There was a big Scorpio moon lunchtime yesterday and boy am I feeling the pull of the sucker.
Jonathan Cainer writes: "This weekend brings the biggest, brightest Full Moon
for 100 years. Try to take a look at it when it is first rising up over the
horizon around sunset. It seems almost unfeasibly close.... and that's at least
partially because it is closer than usual. The Moon's journey through the sky
causes it to perform a little dance with the Earth where it regularly steps
nearer, then further back. It's now as near as it ever gets... and because it
happens to be full, that makes it as powerful as ever gets. People are calling
it a 'Supermoon' - although you may want to find other names to call it as you
begin to notice how much emotion and intensity it is stirring up in your life!"
Yep. Sums it up in one.
Other than a horrid, persistent headache for the lasted a day, one that had had me reaching for the ibuprofen and stronger, life is okay. Just busy. And perplexing. And a bit harsh.
Saturday night I was out babysitting Bernie and Gaz's twin six-year-olds, who were a delight, teaching me about Star Wars, reading to me and going to bed, teeth cleaned, pyjama-ed and toileted without a boo. All that was left for me was to snuggle up with their chiahuahua cross on the couch and doze in front of the "The Shawshank Redemption". Bernie and Gaz found me fast asleep at around midnight, snoring in time with the dog. A great Friday night, no dramas, apart from the near migraine headache.
Woke Saturday morning after a great night's sleep (assisted by some lovely panadeine forte). A long meditation session, a wonderful breakfast with the meditation crew at my favourite Caulfield eatery - where due to being back on the hippy diet, a faboulous bowl of bircher muesli was had. Not the normal Challah French Toast or the smashed avocado and Persian Feta on sourdough with roasted pumpkin seeds... nope, lovely, fresh, light bircher muesli with fresh strawberries and natural yoghurt. The headache started to go.
This was followed by my three monthly haircut. I've been going to the same hairdresser for over ten years. A friend of a friend, she never buggers up my cut - it lasts for ever and keeps it's shape - having wavy hair, it's good to know there is somebody who knows your hair. I don't mind who colours it so much, but Lee cuts my hair. It's worth the half an hour drive across Melbourne to get it done.
Sitting in the chair, reading my book, waiting for the colour to set, the phone rings. It's Mum. News on my beloved aunt. She's not been well over the last few months and there was some suspicion that something more was happening. After tests last week it appears she has bowel cancer, which has gone through the wall of the bowel and metastasised in the liver. She's having a scan done next week, but things do not look good at all. She's also 84, so really, what ever they do won't be trying to save her life, but make sure that either they slow down the decay or keep her comfortable.
This news rocked me. Not of the diagnosis - this news had been brewing for a bit, more the finality that somebody I love won't be around for much longer. My aunt is a very, very special person, knowing that her days are numbered isn't good - for her or for anybody. I contacted my favourite cousin - her daughter - the spare room is there if she needs to debrief. She said that it may get some use over the next few months.
So now, a day on, I'm sitting here thinking like this is the calm before the storm.
Reading tarot last night at a hen's party, attended by what appeared to be the noisiest family in Melbourne - a large, loving, strange, energetic gaggle of Portuguese women, I wondered if my family would ever be a cohesive group like this - not that it ever really has been like it, but there were days when we were closer. By the end of the night, 20 readings later, a very bizarre stripper who appeared to flap his bits in front of everybody in the room, I'd worked out who go on with whom, who was ill, who was unhappy, who was disappointed, who was avoiding stuff.
(Maybe I should arrange a group reading for my family - though that would be a bit pointless as many of them are rabid Christians who think of tarot as the devil's pasteboards.)
The last girl I read for the night was a sweetie. She looked tired. Tired, sensible, quiet and frankly, completely bamboozled by this rambunctious mob.
"Why to I get the feeling you want to run away?" I asked her as I turned over the last card.
