Open Letter to Dishonest Postal Worker

Dear Dishonest Postal Worker,

    I received a letter yesterday that bore evidence of your petty handiwork.  The paper envelope had been well-thumbed in the center with a slit in the bottom corner.  You felt something through the paper, assessed the potential value of the free floating contents and decided to help yourself.  
    It must have been fairly easy to make that slit in the corner--with your fingernail, perhaps?--slide the object into your hand and then into your pocket. It's busy, no one noticed you tampering with the mail.  Perhaps your colleagues are too busy stealing from other envelopes or maybe doing their jobs properly and with respect.  Quickly you send the letter on its way. What's the harm, you think? Certainly none to you as there is no proof of your duplicity. Paper envelopes can tear easily. Who knows exactly where the contents dropped out?
    You are far from being the only creepy postal worker, pal.  I've traveled a bit and I've  talked to others who have traveled even more.  There is no shortage of postal workers who abuse their positions of trust with the paid correspondence of others and who just plain don't care about the rules they are supposed to work under.  They come from countries one would think have evolved  passed petty larceny (yours!) to Third World countries where we are all too quick to add  dishonesty and  lack of pride  to their blighted face of humanity.  Some people may not even be cognizant of the effect of their actions.  Travel through the back roads of some South American countries and pop into their post offices.  Look on the wall, pretty picture postcards of faraway places decorate the dreary space. Why deliver those cards when they look so nice in our office?  We can enjoy them, also.    Others know exactly what they are doing and take the opportunity to let the recipient know that they can get away with fleecing the postal customer.  Companies doing business in places like Nepal do not send important things through the mail but use private courier service.  How many aid workers and expats have  relatives who send care packages only to find  that  a postal "inspector" has redirected the goodies into their own satchels but decide to put the empty wrapper back into your box. Why the mean tease? Because they can get away with it. No one will find me. Besides, those foreigners don't need or deserve these goodies as much as I and mine do.   Yeah, Creep, you are part of a dubious brotherhood.
    So what did you get from my envelope?   A USB.  Filled with corporate secrets  you can sell to the highest bidder?  Maybe some interesting pornography? Actually,  a friend was sending me a copy of an old holiday TV show that I grew up watching every December but does not exist in Australia, "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer."  The stop-action technology is absolutely ancient but its lessons are still salient.  And it gives me joy to watch it as an adult just as it did as a child.  I hope you enjoy the show.  And maybe you will learn a lesson.

"Let's be independent together!"
© Classic Media

   What have we learned here? Well, small packets are safer than letters for very small items to be sent. But if a paper envelope is the go then it is prudent to tape the small item (ring, key, coin, USB, etc.) to a piece of cardboard. That would make it more difficult for the item to be squirreled out of a tear in the envelope by a postal thief. I suppose a small prayer to the mail gods wouldn't hurt. 
     Merry Christmas, Grinch.

2013 Perth Royal Show

     It's that time of year.  The Perth Royal Show is on (or, the state of Western Australia's State Fair) and in full swing. A city slicker from birth, I really like attending these agricultural shows. I'm not much on the rides, games or carny hokum but I don't begrudge those who enjoy these aspects along with the endless retail opportunities.  I like the animals, the artsy craftsy stuff,  the educational displays, free food samples, free entertainment and cookery competitions.

     The Show has promised one million dollars worth of entertainment this year. Probably didn't spend it all on the police bagpipe band although I did enjoy their performance. A new entertainer this year is the Ozrocketman.  Tired of just viewing that jet pack James Bond wore in Thunderball, our guy built his own (said to be the only jet pack in Australia and at a cost of $1000 per flight) and zooms around over the audience and showgrounds on a regular schedule.  Not quite a concert but it sure does fuel fantasy in the beholders. Being introduced to Australians here at the Show is Krispy Kreme doughnuts.  I have to admit to getting excited about the familiar, even if I don't actually like the product.  And Krispy Kreme doughnuts are not my favorite, but I think to myself "why not, home has come to you!"  The huge line at the K2 trailer waiting for deep friend delights and collectable trinkets went a long way to reminding me that I really don't have to eat hip-expanding doughnuts just because they are here.

