tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12518773231583462602024-03-18T20:26:26.510-07:00jesskeeley.com/weatherwatchjesskeeley.com/weatherwatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11730828726764699046noreply@blogger.comBlogger33125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1251877323158346260.post-84781280425184071382011-06-15T09:07:00.000-07:002011-06-15T09:07:53.677-07:00She'll be my summer girl...<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGmA_2BWb7O9-b4ooRvXSW7GGcyvmu2LqKu43Q5e_jTxFAZzrWqxNHFcDSTigoyFPTD5i2IGZCEM96PiMYXaltvQHqc79PP6tU-9nx-0VK4im8W8nevu8gn7PrT2sdpdo9B4xun9MPVwU/s1600/sweet_valley_high_super_04_malibu_summer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span style="font-size: small;"><br />Falling in love is easy in the summer. It’s a time when girls start to bring out short shorts, cute sandals, summer dresses, their flushed cheeks a beaming reminder of their need to be immersed in seawater. Boys start to get way too loose and lazy with shirt wearing, and, frankly, I like a short swimming trunk on a man. Everyone is hotter in summer, both literally and visually. That’s why there’s such a thing as the summer fling! When you throw caution and clothing to the wind and delve into summer time, casual fantasies. I’m not saying you’re getting all loose and lazy with your morals, but summer time feels like the right time to experiment with love. Summer means uncompromising and fantastical summer loving.<br /><br />As a teenager I always wanted a summer time boyfriend. Unfortunately most of my summers were spent trying to avoid whatever winter time boy I’d had a dalliance with in the local Coles (avoiding him IN the local Coles, this wasn’t the place where the dalliance took place, although I did succumb to some mid range groping in the freezer section one late night shopping Thursday…). What limited summer holidays my family took generally involved an 11 hour kombi ride to regional Victoria jammed next to six siblings, with ABC cricket commentary as background noise. What I really wanted was to be taken away to a romantic and sun drenched destination, filled to the brim with hot and bronzed summer flings. Why? Because in Sweet Valley High the twins were always off having summer boyfriends. In Malibu Summer, for instance, Jessica was totally trying to get off with bronzed Cliff Sherman. Would Cliff have been as hot if he wasn’t bronzed? And would he have been bronzed after months in a long sleeved cardigan? No, and no. Where was my Cliff Sherman?? Certainly not delivering crates of vegetables to my Grandpa’s house in Pakenham, Victoria (which was one unrealistic fantasy).<br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGmA_2BWb7O9-b4ooRvXSW7GGcyvmu2LqKu43Q5e_jTxFAZzrWqxNHFcDSTigoyFPTD5i2IGZCEM96PiMYXaltvQHqc79PP6tU-9nx-0VK4im8W8nevu8gn7PrT2sdpdo9B4xun9MPVwU/s1600/sweet_valley_high_super_04_malibu_summer.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGmA_2BWb7O9-b4ooRvXSW7GGcyvmu2LqKu43Q5e_jTxFAZzrWqxNHFcDSTigoyFPTD5i2IGZCEM96PiMYXaltvQHqc79PP6tU-9nx-0VK4im8W8nevu8gn7PrT2sdpdo9B4xun9MPVwU/s320/sweet_valley_high_super_04_malibu_summer.jpg" width="196" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><br />So, bar one regrettable pash session with a random at a summer music festival, I never had my summer fling. Others have been more lucky… here are some of the more memorable summer romances:<br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgul6z-Z5s6a2o3TdlmbEFgb14_OsA8-dzLVK7qe68xM2kKq1bd-qtmI8phZaEty_3eybXU9WR_n3O-6Y_v898LEjXiXA4dFll03KL46Roh0eq-OKlHyod4-2T45jvcwUBSjpyw72RVhWQ/s1600/danny_sandy_beach.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgul6z-Z5s6a2o3TdlmbEFgb14_OsA8-dzLVK7qe68xM2kKq1bd-qtmI8phZaEty_3eybXU9WR_n3O-6Y_v898LEjXiXA4dFll03KL46Roh0eq-OKlHyod4-2T45jvcwUBSjpyw72RVhWQ/s1600/danny_sandy_beach.jpg" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><br />Summer lovin’ had Danny and Sandy a blast. Remember when they were all rolling around in the sea on their summer holiday romance? Come school time the summer loving wasn’t quite so fresh… especially because Sandy was a big square until she discovered leather pants.<br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie9Z9l8aR5rSFoxo2Xt7BqFpfQtCqvtG619Zb4ULa1em4ejGQr1Mum8HPSNzVb6a3aAmcbvwwO9lpQPAoBTakJVymr1HRhFJrFNrH9XIBp1OZcDf-FGPlc7xVIPys4JYHlP6dMx9LHkx0/s1600/before+sunrise+3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie9Z9l8aR5rSFoxo2Xt7BqFpfQtCqvtG619Zb4ULa1em4ejGQr1Mum8HPSNzVb6a3aAmcbvwwO9lpQPAoBTakJVymr1HRhFJrFNrH9XIBp1OZcDf-FGPlc7xVIPys4JYHlP6dMx9LHkx0/s1600/before+sunrise+3.jpg" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><br />Are you kidding me? Before Sunrise, the most dead set romantic summer romance. How else could Ethan and Julie have stayed out all night discussing existentialism? (They covered that, right? It was hard to follow…) I’m not an expert, but I don’t think winter nights in Vienna offer quite the same ambiance or access to deserted water fountains.