Where the heck is my neck

25 Journal Avenue,
Brisbane
Qld 4000,
Australia.
5th July 2011.

The Manager,
Missing People & Items Unit
Secret Location
USA.

RE THE DISAPPEARANCE OF MY NECK

Dear Manager,

'Twas a sunny morn just like this when I awoke to find something amiss. Alas my neck had found me heavier and disappeared for a while. It was in vain that I searched for it because it had decided not to be found. What with the disappearing Chilean ash, my poor neck could have strayed as far as Neverland.
Of it's certain return I have no doubt, although my timing might miss the mark. Pray, if you find it would you pass on a message? Well, how would you know when you see it? Here's how you can tell. 'Tis brown, slim and slender and features oft in magazines.
Would you tell it not to tarry on this journey away from me? For soon I'll be delivered of my young, and need it's services again.

Your faithfully,
Nancy
Former and prospective neck owner

Decision-making patterns in public toilets

WARNING: The word 'toilet' appears in this article approximately 500 times.


Recently, I have caught myself pondering about how people go about decision-making in public toilets. Blame it on my formal background in Economics or just on my general weirdness, but I do catch myself on this train of thought...frequently. Consequently, I have developed a basic theory of what influences people's decisions about which toilets to use or to avoid, and I think this might help you understand your own choices.

I have observed that toilets send different messages depending on whether they are open or closed.
An open toilet says to a potential user, "What you see is what you get. Take it or leave it".
A closed toilet says, "I make no promises.You never know what is up for offer, so try and see".

Imagine that the closest public toilet only had two cubicles. Now, if both toilets were open one will most likely inspect both and choose the cleaner. When one toilet is open and the other closed, choice depends on whether the person is risk averse or risk prone. If you are not prone to taking risks, you will choose the open one if it is reasonably clean. A small scale choice problem emerges if you don't like what the open one offers. In this case, 'the grass is greener on the other side' manner of thinking is most likely to prevail and one would choose the closed toilet instead.

The biggest problem emerges when both toilets are closed. In such situations your sight is not of any help, so other senses (especially the sense of smell) are employed to enable you make the best decision. In the event that all your senses fail to enlighten you on the true conditions of both cubicles, you suddenly find yourself in a situation where you have to make a blind decision. This could go either way and the experience ends up being one of pleasant surprise and relief OR one of agony and endurance. Unfortunately, neither experience prepares one for making the best of future decisions in the toilet arena. It is always a stab in the dark.

Next time you find yourself in a public toilet, take a moment to evaluate your decision making processes.

DISCLAIMER: These theories are based solely on observations in female toilets, so take appropriate caution when applying them to the male toilet scenario.

The stinky thief that came to Brisbane

This year started like many others - amid amazing fireworks, high hopes and happy new year wishes. One thing set it apart from other new years though - it was a rainy and overcast one. We handled the rain well. Some of us traveled to other states where there was a lot of sunshine to spare, some traveled overseas to frolic in the snow and others stayed behind to employ their umbrellas.

Before we could breathe in and out five hundred times, the Christmas/new year holiday was well and truly over and it was time to head back to work. This was when we realized that something was just a little bit 'off' about the weather. The rain hadn't taken a breather. The Christmas tunes on the airwaves gave way to more serious news about flooding in the Northern part of Queensland. We watched the news, we felt bad, sent up some silent prayers for those affected, donated our money, went to bed, woke up, and went to work. Life continued as normal.
No one had any idea that the watery thief was making its determined way to us.

We were still recovering from the after effects of the Christmas and new year food and trying to remember our work passwords and job descriptions when Toowoomba was hit. It was a 100% natural disaster, much like the ones we have always seen in the TV happening in Asia, South America, the US, etc, only it was just 2 hours away from us. Flash floods from nowhere swept through tranquil Toowoomba in the middle of the day and took cars, houses, animals and people. We couldn't believe it. We were still reeling from the shock of what we were seeing when the forecast that the waters were coming to Brisbane was delivered.
Brisbane went into overdrive. Reactions were varied, no one was sure if they were safe or not. From what we saw in Toowoomba and the Lockyer Valley, it looked like Brisbane could be submerged with its residents clinging to their roofs for dear life. Some of us had no idea how to even get up on our roofs. Everyone was glued to the news. The waters kept drawing close, the rain kept falling and most people were asked to leave work and go home to do what they had to do to stay alive. That was when it dawned on some of us that we were actually in danger. Brisbane was going to get flooded. It might be as bad as 1974. Many of us weren't even born in 1974!

