted Tigers fan sitting behind us.  I can't for the life of me work out why he isn't the Richmond coach.  He certainly had a view about everything and said it loudly enough for the team to hear.  Even during the first half where we were playing well he was plaintive in his cries for the team to "Help him", "Man up" and play "hard ball".  Not much time would pass between "well done" and "oh, you idiot!"  Although as we moved into the second half and Richmond seemed to give up, "oh, you idiot!" seemed like an appropriate statement.

As the loss became inevitable, emotions started to show.  Tiny tigers decked out in their gear were inconsolable.  The strains of "We are the navy blue" was an assault on the ears when all I wanted was "Oh we're from Tiger land!"  One row in front of me a full grown man with red hair cut into one of those strange faux hawk/mullet styles and wearing a daffodil yellow onesie started to cry.  I don't know if it was the result of the game or the realisation about what he was wearing and that he wearing it outside the house that warranted such emotion.

As I slowly made my way to the bottom again, the suggestions about "next year" were already being heard.

Oh we're from Tiger land! Tiger girls waiting to get inside the 'G
Picture copyright divacultura 2013

Until next year!

Were you there?  How was your afternoon?

My favourite things - this week

1. You may remember meeting Rose Wintergreen right here on divacultura.  Rose crowd-funded her album and I was very happy, willing and privileged to be able to contribute.  My favourite moment of week was reading about the release of her single, Feet in the Sand. You can read more and listen over on her blog.  What do you think?  I LOVE it!  If you like it too, pass it on!

2. This morning I set aside time to write a first draft of a book chapter that I'm collaborating with several other people on.  I'd had a few false starts in actually putting words down, but the ideas had been whirling around in my head for a while. I knew it was just a case of having a block of time and no distractions.  I put Bach's cello suites played by Yo-Yo Ma on the stereo and pretty soon I had exceeded the word requirement. I know that it's a first draft and now the task of editing and blending with my collaborators has to occur, but it is always thrilling to see ideas come to life on the screen/page. There's the additional excitement of discovering new insights as fresh connections are made.

3. I managed to get tickets for Sunday's AFL final match between my team, Richmond, and Carlton. Technically my friend got the tickets and they came with the news that we would need to hire a sherpa, take oxygen and leave now to get to our seats at the Melbourne Cricket Ground in time to watch the match.  I don't care!  I'm so excited.  Richmond hasn't played in the finals since 2001 and I've never been to a finals match at the MCG.  I figure you just have to do it!  As a consequence of actually going to the footy, I have had to put a hold on my lack of love for the colour yellow.  Richmond's colours are yellow and black and I just can't go without sporting my team colours.  I managed to snag the last ball of yarn in the perfect shade of yellow and figure I can knit a yellow and black beanie in time for Sunday's match.

4. My physio's declaration that it is possible for my knee to fully recover was definitely a good moment..  This made me very happy after struggling to zip my boots this morning.  (The angles were all wrong.)  Apparently my PCL (posterior cruciate ligament) has been stretched so far that it hasn't sprung back.  It's like an elastic band that has stretched too far.  Despite this, my physio is confident that with exercise and treatment it will regain its elasticity.  (My physio contributed another favourite moment when we were discussing the soreness in my left arm which had probably resulted from the fall that injured my knee.  The muscle I've hurt is called the "supraspinatus".  I heard her tell me I'd hurt my "super bananas". I felt lucky.  Imagine if it was my ordinary bananas!)

5.Waiting on platform 9 at Flinders Street Station today, I watched people on platform 10 running for the train.  Human beings move in some mysterious way:. the squat woman, struggling with several bags, her body engaged in multi-directional undulation; the neat Asian man wearing a backpack shuffling, Cliff Young style - not very fast but certainly tidy;  the confidence of the long-legged lunge of a besuited, bespectacled, bebearded man;  the weirdly stiff-legged gait of the man in too-skinny jeans; the small pointless steps of the woman in stilettos running for her life to catch that train; the hopeful striving of the wannabe medalist, slowing and slumping as hope fades that he can make it before the doors shut.

What was your favourite thing this week?