     My fans ( hi, Mom ) are doubtless wondering how I did in the cookery competitions.  I had three entries: a brandied marmalade [using citrus "liberated" from the trees outside the Supreme Court building] that my tasting board said was a sure fire winner, and two Pantry Shelf -six sample items constituting a single entry- collections of which one represented an afternoon tea (Jam, Marmalade, Fruit Spread, Orange Butter, Apple Butter and Brandied Prunes)  the other represented a light supper (Pickled Onions,  Red German Cabbage, Pickled Beets, Root Vegetable shapes, Colored Sweet Peppers [these last two mildly vinegared] and Anchovy Paste).    It was the afternoon tea Pantry Shelf that won the ribbon.  I hadn't given it much hope. Too much of the contents are simply foreign to Australian taste buds. The fruit spread I called OPAL --a very Aussie gem used in acronym for orange/pineapple/apricot/lemon, not all of which is ripe at the same time so some allowances had to be made. No one has heard of apple butter and orange butter was sure to be confused with the translucent smooth yellow spread everyone eats called lemon butter.  This is why I called my orange butter (made with OJ , rind, honey and real butter)  Beurre L'Orange.  The French judge caught on right away.  

     There was a bit of controversy amongst the group of hanging around the French judge who had made herself available for general questions about preserving and competition.  Many people (including the judge) seal their jams by turning the jar upside down for a few minutes after filling.  All of my books say this old practice is a big no-no.  Juices could compromise the seal and welcome mold by the upside down method so everything needs a hot water bath for a complete vacuum seal.  The judge insisted that hot jars, hot lids and hot contents would do the trick just fine. Why boil water for one more step? One lady said she had never heard of a hot water bath.  OK, I come from a different planet.
 
     But, I still have a red ribbon and more ideas for next year.
   

Spring Wildflowers in Western Australia

    There are some really interesting natural wonders to see and enjoy here in Western Australia: walking amongst the giant Tingle trees in the south, picnic under a giant sheep's testicles,  watch whales migrate,  play hide-and-go-seek amongst the Pinnacles, feed the dolphins at Monkey Mia,  camp at the magical Karijini National Park, get gritty in the natural resources of the Kimberley or buy lovely pearls in far north Broome.  Each is a day's drive from the next--an unfortunate reality in a state as huge as WA--making a 'tour of the sights' possible only for those with lots of free time.

Everlastings

     Overlooked in all of this is the most accessible and wild -- the spring wildflowers. Popping up all over starting in May way up north to November in the deep south, the state is carpeted with over 12,000 varieties of flora, 60% of which are exclusive to WA.  We're talking deep shag carpet here, folks. A small child could get eaten up  in a field of tall everlastings.  An orchid fan consumed by their search for the Queen of Sheba amongst all the Donkeys. And so many other flowers- their beauty unsung by poets- smile for those who get off the road and are willing to take a walk.   All rather miraculous

Queen of Sheba orchid

really.  Much of WA is more hard scrabble than hospitable to plant life.  Ever hear of the red dirt of a "sunburnt land"? Yep, that's us.  And yet, nature shines on despite adversity.

     We recently  took our first drive to see this annual miracle. A northern loop from Perth that went up to Geraldton, over to Mullewa , down through Perenjori and Dalwallinu, side step to Three Springs before dropping into Moora. The wildflower guidebooks promised much and I always enjoy staying at country pubs.  The lack of  steady winter rain reduced the intensity of the flora this year but I was not disappointed. I was happy to take what I could get.  Besides, we lucked out in that

Fringed Lily

two communities were holding flower shows that weekend. Cool beans!  They were different from my usual flower show.  Mullewa's show set up little agri-scapes to highlight the flora and fauna found in the area. OK, the birds were caged but each section was like its own little bushwalk. Funny, I've never thought Australian flowers to have much fragrance but there was a "distinctive smell of bush" (so described the show Steward) in the hall which I can only translate to 'Australian forest'. They had historical displays to augment the agri-scapes. Three Springs had vased samples of flora on tables but also had a community art exhibition.  Attendees got to vote on their favorite photograph, drawing or painting in various classes.  Some were even for sale.  I was lucky enough to find a pretty gum leaf watercolor painting for $45 that looks perfect in my livingroom.