Almost everyone headed to the shops to stock up on 'stuff'. Some of us had no idea what to buy in such an emergency, so we bought perishable stuff like roast chicken. Now we know what to buy - batteries, torches, candles, gas, AM battery operated radios, long life milk, canned food, bread, bottled water and car phone chargers.
Our pantries were stocked, so all we could do was wait. wait and wait for the flood. After waiting and watching the news, we started sandbagging our houses, moving stuff to higher grounds and then waiting some more.

Then we saw it. The flood had arrived. It was brown, smelly and thick with mud and stuff. We observed it for a while. It wasn't the crazy, deadly flash flood we saw in Toowoomba and the Lockyer Valley. This one was seeping slowly and steadily into town. It was rising quickly too. Our backyard became a river and we decided to remove ourselves and go to a safer neighborhood. The river was meant to peak around 4am and some were determine to hold a vigil and see what the flood gets up to. Others were not as determined and succumbed to sleep after midnight. Morning came and we could feel the tension and anxiety in the air. What happened overnight?

Well what happened was that some houses had been totaled and were submerged under this smelly thick brown water. Others were only partially submerged but totally damaged as well. Most of us had some share in the visitation of the flood but a few suburbs in Brisbane escaped unscathed. It was like they were in another country.
In about two days or so, the flood decided to exit. But it left some of its belongings. The thief had come to steal, kill and destroy. It stole homes that people had spent their lives building, it stole business built on years of sweat and hard work, it destroyed cars and belongings and killed some people. Queensland was wounded and her sister states rallied around her. Yes, our beautiful things had gone and we were left with the mud and devastation, but we were strong and the One in us would not be overcome by what was happening around us. Brisbane rose up and began to clean up. Strangers became like relatives, crying together, cleaning up together, bringing food, laughter and hope to dark, sad hearts. We would not be beaten down.

The floods have become a defining moment for a lot of Queenslanders. There are the 'before the flood' family members and 'after the flood' survivors. For some, life will never be the same again because they have lost family members or all their possessions. Yes, there is still a long way to go in the recovery process, but we are determined to get there and our latter days will be better and stronger than our former days.

Here's to all those who came out to crush the defeat that the flood had intended under their feet, help clean up Queensland and help her get back up on her feet. Your labour of love will never be forgotten!
AUSSIE! AUSSIE!! AUSSIE!!! OI! OI!! OI!!!

An averagely good day

My alarm slept in and I woke up late. Like a giant Kangaroo, I leapt from the bed straight into the shower.
Dressing upping, 'breakfasting', daycare bag-packing and good morning cuddling for baby were crammed into 12 minutes. 2 extra minutes, nay 3, were employed for hello-ing and goodbye-ing the hubby, kissing baby and sprinting across the road to the bus stop.
I made the bus - ticket in hand, hair brushed, face devoid of makeup and ears devoid of earphones. Makeup was applied on the bus (as usual) and a decision was made to defer earphones until lunch time.
The day was looking good already. No one was sharing the bus seat with me; the sky was blue with blobs of white clouds; the sun was not too far away and the streets had been kissed by a drizzle of rain; the wind was playing with the leaves and the bus was making strides in good time. The wind reached out for me when I got down at the bus stop, the trees swayed in greeting and the sun was smiling as I walked to my office. Yes, there was no doubt that this was a good day.
The day was going to be spent playing, nay, working on budgets and answering a lot of questions.
Sure enough, budgets and emails were part of this good day, morning tea, lunch and afternoon tea followed each other almost too closely. A sudden sniffle became a good excuse to avoid the gym and head home for a comforting cup of hot chocolate.
Cuddles from baby; hugs from hubby; a 30 minute dose of the Flinstones show; 1 episode of the In the night garden kid's program and a hot dinner were only 2 bus rides away and a welcome way to conclude such a day.

Help! There's a monster in my kitchen!

