2 Girls and the World

Homesick...

Quite a sight for any homesick Aussie. We miss home SO much sometimes...  We're a very classy nation actually. I think I'd better change from my trackie daks into a nice pair of slacks tonight.  (thanks, Mark) 

My friends stop traffic for me...

If you you’d like to see what four completely respectable 30-something professionals look like after a few bottles of champagne, a few bottles of red, a tequila shot and some other drink assortments, you’re in luck.  Perhaps not as pretty as it might have been 10 years ago, but I tell you – we’ve still got the moves (as these photos from karaoke prove).

Fun night.  Great dinner.  Lots of laughter.  Friends still have a lot to learn about my sense of direction – but I think they got the gist of it this time round… A little reminiscing about the ‘old’ days (joyriding in my mother's car as teenagers to go through the Camp Hill bottle shop... trauma over horror movie nights - The Entity is forever etched in our brains... tap-dancing lessons... Bee Gees and B52's concerts...) But any lull in the conversation and I think I just popped out my cancerous shoulder for everyone to take a look at (latter in the evening in my defense…).  Not sure about our compatibility in recent music – but Dee and Megan have bonded in 80’s Xanadu heaven. Oh why did Velfarre have to close its doors…  But it was the end of the evening I hold most dear.  I have friends in my life to walk beside me and break the rules for me… friends to cheer me on and bail me out (on numerous occasions…)  But I’ve never had a friend to stop traffic for me.  Until now.  And I think the treasured memory of Megan holding back hundreds of angry taxis in the middle of Roppongi crossing at 2 o’clock in the morning will probably stay with me forever.  Yes, as Dee so movingly put it – my friends stop traffic for me.

And now it's time to go back to acting like grown-ups again and not head back down that Schoolies Week road of debauchery for a while. Although, I do have a date with Pili back in Brisbane next week.  I can feel the Rec Club revival fever starting already…

A Week in the Life...

Travel:  Planning our ‘hanami’ among the mountain gods this year.  A real cherry blossom viewing… a UNESCO viewing.  Moving up the world.  Wondering if we can stop off in Obama on the way down.  Thanks to our friend Nobuko who let me know of THIS DUDE – who went to Obama, disguised as Obama. I wonder if he’d like to be my friend? 

Career: It’s funny being called an entrepreneur.  I think of it as getting paid to not have a ‘real job’.  But lest you think I just I sit in my Las Vegas lounge pant all day… there actually is some real work getting done (between Oprah and prime nappage…).  There are many reasons that I should not be allowed to work from home – futons and tv being 2 of them.  But the businesses are doing uber well and surprisingly there are some people who would like us to impart our knowledge on how to retire while working. So we’re off to FEW again this year.  More questions on how we started 3 businesses in a country without speaking a word of the language.  That is a bit insane, don’t you think?  We can’t rock up to this event and tell people we just used some type of odd body language to indicate to the immigration officers that we were interested in becoming respected businesswomen here in Nippon.  But I’m pretty sure that’s what happened (along with a fortune spent in translator fees…)  Seriously though – anyone thinking of opening a real, authentic Japanese business… reconsider. Please take some wisdom home from this entrepreneur – just sit back and enjoy the cocktails!  (However, anyone with lucrative ideas on how to live life on a beach with all-you-can-drink mango pina coladas, please drop by.  I’m open to all ideas).

Love:  I have a new boyfriend… Rocco DiSpirito.  And I’ll see how it all goes before I decide whether to kick Tim Riggins to the curb.  Strong, athletic and wounded… or someone who can feed me?  White Truffle Risotto with a Gulf Shrimp Fondue wins hands down right now. 

Entertainment:  I’ve been weeping over how boring Bonnie Lythgoe makes So You Think You Can Dance Australia. John Howard would have even made a more exciting contribution. I guess it pays to be sleeping with the producer.  Where is Mary Murphy to give a few hair-raising screams when you need her?  Doesn’t Australia have any shattering loud-mouths of their own? Obviously I wasn’t alone in my pining – as thankfully Mary herself rode the hot tamale train into Sydney appearing as a guest judge last week and whooped up a scream-fest.  Got to love her. On to American Idol.  I like Carly the tattooed Irishwoman (Happy St Paddy’s C), David C the Les Paul-playing rocker, David A the dreamboat to every pre-pubescent girl in the US, Amanda the Janis Joplin nurse and Jason the dreadlocked stoner.  They are my top 5 and if any of them leave before their time I’ll probably just not survive. 

