tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-187542522024-03-18T09:00:34.470+01:00one more handbag...won't hurt, now will it? Retail therapy might not be the answer to everything, but that's fine with me.onemorehandbaghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14912477675709911157noreply@blogger.comBlogger2293125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18754252.post-23343691166514481952024-03-18T09:00:00.022+01:002024-03-18T09:00:00.138+01:00And Just Like That...<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJhY9ut1KMkd22Pp6MlynA7dLbNc46WqZuM_5IyF78e3jpN5MKA6HgOV2zV6PdV2dpQobzCL6LOuoOeQJyvtV99aTbdPp9X1oaUu24xysCTRoe4TLRKiAGVTVu9TQHIcB92AONI-bivWW7TfMF-n_bZbmUEid8BEP7p3XG1ASKHqzWgiuHYXeY/s1488/PXL_20230923_100231424-EDIT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1221" data-original-width="1488" height="329" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJhY9ut1KMkd22Pp6MlynA7dLbNc46WqZuM_5IyF78e3jpN5MKA6HgOV2zV6PdV2dpQobzCL6LOuoOeQJyvtV99aTbdPp9X1oaUu24xysCTRoe4TLRKiAGVTVu9TQHIcB92AONI-bivWW7TfMF-n_bZbmUEid8BEP7p3XG1ASKHqzWgiuHYXeY/w400-h329/PXL_20230923_100231424-EDIT.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">...I wrote almost 20.000 words and submitted my master thesis 10 days before the deadline. Whoop, whoop. Interestingly, it didn't really feel like a very taxing project at all and I have to say I enjoyed the process. Unlike my first thesis, back in the 1990s, little AI-helpers (hello, automatic transcription of audio files!) made life SO much easier and not having to physically go to your academic supervisor's office during their office hours but write them an informal e-mail and receive feedback within 24 hours also helped immensely and made the whole experience so much less frustrating and faster. Now I only have to tick off my final presentation/defensio if our chaotic contact at our alma mater ever communicates the time slots and then I'll be able to say I "collected" another academic title in my 50s, LOL. </div><p></p>onemorehandbaghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14912477675709911157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18754252.post-85601997461308647882024-03-11T09:00:00.031+01:002024-03-11T09:00:00.136+01:00Change<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoSVXOF-n1OxhKch-9SffgV82l9w6cvREyuL16n90d90rWTeVnbZG3jEUYdhxg1On4ST6iPm91Q2Cc_1oINO9uKrvxf9iQ7oBucH_ITAx7AxMy3GJ3N8c6J7Vhj201RqN2rgOuRAtnNGynMsfIJ3eR7HRABd5bB6wcpNcX0XA_pUEz8Wj8h0fy/s1767/PXL_20230701_074334419-EDIT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1676" data-original-width="1767" height="380" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoSVXOF-n1OxhKch-9SffgV82l9w6cvREyuL16n90d90rWTeVnbZG3jEUYdhxg1On4ST6iPm91Q2Cc_1oINO9uKrvxf9iQ7oBucH_ITAx7AxMy3GJ3N8c6J7Vhj201RqN2rgOuRAtnNGynMsfIJ3eR7HRABd5bB6wcpNcX0XA_pUEz8Wj8h0fy/w400-h380/PXL_20230701_074334419-EDIT.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">Last week I submitted my request form to switch to a 4-day work week starting with May. This means that I will have Fridays off and be able to enjoy 3-day weekends EVERY week. Whoop, whoop. I am really excited and it did not take me long to make up my mind when my company offered this to all its employees about a month ago. The deals is that you have to commit to working either 32 or 36 (which I took) hours/week on 4 days for at least two years if you want to get a onetime "reward" payment. The latter (even though rather generous) was not my main motivation, but rather I had found this model attractive for quite some time. Postponing things for when you're retired really is not the wisest choice f because you never know if you'll get to experience old age healthy and mentally sound as well as financially independent. I'd rather enjoy life as much as I can in the present before bookmarking it for the future. So here's to change and long weekends!</div><p></p>onemorehandbaghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14912477675709911157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18754252.post-81652771926223526952024-03-04T09:00:00.040+01:002024-03-04T09:00:00.143+01:00Jinxed?<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS2B6dzSFhOMwgXYA9c7ZYH26qhtHFVxR1Ci0erPpGqnnkFQpzAiHs6bRLTN9zDFgWxybJDEU1viZCunS_K9hgt89wKBdYOl_z3JzPmypvjhUf3Ge5BckF6bEowHZ9ee0UyFCjrHrg6mKEp8D_dUmBBl7DC8Zf8f2mlyycOLTmQnBrgquaUeu2/s1800/PXL_20231216_182833365-EDIT.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1458" data-original-width="1800" height="324" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS2B6dzSFhOMwgXYA9c7ZYH26qhtHFVxR1Ci0erPpGqnnkFQpzAiHs6bRLTN9zDFgWxybJDEU1viZCunS_K9hgt89wKBdYOl_z3JzPmypvjhUf3Ge5BckF6bEowHZ9ee0UyFCjrHrg6mKEp8D_dUmBBl7DC8Zf8f2mlyycOLTmQnBrgquaUeu2/w400-h324/PXL_20231216_182833365-EDIT.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">A few weeks ago I caught myself thinking "I feel SO happy and content with my life right now, it almost feels too good to be true. Am I going to be "punished" for even thinking that alound?" Not long after that I was dealt the answer in the shape of a somewhat rude awakening (see previous post for more context, among other things) that you could...possibly...if you are superstitious...which I am actually not <i>that </i>much...interpret as a "YES, stupid, well you did ask!" </div><div style="text-align: justify;">It's interesting though, how we often tend to get suspicious if we feel we are consuming more than our allotted "fair share" of luck or happiness when in fact we ALL (well, not those nasty dictators or other horrible persons, obviously) deserve it in bottomless-brunch-quantities.</div><p></p>onemorehandbaghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14912477675709911157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18754252.post-38498662826263559692024-02-26T09:00:00.062+01:002024-02-26T09:00:00.239+01:00Not all Fun & Games<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg23FPSyLlGdaW-i4RAGEJf3pD2rlXKXYI6RcTPO90-BlHajxwZKN-nVWkQ73lP9Z4-hO4uAf1HRC3tsjYsSCI3tmp1OIas7HdoTZ4F7sSpGVPGyJZPX3WEdhyphenhyphenhPOkaqp-iyZIoNb9gl4UPcNflQJjvSlrN6nlQc4PsgSA0RYaAZa3oJIVoA4Go/s2400/IMG_20180923_163408-EDIT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2165" data-original-width="2400" height="361" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg23FPSyLlGdaW-i4RAGEJf3pD2rlXKXYI6RcTPO90-BlHajxwZKN-nVWkQ73lP9Z4-hO4uAf1HRC3tsjYsSCI3tmp1OIas7HdoTZ4F7sSpGVPGyJZPX3WEdhyphenhyphenhPOkaqp-iyZIoNb9gl4UPcNflQJjvSlrN6nlQc4PsgSA0RYaAZa3oJIVoA4Go/w400-h361/IMG_20180923_163408-EDIT.