"I'm plotting it. Next year. Go interstate for university - get away from all of this. I love them, but I can't be around them too much or I go mad."
"You're the academic of the family? The quiet achiever?"
"Yep. I'm the black sheep." she told me. "I love all these people but I don't know how we're related."
I was looking at my eighteen-year-old self.
The other strange event at this tarot job - I ran into an old work mate there who was attending the party. This has never happened before. I like to keep my tarot work and my day job very separate - people are aware that I read, I just don't want to read for them. She came up, said hello and that was it, thankfully. Being eight months pregnant, I think she went home early.
To top off a hard, surreal day, I dropped in at the service station on Hoddle Street to fill the car - I wasn't tired - it was something to do with all the energy floating around me. As I started to fill the car and ancient Magna pulled up behind me. Out poured three drag queens, each at least six two, dressed to the nines, heels like daggers, though you know that they probably wear steel caps by day, especially going by their gait as they went inside for cigarettes. They were search of some club in Collingwood.
Of all the juxtapositions. It topped the day off beautifully.
So a day on, does it still feel like the calm before the storm. Yes. There are no answers as to what will happen with my aunt, other than she will die at some point sooner rather than later. Things still feel intense. The headache has passed.
One thing that's taken my mind off all the things going on - my great friend Geetangeli and her husband Bill will be in Sydney on the first weekend in June, over from New Zealand for Bill's work. They've asked me up for the weekend, so arrangements have been made - go up for the weekend and go on foodie expeditions around Darling Harbour (though I think I've talked them into taking the ferry out to Manly to experience the creations of Adriano Zumbo, and maybe go try Sydney's Chinatown. Geetangeli and Bill are foodies extraordinaire and are happy to try new things. This I will enjoy immensely. Along with catching up with one of my oldest and dearest friends who I haven't seen in about four years.
But still, I reckon this is the calm before the storm.
I'm wondering what else might happen. For the moment, I think taking to sitting under my snuggie and reading a book - a Pandora form of putting my hands over my ears and singing 'lalalalalalala' is in order.
Pandx
Showing posts with label challenges. Show all posts
Showing posts with label challenges. Show all posts
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Sunday, August 21, 2011
The New Old Regime
The thought of reunions used to send shivers down my spine. There is a wonderful scene from Grosse Point Blank, a classic reunion movie, that sums up my current though process. A scene where the protagonist, a hired gun, is talking to his wise secretary. A scene, that no matter how many times I watch the film, always resonates with me.
I'm finding myself in a similar situation at the moment. I have a reunion to attend at the start of October.
For once in my life I don't feel like I'm going to turn up and have people say "God, what a moose." I don't feel like I've under-achieved. I know that I've "swelled" a bit, but not that much. I look better now than I did back then. The monobrow is gone, thank goodness. The Noel Gallagher eyebrows have been tamed. The hair is styled - okay sometimes styled. I'm not that flabby. I sort of have dress sense. I have a skerrick of street cred now - even if Jonella says that wearing a pink t-shirt emblazoned with the word "Geek" when running destroys any kudos I may have attained.
However, I'm also painfully aware that the winter half stone has crept on over the last three months and that that I'm not really accepting of this.
I've also signed up for the 12wbt again. The second time I've done this to myself this year, the second time I'm letting myself in for a serious round of challenges lead by the indominable Michelle Bridges. 1200-1300 calories a day, training six days a week for an hour a day. I've signed on to start on 12 September with the rest of them.
With this reunion so close - I'm starting tomorrow.
Three weeks early.
The great thing is that the 12wbt regime makes me feel fantastic. High protein, low in simple carbs and sugar. Sensible but power packed, it gets me where I want to be, and quickly.
Of the training, Pump Class, running and Pinochet will take up the slack. Add in half marathon training, the odd run up the 1000 Steps, taking in the odd spin class, the City to Bay in Adelaide, the Grape Run, long runs to meditation on Saturday momrings... I'll get my six hours in no worries.