Health:  A little cancer in my shoulder is making me head home to the skin cancer capital of the world – QLD – very soon.  More skin cancer doctors per capita than anywhere else in the world and that is comforting when looking for someone to take a chunk out of my right appendage.  Mum and I laid up in bed together.  That’s an image. 

Friends:  Baby showers, Cajun mardi gras, birthdays… Will post pics soon.  Looking forward to a little Pretty in Pink with other 80’s aficionados tomorrow night.  Yes, Saturdays nights are not what they used to be.

Food:  I have no palette.  Dee tells me all the time… and I guess a very good indication of that is the bottle of lemon pepper seasoning I carry around with me everywhere and sprinkle (in clumps) on everything that touches my lips (this could be a setback in my relationship with Rocco…) But we enjoyed Dazzle last Saturday and its selection of over 3400 wines.  Australian lamb, Japanese beef, crab cakes, chocolate desserts, cheese platters… Bruce from Darwin was our fabulous maitre d’ and a limited edition Francis Ford Coppola Director’s cut Cab Sauv made for a superb night.  

Music:  The Verve are back.  I’m crying just now.  With complete devotion.   Tickets to Summer Sonic are in our hot little hands. Jack's Mannequin and The Wombats... Could the soundtrack to our life get any better just now?  The Pigeon Detectives are coming up this month.  As infectious as bird flu.

News:  A knife-wielding man cut 2 schoolgirls hair in Nagoya yesterday.  He was clad in black.  He’s still on the loose. Just a tad freaky… Members of the police Special Investigation Team practiced in Tokyo today. Always entertaining.  And of course, as today is White Day, it wouldn’t be the news without some kind of heart-related report (albeit about Heart-chan the cow…)

Another week in the life...

Obama... Fukui

Japan is an enigmatic country.  There is a small chopstick-making community and fishing village in Fukui prefecture called… Obama.  We’ve been through our share of amusing town names over here – Urahore, Shitte, Fukumama  (I can’t laugh too much as I have passed through Tittybong in my own homeland…).  But the residents of Obama are supporting their town’s accidental name-sharing with more gusto than ever.  Even more than when Tama-chan the seal came to town back in '02 or ’03. Yes, you won’t find any of the 32,000 inhabitants of Obama without their "I (heart) Obama" t-shirts, traditional kimono party jackets or Obama victory headbands. And even though Seiji Fujihara, the head of the local tourism board, said he has "only met a black person once", he believes Obama's election would make the United States "more equal" on racial issues. (We should be so lucky here I say … as a permanent national residents card is bestowed upon a sealion but not us foreign 'human' residents…*sigh*)

 

Some of the city’s special “Obama” chopsticks were sent to the Senator, (whose birthday incidentally falls on “Chopstick Day”.)  The stars seem aligned here, don’t they?  And to top it all off, Obama (the town) has had its bakeries working overtime to churn out some delightfully looking Obama manju (bean curd buns).  Fabulous.  Actually, that doesn’t top it all off at all.  There are also Obama fish burgers (yes, Mum – I’m checking into it all to make sure that it’s not actually whale…) and you can even have a flutter on some Obama pachinko machines. 

Obama Mayor, Mr Toshio Murakami, is particularly excited as you can see in this video.

You’ve got to love him.  And he almost seemed to tear up this week when… Senator Obama finally returned some correspondence with the town (the letter is now an official city ‘treasure’) and signed off with ‘Your Friend’, in Japanese. 

Hillary may have taken Texas, but Obama has his own little slice of Japan. We’re thinking of heading westward on a little roadtrip this week folks.  Seeing is believing. Did I mention the town’s 15 hula dancers, who’ve created a dance to express their adoration of Barack Obama?  I couldn’t be loving Japan more right now if I tried.

Please note:  * Views expressed by Obama City are not necessarily the views expressed by the writer!  Dare I say gambatte Hillary?