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Last weekend Highflier and I finally went to my hometown, two weeks later than originally planned due to me getting Covid the week of my birthday. It was coincidence that Highflier could join after all, which seemed like the icing on the cake.While it was great to see my parents and also get the chance to do a bit of (almost water) skiing, it was also really depressing as my father's health had deteriorated since I last saw them around Christmas time and on top of that he was in an extremely deflated, anxious "endgame" mood, making it difficult to cheer him up and let him consider different options to alleviate the situation. Being an only child to ageing parents (my Dad is turning 80 later this year) who live 300+ kilometres away and - same as me, vice versa - tend to keep bad news from me until the moment when they have to involve me is the material for a hefty dose of anxiety every now and then. I mostly manage to remain positive and not let my vivid imagination get the better of me, but sometimes I do wish everyone could just be healthy and happy ALL the time, pretty please.</div><p></p>onemorehandbaghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14912477675709911157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18754252.post-32637642122509532712024-02-19T09:00:00.005+01:002024-02-19T09:00:00.131+01:00BRB<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt5HYeZ0-03GA9G8zgLsteU_pu-poSmRPeNg9msfZvVlGQJWnyVZPgj-76oHlUnUS9PMyUAPXzQN13oc2cbmFCuyAjcVukUJdBYwvvj2hlyCZoL00F9MRsgr7iOvF1Rk4O5DqyGtXfG8c_rb6-DoekfU_qTztB577xbH1V1cI9lGfVoSFR594E/s1980/IMG_20180125_115454-EDIT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1592" data-original-width="1980" height="321" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt5HYeZ0-03GA9G8zgLsteU_pu-poSmRPeNg9msfZvVlGQJWnyVZPgj-76oHlUnUS9PMyUAPXzQN13oc2cbmFCuyAjcVukUJdBYwvvj2hlyCZoL00F9MRsgr7iOvF1Rk4O5DqyGtXfG8c_rb6-DoekfU_qTztB577xbH1V1cI9lGfVoSFR594E/w400-h321/IMG_20180125_115454-EDIT.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>Pressing "Pause" for a moment here. Be right back.<p></p>onemorehandbaghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14912477675709911157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18754252.post-89088049730212475262024-02-12T09:00:00.036+01:002024-02-12T09:00:00.156+01:00Blessing in Disguise<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimfAjBGYaHeWNtQSWNjFbIOJW_sVECpKO2YVJgj5Vo3NGqlRmcN-ztaKpblyZTl0Tdg1sPjv8hykb4o0EAQ1vymGMmXXv4_Me7rIiFf4h-8RIc5DRHxX72MnYd5MTU7gz_hCa6jc82OUQwwoR3TluVLcmiXukdKgZK6tPG3KMhRPnfReNV0lpV/s467/Screenshot%202024-02-10%20at%2012.25.20.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="467" data-original-width="373" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimfAjBGYaHeWNtQSWNjFbIOJW_sVECpKO2YVJgj5Vo3NGqlRmcN-ztaKpblyZTl0Tdg1sPjv8hykb4o0EAQ1vymGMmXXv4_Me7rIiFf4h-8RIc5DRHxX72MnYd5MTU7gz_hCa6jc82OUQwwoR3TluVLcmiXukdKgZK6tPG3KMhRPnfReNV0lpV/w320-h400/Screenshot%202024-02-10%20at%2012.25.20.png" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I had been looking forward to last weekend, getting Highflyer to request time off work well in advance. We were going to spend it at my parents', going skiing (both of us had got a ski pass for Christmas for my staple Carinthian ski resort), eating cake on the occasion of my recent birthday, etc. Well, then I noticed a certain, very familiar "off" feeling at the back of my throat as I was out for dinner with friends on Thursday night and immediately took an antigen Covid test when I got home that came up with a faint pink test line. Bingo. I took another test on Friday morning when I already had a full-on throat ache and yep, there was no denying it. All winter I had joked that I felt like a scorpion or cockroach, being the only person who did not fall sick before Christmas when everyone in the office came down with the flu or Covid. It was just bad timing as we were all set to go, my Mum had prepared everything and the weather was picture-perfect. Bummer. Then I saw the positive side. What, if I had only realised I was sick when I was already there, had kissed my parents "hello" and passed the virus on to them. My dad, who is turning 80 this year, has a severe chronic illness and so far - at least as far as we know of - managed to avoid the virus, so I really would have beaten myself up if this had been the case, regardless of the outcome. Neither the mountains nor the cake or my presents are running away so it's just a matter of postponing something nice and I am very grateful I only had a sore throat and runny nose, but no other symptoms.</div><p></p>onemorehandbaghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14912477675709911157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18754252.post-5188620522562297212024-02-05T09:00:00.054+01:002024-02-05T09:00:00.454+01:00Ancient<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUJ3ftJySBwueLQ7OnpAw2qyCfAaoxisnY0zBb4rnYeTADwA3qb-54EEtNqV3Lvt9US41xICvjZuPa1aSpyCAbgfqD3IlS58wak54Z16zWpLLxBKVRvm7_qShSQZx8YaBZo1GtAdBdoaHLstzVcnYG_Zxs4Tkulp6q26Q8iu4rzQduYPNukbFQ/s2592/PXL_20231006_100821914.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUJ3ftJySBwueLQ7OnpAw2qyCfAaoxisnY0zBb4rnYeTADwA3qb-54EEtNqV3Lvt9US41xICvjZuPa1aSpyCAbgfqD3IlS58wak54Z16zWpLLxBKVRvm7_qShSQZx8YaBZo1GtAdBdoaHLstzVcnYG_Zxs4Tkulp6q26Q8iu4rzQduYPNukbFQ/w400-h300/PXL_20231006_100821914.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Last week was my 52nd birthday. Among the gazillion of wishes I received that day, I got a particularly heartwarming one by one of our team's interns, whom I hang out a lot with when we're in the office together. She's 26 and it reminded me that I was an extremely prejudiced brat when I was her age and genuinely found it weird to socialise with people twice your age as I had an image of them being half-dead and super boring. Well, some of them probably were, but my own Mum is the best example that age is just a number and you can be full of ideas and projects, no matter how old you are. When I started at my first job there were two colleagues who I am still in wishing-one-another-a-happy-birthday touch with. One of them is two years older than me, the other about 13 or so. I liked them both and got to know them really well over the 9 years I worked there, but naturally gravitated more towards the younger one, who was closer to my age and in a similar situation in life (recently graduated from university, lived in Vienna and had a boyfriend) than the older one who was married with two teenagers, commuting from rather far away by car and train as she and her husband had built a house in the village she was born. For me it was like a fascinating "study project" to see that they were friends just like anybody of the same age group. I remember that years she quoted her new boyfriend as saying he just realised that the other colleague was almost a generation older and felt a bit relieved that it apparently was not just me.