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.
The book group books are bagged up, the extras have been put into zip-lock bags and will be taken into work tomorrow, so I wont eat them - life is okay. But I have no idea what to write.
Today's card reads, " Describe the most delicious meal you have ever eaten. If that's too hard, just write about a gorgeous dish you have enjoyed recently you keep thinking about. Give me every single detail about why it was delicious and what made it so."
See, I think this is a bit of a cop out, because I think people make food.
Last week, I went around to a friend's place for dinner. I brought the cheese and biscuits - a truffle brie, some gorgonzola, some pesto dip and biscuits. What followed was roast lamb, which has to be my favourite roast dinner. The meat was wonderfully pink - the meat thermometer said it was just right - and it was. There were roasted and steamed vegetables to go with it. After this, a cake purchased at Brunettis, a Cherry Christmas Log, was spectacular - so light and creamy. It was a lovely night, but as much as I remember the food, I remember the company more.
I've been very lucky to have eaten some awesome meals in my life.
Anything that Liz at L'Hotel de L'Oranges in Sommieres in utterly fantastic. Same for our wonder caterer Emma Eastman at our retreats. I even eat her lasagne.
There used to be a place on Glen Huntly Road which had this dessert. Halva ice cream, orange blossom syrup, Persian fairy floss with pieces of Turkish Delight. 15 years on and I'm still talking about this.
I remember going to this wonderful French restaurant - Libertine - many years ago. We had what was one of the best degustation meals I've ever had the pleasure of eating. The one at Estelle in Northcote came a close second. Please don't ask me for details - I know they were good.
Food, for me, is all about the experience, whether it be topping up on Patatas Bravas in Spain (or any good Spanish restaurant), to great, fresh tacos, to fresh fish and chips, to a barbeque with friends. I love trying new things. I still remember when my Swedish flatmates held me down and made m try pickled herring. Or even if it's going down the road to one of the dodgy Vietnamese places to get their crispy beef with spicy sauce - which I take all my friends to try because it's so good - made better by the formica tables, tissue boxes for serviettes and the kid in the corner doing their homework in between serving customers.
The best food is experienced with others. It's the love and the fun that makes it delicious.
Once a year, I have to go down the lolly aisle at the supermarket. It's not something I do often. The lolly and biscuit aisle is a no-go zone - or if I do venture down there it's to get rice cakes, the odd packet of Arnotts Nice biscuits when I'm making a cheesecake to take to a barbeque, or Turkish Delight bars to take to the writer's retreats, because Turkish Delight is currency for neurospicy women.
Today was the day I had to venture down the lolly aisle to get the book group lollies for the book group lolly vote, which will be happening this Sunday.
I've been doing this for over 15 years. Each December, I'll dump a phone heap of lollies into a big bowl and put 25 lollies of various shapes and sizes into a zip lock bag, along with a rubber glove, so we can do our book choosing. It's all very calculated and exacting. Everybody gets 25 lollies. Not 26. Not 24, but 25.
The hardest decision is what lollies to get.
There is the standard request from the group. Clinkers. And yes, I've got the Clinkers in, but at $7 a packet, they have to be only a part of the mix. Also, you don't want all the lollies to be the same size and shape. It helps keep the mystery of the vote.
Of course, I can't put all my favourites in the bag. It's reminiscent of the 20 bag of lollies you got at the local store as a kid. For me, Spearmint Leaves, Licorice Allsorts, Milk Bottles, jelly snakes (red or yellow preferred), maybe a Fantale and a couple of jaffas.
None of this Haribo crap - that stuff tastes like chemicals.
I did find two things. Hard jubes. Forever a favourite. Like Fantales, which I don't think they make anymore, hard jubes can take out your fillings. According to the interwebs, Fantales were discontinued in 2023. You can only find them online for over $100 a bag. Bad move Nestle.
And a bag of Allens Retro Party mix. According to the bag, it contains a mix of the following:
Racing Cars
Cola Bottles
Retro Man
Raspberries
Honey Bears
Strawberries and Cream
Teeth
Lips
Pineapples
Milk Bottles
One year we had Redskins - or whatever politically correct name they are known by now. (Red Rippers, I'm told, just as Chikos are now Cheekies, and Coon cheese is now Cheer cheese. And I do get why this was done.)
Another year we had all Skittles. This didn't go down well as the fruity flavours are cloying and they stain.
Another year it was all Jaffas - but the chocolate melted and things got messy. We've learned to put the lollies in the fridge at the restaurant until we need them for the vote.
And yes, I know I moan about getting this done every year, but I rather like the nostalgic feels this job gives me.
At least I have the lollies for bagging in the fridge.
My next urgent job is to select what my second book will be to take to the choosing. That's the hard job!
The Nuremberg Trials have been covered on the big and small screen many times over. It's an important story that should remain in our view, because, as the adage goes, those who don't learn from the past are bound to repeat it. This is an interesting and thought-provoking movie that looks at the process leading up to the trial, the back story to the first cases at Nuremberg which leads to the final outcome. It is based on Jack El-Hai's book, The Nazi and the Psychiatrist.
