We had our annual Book Group Book choosing meeting on Sunday.
As always, we followed the rules. Every member brought two books along - vetted beforehand for duplicates, because there are always duplicates. (The year, a couple of people wanted to put up Charlotte McConaghy's Wild Dark Shore - two others wanted to up Fredrik Backman's My Friends. This is why we check!)
Selection criteria is as follows:
The book must be fiction
It should be under 500 pages long - a few more is fine - just don't try to put up Anna Karenina.
It should be easily obtainable at bookshops, libraries or online.
Keep your choices to literature or decent popular fiction.
Simples.
Then the lollies got bagged up. Everybody is given a bag of 25 assorted lollies at the meeting to use to vote for the books. Once the books have been championed you put as many lollies on the books you want to read. You can't vote for your own books.
This is where we landed. The four books at the end weren't selected. We've read a lot of Backman over the years, and there were so many good books to read.
To be honest, we've barely had a bad book in the last fifteen years.
We then sorted out the reading order. Lighter books are relegated to the start and end of the year, heavier books for the cooler months. I'm just glad that I'm part of such a committed book group.
And here's what I don't get. Celebrating is human nature. Why not join in? Celebrating means happy people and good food. Why wouldn't you want to get in there and learn about people's cultures and beliefs? It's not like anybody is right.
When it's Diwali/Deepavali, I always wish my Hindu friends a Happy Diwali/Deepavali (Same thing, just named differently depending on where you're from).
After Ramadan, of course, I say 'Eid Mubarak' to my Muslim friends.
To the Wiccans, you nod and say 'Blessed Be' when it's the solstice, or just generally when you meet another member of the craft.
When abroad, you visit temples and wonder at their workings. You count Buddhas, spin prayer wheels, obtain oracles, regaling in the colour and majesty of the places.
Christians are wished Merry Christmas and Happy Easter. If you're in Greece, you wonder at the noise of the celebrations, taking up with a "Καλό Πάσχα, Χριστός Ανέστη!" with gusto.
At the various New Years celebrations for the Asians communities, you wish your neighbours well. Gong Hei Fat Choi, or a variant of that goes down well at Chinese New Year. There is also a good possibility that there will be fireworks and food.
There is a bit of a theme here.
Indian friends seem to have a festival for everything. Light, colour, the birth of many of their major gods. These are awesome. For me, it means there's a good possibility of a feed with some jelabis and cashew burfee.
On Saturday morning, as I sat in my favourite Jewish deli after Kaballah meditation. We always go here. The food and coffee are good. On leaving I wished the proprietor, who I've known for 20 years, a happy Hanukkah. Over the years, I've wished him a happy Rosh Hosannah, Passover and Yom Kippur, though the last one is never that happy because if you're an observant Jew, you fast. Sod that, no food on Yom Kippur.
And why would I do this?
Because it's a kind thing to do. Celebrations are supposed to make people happy. Acknowledging people's celebrations lets them know that they're seen and welcomed. It shows people that you've got the good grace to be happy for their celebrations. Why wouldn't be happy to watch people celebrate?
It's one of the great things about living in a multicultural society.
I don't understand antisemitism. I don't get racial hate. We're all part of the human race. It's these differences that make us interesting.
After the events of yesterday, I firmly stand with the Jewish community. Tonight is the second night of Hannukah. I have two candles burning. I don't have a menorah, but I can light the candles in solidarity, bringing in the much-needed light.
I don't need to do this. I'm not converting to Judaism, although I can see some attraction to its rituals and customs.
No, I'm burning candles to bring in light in this dark time.
Australia is better than this.
Celebrate. Be curious, not judgmental, in the words or Walt Whitman and Ted Lasso.
And love thy neighbour. You never know what leftovers you'll get after these holidays.
Another weekend, another round of questions. I'm not sure how I'm going to answer some of these. As there's a lot on this weekend, I'll keep my answers short/.