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Well, since then I've come a long way and made friends with people beyond my age cohort in both directions, including "dating" somebody considerably older than me for a while. I still admire these Gen Zers in the workplace who treat the old farts like one of their own. Well, coming to think of it, maybe this privilege is extended only to those who treat them as equals in the first place...</div><p></p>onemorehandbaghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14912477675709911157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18754252.post-1199105236834440522024-01-29T09:00:00.042+01:002024-01-29T09:00:00.137+01:00Abundance<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdljJ6qSB7YggtSy7KQvMENZMOio3d6_cvfVZw9DilBqi_Iy3NS66mRxjWjR_MR0HZQpYe_QQB8kmEjgU8L86TCmyzyB-CWML4OUbOeYSkanOD4yg_BbIH6Zb-zx4RFAb9lt3pbvqQGuMPg5PrrasbChlpHRhoQRRjp_bkblvhLlwkko3VYS3e/s2592/PXL_20240126_082717757.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdljJ6qSB7YggtSy7KQvMENZMOio3d6_cvfVZw9DilBqi_Iy3NS66mRxjWjR_MR0HZQpYe_QQB8kmEjgU8L86TCmyzyB-CWML4OUbOeYSkanOD4yg_BbIH6Zb-zx4RFAb9lt3pbvqQGuMPg5PrrasbChlpHRhoQRRjp_bkblvhLlwkko3VYS3e/w400-h300/PXL_20240126_082717757.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">If I have one New Year's resolution it is to use up things I have (if that is even possible) before I buy new sh**. This applies particularly to cosmetics and makeup where my stock could easily supply the cosmetics department of a small town department store. Pictured above is about 40% of my nailpolish collection...and I have pretty much as many eyeshadows, eyeliners, blushes etc. Somehow good bargains always seem to find me and %%% off sale promises by retailers are often hard to resist. This year will be the year of not ordering things I don't really <i>need </i>(20 almost identical versions of). I am a rather organised person and do sort out things, giving clothes I have "grown out of" or don't like anymore and don't see vintage potential in pretty easily and unsentimentally, but still I am sometimes a little disgusted by all the STUFF I own even though I used to be much worse when worked in the city centre and did a lot of casual shopping in my lunch-break. Let's see how it will go with the good intentions.</div><p></p>onemorehandbaghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14912477675709911157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18754252.post-49601932790430747742024-01-22T09:00:00.036+01:002024-01-22T09:00:00.142+01:00Say Cheeze<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWBBKQbrLwQYRvrySXtz0jwJOVhkn7RHWEkzv3L1IKjk-NhT8WJyEUNtSkD52UjhQGOUPvvoKEH2WwEmh4GqVZWemtl7ds-A99Z68TxX61QTCU3fZNx_OrLxKJVxz92WHZkB2Mg6CrFHmWphZEq9o79WTeck49OT-VH7KNYrL27XbM03KHv3_8/s1890/PXL_20240114_182931347-EDIT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1684" data-original-width="1890" height="356" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWBBKQbrLwQYRvrySXtz0jwJOVhkn7RHWEkzv3L1IKjk-NhT8WJyEUNtSkD52UjhQGOUPvvoKEH2WwEmh4GqVZWemtl7ds-A99Z68TxX61QTCU3fZNx_OrLxKJVxz92WHZkB2Mg6CrFHmWphZEq9o79WTeck49OT-VH7KNYrL27XbM03KHv3_8/w400-h356/PXL_20240114_182931347-EDIT.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Highflyer has many qualities. Being organised and tidy is not quite on the top of the list and so I sometimes make, um, helpful suggestions on how he could organise things. Recently I encouraged him to put Christmas and birthday cards he wanted to keep into a nice box one of his Christmas presents came in. As the cards in questions were mainly from me, he spent some time on a trip down memory lane by reading them all before he put them into the box. He passed some to me to read and to be honest I had forgotten some of the (nice) things I had written in the early days in particular. Well, it's not as if we've known one another for decades, but time flies, as they say and so I was surprised by the degree of cheesiness of some of the things I had written. In a good way. All those BIG words still hold true even if I have toned it down a little since then as can be expected with an OLD MARRIED COUPLE. I still feel all the cheesy feelings and still count myself so incredibly lucky that we crossed paths that late in life when we both knew (to a good part thanks to trial and error in the past) exactly what we wanted and what not in a relationship and had matured enough to appreciate a drama-free straightforward good thing when it presented itself...</div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p>onemorehandbaghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14912477675709911157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18754252.post-781964904666345632024-01-15T09:00:00.032+01:002024-01-15T09:00:00.156+01:00Passion<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI5H_PWN2prblfvAa9piDSZoEYIAvfFieszxnyCmq8xiVc19rSjXVfiCKrS5kmI79My9de2DruD7ETPl12dGItvwJVHcofr0ua4KBvQedgDexG90y75sK0ih_sLUQYwZWSwfuH_2pVjVOq3rkJLqfA4Fj_0f1n4LwI6vswG8fftkw_4yBx_eqg/s2047/PXL_20230212_154440433-COLLAGE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2047" data-original-width="2047" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI5H_PWN2prblfvAa9piDSZoEYIAvfFieszxnyCmq8xiVc19rSjXVfiCKrS5kmI79My9de2DruD7ETPl12dGItvwJVHcofr0ua4KBvQedgDexG90y75sK0ih_sLUQYwZWSwfuH_2pVjVOq3rkJLqfA4Fj_0f1n4LwI6vswG8fftkw_4yBx_eqg/w400-h400/PXL_20230212_154440433-COLLAGE.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">While some passions of mine have been short-lived and are testament to my impatient nature and short attention span, bread-making (as is baking in general) is something I really enjoy. It's a skill I have perfected in the past almost four years to the point where no bread is like the previous one and I love experimenting with different types of flours and various add-ins. I know my standard recipe by heart and feel really confident in the magic of my sourdough that has been going strong since 2020. It really is incredibly satisfying to create something with your hands, possibly even more so for people like me who earn their money in an office-job, doing a lot of abstract work. Highflyer is my best "customer", screaming with delight at the sight of fresh bread, which does not hurt either.</div><p></p>onemorehandbaghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14912477675709911157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18754252.post-36906128274418834212024-01-08T09:00:00.040+01:002024-01-08T09:00:00.166+01:00Temporary Family Person<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIlEqhwtEfw7q-Aym8l7c7Lop9TAet965i8xUQJjrJA9i_BVpnc09QJOrPFhtymM_xYEHbZ30oqD8Gct6DMG1P9hrU3x-QaweH0C3U6uhEiYeywvR9E8qU0DDIo9kH_ampjeCcPVF7CM1X87zMhyphenhyphenzT7kV-aoRV4F0Zz2Y9tMhYasAQ6ta6WXZT/s1931/PXL_20240101_114624568.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1931" data-original-width="1931" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIlEqhwtEfw7q-Aym8l7c7Lop9TAet965i8xUQJjrJA9i_BVpnc09QJOrPFhtymM_xYEHbZ30oqD8Gct6DMG1P9hrU3x-QaweH0C3U6uhEiYeywvR9E8qU0DDIo9kH_ampjeCcPVF7CM1X87zMhyphenhyphenzT7kV-aoRV4F0Zz2Y9tMhYasAQ6ta6WXZT/s320/PXL_20240101_114624568.