Creative Chaos...

The weekend was chaotically wonderful.  I was so thrilled to be meeting some of my favorite celebs.  Dee’s doing a full report of CKU-J on the STP blog… I can’t write about it here, because to be honest I’m not actually sure what happened most of the weekend.  I was slightly dazed and confused for the majority of my time at Sunshine City – happily spaced-out on my hayfever medicine.  So much so that I just kind of grinned stupidly when Donna Downey introduced herself in the lobby of the Prince Hotel.  I just seemed to parrot everything she said and couldn’t make myself stop. I could feel my face turning bright red.  I’m sure I looked like I’d just been boiled.  In my hurry to get away from the horrifying situation – I turned the corner and ran straight into our friend Catherine – who I hugged fiercely and who I seemed absurdly overly happy to see.   I may have clung to her just a touch too tightly.  Later that day, Lisa Bearnson thought I was jet-lagged – until I told her that I lived 30 minutes down the road.  And god only knows what I bought out of Lance’s suitcase.  Whatever wheeling and dealing was going on there – I was an easy target. Luckily I was able to make some sort of conversation with Chris, Becky’s husband...  Well, I hope I was coherent.  I’m clinging to the fact that there were no awkward pauses.  And even with Dee ‘goofing-off’ in Becky’s class – we still feel like we’ve made some fabulous new friends.  We love Montana.  And their roadside attractions…

Dinner with the girls on Saturday night was outrageously fun.  Nienke fits in like she’s been one of the gang forever.  Margaritas were the drink of the night and the banquet was pretty delish. 
Nienke and I are still not sure how Dee and Emily got to escape, have fun and eat shu-creams upstairs while we took in a very serious and important lecture on charities and causes for over 2 hours – half of it in Japanese.  Still, I’ve been moved and inspired – and they’ve just gotten a sugar-high.  All in all – it was a terrific few days.  My ‘Lucky Bag’ marketing genius (idea stolen from all Australian primary school  fetes… and the Ekka’s sideshow alley…)  was a hit – and had everyone hyped-up with long lines forming to make sure they didn’t miss out.  I got caught up in my own hype though and ended up giving away so much stuff… I think I even told someone I’d give them Dee if they bought a lucky bag.  I must remember to tell Dee later that she’s due at some lady’s house in Fukuoka next weekend. 

Fabulous time with Emily the next day.  Strangely enough, she was able to entice an entire room full of reserved Japanese women to put pointed paper triangles on their boobs in homage to Madonna.  And seeing as though there are a few people in a small 7-11 in a tiny village in Aomori that still think Madonna visited their store last June (Dee in sunglasses)…well, it was a fitting tribute.

We were in Ebisu again later that night… and stopped at a restaurant for dinner.  It was full (on a Monday night?)  and being the ingenious person I am – had left my jacket in the car (why not – it’s just down the road??!!).  So standing there freezing we needed a plan B… and fast.  Ran across the road to the next nearest restaurant… Tex/Mex style.  Yes, we were throwing a Texan, into a Texan Restaurant… Engrish style.  BBQ wings the size of six-year-old’s pinkie fingers and of course the many strange concoctions that always accompany Japanese fusion dining.   After being enlightened on the finer points semi-professional lawnmower racing and comparing notes on hokey tomato festivals and revered dead toads (along with the towns we’ve been banned from), the evening took another unexpected turn when I actually asked Dee to describe my breasts in detail to our guest (it’s a long story…).  Looks of horror from all members quickly changed to relieved (and nervous) laughter after we all got wind of what I was actually trying to say.  To be honest, I’m still confused about it all.  But luckily Ricky Martin saved the day as we grooved to Livin’ La Vida Loca and all talk of my bosom was soon forgotten as we sang Happy Birthday to numerous people we don’t know.  Please don’t return the favor and take us to any Japanese restaurants when we visit Texas later this year.  We want some fired up Texan BBQ that’s going to put hair on our chests and make us want to tie a pair of longhorns to the front of our pick-ups.  And cocktails.  I’d also like to meet Tim Riggins…please (*sigh*).
 