I asked ChatGPT, putting in the prompt " " and this is what it came up with:
Personality Traits (Dot Points)
📚 Thoughtful & Reflective
Often explores personal experiences and emotions with introspection.
pandoraqueenofdenial.blogspot.com
+1
Reflects on friendships, relationships, life choices, and personal growth.
pandoraqueenofdenial.blogspot.com
🎨 Cultured & Curious
Loves books, movies, theatre, and music; engages deeply with cultural content.
blogger.com
+1
Reads widely, participates in book groups, and discusses literary choices thoughtfully.
pandoraqueenofdenial.blogspot.com
😄 Witty & Self-deprecating
Writes with humour and candid self-awareness about life’s quirks.
pandoraqueenofdenial.blogspot.com
Uses colourful language and playful metaphors.
pandoraqueenofdenial.blogspot.com
❤️ Warm & Relationship-oriented
Values deep platonic and long-term friendships.
pandoraqueenofdenial.blogspot.com
Open about dating experiences, boundaries, and what they’re looking for in a partner.
pandoraqueenofdenial.blogspot.com
🧠 Analytical & Honest
Talks frankly about personal challenges (e.g., AuDHD diagnosis, past relationships), showing emotional insight.
pandoraqueenofdenial.blogspot.com
Shows a strong internal awareness and willingness to reframe life with newfound clarity.
pandoraqueenofdenial.blogspot.com
🥂 Passionate & Enthusiastic
Enjoys and values hobbies and interests deeply (e.g., music, gin, travel).
pandoraqueenofdenial.blogspot.com
Embraces experiences fully—even spontaneous lunch trips and social adventures.
pandoraqueenofdenial.blogspot.com
🧑💼 Intelligent & Well-educated
Has a Master’s degree and works professionally.
🧘 Independent & Self-Directed
Makes life choices with independence and self-responsibility. Enjoys solitude and internal contemplation as much as social interaction.
🗣️ Opinionated but Considerate
Expresses firm views on social issues (e.g., national holidays, cultural topics) thoughtfully rather than aggressively. Prefers respectful discourse over confrontation.
😂 Humorous & Unfiltered
Comfortable being candid and unabashed in expression, sometimes irreverently so.
2) What's the best way to get on your good side?
One of the following:
Feed me.
Cuddle me.
Give me something to read.
Leave me alone if I ask.
Don't be a right-wing wanker.
Don't be rude.
3) What person do you feel most comfortable with?
I'm not sure how to answer this. I'm very comfortable with my friends, so I can't name just one. I will admit that most people see slightly different sides to me, but that's probably goes with everybody.
4) Do you handle criticism well?
I'm getting better at it. If the criticism is constructive, then yes. If it's not, then I have no response.
5) Are you the type to tell someone, if asked, that their pants DO make them look fat?
If asked, yes. If unsolicited - no. Though I might say something like, "Is that your last choice?" or something along those lines.
This film doesn't really deserve the four-star rating, but as a film to see after a day which contained the funeral of a dear friend, it was just what the doctor ordered. Ella McCay is excellent Friday night fodder. Fun, chirpy. great cast, a bit of a story and a few morals to boot, what more do you need. It would be a good Hallmark film, but it's better than that. I wouldn't rush out to see it, but it was a good diversion.
It's an easy premise. Ella McCay (Emma Mackey) is the Lieutenant-Governor of a small, what looks like New England state. She's the woman with the ideas and the thorn in the side of the Governor (Albert Brooks) She's the one doing all the work, while the governor is doing all canvassing for donations. Ella is also aware that some of her behaviour may put her job on the line - nothing major, but enough to cause a scandal. She also has a fractured relationship with her philandering father (Woody Harrelson), a brother, Casey (Spike Fearn), who's got 'issues' and a husband, Ryan (Jack Lowden) who you know you're going to want to slap in the very near future. The two functional relationships she has are with her Aunt Helen (Jamie Lee Curtis) and her secretary, Estelle (Julie Kavner), who narrates the film.
Looking back, not that much happens. You get to know Ella, an intelligent do-gooder who wants to make the world a better place, while the men around her blow up her life. There's the normal dilemma of what Ella will do, choose her career or her family. It looks at how women can be badly treated in politics. It has a look at the fact women do the emotional heavy lifting for the family. Written and directed by James L. Brooks, who's responsible for Terms of Endearment, As Good as it Gets and Spanglish, this isn't one of his stronger films. But is watchable and enjoyable if you're looking for something light to watch on a Friday night after a hard week.