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I spent the second half of my Christmas break in Innsbruck as I have done the past 4 years. Before, I never wanted to "waste" my precious annual leave on the typically very slow first week of the new year when many people are still off and business has not really jumped into gear. After meeting my favourite Tyrolean aka Highflyer things changed and I now spend New Years Eve and the days following it with him and his teenage sons and it has become a fun tradition. A few months ago, a friend told me she "admired" me for managing this temporary "stepmum" situation so well, but it really could not be easier and his sons (as is his daughter who lives in Vienna) are lovely and easy to get along with so it really is a win-win-situation for me and I see myself as a kind of cool (hopefully) aunt rather than a mother figure in their lives anyway. The three men are all way sportier than I am and so I chose which activities to participate in with them and when to do my own thing like spend half a day downtown on my own while they are on the slopes or in a swimming pool with crazy slides all day. One of his sons is as messy and forgetful as his father and I'd lie if I said I didn't look forward to my comparatively clean and tidy everyday existence with Highflyer in suburbia or on my own in my flat in Vienna once we go our separate ways again, but I do enjoy family life in small doses.</div><p></p>onemorehandbaghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14912477675709911157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18754252.post-24561598424294246452024-01-01T09:00:00.001+01:002024-01-01T09:00:00.144+01:00Now and Then<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Mq68Tymabd91ymFDzfyojgM85KFmuMa1uDdbok_Ks1qLf671RM30p2-xzuRs2AKwW9AKOJ_HjZ-pFEis6tAMnn7jGZyl8hN1rggkEx4ozbLN8Z-q_dbWRATu3GjPSpIEAmjmxF2VjxXa96rq_E6_LCjKD4ZHf-63yjtC9aP93YSM7qjOvugN/s1908/PXL_20230923_084734551-EDIT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1352" data-original-width="1908" height="284" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Mq68Tymabd91ymFDzfyojgM85KFmuMa1uDdbok_Ks1qLf671RM30p2-xzuRs2AKwW9AKOJ_HjZ-pFEis6tAMnn7jGZyl8hN1rggkEx4ozbLN8Z-q_dbWRATu3GjPSpIEAmjmxF2VjxXa96rq_E6_LCjKD4ZHf-63yjtC9aP93YSM7qjOvugN/w400-h284/PXL_20230923_084734551-EDIT.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">When I graduated from university in the 1990s, I did not envisage enrolling in another degree programme some 25 years later. Well, as I am gradually moving from the procrastination stage (that I am incredibly good at, btw) to the thesis-writing-for-real-now-stage, let me reflect on some things I have noticed that are different second time round. While several people have asked me if learning new things is more difficult "in old age" I really would not say so due to the fact that you can "slot in" and connect newly acquired knowledge with past ones in your brain's filing cabinet and also better prioritise what is even worth remembering in the first place, so nope. What has definitely become easier is researching and getting hold of secondary literature. I have literally not once set foot in a library, nor ever been to the university that my programme is affiliated with, because all my lectures took place elsewhere and I always filter for "online only" sources, which has served me well, so far. Also, being able to search for relevant paragraphs by a simple "control" + "F" keyboard combination rather than having to leaf through pages upon pages is a great timesaver. Once you have found something worth referring to or quoting, just take a screenshot and paste that one to your master file of literature snippets. Easy cheesy. This digital blessing is also a curse, though as distractions are so much easier than back in the "dark ages" when you didn't have a smartphone, nor any other phone than your landline and the internet was a new phenomenon that you only accessed from SPECIAL computers in SPECIAL designated rooms at SPECIAL times, basically. Now, distractions are only a browser tab or phone notification away unless you are incredibly disciplined, which I am definitely not. It takes longer for me to get into the zone and to really focus on working than I remember. All in all, I still really enjoy (pseudo-) scientific writing and it's so much easier now that you can insert footnotes within seconds and MS Word is not this expensive programme with rudimentary functionality that is still a mystery to you, but a tool that you have become familiar with in the past decades. Also, I probably type with double the speed I did when I was a student, so years as an office-worker and .pptx b**** have paid off at least.</div><p></p>onemorehandbaghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14912477675709911157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18754252.post-68547906677212292312023-12-25T09:00:00.000+01:002023-12-25T09:00:00.134+01:00The Greatest Gift of All<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrNhPh0fDH2gZZNWEzrazmVko3r-jz6adn3AWh5x0oLs6gEoxeC9zAd8Ok64NHL-H23k824qStgiuKtUUHEcleOnaA0j1KHnW2a9jLYVNNMBa4i_qaB_bSY90ZsObuKjylzPTWefUATcOIIB0z4giKoAX73tIr8QB8LGZSDMzVDH8jcpefWKR9/s2141/PXL_20221202_191420455.PORTRAIT-EDIT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2141" data-original-width="1917" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrNhPh0fDH2gZZNWEzrazmVko3r-jz6adn3AWh5x0oLs6gEoxeC9zAd8Ok64NHL-H23k824qStgiuKtUUHEcleOnaA0j1KHnW2a9jLYVNNMBa4i_qaB_bSY90ZsObuKjylzPTWefUATcOIIB0z4giKoAX73tIr8QB8LGZSDMzVDH8jcpefWKR9/w359-h400/PXL_20221202_191420455.PORTRAIT-EDIT.jpg" width="359" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Last year, shortly before our wedding, I engaged in some small talk with my parents' cleaning lady saying something along the lines of "all we need now is good weather" and she quite sternly interrupted me and said "No, all you need is good health". This really does hold true for all occasions and this Christmas I'm reminded of this more than ever. Even if I manage to successfully block out world news for a minute I am reminded that people I personally know will have a sad Christmas this year because they have recently lost a loved one (some in more tragic and unexpected ways than others), are deeply concerned because someone close to them is battling an illness or addiction, or they, themselves are. I may not be spending Christmas with Highflyer (who is working) gain but I don't really mind as this is a very, <i>very</i> small sacrifice to make and many other people wish a few days' separation from their partner or family member was all they had to worry about..