How (not) to exercise

Today I caved in and joined a gym. Despite my last post on this subject. Despite my vows to walk and cycle, because I like exercising under my own steam, in my own time, outside.

At the end of the day, I wasn't doing those things. Oh sure, I walk. Several times a week. Have been doing so for years. But it's just not working like it was. I've got fitness and fatness issues. I'm not fit and I'm putting on weight. Which would be fine if I was happy with that. But I'm not.

So today I caved in and joined a gym.

And then... I didn't exercise.

That walk I usually enjoy on Mondays? I didn't attempt that walk. Because I've joined a gym. And somehow that was enough for one day.

Houston, I think we have a problem.

{image: Found In Mom's Basement}

And the winner of the Sydney Writers' Centre course is...

Well, here we are. Ten days, 69 entries and a whole lot of excitement later, it's time to announce the winner of the brilliant five-week online writing course at the Sydney Writers Centre. Be still my beating heart.

I had so much fun reading through all your entries, whittling them down to a short list of... 12. Not the world's shortest short list, but a girl does her best. There were so many fab pitches. From the humorous to the heartbreaking, the witty to the writerly, the poetic to the purely mischievous. The best of them ticked all the boxes on my originality/angle/voice wishlist, as well as showing the benefits of some research.

So, without further ado, I hand over to Valerie Khoo, director of the Sydney Writers' Centre who, along with her team, has chosen the worthy winner.

"It was great to see so many wonderful entries in this blogging competition," she says. "We've been thrilled at the quality and sincerity of comments. We wish we could have awarded more prizes - but there can be only one winner. Congratulations Dovic - we look forward to seeing her at the Centre or in our online course soon!"

Congratulations indeed Ms Dovic - enjoy your Magazine Writing Stage 1 course, and thanks again to everyone who entered.

Weekend Rewind

Exciting times are afoot in the Fibro. As I write this, there are less than two hours left in the competition to win an online course at the Sydney Writers' Centre. So many fantastic entries to wade through...

So, we're going to keep this short and very sweet. Weekend Rewind is in the Fibro! All you have to do to take part is to follow the Fibro if we're not already friends, link up a classic post from your archives, and then comment a couple of the other links, to share the love. Simple. And fun. And oh so rewarding!

Today's prompt is the next logical step in our cavalcade of calendar entries. That's right, April. April Sun in Cuba. April in Paris. April Come She Will. No shortage of songs about April for our mixed tape. Hopefully, no shortage of posts from April for you to choose from. If you have no April posts (2010 or earlier)... well, I'll leave it up to you... Something about autumn? Fall? Falling?

Ahem.

My offering this week gives a little bit of insight into Fibrotown... it's what you might call personal.

Can't wait to see what you have for me! And don't forget to slip over and visit Maxabella's Grateful linky - I'm very grateful to Maxabella and Multiple Mum for all the help they've given me over the past week, letting people know about the writing course comp. Very grateful indeed. Sisters rock.

Six minutes in a leaky boat

Mr7 has a plan.

As discussed during our boating excursion on Sunday, he wants to sail to New Zealand. When he told me, I laughed and said, 'sure, we can do that', thinking of the four of us in our Rubber Ducky sailing the Tasman...

I should have known better.

Mr7 has a plan. He has designed a three-storey boat (see image) and is constructing a list of things we will need. So far it reads:

Fibre Glass
Glass
aerial
railings
two beds
Chairs
Life Jackets

He has established an Inventing Club at school and has recruited a classmate whose father 'makes glass'. He will provide the 'marine-grade glass' for the bottom of the boat. Glass-bottomed, apparently. They will work on it all term and we will be ready to set sail in May. For my birthday.

"Perhaps you could start out building a model?" I asked, torn between wanting to encourage his rampant creativity and wanting to protect him from the disappointment that will surely come when he discovers that building a three-storey boat in the backyard is not a one-term project.

"We can't sail to New Zealand in a model," was his, reasonable, response.

All I can hope is that he discovers a new passion over the weekend. Or we may be spending six minutes in a very leaky boat.

PS: Speaking of creativity, don't forget that we're into the last day of the competition to win an online writing course at the Sydney Writers' Centre by leaving a comment/pitch here. Don't miss out!

Sweating on a storm

In my mind, I am sitting here, writing a witty, fabulous, thought-provoking blog post. Of course, in my mind, I am also sitting in an air-conditioned office, sipping a tall, iced glass of something, being fanned with palm leaves by gorgeous young men... hmmm, perhaps we'll leave that right there.

It's hot. Real hot. Too hot to type. Way too hot for a witty, fabulous, thought-provoking post. If you ever wondered about the insulation quality of your basic fibro cottage, I have to tell you that it's a very low quality. Like non-existent. If it's 40 degrees celsius outside, it's probably 42 degrees celsius in here.

In here, where I am trying to write as the sweat trickles down my arm, dropping into little pools on the keyboard. My fingers are sliding into nchytsl - whoops, sorry. Typos are part of the territory.

Anyhoo. I'm hot. But I'm not cowered in my house with my precious documents double-wrapped in plastic and my five precious children gathered close. That would be my Cousin A. In Townsville. Awaiting Cyclone Yasi. In its path, along with other members of extended Fam Fibro.

I rang her this morning. She told me it was eerily still. No birds. Not a breath of wind. I asked if she was okay. "Oh yeah," she said. "Just waiting."

"You're not leaving?"

"Where would we go?" She has a point. The storm is apparently 500km across and due to go as far inland as Mt Isa. It is big.

A is the most practical woman I know. I travelled in Europe with her for two years and it is because of her that I managed to find my way home. I have the sense of direction of an indoor plant. She is a homing pigeon. We would walk out of a hostel and I would unerringly turn in the wrong direction - away from the station/church/okay, pub that we were looking for. She would gently grab my arm and haul me and my backpack back on track.

I am sweating for her. In more ways than one.

Fingers crossed for a cool change in the Fibro - and an all-clear text from Cousin A.

A light breeze is a blessing. The rest Mother Nature can keep.

Update: finally got that text: All well here. Relief all round.

What is real?

Always good with a difficult question, Mr4 surpassed himself yesterday.

"How do you know something is real?" he asked.

Immediately, I was transported back to Philosophy 101 at Sydney University during my much-briefer-than-it-should-have-been flirtation with an Arts degree. A dark, institutional-green room. Cold. Full of mature-age students (I went to uni at 20, after I'd started my cadetship). I wanted to read the texts, have a quick chat, go home. Everyone else wanted to debate the nature of a chair ad nauseum, working on the theory that if they spoke the loudest, they'd win the argument.

My mind flicked back and forth through remembered snippets of Plato, Socrates, Aristotle. How does 'I think therefore I am' relate to reality? Perception versus reality? I remember doing something on beauty. What makes us beautiful? Is something innately beautiful, or do we make it so?

None of this proves helpful. Mr4 is still looking at me, questioning, wondering. I think some more.

He is four.

"If you can touch it, it's real," I finally say.

"Oh, okay," he says, turning back to LazyTown.

Conversation over. And I didn't even have to bring up Alla Hoo Hoo. If only everything in life were so simple.

Got a better answer? Any advice on what I should have said? I'll be making notes for next time because if there's one certainty in an uncertain world, there will be a next time.

{image: Eames chair, via designmuseum.com}