I'm not going to slate it, as it did the job for me. Light and watchable. Not all films are put out to get an Oscar nomination.
Of course, I dressed carefully, applied minimal make up, did my hair, daubed on some Chanel No 5, which I save for special occasions, and left with time to spare so I didn't arrive late. It was going to be a 100 km round trip. At least peak hour was over.
For some context, this was a funeral of one of my masonic friends. She was one of my most favourite people. We were in lodge together only a fortnight ago. She was 91. A sprightly, engaged, fun, interesting woman, who was becoming increasingly frail, but was still walking unaided, and though a bit deaf, loved a good conversation, no matter when or wear. She made the most awesome asparagus rolls and other CWA standards. She was a life-long learner. Curious, yet without judgement. Her family were everything to her. She was everything to her family. A mother to four sons, we were reminded that she was once a mother of four under six. She had the patience of Job.
That she died at 91 is not unexpected. That she was taken quickly in a horrific car accident is the tragedy. Thankfully, she did not suffer. As awful the circumstances, most are taking some solace in this fact.
In conversation the day before with the deceased's sister, I was instructed to wear colour, not black. Her sister would have liked it if we wore colour. As much as this was a sad and tragic occasion, this was a celebration. There was a lot to celebrate.
On arriving at the memorial gardens, I'd arrived with a few minutes to spare and a full house. Her family were holding themselves together. I found one so, a man in his mid-sixties on the way in - her son who I'd sat on many a committee with. We hugged. No words. Just a "Yeah..." at the end of it. I found her sister in the front row. At 89, she too is a nimble old chook. She seemed happy to see me there.
"I'm not crying," she said.
"You don't have to," was my reply. "I'm not crying - but I do the work on the inside."
"I'm not crying because I know she's happy."
"That is a marvelous way to look at all this."
The ceremony commenced. The celebrant was engaging, not that she's met my friend, but she did spend time with the family and got the stories and go a sense of this wonderful woman. Her sons spoke. Some of her grandchildren spoke. The photo gallery showed a woman who was happy and who was loved.
What more could you ask for?
For me, I cannot remember ever being in a room that was filled with more love and grace.
As much as I will miss my friend, I can only celebrate her. My life is so much the richer for knowing her.
You can't say that about everybody.
(As a post-script, I quickly worked out that the man I'd given a big hug to on the way in was not the brother I thought it was. I know the third brother. This was the second brother - a slightly taller, slimmer, mirror image version of the brother I know well. And here I was thinking the man I knew had hit the Ozempic. At the wake, I found him to apologise. I'm not one for hugging strange men normally. He said not to worry - it was a great hug. I still feel like a dickhead.)
I will admit to the fact that as a writer of fiction, I like to write in 12 pt Times New Roman.
Why? I find it comforting. I've been using it for years. This is for writing fiction. This is a personal choice. And sure, it's a serif font, but I'm old and my brain works well with it. It's like putting on comfy clothing. It feels good. (I am writing this in Times New Roman 12 pt)
If I can't find Times New Roman, then Trebuchet or Garamond will do the job. Or Georgia, Baskerville or Helvetica at a push.
Of course, in my line of work, I'm used to fitting in with the font of the company's style. In Australia, larger corporations will have their own bespoke font added to the font suite. If you can't use that for some reason (often in licensed publishing software) an alternative will be sanctioned in the branding policy - in most cases this will be Calibri, Trebuchet or Times New Roman.
In the last decade, there's been a move towards sans serif fonts. Look at Microsoft, which has moved its default font from Calibri to Aptos. Segoe, choice of font for the Atlassian suite, is an annoying outlier. Calibri is a thinner, serif free version of Aptos. If you work in projects, Segoe is the allegedly friendly font of Jira, Confluence and other Atlassian products. Aptos is the default font of most AI, and Microsoft, being the dictator of fonts, has run with this.