<br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs_k22xiHEaeNlqhkWHp0Kd4s63_NEpgzeB_sl3WYAcvrgcfNquMq5DzW_rXjaiUxaf5ZgjkxFFTGh2neVgTkjr25ynoNomxaCZH7nWe0bo1swsJLK7tum2CldjrqlYMiVhrHDNXdJpho/s1600/images.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs_k22xiHEaeNlqhkWHp0Kd4s63_NEpgzeB_sl3WYAcvrgcfNquMq5DzW_rXjaiUxaf5ZgjkxFFTGh2neVgTkjr25ynoNomxaCZH7nWe0bo1swsJLK7tum2CldjrqlYMiVhrHDNXdJpho/s1600/images.jpg" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><br />Do you remember how sweaty and awesome Patrick Swayze was in Dirty Dancing? Picture him now not in the mostly shirtless way, but in a skivvy and tracksuit pants, rugging up for the night. Not quite the love man anymore.<br /><br />Do you have your very own favourite, fictional summer fling? If yes, do tell… I actually ran out of examples around Swayze (which deserves another pic, don’t you think?)<br /><br /></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxg24haAi4qYw8BZzWFheQz3ooWATlLRsEHVSeA7YVgESXmuaylWFnj-kRndg7-PKMWOxOy-6VXuj2vvkBIHijvkw-GjXcXpECFB4kUeBt3XDTYducIhfQj2UOFQQSBOsj5BKiQpFM9yc/s1600/patrick-swayze.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxg24haAi4qYw8BZzWFheQz3ooWATlLRsEHVSeA7YVgESXmuaylWFnj-kRndg7-PKMWOxOy-6VXuj2vvkBIHijvkw-GjXcXpECFB4kUeBt3XDTYducIhfQj2UOFQQSBOsj5BKiQpFM9yc/s320/patrick-swayze.jpg" width="254" /></a><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><br /><i><b>London tomorrow, it’s a whole other blog post. About how the SEASONS LIE AND SUMMER DOESN’T EXIST IN THIS COUNTRY. </b></i><br /><br /></span></div>jesskeeley.com/weatherwatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11730828726764699046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1251877323158346260.post-14195669496590714192011-05-31T08:31:00.000-07:002011-05-31T08:31:50.388-07:00Never again...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">I
would probably wake up once every month and proclaim, “That is it. I am
NEVER drinking again”. This reaction may or may not be caused by moments like
this:</span><br /><br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: x-small;">"I was having the TIME OF MY LIFE" - Kelly Collier (pictured)</span><br /><br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">The morning after nearly always brings a heavy weight of regret, disappointment and a bullshit headache. “Why did I drink that last head sized cocktail? Why did I assume that just because I’ve seen people break dance, and did eight months of beginner's tap, I can head spin? When I pantomimed the story of the outdoor shower I was forced to use as a child, did I really hit the punch line?” And so on.<br /><br />Inevitably though, we’ll always go back for more. There are lots of reasons we jump back on the booze bus, even when we swear black, blue and hypercolour that no drop shall ever touch our lips again. Mostly it’s a lack of will power, but the other factor? You’ll never guess…<br /><br />Its 33 degrees and you’re getting out of work a little early on a Thursday night. The sun is gently sinking, you spot a huge free table in your local pub beer garden, friends start arriving in vast numbers, and you end up smashing 10 ice cold beers and locking and popping your way home.<br /><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;"><br />Its 9 degrees, blustery and wet, but you’re oh so cosy inside your weekend abode, with its roaring fire, cheese board and bottle of red. Another glass? Why not. In fact, we should probably just open another bottle and then eat this entire block of toblerone. Night cap of port? Having never actually drank port, nor feel like trying it, of course! Make mine a double. Of port.<br /><br />It’s the WEATHER which makes you do it. Like when people go all rogue with their sprinkler systems in the heat or wear the most ridiculous outfits in the cold (turtle necks), the external forces of nature dictate our drinking habits. Why else do you think Australians are so renowned for their beer drinking habits? Its 24 degrees in the winter, that’s why.<br /><br />As we approach a mild (to say the least) start to summer in the UK, the desire for sickly sweet fruit cider begins, dangerous cocktail ideas start brewing (anyone for an ‘Angry Russian’? It’s mostly just straight vodka, but the glass is really tall), and every shopping list ends with BEER. We try, but often we’re unable to resist the lure of weather booze. You have every good intention, I know, but when the temperature planets align, one thing is certain. You, glass, headache. *<br /><br />The weather. A vicious contributor to our most damaging inadequacies. Damn it.<br /><br /><i><b>London tomorrow, let's not talk about the summer. Instead, pass me one of those Angry Russians...