It's not that much more exercise Than I've been doing lately anyway. I rather like that my body does what it's told most of the time. I'm really fond of the fact that not much flobs around any more - but it could be better. I've just got to be good with the ice cream and the intermittent snacking and things will fall into place.
I've got something to work towards.
And the theme song for this blog?
An urban battle cry. A great song to set off a great six week's work.
WOOOOOO HOOOOOOO!
It's good to have a managable challenge.
Thinking about it, if I had gone to my high school reunion, it would have been just like the reunion scenes in the movie, same music, same dress sense, just a few more people who were either grand-parents or flannel wearing bogans.
I'm finding myself in a similar situation at the moment. I have a reunion to attend at the start of October.
For once in my life I don't feel like I'm going to turn up and have people say "God, what a moose." I don't feel like I've under-achieved. I know that I've "swelled" a bit, but not that much. I look better now than I did back then. The monobrow is gone, thank goodness. The Noel Gallagher eyebrows have been tamed. The hair is styled - okay sometimes styled. I'm not that flabby. I sort of have dress sense. I have a skerrick of street cred now - even if Jonella says that wearing a pink t-shirt emblazoned with the word "Geek" when running destroys any kudos I may have attained.
However, I'm also painfully aware that the winter half stone has crept on over the last three months and that that I'm not really accepting of this.
I've also signed up for the 12wbt again. The second time I've done this to myself this year, the second time I'm letting myself in for a serious round of challenges lead by the indominable Michelle Bridges. 1200-1300 calories a day, training six days a week for an hour a day. I've signed on to start on 12 September with the rest of them.
With this reunion so close - I'm starting tomorrow.
Three weeks early.
The great thing is that the 12wbt regime makes me feel fantastic. High protein, low in simple carbs and sugar. Sensible but power packed, it gets me where I want to be, and quickly.
Of the training, Pump Class, running and Pinochet will take up the slack. Add in half marathon training, the odd run up the 1000 Steps, taking in the odd spin class, the City to Bay in Adelaide, the Grape Run, long runs to meditation on Saturday momrings... I'll get my six hours in no worries.
It's not that much more exercise Than I've been doing lately anyway. I rather like that my body does what it's told most of the time. I'm really fond of the fact that not much flobs around any more - but it could be better. I've just got to be good with the ice cream and the intermittent snacking and things will fall into place.
I've got something to work towards.
And the theme song for this blog?
An urban battle cry. A great song to set off a great six week's work.
WOOOOOO HOOOOOOO!
It's good to have a managable challenge.
Friday, April 1, 2011
Acccountability April
My main goal from my time off over the last three months, other than losing weight, has been to write.
However, other than blogging and filling in job applications, seriously, I haven't been writing. I haven't been creatively writing at all. The most creative thing I've written since January is my CV.
So I'm naming April the month of taking responsibility for my creativity and I will attempt to not only blog every day, but write something of use, of substance and of value over the next month. Oh, and it will be fiction - whether it be continuing on with Rainbow Robertson or getting a literary short story penned and polished - we have a goal. Write, Pandora, write!
This is my committment to you. You may or may not see the fiction. Sorry, you'll just have to put up with the blog in the meantime.
So, it's April. Other than being a fair bit slimmer things are chugging along, but that is about it.
A few things have happened that are a bit bittersweet and a bit fun.
First up, I have the Maow Maow for another week.
The Maow Maow you ask? Maow Maow is Barney and Blarney's cat. I reckon he was my soul mate in another life. We've always been the best of friends. Maow Maow was supposed to be going home this weekend. Got a text from Blarney, they're staying in Ireland for another week. (Friends of Blarney reading this, give me a call and I will explain) As much as I love the Maow Maow, I'm a little over having my feet being chewed at 5 am, his occasionally feral moods where he does his best Tasmanian Devil impersonation, his dreadful table manners, the way he kicks his litter all over the kitchen, him shedding everywhere, his need to accompany me to the toilet and the fact that he demands breakfast anywhere between 5.30 and 7 in the morning.