</div><p></p>onemorehandbaghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14912477675709911157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18754252.post-20995552811025648192023-12-18T08:43:00.060+01:002023-12-18T08:43:00.142+01:00Dancing into the Apocalypse. Kind of. <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyjJG7kXN7ZoFxchtKW0zSBv2QimxMGgrfyhFwAeJOixCCoKJpkzkU4NpVDwFkbOmRPLLhbEL7m5s86kUnVZjz-mOaa-cMa9FWg0Z-26o_-3Mitaewc2yO8_OJGfTiCsAjL1CD4WXzg6pwoc2sBE1Fd15VCIO128d4dx71YTfiNL4ysHw9hyrJ/s1944/PXL_20231216_232837802.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1708" data-original-width="1944" height="351" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyjJG7kXN7ZoFxchtKW0zSBv2QimxMGgrfyhFwAeJOixCCoKJpkzkU4NpVDwFkbOmRPLLhbEL7m5s86kUnVZjz-mOaa-cMa9FWg0Z-26o_-3Mitaewc2yO8_OJGfTiCsAjL1CD4WXzg6pwoc2sBE1Fd15VCIO128d4dx71YTfiNL4ysHw9hyrJ/w400-h351/PXL_20231216_232837802.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Highflyer and I often get a little nostalgic and think back about our idyllic"Lockdown Bubble" that made us realise our union is made for the bad times as well and I have talked about finding it quite hard to "re-integrate" into society when life got back to normal. Initially, I struggled to take the subway or visit crowded places without wearing a face mask and found it borderline crazy to do so. Well, times have changed and I have not only attended and "survived" our office Christmas party with approximately 4.5 k people (allegedly 7% of staff were on sick leave the week afterwards), but deliberately went to a crowded club last Saturday were people were dancing and shouting at the top of their lungs...at a time when Covid (and other seasonal) infections are at an all-time high. I can't pinpoint what <i>exactly</i> caused me to take this fatalistic stance but a friend whom I met last week and who used to be very cautious summed it up pretty well when she said "I used to wear a mask everywhere and still got infected (like me, first time round) so I thought there's not much point". We still have our little stash of antigen tests at home and don't want to put other people at risk, least of all my parents, but as for avoiding people and not going anywhere without a mask where you don't have to...nope. Part of me is fascinated at how (fast) not only myself, but people in general have changed and how short-lived memory is. Which is probably a good thing, for mental health and overall wellbeing?</div><p></p>onemorehandbaghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14912477675709911157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18754252.post-45239869066593755362023-12-11T09:00:00.024+01:002023-12-11T09:00:00.249+01:00Here for F as in Fun<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiggDBdLpQguAtkesk9vw1RXcG9lzeplVAhnegnXrBmXqsQfV1Ghgbcc2GYi4NSpYmZdT45gk7fDN90oseAZ_IroPtlbAKL0hQKSV3rOf7wrIB4CIxdO1h6Ovtwr8VfSgWM-wbI1M4ggzguNlTVcLMmHnmhWPbQygP6RqmGTRdIv6Z2Lslq31k2/s2400/IMG_20160601_191902-EDIT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2188" data-original-width="2400" height="365" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiggDBdLpQguAtkesk9vw1RXcG9lzeplVAhnegnXrBmXqsQfV1Ghgbcc2GYi4NSpYmZdT45gk7fDN90oseAZ_IroPtlbAKL0hQKSV3rOf7wrIB4CIxdO1h6Ovtwr8VfSgWM-wbI1M4ggzguNlTVcLMmHnmhWPbQygP6RqmGTRdIv6Z2Lslq31k2/w400-h365/IMG_20160601_191902-EDIT.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> Last week I tried to cheer up a visibly stressed colleague sitting next to me in our office "homebase". "How come you're always in such a good mood?" she asked me. I replied, deadpan "that's what I was hired for, it was the main criteria in my job description". "Seriously?!?" she replied, really falling for it. While this was a joke, obviously, it was not the first time that someone had remarked that I came across as unusually friendly/happy/helpful and therefore stuck out from the general workforce. Well, it's sort of my credo: I want to have fun at work and therefore approach things with a positive mindset, giving people the benefit of the doubt and not going into full-on drama mode immediately when something stressful or annoying happens. Even when I'm in a not-so-great mood myself I NEVER let it out on others as I can't stand moody people. It's actually rather worrying that this apparently is the exception rather than the norm, but be that as it may, it makes me happy when someone points it out and tells me that days in the office are way better when I am around and cheer them up. Happy to oblige, any day!</div><p></p>onemorehandbaghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14912477675709911157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18754252.post-42428504169087887252023-12-04T09:00:00.032+01:002023-12-04T09:00:00.144+01:00Oh, Vienna!<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw-7w36UGj5EtNcFzqD41BP9kEHUF-xcOb0UI5bp_N53CMowmU6FY3DB3Zb6d9-jngEaEZ94wtJwbJRYDQVQGJsmSTvoQ1s83QTBcTIYTrqSaTQVG3SkJopvHmXuanSpFG-V5AOSU4xsc5wiySEb3McYAKpn4lvhmrhctmHXz70_772uBjZQba/s1944/PXL_20231203_104442919.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1629" data-original-width="1944" height="335" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw-7w36UGj5EtNcFzqD41BP9kEHUF-xcOb0UI5bp_N53CMowmU6FY3DB3Zb6d9-jngEaEZ94wtJwbJRYDQVQGJsmSTvoQ1s83QTBcTIYTrqSaTQVG3SkJopvHmXuanSpFG-V5AOSU4xsc5wiySEb3McYAKpn4lvhmrhctmHXz70_772uBjZQba/w400-h335/PXL_20231203_104442919.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Many people find cities horrible at the peak of winter and summer, respectively. I <i>really</i> love Vienna in both seasons: being able to go ice-skating for example in the middle of the city or , more in the outskirts, on a rooftop, for example is unbeatable and personally, I prefer skating on man-made ice to frozen lakes anyweay unless it's the nostalgic memory of the frozen Wörther See of my childhood that, thanks to climate change, I most likely won't ever get to experience again in my lifetime. In summer, I love hanging out on rooftop bars or at the banks of the Danube at the end of those super-long summer days, preferably after I've had a dip in one of the many pools or river bathing spots. I may have (chosen to) become a part-time boring suburban housewife, but my heart still beats faster when I get to enjoy those urban pleasures.</div><p></p>onemorehandbaghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14912477675709911157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18754252.post-26205397401455347222023-11-27T09:00:00.001+01:002023-11-27T09:00:00.177+01:00Cosy<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2RcqpT85ooD6ERHos4SpmaMULYWeqW15Ga69_gSsBIYdbKfPVvctKdJa9tQ5M4FVQDppOMiQ3v5NwMU9Hv1Xx_2zhEtVqDN0oY_f7X-i1nL_jkdp1pxTAmZt23oNlJw4Q6aGVJ6keHeNWQ6FcEjuL_fLTrzDHnNKQx-5BYhnNr6KP41sZ89da/s2009/PXL_20231126_073117350.