I woke up the other morning and was greeted by a monster that was happily sitting on the kitchen sink. Here's what he looked like:



I almost ran out of my house screaming and pulling my hair, but being the mature woman that I am, I calmed myself down, went and had breakfast, watched some Seinfeld, had a bit of a read from one of my many half-read books before venturing back to the kitchen area. Believe it or not, the 'head in the sand' technique worked and I realized that I had exaggerated the monster's size because this time he looked more like this:



oh and he was very well behaved because he didn't mind being stuffed away in the dishwasher.

I had been on holidays from doing dishes for the past 10 months because my mother-in-law was visiting us and she helped out with the dishes (and many more things). It was such a relief coming home from work without worrying about who was going to do the dishes or if there would be enough dishes to justify using the dishwasher.

Trying to remember how life was before I ever had to do dishes is much like trying to remember a past life on another planet. I recall that I was about 9 or 10years old when my mom excitedly informed me that I was going to take on some responsibility in the family. Boy, was I impressed with myself. I felt like I had landed a new job. Previously, I was always too young to be in the kitchen and much disliked being shooed away from that area. Now I was responsible for doing the dishes after lunch. What an important task that was. Needless to say, the novelty of my new assignment wore off after a few weeks and I began to learn that most times, responsibility couldn't be shaken off your shoulders just because you no longer found it enjoyable.

As we all know, the older we get, the more we have to take on, so very soon, I happily relinquished the lunch dishes to my younger brother and took on the heavier burden of the breakfast and dinner dishes. How heavy this was! I quickly discovered that dinner was usually the most elaborate meal of the day because there were always millions and millions of plates, pots, pans, spoons, and other strange utensils lying around and waiting to be washed. In our days, using the dishwasher was out of the question because it spoiled the children. So it was usually with a solemn and despondent disposition that I ventured into the kitchen every evening after dinner.

Life got better when I became much older because I now graduated into making either lunch or dinner so my younger siblings now took over the dishwashing role. How sweet! I didn't think twice about using two extra spoons even if it was unnecessary just to pay them back for the years they sat and watched Sesame Street while I was slaving away in the kitchen! Yeehah!
When I left for Uni, I said goodbye to doing dishes for the rest of my life. Afterall, I was going to get married after Uni, buy a dishwasher and never do a single dish till I was 99 years old. Alas, I was wrong. The first few places we rented after we got married did not have dishwashers and we weren't about to buy one in a rented apartment. Many arguments centered around whose turn it was to do the dishes and why the person who made dinner had to use many unnecessary utensils! Life with a dishwasher would be paradise in my home.

We moved out of our apartment into a house and yes there was a dishwasher but it came with the added responsibility of paying for water! Isn't life funny? So, now I've finally got a dishwasher, but I also have to wait till I've got a full load of dishes before I can use it else I will be wasting water! If I waited till I had a full load of dishes, there would be nothing to use and my kitchen will stink. Far out! Do you know how hard it is to be doing dishes when the dishwasher is sitting around being idle and staring at you from under the sink? The English language will not adequately describe the feeling so your imagination will suffice.

Life goes on. I have my dream but I can't live it to the full. I wonder if my husband realizes that the days he gets over 10 "i love you"s from me are those days that he does the dishes. On the other days, I patiently wait for my 15 month old daughter to become older so she can take on some more responsibility in our family. Till then, it's hands to the dishwashing liquid for me. C'est la vie.

Hello, Morning!

(Greet The Morning by phatpuppy)


Yep, I'm definitely a morning person.The morning is my favorite time of the day. On sunny mornings, the sky is so blue; the little puffy clouds look so soft and fluffy up there; the leaves reflect the sun and the flowers in their vibrant colours make me want to twirl around in a colourful girly dress with arms wide open and chirp like a bird. Since I'm mostly on the bus heading to work at this time of day, I don't do this, so i resort to taking a deep lungfull of the lovely morning air and giving a big smile to everyone (except late bus drivers. Refer to an earlier post to get my view on late bus drivers). Yeah! its a beautifuuuuuuuuul day.