I’m so inspired by Emily and Jennifer just now and their fabulous company Luxe that I even forgive them for putting ‘that’ photo of me on their blogs.  Luxe is fabulous – stylish, fashionable, chic… And then there’s me.  Has anyone ever actually seen me pull that face before?  Was I sucking on a lemon? It’s a new look for me (and I have so many as you know…) Harumi and Nobuko are training me to keep my eyebrows on an even keel and not throw them skyward every time I see a camera.  This is the reason I take photos and not actually appear in them.  But it’s all good. ‘Cause you know when you just have one of those weeks where you just click with people, make lifelong friends, get inspired by fabulous people, talk about inappropriate things over dinner, start to cry when it’s all coming to an end and just start loving life in general?  These last few days were like that.  And I’m pretty sure it wasn’t the drugs.

Weird skies over Tokyo...

I’m dying.  ‘Kafunsho’ has hit me hard this year.  I never got hayfever back home – perhaps a little sinusitis with the wattle and jacarandas – but this is ridiculous.  The pressure headache feels like I’ve been slapped in the forehead with a brick and my eyes are so red and itchy I’m walking around like someone’s maced me.  It’s such an attractive time of year.  And so to add to that allure, I’ve been thinking of investing in a pair of pollen glasses from the local 7-11 - enormous plastic spectacles, (perhaps I might even go so far as to call them goggles – kind of like what Dad used to wear in the garden whilst on the whipper-snipper… only bigger), with protective side panels.  I’ve seen a very eye-catching pair for  ¥1,100. What a bargain. Or the striking black, slip-on side covers for ¥500 that I could slip on over my regular glasses.  I just can’t bring myself to wear a mask.  The day I do is the day I give up my dream of moving home, buy some lace curtains and a feather duster for the car and plonk myself in front of the terebi eating green-tea ice cream.  I’ve lived 33.33% of my life here in Japan.  But I can’t wear a mask.  Oh the vanity of it all.  The enormous goggles that look like people have encased their head in a plastic bubble… well, right now, I might just be agitated enough to wear them.  And let’s face it – I’ve worn worse.  I still think the Flashdance off-the-shoulder boatneck sweatshirt with tank top thing is in vogue.

I think part of the reason I got hit so badly this year with the dreaded allergies, was the start of the ‘haruichiban’ – the arrival of the first spring winds.  Although this year they were more like windstorms from another planet.  They kicked up dust, pollen, pollution, sand and all things nasty that you really don’t want in your nose.  The gales were wild and out of control. We unwisely had some washing on the line.  A lot of it is now gone.  I wonder what lucky person will find my underwear on their balcony... and for that matter, I wonder how far it flew?  These winds were so strong that they knocked bikes over.  Seriously.  That was the news. 

On Saturday, we pulled into a little local supermarket and we could see this browny-orange sky coming towards us…  I thought we were under biological attack.  We had no idea what was coming… it was all a little bit War of the Worlds – but I whipped out my tiny emergency camera from the glovebox and snapped this quick shot before we thought it best to leave. 

Yes, the winds had arrived in Kanagawa and brought with them loads of red sand particles (which all our Japanese friends said came from China… because isn’t that where everything bad in Japan comes from?  But we’re pretty sure they just came from down the road at Futako-Tamagawa…). We were in a sandstorm!  One man yelled out something about feeling like he’s in Iraq (but looking around the street at the rows of vending machines, the pachinko parlor across the road and the Pocari Sweat in my hand… well, I never got lost in that fantasy).  Driving in the heavy sand wind was really difficult… hard to see the more than usual number of bike riders that the gusts seemed to be blowing in front of the car.  On the news later that evening the strange skies over Tokyo almost made it to the number one news spot.  The fallen bicycles beat it to top billing.  Of course.

In other news…
Mum is doing well after her surgery.  She’s bright and alert, and all time/day awareness has returned… and in good humour.  Obviously on extraordinarily good pain medication.  But more on her story soon… 

16 out of 24 was my final Oscar score.  Not too shabby.  Not enough to win me the diamonds… But don’t you think it one of the most boring Oscars on record? Obviously having the writers on strike sucked the show dry – so to get over that hurdle, they just montaged the last 80 years to death.  Boringly.  Even the champagne didn’t help.  Well… it did, a little.

