Monthly Archives: May 2011

Sunday Mail South Australia column for Sunday 29th May 2011: the one about small talk

I suck at small talk. I do. In fact faced with a choice on a Friday night between giving a speech to 1000 people or going to your neighbour’s birthday BBQ where I know no-one and have to “mingle” – well, mic me up baby because I’ll take the speech every time.  (Actually if the third option was to be sitting on the couch, in my pyjamas and slippers, eating Thai takeaway while I watched Roman Holiday – well let’s just say Ding! Ding! Ding! We have a winner. I relish my inner-Nanna. )

So back to my whole “me no speaky small talk” dilemma.  So how can I prefer speaking to 1000 people over having a tete a tete with one?  Easy. Public speaking is really just a one-sided conversation. Nobody is actually talking back. This, according to my husband Brad, works well for me. Like when it’s just me – at home – talking at him.  Or his back.  Or at, say, the space where he was sitting until he moved to the bedroom to get away. From me.  I also tend to leave ridiculously long phone messages for my girlfriends. Messages which are so long that Brad has been known to assume my friend was actually home, on the other end of the phone, you know, listening or something.  I give good monologue.Continue Reading

Is Your Friend Really A Frenemy?

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Sunday Mail South Australia column for Sunday 8 May 2011

I had an odd experience last week.  It was my birthday and to celebrate I went to do one of those “Egg Timer Fertility Tests” to get the tintacks on the state of my fertility.  I know. Good times. Don’t tell me I don’t know how to celebrate a birthday. Next year I think I’ll really let loose and book in for a root canal.  As for the “Egg Timer Fertility Test” it was no biggie.  Although I was half expecting the doctors to tell me my eggs had taken on the shape and consistency of those Chicken-In-A-Biskit snacks.Continue Reading

First Wednesday Club: Birthing Kit Foundation Australia

I didn’t have a birth plan when I was pregnant with my daughter Ava. Nope. I had a vision.   Within hours of giving birth I pictured myself in a white cotton nightie, serenely nursing my nouveau petite enfant. There’d be dappled sunlight. There’d be a scented candle.  Some Enya-panpipey-rainforest type music would be softly playing in the background. And I’d have awesome hair. Obviously.  (Clearly I thought giving birth was akin to going to a day spa.) In my head I was going to give birth and look ethereal. Madonna and child. Actually, less Madonna and more Angelina Jolie.Continue Reading