As war movies go, it's very good, taking into consideration more than the main players. It takes a look into authoritarianism and what can happen when people don't stand up for what is right. (Sound familiar?)
Rami Malek plays psychiatrist, Douglass Kelley, who is assigned to get to know the first round of First Reich prisoners to be tried, evaluating whether they are fit to stand trial. This includes Hermann Goering (Russell Crowe), Hitler's number two, a narcissist and egotist. Along with his translator, Howie (Leo Woodall) Kelley has the mammoth task of trying to understand these monsters of men.
In the background, Justice Robert Jackson (Michael Shannon) a judge of high standing, is asked to try these men. This has its own traps as the army, led by Colonel Andrus (John Slattery) and having to co-ordinate with the other nations, including Brit, Sir David Fyfe-Maxwell (Richard E Grant). The movie also looks at the machinations of bringing to justice men who have been responsible for the most heinous acts ever done by the human race.
This is a balanced film. There has been some embellishment for dramatic effect, however this is an engrossing film. Malek and Crowes performances are top notch - the rest of the cast are great too.
I particularly loved the sets and costumes, which drag you back to the 1940. Cinematographer Darius Wolski's view brings the recently bombed Nuremberg to life. Adding to this, Brian Tyler's haunting soundscape heightens the experience. Director James Vanderbilt's direction is assured, never letting the action drag and bringing in some light, ensuring the film doesn't get too depressing.
This film will get some Oscar nominations. It's a timely reminder of what unchecked power can do.
This is definitely worth a viewing on the big screen. It's not a perfect film, but it is a timely one.
Tonight was spent at somebody else's Christmas Party. It appears that other people's Christmas parties are better than the ones that you own yourself. In this case, a friend's band was playing. Said friend is a nurse. It was great watching my mate play as well as catching up with friends and taking in the diaspora of medicos. And why is the anaesthetist always on the keyboard and the drummer is an orthopaedic surgeon?
Regardless, it was a fun night. It's probably going to be the only Christmas Party I attend.
1) What was the scariest thing in the world to you when you were a kid? Does it still scare you now?
Snakes and huntsman spiders scared the hell out of me. Living in country Australia you have a good reason to be scared of snakes, especially as most snakes in Australia can kill you if they bite you. Huntsman spiders are just big and ugly, but they won't hurt you. I still hate them, but I can at least dispose of them with a can of big spray now.
2) Imagine your 12-year-old daughter (or granddaughter) is hosting a sleepover at your home. A sudden storm knocks out cellphone service, wifi and cable. How would you keep these suddenly unplugged pre-teens entertained?
I have no idea. I don't have kids. Maybe hope that my reading habits have worn off on them.
3) What piece of movie or TV memorabilia would you love to own?
I have enough crap around my place, but I do have a Vote for Pedro t-shirt, which I rather like. If you don't know about Napoleon Dynamite, you're missing out.
I wouldn't mind a t-shirt from The Princess Bride with a quote like, "As you wish...", "I do not think that means what you think it means", "Inconceivable!", or "My name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die." You can't wear the last one in airports.
People don't have a sense of humour anymore.
4) You are gifted with the services of a personal assistant for four hours. What would you ask your assistant to do?
Oh, they would be sorting out my cloud accounts and getting them in order. They're a mess.
5) If literary characters were real, which one would you like to interview, and what would you ask?
I have no idea. Too many characters, too many questions. I could sit down with Billy Pilgrim, or Dorrigo Evans, or the main character from Miranda July's All Fours (that would be interesting - the first question would be "What's your bloody name!")
I wanted to love this movie. On paper, it looks great - wonderful cast, interesting story, a different take on things.
Unfortunately, it fell flat. Maybe some of this was I fell asleep for a few minutes early in the film. Perhaps it's the knowledge that it's going to be out on Apple + very soon and I could have saved myself the ticket price. Or it could be that the death of a friend earlier in the week has peppered my judgement a little. When I think about it, this will translate well to the smaller screen. It's certainly not a bad film. Maybe it didn't hit the spot on this viewing.
Regardless, the premise of this film in pretty simple. According to this universe, when you die, you go to a holding area where your soul gets to decide where you will spend your eternity - and there are lots of choices. We're introduced Joan and Larry, and elderly couple who are on their way to see relatives. We find out that Joan's time is coming to an end. Unexpectedly, Larry passes first and finds himself, in the form he was happiest, in this receiving room for new souls. Larry (Miles Teller) finds himself confronted by Joan's first husband Luke (Callum Turner) who died in the Korean War. Of course, Joan (Elizabeth Olsen) soon joins them, and the decisions need to be made. With whom will Joan choose to spend eternity with - her short-term husband from 67 years ago, or her long-standing partner Larry.
I found this a bit predictable, which is why I'm a little disappointed with this film. The concepts are sound - the whole set up that we get to choose our own version of heaven and all it entailed was great. The ACs (Afterlife Consultants) was funny as well as telling. Da'Vine Randolph and John Early provide some necessary laughs as the trio's AC.