Making up for this tenfold is the fact he's brilliant company, extremely cuddly, keeps my legs warm at night and is very clean. I can't fault him as a house guest really. Though when it comes to seeing tarot and reflex clients... Tarot clients get their feet bitten and if I'm massaging he wants to join in. The other night while doing somebody's glutes he's sitting there in pounce mode - like joy - just what you need, a cat clawing your arse when you're expecting an elbow to be shoved in it.
Thankfully, Maow Maow appears to be happy at my place.
Job wise it's been six company interviews in ten days, with a few agency runs in the mean time. Of the interviews all have gone okay - I seem to be getting pipped at the post by people with more experience, though I've had a number of comments about the fact I could do the job. This is to be expected as I'm trying to transition from one area of IT to another. I've also seen a temp agency and will probably see another one or two. It's time to start getting some real money in, make sure the rent is paid - even if there isn't much else left over - just to stop the drain on the bank account. Also, it will help with my sanity going to work every day for a change - I don't care if I'm filing or answering phones - it's honest work, it's not to taxing and it could lead to other things. The job - a real job, isn't too far away.
My other small project is also going well. Finding Melbourne's best macaron.
Macaron - yep, macaron. Not Macaroon - those jam and coconut creations your grandmother used to feed you bought at the lawn bowls trading table. No, macarons are divine. And in the scheme of things, not too calorific. And unfortunately a little expensive, which makes them the perfect treat for the lifestyle changing Pandora. Can only afford one or two every few days.
Macarons are a mix of almond meal, icing sugar and egg white - sort of like a mini pavlova with almond. This mixture can be flavoured with just about anything. Around Melbourne, they have macaron competitions - most exotic flavours, best texture. The perfect macaron has a slightly crunchy exterior, a perfectly fluffy interior and some yummy stuff sticking them together.
The worst macarons I've uncovered are at Kafe Krifi at Victoria Gardens - dreadful, too big, badly flavoured and as chewy as a hockey puck.
The best - well that is a toss up. The Salty Caramel macarons at Cacao in the GPO Building are nothing short of heavenly and are a brilliant standby. The green tea and black sesame ones at the Little Cupcake Shoppe in the QV centre are pretty special too.
However, this morning on my walk back to the "office" I discovered this little macaron shop down Hardware Lane. They had some really interesting flavours - ginger and macadamia, rose, flower essence and these really interesting ones in a fetching shade of duck egg blue. The consistancy of the two I tried was flawless, the flavours powerful, yet delicate at the same time - highly recommend the place, but get there early - they sell out by lunchtime.
Small things please small minds.
Right, better get going - off to meet Glen Waverley for lunch then coffee with another friend before going home to face the furry house demon and his wrath. I never knew going out to work could be so traumatic for a cat!
Pandx
However, other than blogging and filling in job applications, seriously, I haven't been writing. I haven't been creatively writing at all. The most creative thing I've written since January is my CV.
So I'm naming April the month of taking responsibility for my creativity and I will attempt to not only blog every day, but write something of use, of substance and of value over the next month. Oh, and it will be fiction - whether it be continuing on with Rainbow Robertson or getting a literary short story penned and polished - we have a goal. Write, Pandora, write!
This is my committment to you. You may or may not see the fiction. Sorry, you'll just have to put up with the blog in the meantime.
So, it's April. Other than being a fair bit slimmer things are chugging along, but that is about it.
A few things have happened that are a bit bittersweet and a bit fun.
First up, I have the Maow Maow for another week.