Wreath Flower

     The true rock star of the tour was the wreath flower, which is having a bumper crop this year. Shaped like a wreath, this is a single flower from a single tap root that grows in the hard packed earth near roads. A less likely place to thrive I cannot imagine but the roads to everywhere seemed to have at least a few. Truly sensational.

     I have been hearing for years that picking native wildflowers is illegal in this state. Yet I was seeing plenty of picked native flowers.  So what is the deal? Some said picking on your own private property is OK, just not on public lands. Others said no!, only flowers you have cultivated are OK.  And the final word came from the Western Wildflower Farm in Coomberdale who said all of the above are wrong.  They have to have  licenses to grow, harvest, sell, package and ship native wildflowers regardless of where they are located. Oh, it sounds like a complicated business, especially when government is involved.

Donkey Orchids

      I do fancy another wildflower trip but to the south.  The soil and landscape is so different from the red desert of the north and so are the flowers. Orchid aficionados are quite happy to be hunting in these parts. Little known is that the area around Fitzgerald River National Park has been declared a Biodiversity reserve hotspot worthy of watching and protecting by UNESCO.  I wonder why Tourism WA doesn't push the spring wildflower season more in its publicity about the state.  The rocks at the Pinnacles will always be there but the annual spring flora is worth the trip in from anywhere.   

    

   

Fitting in at the Perth Fashion Festival

     Tonight I got in touch with my inner fashionista. Well, such as she is anymore. The 2013 Perth Fashion Festival is in full swing highlighting local and national designers, clothing trends and size 2 fantasies. In its fifteenth year, it coincides with that other big fashion festival in London (England, not Ontario) in many ways: dates, pretension, impractical clothes, pouting models and dreamy glamor. 
   
      I have certainly given plenty of publicity to the Perth Fashion Festival on my weekly radio show but have never been to an actual event. So when I got out of work just at the time a free event in the festival tent was about to start, I seized the moment. Shooed away from the VIP entrance, I skidded in the commoner entrance just in time to get pointed to a few deserted chairs way high up off runway level.  They didn't give me the toys everyone else got: glow sticks and cheapie sunglasses. Probably startled (or horrified ) by my old geezer office clothing. Hey, my make-up looked good. This same sartorial statement kept me from getting  moved closer to the runway to fill in chairs for the photo opps  numerous photographers and videographers were waiting for at the end of the runway. No biggie. I was plenty close to the pulsating bass music and fog machines up there in the nosebleed section.

      Tonight's show featured clothing from stores in a particular shopping area. This is not high fashion but it has a place at festivals in cities outside the major fashion centers.  The festival's fashions need to be accessible to a wider audience in Perth than they do in Milan, Paris or New York. Of course there are the designer shows (none free admission) here but also kids clothing and the "upcycling" fashion parade consisting of outfits found at local thrift stores. It's all good.  So cue the DJs and start the action. Lots of slouching young models mincing their way down the white path in extravagant heels . Some forget to put on the I-hate-modelling-scowl and smile at the professional and amateur photographers. "Selfies" (taking a picture of yourself using your cell phone's camera) being all the rage , half the models are using smart phone cameras as props for the action either on themselves or with audience members. The models high-five, bump booties, shimmy or in some other way interact with each other as they pass on the runway. Bub-bub-bub-bub bubblebutt  the music booms. Is that a size 10 model out on the floor??!  Just one female model seems to eat three meals a day but the organizers recognize that not all of their target audience  resembles the human coat hangers who will wear the haute couture garments at the high-end events.  All of the male models looked quite normal.

      So what did I see?  Will I be running out and buying new clothes this weekend? Well, I did see one or two things I could imagine wearing...if they came in my size. I certainly know what to expect to see walking the sidewalks over the next few months. And it definitely was an interesting bit of theater in a world I usually don't inhabit. And that qualifies as a mini-adventure.
    

Letter Writing

    I have always been a letter writer. Letters are cool. They don't jump out of the box like Jack but deliver every bit as much bang for the buck. Especially when the letter is unexpected.  I mean, we all grumble at those No.10 whites (with or without plasticine windows) but smiles burst out at the sight of an A6 even without knowing what is inside. Hmmmm, it's not my birthday or a holiday--could it be a wedding or party invitation? A letter doesn't have to be long or a brilliant piece of prose. Those 18th and 19th century folks had a whole lot more time on their hands to sit around and wax poetic to their friends than I do.  I am a stream-of-consciousness writer. Thoughts go from my head to the paper. It's up to you to fill in the blanks and make the leaps from one topic to another.  O.K. letters from me might be a little work to get through, but who doesn't like a little challenge?  