Tomorrow morning (my time) my new Facebook BFF is pulling out all the stops on American Idol.  GO SYESHA ! You might say she’s just collecting friends… but I assure you it’s because I offered to play her when they make a movie about her life.  You were made for 70’s night…  Bring the house down.

CKU-Japan starts tomorrow with bump-in at Sunshine City in Ikebukuro. Loads of fabulous and creative women coming over from the US and almost 300 Japanese women eager to be inspired. We’ll give you the full report next week.  We’re excited about this next adventure… I think the last time I was this excited was when Kai promised to take us to Sizzler. 

Pass the envelope, please...

Oscars again – has that really been a year? As I’m writing this, Oscar.com says that there’s only 8 hours 23 minutes til show time.  Time to pay our tribute to Hollywood narcissism and drink copious amounts of champagne (again) while indulging in our annual tradition of the Oscar Party… any old excuse, I know.  I’m not sure if this feels like an exciting year or not (especially with my movie-buff Mum having her operation today…) – but you never know what’s going to happen and what motivational and moving speeches are going to be heard.  In 1998 we had Kim Basinger “thank everybody I've ever met in my entire life.'' Huh… Very efficient.  And Jack Nicholson voiced our own sentiments with "I guess this proves there are as many nuts in the Academy as anywhere else."  And come on – who didn’t have a tear in their eye with Hillary Swank’s famous trailer trash speech in 2005… "I'm just a girl from a trailer park who had a dream.” Yes, in the words of Warren Beatty, "We want to thank all of you for watching us congratulate ourselves tonight."  WE LOVE IT and wouldn’t miss it for the world.

So, I was the winner of last year’s Oscar picks, with Yumi and Tomoko coming in a close second.  Harumi won the booby prize with zero answers correct (how is that possible?) – and thus has an awful lot to prove this year.  My mother on the other had has more movie knowledge and Oscar trivia than anyone else I know.  I was raised on Alfred Hitchcock masterpieces, Elizabeth Taylor epics and never missing an episode of Bill Collins "Golden Years of Hollywood..." When I was six years old she revealed a slightly disturbing tidbit of information - that the model for the Oscar statuette was a naked Mexican named Emilio Fernández.  It scarred me for life.  From this point on, I’ve only ever been able to see statues of little Mexican hombres being handed out to my favorite stars.  So we’ll miss her this year, and know she’ll be waiting for the news as soon as she’s out of surgery.  I feel like she may have passed along a little info to Dee on the phone tonight, giving her a little heads up on the picks.  Very ZURUI! 

Anyway, we’ve found some fabulous accessories for anyone holding their Oscar bash. These fabulous items have certainly given us inspiration. Dress up your party with some Oscar cupcakes or cookies.  Coming in delicious selections of Best Actor, Actress and Picture.  I’m sure Johnny Depp tastes scrumptious.  An Oscar piñata – not the best thing in small Japanese apartments, but certainly a lovely touch.  Or come dressed on the red carpet wearing a replica gown of some famous Oscar frocks.  Catering is always done by Wolfgang – but if he can’t make it, you can always get the actual Oscar menu from his homepage and whip it up yourself.  The truffles are being chopped as we speak.  And to top off the day – don’t forget to pass out the ballots…  And then it’s over, just like that.  I’ve given up on my dream of becoming Miss America – 1. I’m not American and 2. I’m getting on a bit and things are sagging in places that wouldn’t look good in the swimsuit competition.  But the Oscar dream is still alive – even if it is just receiving one in our living room. Happy 80th everyone.  Here's to Hollywood and all that glitters... (even though Tom's antics are suffocating the fairytale a little...) Too late to fill out your application to be a seat-filler – but there’s always next year.  Here are my picks for 2008…