The Maow Maow you ask? Maow Maow is Barney and Blarney's cat. I reckon he was my soul mate in another life. We've always been the best of friends. Maow Maow was supposed to be going home this weekend. Got a text from Blarney, they're staying in Ireland for another week. (Friends of Blarney reading this, give me a call and I will explain) As much as I love the Maow Maow, I'm a little over having my feet being chewed at 5 am, his occasionally feral moods where he does his best Tasmanian Devil impersonation, his dreadful table manners, the way he kicks his litter all over the kitchen, him shedding everywhere, his need to accompany me to the toilet and the fact that he demands breakfast anywhere between 5.30 and 7 in the morning.
Making up for this tenfold is the fact he's brilliant company, extremely cuddly, keeps my legs warm at night and is very clean. I can't fault him as a house guest really. Though when it comes to seeing tarot and reflex clients... Tarot clients get their feet bitten and if I'm massaging he wants to join in. The other night while doing somebody's glutes he's sitting there in pounce mode - like joy - just what you need, a cat clawing your arse when you're expecting an elbow to be shoved in it.
Thankfully, Maow Maow appears to be happy at my place.
Job wise it's been six company interviews in ten days, with a few agency runs in the mean time. Of the interviews all have gone okay - I seem to be getting pipped at the post by people with more experience, though I've had a number of comments about the fact I could do the job. This is to be expected as I'm trying to transition from one area of IT to another. I've also seen a temp agency and will probably see another one or two. It's time to start getting some real money in, make sure the rent is paid - even if there isn't much else left over - just to stop the drain on the bank account. Also, it will help with my sanity going to work every day for a change - I don't care if I'm filing or answering phones - it's honest work, it's not to taxing and it could lead to other things. The job - a real job, isn't too far away.
My other small project is also going well. Finding Melbourne's best macaron.
Macaron - yep, macaron. Not Macaroon - those jam and coconut creations your grandmother used to feed you bought at the lawn bowls trading table. No, macarons are divine. And in the scheme of things, not too calorific. And unfortunately a little expensive, which makes them the perfect treat for the lifestyle changing Pandora. Can only afford one or two every few days.
Macarons are a mix of almond meal, icing sugar and egg white - sort of like a mini pavlova with almond. This mixture can be flavoured with just about anything. Around Melbourne, they have macaron competitions - most exotic flavours, best texture. The perfect macaron has a slightly crunchy exterior, a perfectly fluffy interior and some yummy stuff sticking them together.
The worst macarons I've uncovered are at Kafe Krifi at Victoria Gardens - dreadful, too big, badly flavoured and as chewy as a hockey puck.
The best - well that is a toss up. The Salty Caramel macarons at Cacao in the GPO Building are nothing short of heavenly and are a brilliant standby. The green tea and black sesame ones at the Little Cupcake Shoppe in the QV centre are pretty special too.
However, this morning on my walk back to the "office" I discovered this little macaron shop down Hardware Lane. They had some really interesting flavours - ginger and macadamia, rose, flower essence and these really interesting ones in a fetching shade of duck egg blue. The consistancy of the two I tried was flawless, the flavours powerful, yet delicate at the same time - highly recommend the place, but get there early - they sell out by lunchtime.
Small things please small minds.
Right, better get going - off to meet Glen Waverley for lunch then coffee with another friend before going home to face the furry house demon and his wrath. I never knew going out to work could be so traumatic for a cat!
Pandx
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Dreaming of 2012
My friend Amy of Aim to Change fame was given a challenge last week. Describe what she saw coming in her future. What was 2012 going to be like for Amy? She was forced to have a think about her plans for the future, what she wanted to happen in her life, what she wanted for herself.
Now Amy is one of the most beautiful and inspiring people I know, not that we've ever met in person (though we chat online and skype) but for the last three years I've watched her on the challenge of her life, slowly transforming herself into what she has become today.