(Don`t you ever get grey overcast days? by Johh Frisch)

I also love overcast mornings when it looks like it's going to storm. I imagine the sun trying so hard to peek through the big dark clouds (like Izabelle trying hard to see the TV when I've deliberately blocked her view). I can almost hear the clouds going, "geez sun, what is it with you? you've been at our backs all morning" and the sun going, "if only you'd just let me peek through, just a tiny little bit so I can see what's happening down there, I'd quit bothering you so much". I like to think that when the clouds give in is when you see rays of sunlight peeping through the cracks in the clouds on an overcast morn. :)

(rainy day by whatafriarlife.blogspot.com)

Oooh, I love rainy mornings too. I try to take my extra large umbrella so i can enjoy the rain, otherwise, the worry of getting drenched will spoil the day for me.
Have you ever listened to Enya's song "it's in the rain"? Brilliant for such days.
Anyway, I love the rain because it makes me feel like curling up on the sofa with a cuppa and a good cartoon or Dr Seuss movie (oh delight!). Although, I usually can't indulge on workdays, the feeling usually suffices and I hope for rain on the weekend. (sorry shopping addicts)
Oh, there are lots more I love about the mornings...

(A new leaf by Catalog of Visual Interestingness)

The morning is a new leaf with new opportunities...its just as exciting as when you're in the middle of your favorite novel and turning a new leaf to the next page is even more appealing than a cone of ice cream (the middle is usually fantastic because you've past the beginning where there wasn't much action and you're not at the end where it's all about to end...you're just at the perfect bit!). We all apply the "new leaf" concept to serious things in life like our careers, relationships, etc, but stop for a minute and think about all the frivolous but nonetheless important things that we can apply this concept to: every morning presents a new opportunity to explore new make-up...after all, its not the usual custom to change your eyeshadow from green to black around 11.00am in your office bathroom, is it? No! You've gotta wait for the next morning, right? Also, when you've just purchased new items for your wardrobe, you've got a couple of exciting mornings ahead to mix and match outfits because you can't wear it all at once.

Yeah yeah, i know the last couple of lines sound shallow but come on, most of us girls (and dare I mention guys?) consider such things, so I just had to put it out there.
When I've got something so incredibly exciting planned that has had me counting the number of sleeps till the day, imagine the tingle of excitement and anticipation that peaks on the night before the morning of the D Day? OHHH, its enough to light all the light bulbs in the world for 61 seconds. I find that I can hardly sleep through the night and in the event that I wake up to go to the bathroom, it's almost 100% likely that I won't be able to go back to sleep.

(Excitement by nataliedee.com)

Oh my gosh, I can remember the morning of our wedding...oh, how insanely thrilling...I couldn't believe that the day I would wed my beau and live happily ever after had finally arrived...oh the dreams...oh the possibilities...oh my, oh me, oh my! (bunnytown, 2009). It wasn't quite the same though on the morning I had Izabelle. Perhaps this was because I was in ACTIVE Labour? hmmm....Maybe hubby was incredulously excited for me, seeing as I was certainly too 'busy' to be actively excited.

Mornings in a new country are usually a-m-a-z-i-n-g. I normally can't wait to get out and experience the life there. Do they hang out at cafes in the morning? Are the streets full of crowds of workers finding their way to work? How early do the markets open? What is the main occupation? Will there be more people going to an office job or heading to the mines or farm? Whatever the case, mornings will always feel different in different countries.

(Saturday Morning by Monica S Carnesi)

My 'bestest' mornings are Saturday and Holiday mornings. I wake up in a gooey happy mood with a song in my head (but then I always wake up with a song in my head and on workdays, i play the song on my ipod on my way to work)...ok, so on weekends and holidays i wake up with a song in my head and then lie awake trying to remember why I'm happy...hmmm.........nope, I'm not getting married today, I'm already married....hmmm....nope, we are not buying a new house........hmmm....is something interesting going to happen at work today? WORK! That's it! It's the "no-work day today". Woooooooooooooooooo
This is the point where I jump out of bed --> GooooOOOD MornnnNNING, Morning!

Living with the Intruder

If you're like me then this has happened to you.

