All White Now

There’s a running joke in the family: if you ever wanted to look like you had a tan, you simply stand next to me. Yes it's true, I could make even Frosty the Snowman take on a healthy glow. And you certainly don’t need any reminder about slipping on the sunnies when I’m around- the glare alone has been known to put dogs and small children into a hypnotic state. (Just ask my daughter’s teacher the day I helped out on an excursion to the lake one sunny day…)

So it was with some trepidation I recently read the weather forecast to see that not only had Spring sprung, but it was bringing advance notice of Summertime with it.

I don’t know about where you live, but here, as soon as there’s even a hint of the temperature hitting 20 degrees (celsius for those not using the same scale, which is roughly 70+ degrees fahrenheit), out come the shorts and sundresses; and by default, so do any body parts that otherwise go undercover in colder climes.

It’s a time of year I dread, because there comes a time when it’s so hot one has run out of excuses and must simply dare to bare. (Either that, or convert to one of those religions that requires complete coverage all year round, and I just don’t know how that’d go down with my mother.)

And so I face the annual dilemma of what not to wear.

My preference is still for longer skirts or those maxi-dresses, they’re cool, comfy, with good coverage. But take it from me, pick the wrong print and you’ll have little kids lining up behind you wondering when tickets go on sale for the circus.

As an alternative, three-quarter pants are also pretty safe, unless you’re somewhere around my height and instead of lengthening the body, they make you look like you’re auditioning for a role as one of the dwarves (I always maintained I could be all seven at the same time, provided their names were: Stumpy, Lumpy, Bumpy, Frumpy, Dumpy, Jumpy, and let’s not forget Grumpy)!

But I still have to ensure that I slather sunscreen on any flesh that may be exposed as a result, ‘cause with my skin tone I only have two shades– blinding white or lobster red. And after a few disastrous attempts at the home self-tan job (seriously, the bathroom vanity got a better tan than I did), I have resigned myself to having the same alabaster complexion as Nicole Kidman (only I don’t share the smooth forehead as she, for some reason).

At my previous place of employment I could always tell when Summer had begun, by the streaks of fake tan on the toilet seat. At least I hope it was fake tan.

Anyway, there we were at school the other morning, doing the drop-off routine with the kids, when we couldn’t help but notice the student-teacher sashay through the playground…followed by the eyes of not only all the mothers, but the fathers too. When she stopped alongside the class she had been assigned that day, the odds of the teacher up front of the assembly keeping the attention of those 6th grade boys were a helluva lot longer than the skirt this other one had chosen to wear.

I’m sure you can imagine the kind of comments that were being passed around the schoolyard; suffice to say that she didn’t get a glowing report card from a large number of onlookers.

So there I was, standing with the usual suspects as we observed the whole thing from the safety of the back row. And with utter glee akin to the kindergartners in the crowd, I noticed that whoever had helped that intern out had done a dodgy job in the fake-tan danger-zone leaving the front of her knees a peculiar shade of orange, and the backs a brilliant white, almost enough to rival what was poking out my trouser legs.

OK so small things amuse small minds, but I’ve gotta say those two little white patches gave us a mighty big laugh. And for once it wasn’t my legs causing the mirth. But with summer coming, I guess the last laugh will most likely be on me.

Jx
©2009

Confusion Reigns

There’s something about wet weather that drives people crazy.

Or rather I should say- in wet weather, people drive crazy.

The experts suggest we slow the speed down by about 10kph during precipitation. And leave a little more space in between you and the vehicle in front, to allow for sliding when stopping.

Yeah, right.

I’m beginning to think it wouldn’t hurt if the experts proposed that some drivers leave the car at home altogether on rainy days! It’d certainly make life a whole lot safer for the rest of us road users- if not a little less interesting.

OK, so in some parts of the country this drought has lasted a long time. But surely even those living in the driest areas have had a chance to maneuver a motor vehicle under grey skies. One would think not, given the examples of not-so-precision driving witnessed during periods of precipitation.

Even the roadside assist guys will tell you there’s a lot more call outs for dings, bangs, and bingles…not to mention flat batteries as people turn their lights on then forget to turn them off again once they reach their destination. Well, duh.

Seriously, if you want to catch idiots in action, just add water.

I don't know about you, but I’ve seen cars fishtailing round corners, some sliding into parked cars or fences, stopping on the wrong side of the red light, even swerving onto the other side of the road to avoid puddles, for goodness sake (it’s not like your car isn’t getting wet already)!

And just last week my Beloved narrowly missed becoming a hood ornament for some bloke driving with his high beams on in the mist (and apparently still couldn’t see where he was going)!

Oh and hands up who else has seen people totally forget basic road rules like how to give way at intersections when it rains?

Yep, they either cut someone else off in a bid to beat traffic, or sit so long it’s as if they want the road clear from here to Hobart before they venture out. I got caught behind some lady in a 4 wheel drive for almost 10 minutes yesterday while she waited for a gap in the traffic that a semi trailer could’ve fit through! I felt like going up and tapping on her window to see if she was having trouble finding first gear…but I didn’t think she’d appreciate my roadside assistance.

But the strangest episode of wet weather weirdness behind the wheel I’ve ever witnessed was when a woman backed out of her spot in the car park at the local shops, totally misjudged the size of her car in relation to the size of the car park, and ripped off her entire front bumper and half the driver side panel as well. It was a brand new 4WD too. Then she stood there doing the 'dance of the damaged car' until I could no longer see her in my rearview mirror. (You know the one- jump out of the car, race to the front, clap your hands over your mouth then on either side of your head, shake it all about a few times, and pace back and forth as you try to decide what to do next.)

At the risk of sounding sexist (as I am a female driver too), I could only hope that she has an understanding husband, or a good panel beater, or even better- both. And hope that she catches a bus next time it rains.

Yep, there’s just something about the wet weather that causes stupidity to flood the population at large. And with more cloudy days on the way according to the forecast, the footpath is perhaps the safest place to be.

Because, to paraphrase Eliza Doolittle: it’s plain that rain washes brains down the drain.

Jx
©2009