Actually, all of the women who are a part of my Biggest Loser Club are inspiring and supportive in turn. I'm certain I couldn't have got as far as I have without the support of Aim, Trin, Kez, Sooz and the others who are on this journey with me. It's nice to be able to moan about a bad day, crow about results, be there to pick up the pieces when things go pear-shaped - and not have to bore your normal friends with the details. We all know what it's like to have an emotional food blow out, not want to go and do the exercise, find you've just been sabotaged by a family member or sat wallowing in the pit of despair as you find you can't fit into your favourite outfit any more. It's also great not to have to talk to this with your friends - like running, it's a subject that gets really monotonous after a while.
The BLC crew are like my cheerleaders for change - and it's great. Kez, now sitting on 45 kgs of weight loss got through her 8 km run in 45 minutes - which is amazing and inspring. I'm watching Trin go from strength to strength in ever time trial and set of push ups she does. Sooz has sorted her life out completely. These wonderful, focussed women really get what the journey is about.
So when the Commando set Amy this challenge - describe what 2012 will be like for her, I asked if I could borrow the challenge.
Also, as I believe that time is fluid and that you can influence how your future turns out. By writing about it, you can make it happen. Well, that is the plan. I also have evidence that it works. As and example, I know that I was talking about going to Spain on my 41st birthday - with no idea how that was going to happen - only a few months later I won the tickets overseas... it can happen if you put it out there.
So, what does Pandora's 2012 look like? I'll do this in the third person - lets see what Pandora's life is looking like.
Well the newly svelte Pandora, a standard size 12 on the bottom, 14 on the top, is getting on with her life. The foundations are down in the apartment that she has put down the downpayment on - and she is looking forward to moving in later in the year. She's also glad that the bed she's currently sleeping in will be place in the spare room. She and her partner will buy a new one when they move in together - they're testing the waters at the moment.
Pandora's also making sure she keeps up with her training. The New York Marathon awaits. New York you ask? Why not? Isn't that hard to get into? Yes - and if it's not the New York Marathon, the Mount Desert Island one will do well - Reindert might even run it with her. Will be nice to see Reindert and Corazon again. On the way back from New York, Pandora and her partner will stop in on Paris - she's always wanted to go back there with a partner - it's not a city you go to by yourself.
The big addition to the family are Pandora's cats. Joyce and Marmalade, two moggies rescued from the Lort Smith give her plenty of joy - though she wonders if Joyce is really a demon in disguise. The little bitch mugs her ankles regularly and has a tendency to shred the curtains.
Pandora looks back at 2011 and believes it was a great year. She's managed to lose 25 kgs over the year, get her fitness and health back, run a sub 2.30 half marathon, find that man - strangely not through work but on a bushwalk, something she took up last year.
She's thrilled the doctor no longer rags her about her blood pressure which is now in the realms of normal. Actually, for a 43-year-old woman, she's running pretty well - not just running, but her body isn't betraying her. There are a few grey hairs. She doesn't have perky breasts any more, but she hasn't had those for over a decade. Her legs are still good - going by her mother, they'll still be great at seventy. Losing the weight she's carried for twenty years has been a revelation to her. For the first time in her life she's confident in her looks and her body.
Other things she did which she loved - the Sydney Harbour Bridge Climb she did for her 43rd birthday (and to celebrate getting under 80 kgs / losing 20kgs) was amazing. She looks at her friends, a great mob. Can't do better than that - the old one's are gold but there are some great new friends in the mix - including the new guy. The one who didn't leave after a few months.
She's pleased her job is finally letting her get somewhere. The project management certification makes her feel a bit more certain about her future. She loves that she works with great people and has a good deal of work life balance.
Pinochet, dream group and meditation are still in her life - they're going nowhere. Her little Mazda 2 in a jet black is named Dennis - replacing dear old trusty Andrew the Echo.
It's good to see that she's happy.
Now Amy is one of the most beautiful and inspiring people I know, not that we've ever met in person (though we chat online and skype) but for the last three years I've watched her on the challenge of her life, slowly transforming herself into what she has become today.