Best Picture: No Country For Old Men
Best Director: The Coen Brothers
Best Actor: Daniel Day-Lewis (but it'd be awesome to see Johnny up there, no?)
Best Actress: I know Julie Christie is the favorite, but I just feel Marion Cotillard might sneak in.
Best Supporting Actor: Javier Bardem because he scares me
Best Supporting Actress: This one's wide open...Amy Ryan or Tilda Swinton are favorites but I've got to go with Cate Blanchett.  She's got to win something.  GO CATE!
Animated Feature: Ratatouille
Cinematography: There Will Be Blood
Foreign Language Film: The Counterfeiters
Documentary Feature: No End In Sight
Documentary Short: Freehold
Adapted Screenplay: No Country For Old Men
Original Screenplay: Juno
Live Action Short: Tanghi Argentini
Animated Short: Peter and the Wolf
Editing: The Bourne Ultimatum
Costume Design: Sweeney Todd
Original Score:  Atonement (Should have been Radiohead, but they got the snub...)
Original Song: “Falling Slowly,” Once
Art Direction: There Will Be Blood
Makeup: La Vie En Rose
Visual Effects: Transformers
Sound Editing: Transformers
Sound Mixing: Transformers

At the end of the day, when it comes down to it, all we really want is to be lied to...

Mum’s having major surgery on Monday.  A triple fusion hindfoot and ankle reconstruction that’s hopefully going to keep her out of a wheelchair and also give her a little more mobility when she joins Greenpeace to save the whales. Having the operation on both ankles and then with rehab, she’ll be out of action most of the year.  I can’t say it’s been an easy decision for her to come to… there have been a lot of verbal tantrums, lots of threatening to cancel the whole thing (you know, the plants are going to die… they’ll have no one to water them), but the decision was finally reached and tonight she’s packing her bag for the hospital.  Well, we hope so… because… knowing what a difficult time this is for her and knowing how hard we’ve all worked on getting her to finally make this huge and life-changing decision, my father still had this compassionate conversation with her earlier today:

Mum:  I had to pay the balance of my operation today.  Don’t you think it’s strange to have to pay for it all before you’ve actually had it done?

Dad:  Well… they’ve got to get their money now in case you go into hospital and don’t come back out.

We’re expecting the cancellation phonecall to happen any minute now.

*sneezes*

I’ve had the flu this week.  I rarely get sick but when I do it's always an Oscar-worthy performance. Actually this is the first time I’ve taken a sickie in about 8 years.  So I needed to milk it.  Besides the fabulous amount of attention that has been lavished on me it also meant that I could spend the day lying in bed, sipping hot lemon tea watching American Idol.  Basil Fawlty - manic control-freak with delusions of grandeur and one of my favorite TV characters of all time – reminds me very much of the acerbic Simon Cowell. How can you not get total delight from someone who doesn’t think twice about saying things to young hopefuls chasing their huge dreams in front of millions of people like,  “It was like when your mum gets drunk and starts dancing” or "My pen has more charisma." I’m enjoying Jason Castro this year.  Hope he does well.  So I’m almost over my flu – just sitting here now coughing and sweating on the futon and waiting for my Vicks vaporub to be applied, had my fill of deluded superstar hopefuls, and tomorrow it’s time to get down to business.  We’ve got a tough couple of weeks ahead – busy complicating our lives with events, knee-deep in photo engagements and packing loads of orders.  We’ll be back online again soon, hopefully before we die of old-age… or blocked sinuses. T

Rekindling the sisterhood...

It’s my 20 year high school reunion this year. And if that isn’t bad enough, recently I hung out with some friends (slightly younger… by a wee bit…) who instead of making obscure 80’s references (which is an innate part of our vernacular…) , started making obscure 90’s references. And they went over my head. So it was time to talk to someone who knows what Molly Ringwald did for the world of film (or gets my jokes about Mallory Keaton’s fiancé…) It was time to call Pili. At uni we were inseparable. Now we live 9564km apart. But that never stops us from a much-needed good old-fashioned female pajama party. By phone. Wrapped up in my cuddly flannelette pjs, snug in bean-bag, hot green tea in hand (was still on detox at that time… only hot chocolate with marshmallows would have helped the moment) – I phoned London at 1am… and hung up at 4am.  Mind you, a large part of that 3 hour marathon was taken up by Pili’s 4-year-old daughter singing “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend” - her best West End rendition… The child is a diva superstar. Good job Pili – we knew you could do it. It was a pj-fest of epic proportions. Only… it was just me in my pink pjs – Pili’s gossip-party revolved around the beeping of microwave buttons, the setting of tables, the feeding of a full baked dinner with Yorkshire pudding to her daughter (so what if it was frozen) – can anyone say superwoman? – all this without missing a beat, telephone glued to ear… and all in stark contrast to me draped across the beanbag with the lights off, giggling in the dark like a slightly-drunk teen. It was a great night and certainly the kilometers melted away… we’ll do it again soon. I promise. After I catch up on the night’s sleep I lost. All-nighters used to be so easy – in the 80’s.