</b></i><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />* A massive disclaimer here that if you do, genuinely, have a drinking problem, don’t blame the weather. It will be super unproductive and will only add to the external perception of your insanity. Only crazy people blame the weather for their problems, and you’re not crazy, right?</span></span><br />jesskeeley.com/weatherwatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11730828726764699046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1251877323158346260.post-49494630521923516012011-05-19T10:03:00.000-07:002011-05-19T10:03:24.291-07:00We are family!<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_xaoiQCFkH4SoIQdPqSsbQNerlInalsmtsOu5VlLh_R1dabg0RfjDl7MSSYiVcEZpG4xqzCAQjR1Hkxp0fCuZnbrhlI7mkbb4GyvVWiATR4uoab4W2oXwWLYzBAnFAj9-2LZRWou_LJY/s1600/Fruit+Fly+Sign.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">A journey back to the family home this week had me uncharacteristically surprised (I write a lot of lists and check every room in my house four times before going on holiday, surprise and I never go for coffee). It wasn’t the jet lag, the seeing of people I went to school with who now have about 18 children or the fact that my mother called me to check up on THE DOG, it was the weather. I came totally unprepared for the climate change presented to me.<br /><br />When you spend most of your childhood in one place, you pretty much think you own it. From the road rage you feel when driving with non locals, to the best bakery (Pt Elliot) or knowing if you order a schooner or a pot, you feel a sense of unique familiarity and comfort on arrival in your home town. That is until you turn up in open toe shoes and a cardigan when you should be sporting that <a href="http://jesskeeleydotcomweatherwatch.blogspot.com/2010/11/theres-chill-in-air.html">Icelandic knit</a> you so love.<br /><br />With a confidence akin to my recent foray into mini van pole dancing I bounced into my old city with a spring in my step not weighed down by the fortunate burden of additional clothing (much like my pole dancing). This decision proved to be one of the worst a weather watcher can make, as I was chilled to the bone in a freezing whirlwind (weather to the extreme!!) trip that crossed two Australian states. What was I expecting? Put simply, warmth. I hadn’t been away for that long, roughly over a year, but what greeted me on arrival (apart from lovely smiles and grown up babies) was the pre-winter chill I had completely forgotten about. <br /><br /><img border="0" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_xaoiQCFkH4SoIQdPqSsbQNerlInalsmtsOu5VlLh_R1dabg0RfjDl7MSSYiVcEZpG4xqzCAQjR1Hkxp0fCuZnbrhlI7mkbb4GyvVWiATR4uoab4W2oXwWLYzBAnFAj9-2LZRWou_LJY/s1600/Fruit+Fly+Sign.JPG" /><br /><br />From this week at ‘home’ I deduced that we acclimatise to our current surroundings, subtly influencing our weather muscle memory (which is definitely not something I just made up). We buy clothes to adapt to our new surrounds, we use heaters in a way our mother would never have approved of (“just put on a jumper”), we know what it means to include parsnips in our diet and we begin using the new weather vernacular common in our adopted home. Sounds obvious, I know, but when we become used to our new environment we seem to forget the one we were formally familiar with, which stands in complete contrast to our ownership of it when we return.<br /><br />My newly developed home time weather ignorance made me think about what else surprises us on a return visit to the family abode. Is it the greying hair on our parents? (Damn straight. They don’t call my Dad ‘Richard Branson’ for nothing. And by ‘they’ I mean my brothers. ‘They’ also call him Old Man Winter. Poor guy). Is it the fact that there’s a new dog on the scene to replace the one which died 2 months ago, a small piece of news every family member thought they’d told you but didn’t? (Yes. See aforementioned ‘checking in’ on the new dog…) Is it that your brothers now showcase a commanding physical presence but still refuse to pack the dishwasher or be designated driver? It’s all of the above and everything else, the small changes that develop in an environment which, in essence, always feels the same.<br /><br />So besides knowing I’m not winning a packing room prize anytime soon, this climate change made me feel a little more distant from my home. Not in a bad way, in fact it was almost in a more inviting way. It’s like there’s still more the ol’ hometown can teach us, and that maybe, just maybe, there’s a local veggie pasty on offer better than one you discovered 10 years ago.<br /><br /><b><i>Adelaide tomorrow, I’d actually be okay with open toed shoes and Basil* certainly won’t be needing his puppy jumper…<br /></i></b></span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyPY2qNR9nk6V4y-uvzFEEYaNedjJQSZpcj-wve0HN4SQVFMhT2yjlMStN-RdNskYYsYfd-jnrvDA6t4RfeWWBMTaUv3NAWq3FB0YonWF_K381A3tjbeJOzEuKWHQTWjL6044hxJMRpkY/s1600/dog_sweater.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" j8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyPY2qNR9nk6V4y-uvzFEEYaNedjJQSZpcj-wve0HN4SQVFMhT2yjlMStN-RdNskYYsYfd-jnrvDA6t4RfeWWBMTaUv3NAWq3FB0YonWF_K381A3tjbeJOzEuKWHQTWjL6044hxJMRpkY/s320/dog_sweater.jpg" width="255" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: x-small;"><br /><br />* Not an actual photo of Basil, but close enough.</span></div>