Actually, all of the women who are a part of my Biggest Loser Club are inspiring and supportive in turn. I'm certain I couldn't have got as far as I have without the support of Aim, Trin, Kez, Sooz and the others who are on this journey with me. It's nice to be able to moan about a bad day, crow about results, be there to pick up the pieces when things go pear-shaped - and not have to bore your normal friends with the details. We all know what it's like to have an emotional food blow out, not want to go and do the exercise, find you've just been sabotaged by a family member or sat wallowing in the pit of despair as you find you can't fit into your favourite outfit any more. It's also great not to have to talk to this with your friends - like running, it's a subject that gets really monotonous after a while.
The BLC crew are like my cheerleaders for change - and it's great. Kez, now sitting on 45 kgs of weight loss got through her 8 km run in 45 minutes - which is amazing and inspring. I'm watching Trin go from strength to strength in ever time trial and set of push ups she does. Sooz has sorted her life out completely. These wonderful, focussed women really get what the journey is about.
So when the Commando set Amy this challenge - describe what 2012 will be like for her, I asked if I could borrow the challenge.
Also, as I believe that time is fluid and that you can influence how your future turns out. By writing about it, you can make it happen. Well, that is the plan. I also have evidence that it works. As and example, I know that I was talking about going to Spain on my 41st birthday - with no idea how that was going to happen - only a few months later I won the tickets overseas... it can happen if you put it out there.
So, what does Pandora's 2012 look like? I'll do this in the third person - lets see what Pandora's life is looking like.
Well the newly svelte Pandora, a standard size 12 on the bottom, 14 on the top, is getting on with her life. The foundations are down in the apartment that she has put down the downpayment on - and she is looking forward to moving in later in the year. She's also glad that the bed she's currently sleeping in will be place in the spare room. She and her partner will buy a new one when they move in together - they're testing the waters at the moment.
Pandora's also making sure she keeps up with her training. The New York Marathon awaits. New York you ask? Why not? Isn't that hard to get into? Yes - and if it's not the New York Marathon, the Mount Desert Island one will do well - Reindert might even run it with her. Will be nice to see Reindert and Corazon again. On the way back from New York, Pandora and her partner will stop in on Paris - she's always wanted to go back there with a partner - it's not a city you go to by yourself.
The big addition to the family are Pandora's cats. Joyce and Marmalade, two moggies rescued from the Lort Smith give her plenty of joy - though she wonders if Joyce is really a demon in disguise. The little bitch mugs her ankles regularly and has a tendency to shred the curtains.
Pandora looks back at 2011 and believes it was a great year. She's managed to lose 25 kgs over the year, get her fitness and health back, run a sub 2.30 half marathon, find that man - strangely not through work but on a bushwalk, something she took up last year.
She's thrilled the doctor no longer rags her about her blood pressure which is now in the realms of normal. Actually, for a 43-year-old woman, she's running pretty well - not just running, but her body isn't betraying her. There are a few grey hairs. She doesn't have perky breasts any more, but she hasn't had those for over a decade. Her legs are still good - going by her mother, they'll still be great at seventy. Losing the weight she's carried for twenty years has been a revelation to her. For the first time in her life she's confident in her looks and her body.
Other things she did which she loved - the Sydney Harbour Bridge Climb she did for her 43rd birthday (and to celebrate getting under 80 kgs / losing 20kgs) was amazing. She looks at her friends, a great mob. Can't do better than that - the old one's are gold but there are some great new friends in the mix - including the new guy. The one who didn't leave after a few months.
She's pleased her job is finally letting her get somewhere. The project management certification makes her feel a bit more certain about her future. She loves that she works with great people and has a good deal of work life balance.
Pinochet, dream group and meditation are still in her life - they're going nowhere. Her little Mazda 2 in a jet black is named Dennis - replacing dear old trusty Andrew the Echo.
It's good to see that she's happy.
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