When public transport doesn't connect

A friend told me a tale today.  This is a tale of missed opportunity.  Perhaps it is also a tale of mean spirits.

My friend relies on public transport to go everywhere. My friend can get around on the trains easily enough, but relies on a bus service to connect to the train service. The problem with that last sentence is evident in the phrase: "relies on a bus service to connect to the train service". It does connect. As long as you're not picky about arriving everywhere 40 minutes early or 40 minutes late.

My friend was to meet me at Flinders Street this morning 7:45am. I received a text message at 7:22am to say she had already arrived. We live on the same train line, so I wondered why she wasn't on the same train as me, leaving at 7:26am. It was the buses!

My friend told me that the last bus of an evening leaves the station at 9:00pm. The station where she most regularly travels to and from (Yarraville) has a level crossing. Commuters disembarking an outbound train are left on one side of that crossing. The buses leave from the other side of that crossing. When a train is at the station, the boom gates on the crossing come down so everyone has to wait until the train has left the station before they can walk across to the buses. Imagine the heart break as 9:00pm approaches, but a late train has meant arrival at the station almost right on that time. You're stuck on the opposite side of the tracks, the bus driver can see that a train has just come in and that the boom gates are down and chooses to drive off before the gates go up and people can get to the bus!

Situations like this are one of the reasons that people don't like to travel by public transport.  Situations like this can be fixed by planning the services to connect better and ensuring that drivers are instructed to wait for the boom gates to go up after a train has arrived before leaving.

So because of where my friend lives - about 10 minutes drive from where I live - she had to leave home at 6:45am for a 7:45am meeting in the city.  I left home at 7:15am, walked to the station and was ready to catch a 7:26am train which delivered me to Flinders Street at 7:40am - less than half an hour, while she had almost that amount of time to wait.

This is not the public transport system that one expects in the world's most livable city! But I guess it's what happens when you privatise the systems and they're all run by different people.

Do you catch public transport?  If not, what stops you?  What do you like about it?

Today's serving has 6 priorities, 5 pillars, no boats and no substance.

Finally, I've received a copy of the Liberal party's "six key priorities", one of which is a "5-Pillar economy".  Still nothing from Labor or the Greens in my letterbox.

I'm trying to be objective as I read it.  It looks good.  It looks expensive.  There are no claims about it being printed on recycled paper or being environmentally friendly. I've never voted Liberal in my life, so objectivity is tricky.

The claim to build a "more diverse" 5-Pillar economy by building on the stuff we already do seems thin.

The pledge to save me money - "Carbon Tax gone" - seems crazy.  Has everyone forgotten the steadily increasing electricity bills that were coming in long before the carbon tax was introduce?.  What's even more interesting is the absence of any mention of their Direct Action plan to combat climate change.  Clearly this is of no consequence to the Liberals.  (How are all the farmers going to run viable farms if climate change isn't addressed, I wonder?)  It's also worth remembering that we have a price on carbon as part of a carbon trading scheme.  This is different from a carbon tax.

Point 3 is about ending the waste and debt.  This is hilarious in light of the enormously over the top Paid Parental Leave scheme.  And the loss of income from the abolition of the carbon tax.

Point 4 is about better roads and services and is accompanied by a logo of a train track!  Tony Abbott is on record saying that he won't fund urban rail, instead preferring to fund more roads.   There is not a single mention of public transport in the entire document - another clue about their attitude to climate change.


"Stop the boats" waits until point 5 with the new tag line "stronger borders".  In the following pages of the leaflet there are statements of costs under Labor but no mention of the boat buy back scheme announced last month.  What was that about ending waste?

My preferred policy position on refugees and asylum seekers is "drain the moats".

Finally the sixth priority is they'll create two million new jobs. There is absolutely no information about how this will done.

Apart from the absence of climate change and public transport, the other glaring omission is industrial relations.  I do not trust that elements of the dreadful, punitive, mean and unfair Work Choices legislation will not be introduced by an Abbott government.