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</div>jesskeeley.com/weatherwatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11730828726764699046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1251877323158346260.post-78971120526092277922011-05-02T09:54:00.000-07:002011-05-02T09:54:11.048-07:00Smug in the sun.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I’ve recently been introduced to a little habit called the ‘humble brag’. The humble brag is a not so subtle way of big upping yourself, whilst being seemingly self deprecating or modest. For instance: “Oh, my pants keep falling down, I really need a smaller size…” or “It was SO awkward being hit on in the line for the chemist. I mean, I was buying tampons, come on guy! Enough!” The humble brag is like the backhanded compliment; its real intentions have a little more sting than the actual pointy end.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">The weather “humble brag” happens when we’re on holiday. In order to have the best holiday ever we need weather so good it mocks everyone still at work. If we’re offered what we believe is our Mother Nature given right we need to ensure we don’t LOOK like we’re bragging, so soften the brag blow with a complaint/whine. Facebook is the perfect vehicle for this: “Trying to relax in the pool at resort in Fiji, but the couple next to us keep arguing about what they’re ordering from the bar. UGH”. Or “Wow, jogging in the Caribbean in 29 degree heat is SO much harder than at home. I’m in pain. SADFACE”. This will often be accompanied by a photo of said gorgeous beach, with an ice cold beer placed strategically in foreground.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">The Guardian newspaper wasn’t quite this humble about their weather bragging last week. They probably could have added a pinch of that to the smugness they dished up when delivering these headlines…</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Yep, England has been sunny. Like, unseasonably sunny. So sunny that you suckers who chose to chase the probable Easter sun in Spain, SPAIN!, are un-English, have no faith in your country’s ability to produce golden rays and are probably a little bit simple (that’s what I read in the subtext. You?) Reporters and punters alike have been unable to contain their smug, English pride in the glowing weather and have been grabbing the back of necks left, right and centre for a good old fashioned nose rubbing. I’ve deduced that the English become SUPER smug about nice weather because their normal expectation is something altogether different. It’s like when you take a long haul flight and find yourself uncomfortably seated next to a sick, cranky baby, but then the baby ends up being drugged and sleeping the whole time and it has a hot single Dad who doesn’t want his desert so gives it to you and it’s the first class dessert because they ran out of economy sludge and you look like you deserve the best and they’re playing four movies you haven’t seen but really wanted to and you also sleep for 14 hours. That kind of surprise event.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">This past Friday, when a certain WEDDING event took place, weather watchers were so focused on predicting the exact second, weight and dimensions of the rain which would most definitely fall and how it’s watery presence would RUIN EVERYTHING that when a sliver of sun oozed out during the unveiling of the newly married couple, warming their faces for the ENTIRE duration of the open coach ride, disaster (people were using this word in all seriousness) was averted. The commentary (and I’m paraphrasing here, mostly because I cannot be bothered sifting through photos of Beatrice and Eugenie’s head creations to find the actual quote) went a little something like this: “Here are the royal couple, stepping out of Westminster Abbey, and now, as expected, out comes the sun. It’s chosen to shine on this incredible celebration, as if Mother Nature herself is showering the royal union with her very own gifts. What a truly amazing British day”*. A little smug in the sun, England?</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Whether you approach it with humility or not, I like giving the weather credit for making a nice day. It’s also quite fun to have something that other people don’t. So did England deserve the bragging rights for turning it on over the past few weeks? Damn straight. Now can you believe I have to leave all this and get on a really long flight to Australia next week? Ugh, my life sucks.</span></div>