You were looking at a baby (yours or someone else's) and the memories of when You were a baby came rushing back. Suddenly you could remember the first day your parents brought you home from hospital and how you looked the entire house over and wondered if this was the house you'd have to live in for the next 15 years! Then you remembered how livid you were when your mom tried to introduce formula...what was wrong with breastmilk...you didn't remember complaining about it. And it felt just like yesterday that your mom snatched the weekend newspaper from you...why did she do that? Afterall, you were only trying to be like Dad, who was reading it a few moments ago and she didn't snatch it from him.
The most persistent memory though was the fact that everyone seemed to want to stop you......when you tried to come up close to the TV just so you could touch Pooh bear - NO! COME AWAY FROM THERE....when you decided to keep crawling even though you were at the edge of the bed - NO! STOP BABY!.... when you saw some exciting insect specimen on the carpet and decided to orally explore it - PUT IT DOWN, NOW! One too many STOPS! naturally began to make you a little bit apprehensive...you couldn't wait to grow up and stop being a baby that got carried around all the time to places you didn't really want to go...like the doctor's clinic for those immunisation shots. You were pretty sure that when you grew up you would be free to do whatever you wanted to do. You could get as close to the tv as you wanted, and you could read the weekend newspaper (or shred it if you so wished).

Well, I did grow up, albeit in stages. Different stages of growth came with varying amounts of freedom as well as restrictions. The great thing about being 3 years old is that you no longer need to sleep in the cot so you don't have to keep trying to climb over the bars. The not so great thing about being 3 years old is that you most likely have been introduced to the Intruder.

'Intruder: someone who is present where he/she is not welcome'.

When I was a baby, I was innocent (some of you might find this fact hard to believe, but its true) and I was full of trust. I trusted my parents and I trusted the world. This was why I would let anyone carry me; I would eat anything from anyone; I would smile at anybody; I believed everyone liked me (I was a baby, I was cute, I was cuddly. who wouldn't like me?); I used to try and hold big dogs by their ears; I wasn't afraid of anything. By the time I was 3, I had learned not to talk to strangers; not to eat anything from just anybody; to tell Mum if someone touched me in a way that made me feel uncomfortable; that some people didn't like me for some reason; that I couldn't cross the road without an Adult because I could get killed...I had been introduced to the Intruder - Fear.

Age 5 - I was in Kindergarten and I hated the ordeal of having my Mom or anyone else comb my hair. When I combined this attitude with managing to get lice, it was the last straw for my Mom, so she cut my hair. Monday morning I was driven to school and it was the worst day ever. Some bullies in my class gathered around me and sang horrid songs and I began to fear school. School meant bullies. They were monsters that came to school everyday and made life miserable for you. I considered ending my education at that point but my parents had other ideas.

Age 15 caught up with me in high school. Most girls were trying to be noticed by the boys. If you didn't dress a certain way, you were destined not to have a boyfriend and this meant you were uncool. Needless to say, my Mom made sure that my skirt was always way below the knees, so I didn't have a short enough skirt to be cool...and I didn't have a boyfriend in highschool. I got introduced to the fear of what my peers thought.

Age 19 saw me at Uni. I had reached a point in life where I was not living at home and I was quite shocked to suddenly discover that I now had to make choices. Bad choices could even lead to the end of my life (or at least life as i knew it back then). I always heard of people who had made a bad choice and gone off with a guy they didn't really know and were never seen again...or people who got infected with HIV...or people who got kicked out of Uni...or people who got into gangs and got shot. It was all overwhelming...there was just a lot to fear and there were no parents to protect me. I felt like my life was now up to me and I had no one to blame if I took the wrong turn. Good friends and a doting boyfriend helped. Oh, and my parents had friends who seemed to be at every nook and cranny of the Uni and who I could count on to tell them if I had been seen doing what I wasn't supposed to be doing. They made me worry a lot actually.

Age 23 turned up and I had finished Uni. Yay. At this point, even though I knew there were bad things happening all around the world, none had happened to me up till then and this was a good sign. There was nothing in the world to be afraid of....but then I went and had a car crash. I was traveling on a National assignment and the driver lost control of his vehicle. I was sitting in front and I can't remember much of the crash except that I lost a few teeth, had a deep cut on my knee, couldn't walk or talk for weeks, and sustained minor bruises to my spinal discs. Great! I was not transferred to a location that would not involve traveling so I had to deal with this new found fear of traveling (mostly for 6 or 7 hrs at a stretch) to this post for the period of 12 months that I was on duty.
Till date, I can't really sleep when someone is driving me and I have not gotten my license yet. I have to fight the Intruder to be able to do these things.