After catching up with friends on the other side of the world, it was time to reunite with another old friend – who doesn’t look old at all and someone who still knows that the powers of Greyskull can be cool. I met my friend Megan who I had lost touch with for close to 14 years and who just happens to be living not that far away from us over here in the land of wacky TV. I have no idea why I got so nervous. Talking on the phone was fine. But somewhere between hanging up and finally meeting her in Harajuku my tongue got so tied up in knots, it felt like it was being yanked out of my mouth by a pair of pliers… and my stomach lurched with such a bad case of butterflies that I had to google the condition to make sure I wasn’t going to arrive, say ‘hi’ and then fall over dead at her feet from some mysterious illness. I have no idea why my body and brain stopped functioning – but I tried to veil it as best I could, albeit with some insane laughter, lots of gushing “I’m so excited” “wow, you look so good”… and Dee mentioned later, a little bit of crazy-eye. Things didn’t get any better for me, when we were actually seated. Megan was sitting in front of a mirrored pylon and I was sitting opposite so I was essentially looking at myself the entire reunion. Does anyone know how annoying mirrors in restaurants really are? I can understand mirrored walls and things in bars, and clubs – tacky, but let’s face it… haven’t they come in handy for a few of us in the wee hours of the morning when a few too many cocktails and tequila slammers have made us look over our shoulder and slur “not too bad… still looking hot” (as we sway not quite on the beat with panda mascara eyes and lipstick smudged mouth)… But in restaurants? So Megan moved her head and I immediately moved my head in an attempt to not be staring deep into my own eyes. Head moved again, so I have no alternative but to start checking out the cracks in the ceiling. I must have looked so rude, Megan’s filling us in on the last 14 years of her life and I’m looking like the restaurant’s health and safety officer. Luckily my neuroticism didn’t spoil the day (for once) and we made plans to meet up with Megan’s charming husband Mark for dinner the following week. Dee said soon after that my eccentric quirks (which are often under control in public) bordered on mental illness that day. So supportive.

Second time round was a little better. Especially as though it was our first time meeting Mark. Smelling a little like crab and fish due to the very local location of the wine bar Megan took us too, it wasn’t more than 5 minutes before we were all talking about Jane Fonda dropping the ‘c-bomb’ on tv and my immature amusement at the CNN journalists who are in Abuja. Don’t worry – no one else understands either… Cute bar – somewhere we’d like to hang out I think. And we really held our wine well considering it was DETOX FINISH DAY and we were worried that we’d have one glass of wine and be dancing naked on the bar before we’d even exchanged greetings. But we held it together. Then off to dinner at Deliziso Italia in Ebisu. I wrote last year about a nice Italian restaurant we went to in Ebisu and I thought Megan might be taking us to the same one. But this one was a more rustic trattoria with a very nice fig, walnut and gorgonzola pizza that had us all very vocally groaning with pleasure. Amidst Mark occasionally being mistaken for either Al Gore or Brendan Fraser, we had a thoroughly pleasant evening with hopefully many more to come. I'm so glad  to have  you in our lives again.

So reconnecting with old friends has been on the brain with the 20-year fiasco about to arrive. And it seems quite a few people from high-school are feeling the same way with people tracking each other down like hound dogs on the scent. Psychologists, scientists, teachers, parole officers, realtors, physios and even a transformational kinesiologist – everybody’s lives sound fascinating.  I want to know more... So I’ve decided that I might attend  the event (against the advice of everyone who went to their 10th) as long as there’s a cocktail bar involved (to help with that tongue-tied problem I seem to have developed), no mirrors on the walls, and as long as don’t have to call any of my old teachers by their first names (I am not a well-adjusted person…) I’ll let you know if my requests have been taken into consideration. T