It's fair enough to like or not to like the leaders of the parties, but I think it's really important to remember that they are just one person in the context of a whole party that forms government. As we've seen in recent times, there's no guarantee that the leader you vote for is the leader you get for the duration.  My hope is that people take an interest, read information and dig deeper to think about the claims being made by anyone seeking election.

A friend of mine suggested to me that we should remove personality from politics and vote purely on policy.  I don't think that's realistic.  Politics is about people as much as it's about policy and personality does matter; but it's not the only thing.

Since yesterday's post, I've been directed to a couple of handy sites to assist with the arduous task of voting in the Senate.  Below the Line provides a breakdown of how the preferences flow when you vote above the line.  (Thanks Mousicles.)

If you're not happy, Cluey Voter helps you create your very own how to vote card based on your views of the squillion parties and candidates standing.  Even if you don't decide to vote below the line, the process of thinking about each party is worthwhile.  (Thanks to Lynne for that tip.)

And if you're curious to see the propaganda being distributed in your electorate visit the Election Leaflets site.  You can upload the stuff you've collected.  They also have a "this is not an election leaflet" leaflet.

Are you still paying attention to the election?  Are you undecided?  If you're overseas, is the Australian election even on your radar?

What your letterbox reveals about politics.

My letterbox at home is not where I receive my mail.  For that I have a post office box.  I do have a "no junk mail" sticker on there, but was unsurprised to open the letterbox this afternoon and find various pieces of political propaganda, election related information, an ad for some local cleaners and an invitation to join a gym.

Of the political propaganda one comes from Family First (a how to vote card with no policy information), one from Palmer United Party (a one page 7 point policy statement) and one from the Liberal party.  This one is interesting because it does not mention the Liberal party at all.  It's a slag off against Labor.  The only way I know it's from the Liberal party is that it is authorised by "D. Mantach".  I had to google that to discover that he's Liberal party director.  Sneaky.

So based on the information I've received, PUP is by far, the most helpful.  But I won't be voting for a big kid who has lots of money and makes no sense.  And the negativity of the Liberal campaign is very unappealing.  Maybe that's why they didn't overtly put their name to it.

Family First's how to vote instruction is scant on detail.  I've gone hunting to find how they are preferencing in the Senate election.  This is really hard to do.  For any party.  People who receive postal votes have told me that the Senate's ballot paper is as long as the kitchen table.  I don't like voting above the line without understanding the way the parties have organised their preferences, but the thought of voting below the line fills me with trepidation.

The real information is from the Australian Electoral Commission giving information about voting requirements.  It's easy to identify the real stuff from the guff because the real stuff is wrapped in plastic.  They explain how to complete the ballot paper.  You can even practise voting on their website.

A quick visit to the AEC website reveals the list of registered political parties.  Well that's an eye opener.  There's a party for everything it seems.  How about the Stop CSG Party, the Pirate Party, the Smoker's Rights Party (their website is all about asking for money...maybe they could donate the price of a pack of ciggies)?  The best name must go to the Coke in the Bubblers party.  They have a nice looking website, some appealing headline positions, but no substance.  According to their website, they're still looking for candidates!  Um, someone should tell them the election is on Saturday.

It must be tricky if you're undecided, but I think undecided voters are generally also the politically disengaged.  I've completed the Vote Compass and received the same result as last time.  It's an interesting exercise in thinking about the various policy issues and how you stack up when compared to the various policies of the major parties.  Why not head over and see what you discover?

There's a referendum on with this election too.  It's about whether local government should be recognised in the constitution.  I've received nothing about this and don't really know why it's a good or a bad idea.  If I can't find out something easily before Saturday, I'll be conservative and stick with the status quo.

The Greens and the Australia Labor Party are absent from my letterbox.   I live in a safe Labor seat, but that's no reason to ignore me.  Or maybe they are the only parties to respect my request for "no junk mail".

I'm off to fall asleep in front of a political interview now.

Two things for a Sunday night.

Two things to do:

Watch this and marvel at the creative capacity of human beings:  http://www.youtube.com/embed/XlyCLbt3Thk?rel=0

And go see the film "Frances Ha".

I'm so glad I'm not 27 any more!