Killer heels

I'm not sure whether to blame it on motherhood to an active toddler or plain old middle age creeping up (GAH), but I have become a firmly entrenched wearer of flats. No more killer heels for me - I barely even pretend to make the effort these days even on 'business suit' days at work. I'm not sure if I should be ashamed of this or proud that my 30s are proving to be the decade of the ballet flat.

I'm not even sure when this descent began. I think it can be attributed to a horribly undignified toppling over in the corridors of power when I was about 6 months pregnant. One of those moments I'd genuinely prefer to forget but suspect I will remember forever. I like to pretend noone saw.

Just like noone saw me when I fell over dashing through the gravel carpark at a great friend's wedding trying to get to the ceremony before her. I blame the shoes - the gorgeous nude patent pumps with an 11cm heel that look so gosh darn pretty in the cupboard. Less so waving in the air while I try to pick myself up off the ground ...

These shoes are now Puddleduck's favourite dress up shoes. She totters around with the skill and dexterity I maintain I used to have. I mean I genuinely remember running across regional airport tarmacs in 5 inch heels in absolutely no danger of landing on my backside. Not these days. Sigh.

No, these days I prefer the sweet and humble ballet flat. Perhaps it's a throw-back to my ballet days, but I really have developed quite a thing for them. I mean they really do go with almost everything and a good pair will make you feel like you're walking on air - yellow Bloch flats I am looking at you.

In some ways it's like cheating. I get all the comfort and practicalit yof a pair of Kumfs or Diana Ferrari Supersofts without the daggy Grandma factor. Yes Mum, Supersofts are daggy. But you can get away with them because you're a Grandma :)

I currently have my eyes on these. With free shipping for international orders over 75 pounds I really should get a few pairs ...

Random reflections

I was in Parliament House today. A building I worked in for nearly 7 years but which still keeps revealing secrets. It turns out that the building was deliberately designed to have no mirrors at all – apart from the bathrooms (and subsequently the pass office where people can do a quick check before having their photo taken). This was because the designer felt that the building should be without vanity.

Now of course anyone who knows Parliament knows it is hardly a building full of people without vanity, but it got me thinking about the different types of vanity and how they manifest, even if there are no mirrors at hand for gazing.

There’s the obvious physical vanity – primping and preening and obsessive glances at oneself in any surface that might be even slightly reflective. But what about other types of vanity? Like the arrogance to think that you have the right to meddle in other people’s business. To interfere in their lives and try to dictate their actions.

Is that vanity? Or just supreme arrogance?

If it’s arrogance, I suppose the next question is what part of the assumption that you have the right to meddle is vain – the assumption itself or the expectation that you will get your way simply because you want it? In my view it’s the latter. We all meddle – whether we admit it or not. We all offer opinions on other’s actions. We all think we know best. I think for me the tipping point to vanity is when you actually expect someone to jump to your command. To bow to your infinite wisdom - wisdom being all the more infinite for your utter lack of experience and perspective of the situation being faced by the other person.

What do you think? Is this vanity? What other forms of vanity are there?

Jolly Holiday

What is it about holidays that make you want to skip everywhere? Why is it that normally you'd kill not to have to get out of bed at 6:30 in the morning but on holidays you wouldn't dream of missing the dawn-y gorgeousness of 6:30am?

Our little Puddleduck family has just been away for a few days and it was quite disappointing to have to get back on the plane to reality yesterday.

Puddleduck is a teensy bit obsessed with Mary Poppins at the moment and the entire trip had the Mary Poppins soundtrack as backing. I still have Jolly Holiday in my head - talk about wishful thinking! Where is Mary Poppins when you need her?

Beach bliss

There's something ridiculously cathartic about the beach. I'm not sure if it is the salt air, the waves, the sand or a combination of all three, but somehow it heals and soothes. Whether it's cold or hot, sunny or overcast I can almost literally feel my troubles melting away when I'm at the beach.

I started this post over a week ago and since then we've not only been to the beach but also on a mini-break. Now THAT'S cathartic. Even taking into account flying with a toddler!

One of those weeks

I'm having one of those weeks. I've got a million and one things to get done - both at work and at home - and so far all I seem to have done is add to the list, not take anything off it. Worse still, I haven't even been having fun procrastinating! I mean if I'd spent the week pinning I probably wouldn't mind so much.

Sigh.

I have tried. But the more work I plough through the more I seem to create. And the more I create the less motivated I get. It's a vicious circle really.

Sigh.

I wonder if shopping would help?


PS yes I know *technically* blogging may be considered procrastination ... I prefer to look at it as a motivation-recovery tool ... Don't argue.