And sure, I whine wherever Microsoft, or whatever company change their fonts. For me, this normally means having to go over all of the materials I've been working on for six months then go through and change the fonts. It sucks. (Did you know that most large companies pay a hell of a lot of money to update their fonts every few years, partly as a security feature - it's a good way to pick up whether you're being scammed.) It also lends itself to how the material is being consumed. For online resources, sans serif - your Aptos, Segoe or Calibri work best.
Also, I get that sans serif fonts are reportedly easier to read.
Still, for me, Times New Roman 12 pt is my go-to font.
But, and here is the big but, when you hear that the American Government are going back to use Times New Roman, from Calibri, because Calibri is a DEI nonsense typeface, my hackles rise.
Seriously - it's not a good thing to have a clear, readable typeface for the country to read? Not that it makes that much difference, but it will mean somebody like me will have to go through a multitude of documents and make the switch. It's a shit job.
Then again, why are the U.S. Government demanding that everything be written in the Courier typeface, so it looks like everything is written on a manual typewriter by a young, single woman in the typing pool who will be fired once she settles on marrying a man who will treat her like crap after she pushes out for him two point six babies, if she is allowed to get maternity care through her problematic pregnancy...
Moving back to this plain, dull, white-bread font feels like a regressive move. It is a regressive move, but hey, that's the USA for you at the moment. With their current president, maybe they should write everything in Comic Sans... well known as the crayon alternative of the typeface world.
Reading back on this, I really do have some firm opinions about fonts and typefaces.
I didn't know it was a thing. I didn't know it had a name. I didn't know that this was part of the deal.
This AUDHD (Autism+ADHD) journey has been revelatory. And vindicating.
Speaking to a colleague today, whose son has a number of things that put him squarely on the spectrum, he was saying that as he's getting older, it's easier to help him regulate.
As a late-diagnosed woman, I can see this. As an adult, you know yourself. You've worked out a lot of your triggers and have your strategies in place. You know how to self-regulate. The meds help. And sometimes, the clarity of the situation takes your breath away.
Case in point - the concept of the work persona.
I have one of these.
I am an introvert. Yet, I am also bubbly, chatty, engaged, helpful (for the most part) and sociable at work. I can talk to anybody. I can talk to a room of people without blinking. I'm happy to speak in public, talk to a room of hundreds. I will approach anybody, at any time. This is my well-honed, well-crafted work persona.
However, tell me that there are work drinks and that I have to go to a pub and make small talk, not drink, because I'm not drinking much at the moment, and my anxiety goes through the roof. I want to curl up under my desk in the foetal position.
Three years ago, I wouldn't have called it anxiety.
I recognise it now for what it is.
On learning there were work drinks today at a large team meeting, the discomfort started immediately.
When we got out of the meeting, I talked this through with a colleague. Part of it is that I've only been at the bank for less than a month. I know my team, and that's it. The other 50 people in the broader team, not so much.
As nice as these people are, hanging around drinking coke zero, doing the small talk thing - it wasn't going to happen.
People are surprised. "But you're so bubbly!" they cry. Yes, at work. With my work persona in place. Once I step out the door, all I want to do is go home, do some exercise and talk to the cat.
I've felt like this all my life. Large gatherings - I have always had to psyche myself up for them. If I do go, I stick to the edges of the room - find my tribe. It's why I liked being a smoker - I had a place to go with likeminded people. At Blarney's. when she holds a barbeque, you find me outside with the boys, looking at the fire, normally with a beer. It's quieter.
And there is a name for it. Crippling social anxiety. I've always had it. Now I can put a name to it and not feel bad when I'm running fast in the opposite direction of the work drinks / large party / wedding / event where I have to chat to strangers in a meaningless way comes up.
The team went for their drinks. I stayed back. As I'm having Friday morning off for a funeral, I got the jump on some other work. That felt good. On arriving home, the cat was fed, then I went for a long walk. That was wonderful. I met lots of dogs on the walk too.
It felt good to be true to myself. Even better, I can name what it is that has made these events have me in tears for years.