When Age 24 came by, I had finished my 12 month posting and I had just come back from one last (safe) road trip. I did not need to do any more road travels. I only had to hop on a plane to Brisbane in about 2 weeks and there was nothing to fear. Air travel is one of the safest means of travel. Then the Belview airline crashed. OMG talk about bad timing. CNN decided to air a time-line of all the plane crashes that have ever happened in the world...and I became pretty worried about spending about 25 hours on a plane from Abuja to Brisbane. I can still feel the butterflies in my tummy. I stopped watching CNN and switched to Cartoon network. I hopped on the plane to Lagos enroute to Brisbane and when I got on my Emirates flight, I looked at the screen and noted that one of the Planes that left Abuja around the time I left had crashed at Port Harcourt. Great. In fact, some of the Kids I saw milling around the airport were gone. What perfect news to receive at the start of a 25 hour long flight. Needless to say, I made that trip with the Intruder close at hand. I fought hard and long during every turbulence and when we spent hours over the Atlantic.

Age 25 was pleased with me because I decided to marry that doting boyfriend of mine. About time. I traveled back to Nigeria for a small and quick wedding and spent roughly 2 weeks with my beau before coming back to Brisbane - ALONE. I was now married...and the Intruder whispered this to me...'the risk of being a widow is now real'. Scary. No,nothing can happen to my husband, we've only just got married. His parents are still married and alive and so are my parents. It runs in both our families. But the Intruder lingered. My husband called me almost everyday and when he went on travels (which he seemed to be doing all the time) he would tell me of ordeals he went through on some and how others were fine. My mind seemed to be able to filter out the good stories and retain the bad stories. So I worried. When I realized that worrying wouldn't do me any good, I switched to praying for him everyday when I woke up and before I went to bed. He joined me 5 months later. Phew.

Age 26 saw me get pregnant for our first child. Life was good. We got married. We live together. We were going to have a baby! There wasn't much to fear...till we lost the baby. Then miscarriages became a real and potent fear to us. I had to deal with this fear for 6 months until I felt bold enough to try again. I'm happy I tried because I now have Izabelle. However, the 9 months were spent fighting the Intruder on various issues that worry pregnant women - Oh God, I pray that my child will be healthy; I pray that I won't loose this one; I'm trying to eat well so that all will be well with my baby; I pray that my baby will not have down syndrome or any other syndrome....Believe me when I tell you that 9 months is a long long time when you're pregnant. Time only seems to go in the 5th gear after you've had the baby. which is probably because the babies can't wait to grow up. :)

You probably get my gist by now. Life is full of things to fear. The Intruder lurks around every corner and you don't even have to turn on the TV to see it because it's on the radio. Bomb blasts, air crashes, car crashes, kidnappings, fires, serial killers, natural disasters, cancers, health issues, arrrrrrrrrrgh!!! MAKE IT STOP!
We have all met the Intruder and we have learned to either live with it or deal with it. We can't achieve our highest potential if we are held back by fear. We have to take risks.
The highest feeling of fear for most people is the fear of death. For some other people, the fear of being rejected and worthless surpasses the fear of death, hence the push to commit suicide in some cases.

My encounters with the Intruder is not a sad ending story though. I have discovered that the opposite of fear is trust. If I trust you, I won't fear you. If I trust a driver, I won't fear when I board his car or bus...and so on. I have chosen to trust that even though I live in a world were I am exposed to a lot of dangers, I will be safe. So for me, it boils down to doing what I can do, and leaving the rest to God.
This is the reason that I have stopped being scared if a visibly Muslim man or woman enters the bus and sits beside me. I have stopped worrying if they're going to blow up the bus. I didn't stop because I trust Brisbane's security, I stopped because at that point, there is nothing else I can do except deciding not to go to work (which is not an option). The only thing I can do is trust God.

Recently I asked my colleague if she was ever scared of flying and she said that it didn't bother her. When I asked her why, she replied that since one would still die someday, what does it matter which way someone dies, death is death. She wouldn't let the fear that she might crash keep her from travelling on holidays or for work. After all, the odds are in her favour that she is more likely to land safely...moreover, if one decided to keep away from things that had the potential to kill like cars, planes, etc, then life wouldn't make sense. I like that attitude and I am trying to wear it. You've probably noted that I'm particularly nervous about flying, but I will fly. I will need to. I can't say that the butterflies would be gone the whole trip, but you know what? If the Intruder won't go away, I'll do life AFRAID. If you've noticed, when you do life, the Intruder slips away.

My Conclusion? Lets do life...don't let the Intruder intrude. Just do it.