    Some of the nicest letters to get are almost nonletters.  My grandmother once wrote me a note that had a few unimportant tidbits in it and then stopped herself. "Hold it a minute" she wrote. And then, "I'm back. I made myself a BLT sandwich for lunch."  I was transported. I could see my grandmother in her kitchen frying the bacon and assembling the sandwich. I swear I could almost taste it. That humble, almost-nothing letter was a keeper.  A college mate of mine lived in the graduate student dormitory--dorms usually placed a bit out of harm's (and undergrad's noise) way.  One day he described the view out of his corner room's window to his parents: the walk path partially hidden by the wooded area right next to the narrow river that flowed through campus and right by his room.  His parents were enchanted by this mini slice of his life and cherished the letter above all the others.

    I have to admit to becoming a bit of a terrorist in my passion for this form of communication (which, by the way, is so much more a respectable Me-Me-Me outlet than Facebook, ahem.)  I'll confess to one incident: When I was working on a cruise ship in Tahiti, a new French piano player was signed on so quickly that he had no time to alert his mom about his new employment. He had barely stepped on the ship when I asked him to do a bit of translating off ship for me. He obliged and as a reward, I forced him write a postcard to his mom. I just happened to have a few picture postcards and stamps on me (doesn't everyone?) and leaned on him until he wrote it and dropped it in the mailbox.  This is silly, he protested. He was going to email his mother. Well, this guy avoided me after this  save for one single exchange.  A new sign-on has a lot of training classes with precious little free time and he didn't get to an internet cafe for over a week.  His postcard was delivered to his mother while she had friends over and it practically turned tea into a party.  The piano player admitted I was right, thanked me...and kept well away from me evermore. 

    Last week I made a vow. I would write at least one letter/note/postcard each day for a week. I was feeling a bit too self-absorbed and thought some postal therapy would work. I made sure that my mobile post office [read: work bag] was well stocked with prepaid postcards, envelopes and stamps and a few handy aerograms. Aerograms are cheaper, prepaid-postage sheets of paper that fold into their own envelopes. Very handy. And no longer sold in the U.S.  Anyway, I mailed eleven (11) pieces of personal correspondence by week's end, mostly to people I haven't written to in awhile.  I don't expect a big response rate or any response at all for that matter and that is alright.  I know what the reaction is without having to hear about it. Writing a letter is simply not hard work, it doesn't take a long time to do and should be pain-free. Let me help get you started.

     How to Write a Letter

     1. Grab a piece of paper. Any paper will do. Your shopping list, that concert program, the paper placemat from a touristy restaurant, the weekly-printed paper menu from that toney restaurant you just ate at, use the back of an office memo extolling your praises or a rejection letter from potential employer number 73, one side of a cake mix box, etc.  The options are endless. Sometimes your stationery can springboard a topic of conversation.
     2. Date it somewhere, either at the top or near your signature when you are done.
     3. Start with a greeting.  Dear Grandma,  Hi Susie!, or, if you must, How's it hanging, Dude?!
     4. Tell them why you are writing, whatever it was that motivated you.  Doesn't need to be long, just a few sentences will do. Write just the way you would speak, if that helps the flow of words to paper.
     5. Put it in an envelope. You can get creative here, also.  I have used wrapping paper, aeronautical maps, even fabric to make my own envelopes.  Adds to the excitement for the recipient.
     6. Tough part now.  Find their address. Call a mutual friend or relative to get it or look up their address on the internet.
     7.  Affix proper postage.  C'mon, you've got a stamp or two lying around somewhere.
     8.  Drop it in one of those colorful boxes on a street corner labelled "Mail" or "Post". A government employee empties the box daily and your letter is on its way.
     9.  Pat yourself on the back.  Good job. Well done!


   I guess I feel some obligement to put a good word in here for Dads.  A male friend complained recently that everyone remembers to think of saying "hi" to Mom but forgets that Dad knows how to read, also.  Clearly his two sons aren't big on writing him, either.   So, say hi to Dad, also.

