TV Glozter

When I'm home alone and tired from working out at the gym, there's nothing I like better than vegging out infront of the telly with a glass of fresh juice and a slice of cake. But I also like to be a couch potato on those days when I feel overwhelmed by the sheer length of my Things To Do list. It's just so much easier to stick my head into the box rather than scrape my lazy ass off the couch and mean business.

Admittedly long-term unemployment hasn't helped my motivation. It feels as if I had an endless supply of days lined up infront of me, stretching all the way into the distant future, in which to accomplish all my great ambitions and pursue my life-defining goals.

But in truth, this bad habit was ingrained decades ago. Back in the 70s when I used to be too stoned to do homework and when TV provided me and my pot-head buddys with a pretext not to do something constructive with our youth. Having said that, some of us grew to become successful tax-payers.

On the other hand I'm not alone. And having grown up in a household where we had two television sets stacked on top of each other in the livingroom, and home-made animations on Suprer 8 were a family pastime, I guess I'm simply a daughter of my time. Today, my early exposure to moving pictures translates into a passion for multimedia. If I'm not infront of the box, then you're sure to find me behind the VDU.

But unlike the computer, television has the advantage that you can sit comfortably and watch with another person. And you can eat and drink while doing so. I'm an advocate for home-delivery pizza, eaten right out of the box, while watching a good movie. In spite of all the dieticians advising against it. I think that certain food tastes best eaten in a dark room, before a glowing box and surround sound.

Driving Lessons

Spent Sunday afternoon practicing parallel parking in the Bally carpark. It was a misty grey day with low cloud stuck between the mountains. Nick had placed the two goal posts, usually used during the Bally soccer matches, a car-distance apart and stood in the empty car park like a patient but exigent general, delivering instructions on the proper parking maneuvre.

I lowered the electric window and the frosty winter air lashed at my face. I pulled my woollen beany over my ears and followed his orders and hand-signals. My clumsy feet struggled with the clutch and the break and the accellerator in an attempt to keep the car from stalling. I quickly became flustered and started swearing. But I have to admit, Nick's teaching technique is flawless. To my surprise, I did succeded in parking the monsterous Beamer in three easy steps. Afterwards, I spent about an hour repeating the excercise; reversing in and driving out of the space between the two goal posts until I finally managed without stalling the car once.

This seemed to take forever and to my horror, once I even nipped one of the goalposts! Eventually, I got it.

Nick has an uncanny ability to deliver simple, clear instructions that are a recipe for driving success. In my experience, this is highly unusual. Men tend to get very irritable when a woman learner is behind the wheel of their precious vehicle. But I'm lucky because not only is he patient but also generous with praise. Fortunately, I'm also not a total ass.

Sunday

On sundays, working women vacuum their flats.

Night Out on Friday Night

Had after-work drinks on Friday night at Lanchetta, the cocktail bar on the waterfront. Swish crowd and wine-savvy waiters. Broke the ice with a red Campari, followed by three red wines -- what were they: Shiray, Cabernet Souvignon and a Merlot?

It was Matt's going away. While I write this he's on a plane back to New Zealand. 36 hours; no wonder we only fly to Down Under once every three years... It's hell! I hope we'll get to see Matt again when we're back living in Melbourne. The nights out with the Expat crowd in Lugano will never quite be the same again, plus we'll miss Matt's BeerMaster.

I wore black pumps and a black satin gown under my Romeo Gigli velvet coat. Afterwards we went to eat Mexican at Dona Juarra. I lost count of the pitchers of strawberry and lemon Margaritas being delivered to our table...

Feeling good today. Really needed to get out and chit-chat with those foreigners. Expats as a rule, are educated jet-setters, people who take risks in life, who travel and get off their arse to make things happen. These people are the opposite of insulare, they don't have a comfort zone, they understand how much balls and determination it takes to start a new life. They appreciate this effort in others and always have a fresh attitude towards the new people they meet.

Quite refreshing. But after only four hours sleep I was feeling a bit seedy today therefore decided I wanted a drive-through meal. I told Nick that the idea is to eat your cheesburger and fries inside the car in the carpark. It's making the most of the MacDonald's experience.

Afterwards the BMW stunk of burnt oil for a very long time.

Monday at the gym

There's nothing like relaxing in the solarium, after a good work-out and a hot shower. At spinning today, we rode up a virtual mountain. I think the solarium is nothing more than a glorified body/haridrier, with the added bonus that you get to listen to Sonic Youth while you tan!