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2009" data-original-width="1944" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2RcqpT85ooD6ERHos4SpmaMULYWeqW15Ga69_gSsBIYdbKfPVvctKdJa9tQ5M4FVQDppOMiQ3v5NwMU9Hv1Xx_2zhEtVqDN0oY_f7X-i1nL_jkdp1pxTAmZt23oNlJw4Q6aGVJ6keHeNWQ6FcEjuL_fLTrzDHnNKQx-5BYhnNr6KP41sZ89da/w388-h400/PXL_20231126_073117350.jpg" width="388" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">On Saturday, I started decorating the "country house" for Christmas. I just love fairy-lights, scented candles (both of the subtle and tasteful variety) and the warmth from our wood stove. Cosiness to the max!</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Now that I am the self-appointed interior designer of Highflyer's semi-detached house and have creative reign, I am in overdrive of course, but it has nothing to do with space as such. Even in my first student flat that I shared with a roommate and other - sometimes tiny - places where I only stayed temporarily and the design scheme, if you could call it such, did not really represent my personal taste, I managed to leave some kind of imprint and create an atmosphere that meant I felt at home. I have mentioned before that when I first set foot in his house I could not imagine spending a lot of time at Highflyer's until the Pandemic made me change my mind and I gradually began re-decorating. I have always liked the outline of the house with its high ceilings in particular, but the main reason why I could not see myself here was because of the previous owner's..<i>.interesting</i>...taste and choice of colours. In a nutshell, it was an eclectic mix of heavy "colonial style" furniture, late 1990s birchwood and granny-smith-green accessories (curtains, cushion covers, carpets, placemats). I still have a pile of lurid green napkins in a drawer from that era. Personally, I would have immediately "de-greened" the space, but Highflyer could not be bothered when he moved in and was grateful he did not have to buy everything immediately. Well. Sometimes I need to remind myself how much the place has changed and how cosy and ME it looks and feels now. In case you were wondering, it's not that I imposed myself on Highflyer, he (convincingly says he) likes it way better now as well.</div><p></p>onemorehandbaghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14912477675709911157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18754252.post-19568416938527018652023-11-20T09:00:00.046+01:002023-11-20T09:00:00.154+01:00Denial...ish<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmD9MCqWC0XdFVJXTqaP1DTUtOdCuOoqjRuHFWDGMwt2eVjVAnT1NXn5Wnw-rkwPEMPViwgXwtPVnSeFJDzgy-hAtUD3IYQwLZ0GNF-Nep_XZVKXUTLwjO5NTNygcehPCKSz7EPKZeiX8FeoYlmZIN0ClUCYybbQEnLwBs_fjSOoHe97ecwas8/s1746/PXL_20231111_123738799.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1746" data-original-width="1724" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmD9MCqWC0XdFVJXTqaP1DTUtOdCuOoqjRuHFWDGMwt2eVjVAnT1NXn5Wnw-rkwPEMPViwgXwtPVnSeFJDzgy-hAtUD3IYQwLZ0GNF-Nep_XZVKXUTLwjO5NTNygcehPCKSz7EPKZeiX8FeoYlmZIN0ClUCYybbQEnLwBs_fjSOoHe97ecwas8/w395-h400/PXL_20231111_123738799.jpg" width="395" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I spent the greater part of last week working from my parents' house in Klagenfurt. The reason was that I wanted to enable my Mum, who definitely needed a vacation, a carefree few days abroad and keep my Dad company. He has a chronic illness and she does not like to leave him on his own for longer than two days max, ideally. Thankfully my job allows me the flexibility to work from elsewhere for a few days and my manager, who coincidentally also lives in Klagenfurt and commutes to Vienna for a few days most weeks, is chill in this regard as well. So far, my Mum has been a duracell bunny with remarkable energy and mostly stoicism towards my Dad's overall grumpiness and lack of gratitude for all her sacrifices and extra work. I do know that both of them are not getting any younger (and neiteher am I) and that I live 300+ kilometres away and am an only child. Sometimes I get a sudden rush of "What will be?" but so far I am still pretty good at pushing those thoughts away. My parents are not the type to openly discuss concrete next steps in worst case scenarios and I don't want to upset them by doing so either, so my approach is "We'll climb that mountain when we get there". This may be stupid and naive, but that's the way it is.</div><p></p>onemorehandbaghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14912477675709911157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18754252.post-3787056881665303932023-11-13T09:00:00.045+01:002023-11-13T09:00:00.139+01:00Commitment<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlyXGU2fPuqqf6z9xbC1eSs0efOKW_4jrgtbuafcS7tb5EOKaQyFcxaxr-d9ZWD5YgxrtPP4JCK2coznm-NMEx8Wl3nXh6uNExwA9EC_QbGnlaC513F6iFEnsV3BzIyGrkFbcnmyPtJjPPAwxYFpgyuAn3omtsK7iDdHzcku_bet4QExh8CqJ6/s2592/PXL_20231105_102657761.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlyXGU2fPuqqf6z9xbC1eSs0efOKW_4jrgtbuafcS7tb5EOKaQyFcxaxr-d9ZWD5YgxrtPP4JCK2coznm-NMEx8Wl3nXh6uNExwA9EC_QbGnlaC513F6iFEnsV3BzIyGrkFbcnmyPtJjPPAwxYFpgyuAn3omtsK7iDdHzcku_bet4QExh8CqJ6/w400-h300/PXL_20231105_102657761.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">When I suddently low-key moved in at Highflyer's back in March 2020 due to this little insignificant Pandemic thing, his kitchen resembled that of a poor student with an IKEA starter set, things left behind by the previous owners and some "donations" by his sisters. It was definitely not up to my standards and I had to be inventive and use an empty wine bottle as a rolling pin for example. Well, that soon changed and now every square centimetre is stuffed with equipment and dishes. Ooops. He has always had a "serious" coffee maker as he consumes large quantities of coffee in the morning and since he really liked my smoothies, I transferred the Vitamix blender I had in my flat in Vienna to his house soon (only to order one for Vienna a few months afterwards). Since baking is one of my passions, I bought a rip-off KitchenAid stand mixer at my favourite discounter (Hofer) and it has been holding up really well. Recently, though I looked at my OG KitchenAid in Vienna and realised I wood probably not use it very often there. Well, I enlisted Highflyer's help (it's VERY heavy) and swapped the two appliances, along with my nice retro toaster that also moved in at the country house, while his generic white toaster moved to the big city. Looking at my trinity of kitchen gadgets on the countertop feels like real commitment to considering the country house as the "mothership" where I spent most of my spare time now.