The Jamie Oliver Experience

     Perth -all of Western Australia, for that matter-  fancies it is shedding its backwater yokel image due, in part, to its ability to attract big name chefs and top end restauranteurs to our shores over the last few years.  Why, the local restaurant reviewer is a bit of a celebrity himself.  For the common man, names like Nobu or Neil Perry aren't exciting any electrons.  Who has $200 for a (well-aged) steak at Rockpool?    And then, Jamie Oliver moved into town.

     You know Jamie.  The not-so-naked Naked Chef.  The affable Brit with a lisp who cooks two-hour meals in 30 minutes on TV and insists you can have the same result in your home kitchen also.  Jamie opened an Italian restaurant right in the heart of downtown Perth.  Only 15 bucks for a pasta dish, no reservations taken and lines that wind around the block. Finished with work very early today, I urged Kev to meet me at Jamie's while the front of the line could be seen without binoculars.
      Warehouse chic is the decor style here and it works for us.  A guy making pasta at a machine right near the front door says "fresh food here."  The bakery loaves of bread waiting to be sliced just off the aisle have you drooling.  Totally forgetting that money is not currently growing on our trees, we order what our hearts dictate instead of what budget suggests.  Kev has a dark beer and a rabbit & pasta dish. I order a bellini (champagne and peach juice, yummmy) and truffled turkey.  Are we mad? Maybe, but definitely gobsmacked to find that Jamie includes FREE bread with meals.  Apparently no one told him that Australian restaurants never give away bread.  It is an unwritten rule that you must charge $5 for four pieces of Wonderbread for anyone foolish enough to ask for it.  We ate and shared bites with great gusto.
       Kev's part of my turkey was not faultless. Part of his turkey was absolutely raw. How?!  Everything else was cooked so how did this silver dollar sized bit escape the flames?  Guessing how this happened kept us amused for the rest of lunch.  The chef and the manager didn't have a clue either.  As a conciliatory gesture, the manager refused to charge for the turkey and made my Bellini complementary.  I protested over this extravagant gesture but was outvoted 2-1.  This very expensive lunch had rather instantly become affordable.  It would have been worth it at full price. We enjoyed our meals.  We enjoyed rubbernecking to see everyone else's meals.  We enjoyed the sunshine outside awaiting us.

     Post script: Kev and a buddy may have figured out the mystery of the raw section of an otherwise cooked piece of meat.  The raw part may have still been frozen when put in the pan.   If the turkey started as frozen...       http://www.jamieoliver.com/italian/australia/perth

Launching Winter

    A small amount of excitement here on winter's eve but it gave me a few happy moments for which I am grateful.  The City of Perth Winter Arts Season 2013 held a mini-launch for its upcoming season today, the last day of autumn for the after work crowd. (Australia calendars each new season on the first day of the month.)  According to the program, "The Season Sampler includes: Live performances-mini Supper Club-snow dome-Winter Photo Booth-Water Labyrinth-and SNOW!"
    In its entirety.  The live performances included a couple of snow queens posing for photos in their white feather wings and Nancy Sinatra-esque white boots. The mini Supper Club was exactly three stands: "New York Style" hotdogs (er, not really but yummy anyway), Moroccan food and a potato stand. The nine foot tall snow globe is cool and with a long line of kids waiting to get in and play in the plastic snow flakes. The Winter Photo Booth, if there was one, consisted of a couple of college kids with their cameras clicking away. The Water Labyrinth (oh so cool ever changing walls of water I've written about before) is a permanent fixture in the Forrest Chase square. And the SNOW. This is where I stopped dead in my tracks.  The same two snow-making/blowing machines used in London Alley at dead-of-summer Christmas were back and producing white glory at the 'entrance' to the festivities.
   I was mesmerized. It's a cool night (54F), a three piece band was playing, the smell of (free!) popcorn  in the air and snow flakes shown brightly against the dusky plaza. My slack jawed stare into the overhead walkway where the machines were probably photobombed too many snow princess photo opps, but I just loved it. It just said Magic.  It said Home.
   Oh I suppose I'll blog on some of the really cool events designed to get us out of our homes this winter, but tonight  it was all about hot dogs, chance meeting with a friend, free popcorn and SNOW!

   I thought to myself as I left this cheery little scene, "Maybe I should put away my summer clothes."        Happy Winter, everyone!