Despite it being visually interesting, with great costumes and sets, Patrick Cunnane's script feels a little lacking and co-writer/director's effort makes this feel a little laboured. Thinking about other films with similar topics, like The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind or Gattaca, this misses the mark by a mile. Yet, it will be a good inclusion when it comes onto Apple TV+ in the very near future.
A quick on tonight as I've spent far too long staring at a screen today.
But here are some modern-day conundrums.
1. How can the dentist charge nearly $200 for a checkup and clean that takes approximately 15-minutes? And yes, I do get that rent, insurance, hiring a dental nurse, equipment... but still. Thankfully, my health insurance extras covered a lot of it - but still...
Lucky he's been my dentist for nearly 20 years, and I've sent him some new regulars over the years.
2. Why does a day of what I call fiddly admin feel rewarding? A colleague and I had to send out nearly 200 emails between us today. A long story. Lots of manipulating spreadsheets and other stuff. But it felt good to do something mindless.
3. Why do I want to be able to do pushups on my toes?
4. Is it wrong to want to give your Uber driver 3 or 4 stars for no other reason other than they have B.O.? Due to tight timings, I caught an Uber back from the dentist. The driver was very nice. The car very clean. But he ponged. I gave him 5 stars regardless, but...
5. Is it law that when your cat crosses your keyboard you have to give him a kiss?
6. Is it okay to take blue cheese to a friend's place?
7. Should I let the book group know that so far, we don't have any Australian content on the list. This is not a good thing. I'm not trying to massage the list.
8.Why do I always have a split lip when I go to the dentist. Is this Sod's Law?
9. Why do I have the urge to clean out the cupboard in the spare room? Is this a sane idea?
10. How can I talk myself into doing my hip rehab exercises. Why is it so hard to get down on the floor?
11. Why do I still have the desire to fly off to Bali and do a sound healing accreditation?
After years of whining, I've done it! I've got a writing group! Yay!
It's been years in the making. I came out of the Faber Academy hoping that I'd get a writing group out of that, but what can I say - COVID - messed up everything.
Then last year, I approached a couple of friends hoping to get a writing group going, but then Darwin happened.
I know - excuses, excuses.
It took another try, after the Darwin contract was over, to get this happening.
Attending a friend's book launch and knowing that she was in a writing group with an acquaintance - a brilliant writer in her own right, that got me on track again.
Then, I ran into a mutual friend, somebody I know from the retreat. I mentioned that I was wanting to get a group going - for accountability, fellowship, to bounce ideas against... and probably to whine about my cat. She was open to it, especially as some of her works were getting published.
The friends that were contacted late last year got a message. A date was set. Then somebody else joined us. The new recruit was found at a writer's festival by one of the others.
Five is a good number. We could do with one more - but that is about it.
The date was set. The First Monday of the month. Timing is paramount as there are kids and animals and commutes home to work into things. We agreed on 8.30 p.m. AEST, 8.00 p.m. ACST (Adelaide time) and 5.30 p.m. AWST (Perth time)
Thankfully, we meet on Zoom.
And we're an unlikely group. An IT project manager, a lawyer, a doctor, a book editor and me.
Four of us have started projects. Interesting, engaging projects.
We've set down some rules. You don't have to share, but if you want to, keep it to under 3000 words for a thematic or structure review. (e.g. If you're sending work out, you give an idea of what you want to review - for me, I asked to have a look and see what they thought of the structure.). If you want a close edit - maximum 1000 words.)
But really, we're here for support and fellowship. Writing can be such an isolating activity, it's good to know that there are others out there who can be in the trench with you.
I'm feeling hopeful that the group which we've given the name the Happy Mondays, how much mischief can we, as a group of middle-aged women writers, get into?
"We've just heard from down the street. Bruce is no more. He died yesterday. His family are dealing with it the best they can."
My reaction was, "NOOOOOOO, not Bruce!"
Bruce was my mate.
We didn't see each other very often, but we had meaningful interactions when we did catch up. He could be flighty. He could be stroppy. He could be aloof. But he was my mate, Bruce.
I should also say that Bruce was a fat, black cat who lived around the corner would bale you up for a pat on the way to the tram stop or on the way home.
This afternoon, I went down the street to where Bruce lived. Sure enough, his dad had attached a sign to the mailbox notifying the neighbourhood of his demise.
So sad.
Bruce liked to be of a man of mystery. You'd not see him for ages, then you'd run into him regularly. Thinking about it, not going into the office as much meant that we didn't get to see each other.
Thinking about it, he'd have to be well into his dotage - he had to be at least 15-years-old.
But over the years, I've looked forward to walking home from the tram only to meet this chubby, black terrorist of a cat, demanding a pat before letting me through.
He was a friend to many, but if he didn't like you, he'd let you know.
He was a unique personality - then again, all cats have their own personality. It's just this one has been patrolling the street around the corner for many years.
So, vale, Bruce. We know you're up there sucking up to one and all, tormenting your new slave, like you tormented the last one. (He was very good at having his dad buy him new wet food, only to dismiss it after he brought in a pallet of the stuff.) You certainly made the streets of Richmond feel a little more welcoming. You were loved by many and won't be forgotten.