</div><p></p>onemorehandbaghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14912477675709911157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18754252.post-7247642933461603612023-11-06T09:00:00.058+01:002023-11-06T09:00:00.140+01:00Privilege<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8L_wRfxFrSu_YUnhsoC-G7C2aq6ZqzLzuR0yiN8tLQrY4iGbekNRIdtnGTQpdPnh093PC55XWm0bj4b9eM9m3DwlJHvSf4aaNQB7G05TgQmg363R_rXCOgZB-a0ebWR4p_ptZyiLuavdhdKapWXjY4zCr3bJWliSQrcju44MjNrbK_ra0Pv07/s2015/PXL_20231101_112917554-EDIT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2015" data-original-width="1944" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8L_wRfxFrSu_YUnhsoC-G7C2aq6ZqzLzuR0yiN8tLQrY4iGbekNRIdtnGTQpdPnh093PC55XWm0bj4b9eM9m3DwlJHvSf4aaNQB7G05TgQmg363R_rXCOgZB-a0ebWR4p_ptZyiLuavdhdKapWXjY4zCr3bJWliSQrcju44MjNrbK_ra0Pv07/w386-h400/PXL_20231101_112917554-EDIT.jpg" width="386" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I am back to my "news avoidance" mode, or rather very selective news consumption like back in the heydays of Covid alarmism. This time, it's the Middle East escalation or whatever euphemistic label you want to give the horrible situation that seems to get only worse every day. I'm not proud of this approach and it's not that I don't keep up to date with the headlines at least, but it's simply too exasperating and multi-faceted a conflict for me to feel I can really understand it and form an opinion that is morally 100% fair and RIGHT. I have unfollowed several social media accounts that have shocked me with their extremist and black and white view, but am I any better by sort of giving up and <i>not </i>taking sides? In a nutshell, I feel almost disgustingly privileged in my little bubble that allows me to switch off if the pictures get too graphic and unlike other humanitarian crises when my "coping mechanism" and means to alleviate my guilt for exactly this privilege would be to donate money to a trustworthy NGO, there's not even this option right now and so privilege is sprinkled with a generous dose of shame this time.</div><p></p>onemorehandbaghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14912477675709911157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18754252.post-39828567481754699532023-10-30T09:00:00.001+01:002023-10-30T09:00:00.143+01:00Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnjhqkrgPPx04Cu-BkO2VmIgcfaNlkk3DRQnuxoL54eY9-UfZ2gNVe893soMk2TSIGMaTeABYv8PKH_2DRQXlgRhdAyIGDmfgp6OoXgCXOaoHBGCJ7TNHPOez2-8QqSn6ibFlcIyKR4EF71mVfCxkt0w_K2_97-u2H0K3ijsMdt0XqrpBhalUu/s1944/PXL_20231022_125456991.PORTRAIT-EDIT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1454" data-original-width="1944" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnjhqkrgPPx04Cu-BkO2VmIgcfaNlkk3DRQnuxoL54eY9-UfZ2gNVe893soMk2TSIGMaTeABYv8PKH_2DRQXlgRhdAyIGDmfgp6OoXgCXOaoHBGCJ7TNHPOez2-8QqSn6ibFlcIyKR4EF71mVfCxkt0w_K2_97-u2H0K3ijsMdt0XqrpBhalUu/w400-h299/PXL_20231022_125456991.PORTRAIT-EDIT.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I am writing this at my parents' house in Carinthia where I have been since Tuesday night. Later today (Sunday), I am going to drive back to Highflyer's house outside of Vienna, but he probably won't be there as he is planning to fly to Innbruck for a few days where his sons (who live in Germany) are right now. We do try to coordinate our schedules, but it is not always possible if one of you has a more or less regular Monday to Friday nine to five office job (with a lot of home office flexibility, thankfully!) and the other one does not and often has to work on weekends and public holidays, but then might have several days off in the middle of the week. The realisation that "long weekends" due to public holidays falling on Fridays or Mondays are meaningless in his world caused some frustration on my end when we first started dating, as well as the fact that invitations by friends or family at short notice often mean that I would attend alone as his time off requires advance planning. By now I have got used to it and the fact that even after we got married I kept my flat in Vienna and typically stay there on "office days" created further temporary separation. Probably not everybody's cup of tea and people are often surprised that I have kept my old place (where he also sometimes spends the night on days I am there if his schedule allows for it) for several reasons. While it comes with some logistical challenges such as always having to think what item of clothing is where at any given moment of time, it is not <i>that </i>big of a deal actually due to the vicinity of the two addresses. Also, part of us actually appreciates this scenario as we appreciate time together all the more and I am always overjoyed if Highflyer does have a whole weekend off and we have little to no plans other than enjoying time with one another. Holidays when we can spend time together 24/7 are all the more precious and we still don't get on each other's nerves and have yet (4 years and counting) to have a fight. So, yep, I do agree to that old saying that absence makes the heart grow fonder...</div><p></p>onemorehandbaghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14912477675709911157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18754252.post-22255065210932665492023-10-23T09:00:00.073+02:002023-10-23T09:00:00.151+02:00Love Language<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8-bH-NM7YFAsBTOc0Fr68Bsvut-cDHus4wUkB8mBJV1YAA4TFjvCYryG2ile6d83lgrWe5qs9QRJfE46Y4hTIHikN7A7XvyiU7GImrahoIVOaZjE-oIUFusm9ItzhyqMLKG86g5xB4GTGdwTzIFGH8MFguZtBDSW4w1ew-n0186r9oExESGBd/s2153/PXL_20231018_211840757.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2153" data-original-width="1944" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8-bH-NM7YFAsBTOc0Fr68Bsvut-cDHus4wUkB8mBJV1YAA4TFjvCYryG2ile6d83lgrWe5qs9QRJfE46Y4hTIHikN7A7XvyiU7GImrahoIVOaZjE-oIUFusm9ItzhyqMLKG86g5xB4GTGdwTzIFGH8MFguZtBDSW4w1ew-n0186r9oExESGBd/w361-h400/PXL_20231018_211840757.jpg" width="361" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">My love language is making gifts and spoiling people I care for. Stingy or thoughtless people sometimes really exasperate me. Over time, though, I have come to realise that it's mostly their upbringing that made them so and often comes without any ill intention. As the only child of financially comfortable parents I was always showered with gifts on birthdays and Christmas and it had been instilled on me NEVER to show up without a host(ess) gift when you're invited for dinner, for example. Highflyer definitely knows to deliver on special occasions, puts a lot of time and effort in the cards he writes and I would definitely describe him as romantic, but his background is entirely different. As someone with 8 (!) siblings and one one parent working, his upbringing was definitely more frugal and I noticed that if it weren't for me he would probably show up empty-handed at most friends' and relatives' houses, just because he would not expect anything himself either, whereas I'd definitely raise an eyebrow and wonder what I had done to deserve this treatment.