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<i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"></span></b></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><i><b>London tomorrow, seriously the idea that London is grey and rainy is a misnomer. Cold? Yes. Raining? Um, nearly never…</b></i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">* This is a gross misquote and is actually much more poetic than the original commentary. I just can't help but use effusive language when talking about the weather, I thought you knew that about me.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>jesskeeley.com/weatherwatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11730828726764699046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1251877323158346260.post-21624550418459114282011-04-25T09:01:00.000-07:002011-04-25T09:01:08.729-07:00Easter. It's about springtime and bunnies, apparently.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">So, we’re going to talk about Easter. Let’s ignore all the religious reasons for the holiday, because I neither understand nor are interested in them, and talk about the real meaning of Easter. Eggs and bunnies and daffodils. Behold.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Super cute bunnies who are clearly bringing presents.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Those bunnies are snug as in their egg shell playsuits, and why? It’s SPRING! Now I know Easter doesn’t fall across spring weather for all of us (I remember one infamous Easter egg hunt in ugg boots, not exactly spring time fun. It was made all the more challenging by my Dad insisting on directing us to the mother load via a series of cryptic clues that commonly referenced both out of date literature and geographical metaphors that none of us picked up on. Ultimately we felt we deserved more that the cache of hollow eggs and bunnies in bow ties we received as reward). You can’t deny, wherever your geography finds you, that our day of chocolate bounty is connected to flowering flowers, hypercolour eggs and bunnies being cute. (Or not, depending on the iconography…see below).</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Super evil hares, who clearly want to eat that little yellow bird.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Spring carries with it a feeling of new life and fertility. We all know bunnies are mad for it and that eggs are a symbol of fertility, so if we look at the overall reasons for our April egg madness (which for some reason we are, this blog had turned into a Yr 11 debate topic) it seems Easter is a celebration of Spring (I can see this is a rather loose interpretation and possibly a conclusion drawn only for my benefit).</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">I do admit the appearance of chocolate as the Easter food of choice is about as confusing as the religious Easter, but it seems somehow that the holiday bunnies were laying coloured eggs (which must be tough on their mammalian reproductive system) and then the eggs turned into chocolate. Hmmm, does anyone else feel a little like we’re caught in a multi-generational game of Chinese Whispers? (Do I feel a bit concerned about writing that title? Yes. Am I sure that the game “Chinese Whispers” is offensive to possibly everyone? Yes.)</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Now that I’m in the Northern Hemisphere and can see the truly amazing days spring on this side has to offer, the Easter celebration makes a lot more sense (even the chocolate). The days are so joyous, the grass so lush, it’s all you can do to not start building your own nests, gathering daffodils to decorate and finding the nearest stranger to procreate with. This could actually explain the distinct lack of clothing in a London park on a 20 degree day…</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Ultimately I’m happy for any reason to celebrate the weather. If this means I need to adamantly defend the right of rabbits to defy their natural calling by delivering chocolate goods in small coloured waistcoats, then so be it.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><b><i>London tomorrow…we have been so sun blessed that the idea of a 19 degree is positively disappointing. Back to scowling and wearing all black thanks. </i></b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></div>jesskeeley.com/weatherwatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11730828726764699046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1251877323158346260.post-55319322191041657462011-04-03T11:11:00.000-07:002011-04-03T11:11:54.871-07:00Who's saving who?