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">This being the case, I don't expect random gifts without an occasion from him, but am all the more delighted when I do get them for example when he finds the time for a bit of shopping on overnight stays abroad. Well, having hinted that UK or French magazines with freebies in particular are highly welcome might have helped a little...</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Last Wednesday I returned to the country house after a few days spent in Vienna, knowing I would not see him until late the following night. There were 7 roses in a vase on the dining table and another 3 on my desk. I knew well that he had probably picked them up at the supermarket along with groceries, but I was delighted all the same by this thoughtful gesture. If this happened every week (which it doesn't) I probably would not appreciate it nearly as much, but knowing that gifts and surprises are an "acquired skill" for him and not something he grew up with, always makes me go "aaaaw".</div> <p></p>onemorehandbaghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14912477675709911157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18754252.post-2423845019974996952023-10-16T09:00:00.031+02:002023-10-16T09:00:00.156+02:00Last Chance Hotel<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ8_V4zoEr71Ai-2IKdEbmky22EdCuPydiXcl0_mFj6O5elrIzHZ3wCQiW_aAD1Qya33SF1EHmhzoVIyrwliBsCU9HsO0UIcQ8H6aFek7J9NF7VToiD0C75w32s7GvM4eHql3ynLCngZWjvOVcvDlenHqg_h4DC8HP5kow8Ls2-pZy8W_QV2Q1/s2592/PXL_20231015_070301743.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ8_V4zoEr71Ai-2IKdEbmky22EdCuPydiXcl0_mFj6O5elrIzHZ3wCQiW_aAD1Qya33SF1EHmhzoVIyrwliBsCU9HsO0UIcQ8H6aFek7J9NF7VToiD0C75w32s7GvM4eHql3ynLCngZWjvOVcvDlenHqg_h4DC8HP5kow8Ls2-pZy8W_QV2Q1/w400-h300/PXL_20231015_070301743.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Pre-Covid and Pre-Highflyer I gifted Mademoiselle a weekend in a part of Lower Austria that was pretty much "terra incognita" to me. She profusely thanked me and we fixed a date. Shortly before said date, she told me she would not be able to make it as her nephew's christening fell exactly on that weekend and she had only been invited at short notice. As I had booked a non-refundable rate, I could not ask for my money back, but got credit from the hotel and was asked to just tell them an alternative date whenever I had made up my mind. We settled for one and that one was in the first (of several more, but we did not know it then) nationwide lockdown and the hotel cancelled our reservation. Last year I wrote to them asking if our "voucher" had an expiry date and they told me it did not, but I was determined not to postpone it any longer and suggested this past weekend to Mademoiselle when I knew Highflyer would be in Germany for one of his son's birthdays. It was fine for her and we ended up going and spending a very nice weekend, making excursions and enjoying the hotel spa and the glorious autumn landscape. However, I did not know that the hotel would close down for the time being at the end of this month and it was more or less our last chance to book. Upon checkout we asked the receptionist if they were closing temporarily for renovations and she said that the group of owners were trying to sell, hinting that they had not been very ambitious in keeping it alive. We would have got our money back, but I am glad that I picked this date and that we got to experience the hotel and this part of Austria that I probably would not have been back any time soon.</div><p></p>onemorehandbaghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14912477675709911157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18754252.post-20678994769863342692023-10-09T09:00:00.035+02:002023-10-09T09:00:00.153+02:00Reality Check<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqFuZkvBS91x66AWCkuCem3KdkptZxJLKlHJzmjYBV5jqL0U0DYPitYsteFPsPtyIHSvuLELzwNLNlkOaG3MdUbU_3aFz5PQzHRSKbhNCzH86BBSIYLgtqAhJqimBKGvNx2vBp8TnJGPYJncH2TwVV39h9b4b_Mlk0GCR2drp8GYgmwoJAf1aI/s1541/PXL_20231008_143133549.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1513" data-original-width="1541" height="393" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqFuZkvBS91x66AWCkuCem3KdkptZxJLKlHJzmjYBV5jqL0U0DYPitYsteFPsPtyIHSvuLELzwNLNlkOaG3MdUbU_3aFz5PQzHRSKbhNCzH86BBSIYLgtqAhJqimBKGvNx2vBp8TnJGPYJncH2TwVV39h9b4b_Mlk0GCR2drp8GYgmwoJAf1aI/w400-h393/PXL_20231008_143133549.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">While we had a carefree picture-perfect mini-break in Cyprus, my heart went out to the (surprisingly many) tourists from Israel heading home to a war-zone at a gate close to ours. There were several scheduled flights to Tel Aviv on Sunday afternoon and evening and I could not help wondering what I would do if I were them. Would I actually try to stay abroad or would I want to fly home immediately as long as I could? It is painful to imagine leaving the country during a public holiday, looking forward to a great time with friends or family and then finding your home country had been attacked and war been declared....</div><p></p>onemorehandbaghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14912477675709911157noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18754252.post-3036838542734141772023-10-02T09:00:00.038+02:002023-10-02T09:00:00.140+02:00Autumn<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6ww7c9gCtGJIp78AkWFB2twVNjFnn7sTMosSbOONg88e8qyvNiAE1Iy7yfio0zRq9wnZ8JQPc5k_B0l494pGGy3Qcdv4OWUpW9eXjo9s_i2CEeXJFg_ch3VbKeb8v5yfDX8JIaATpzdlDFF3LmW7JULZAHs_C3dg6wlM2m2rn59bDZSnz71PX/s1923/PXL_20211023_142650778-EDIT-EDIT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1383" data-original-width="1923" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6ww7c9gCtGJIp78AkWFB2twVNjFnn7sTMosSbOONg88e8qyvNiAE1Iy7yfio0zRq9wnZ8JQPc5k_B0l494pGGy3Qcdv4OWUpW9eXjo9s_i2CEeXJFg_ch3VbKeb8v5yfDX8JIaATpzdlDFF3LmW7JULZAHs_C3dg6wlM2m2rn59bDZSnz71PX/w400-h288/PXL_20211023_142650778-EDIT-EDIT.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Recently I've been seen a lot of memes on social media along the lines of "how was this 30 years ago already?!" I really can relate. In my mind, I was at uni max. 20 years ago when, cough, it was more like 30 years ago. The 1990s don't seem <i>that </i>long ago, when in reality someone born the year I graduated from university might be in a managerial position and could be maried with children and my smartass boss. Mind. Blown. Even worse, I still tend to think that "middle aged" refers to people perhaps slightly younger than my parents, when in fact, it is people like ME and actually this is even a rather generous label as the average life expectancy in Central Europe is not quite a hundred years, so yeah.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Just based on naked facts, you could say I'm in the autumn of my life, whether I like it or not. When did this happen?!</div><p></p>onemorehandbaghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14912477675709911157noreply@blogger.com0