<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Most of the world partook in the joys and woes of daylight savings this week. For those of us who gained an hour of sunlight, cheers to us, for those who lost, better luck next time. Daylight savings is the double-edged sword on the seasonal battlefield. When you lose that hour of sleep, but subsequently gain an hour of sunlight, you’re torn. You want to celebrate the coming golden age of late night frolics but you’re SO pissed about losing that one extra sleep hour you stage an angry bed in, thus robbing yourself of the longer exposure to the rays. When the pendulum swings the other way you’re all ode to joy about the hour sleep in, super smug that you not only had an extra 60 minutes of dozing but you also haven’t wasted the day and have time to fill it with baking, helping children, or watching Buffy. That smugness is washed away with the encroaching 4pm sun set.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">I’ve noticed some parts of the world take a rogue stance on the saving of light (Africa and Asia for example, or one half of Australia). They seem to be comfortable with the declining daylight hours and instead of deceiving themselves with tricks of the swatch they confront the challenge head on and laugh in the face of actual darkness. As much as I like the idea of being super brave and not afraid of the dark, I think I like the idea of being ‘given’ light a little more. It’s a special moment when you look at the clock and realise it’s 5:00pm (but guys, it looks like 3:30pm!!) and you start to excite yourself with the growing potential for longer outdoor activities and open windows.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Iceland are the ultimate daylight savers, experiencing 24 hour daylight around the summer solstice. Above is an awesome Iceland sunrise, and is probably one of the best photos I've ever taken. I'm also bragging that I've been to Iceland. Who goes to Iceland?? Me. </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">For those of us who have the daylight awards saver account, have you ever done it, live? Like, actually acknowledged the moment? Imagine that! You’re having a quiet mojito, the clock creeps it’s way towards 2am and all of a sudden, TIME SHIFTS. You are actually, live, in a time machine. Next year you could make this a real event. You could hold a ‘back to the future’ style party where everyone needs to dress in the past, or the future (depending on where you’re going), everyone will have an iPhone, so you can watch time change itself LIVE, and you’ll make jokes all night about how that ‘was so one hour ago’. If I were at that party I would look around with really wide eyes as it happened and annoy everyone with huge statements about how we were travelling through time, and what is time anyway, and why are the Mayans freaking me out so much with their impending apocalypse just because their didn’t have enough pages in their calendar? The time travel thing would take me a while to let go, much like every new years eve, when I scream HAPPY NEW YEAR! fairly constantly until at least 2am.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">We digress, but the growing light IS something to celebrate, parties or not. When we talk about ‘feeling light’ it’s a sensation we associate with freedom, a lack of worry, good digestion, all very good things. When we feel dark it’s signifying a displacement, a burgeoning anger, that little, undefinable thing which serial killers and ugly babies have… Thus, lightness is goodness.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">So as I write this at 5:30pm I remember a time when the afternoon felt like midnight, the house like a dank cave, and the TV like a companion. Now, when the sunlight begins to bounce off the cutlery during a late night dinner, when the red sun sinks below houses as I yawn and change for bed, when we hear what I thought were birds chirping until 9pm (they’re bats) I’m thankful that someone thought enough to save a little daylight for me. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Thanks for going back to the future Marty. It helped a lot. </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><b><i>Hamburg tomorrow, would have been nice to have been there a day earlier. Maybe some of those golden rays would have stuck around in people’s smiles. Ahhhh… Be happy Germany.</i></b></span></div>jesskeeley.com/weatherwatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11730828726764699046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1251877323158346260.post-27816748788339741362011-03-23T13:43:00.000-07:002011-03-23T13:43:19.258-07:00These boots are made for walking, running and spontaneous/difficult dance moves.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">There was a full blown mission to be accomplished this week. I needed to find boots. The kind of footwear which fit my exact style and vision, at the cost of all else (which also didn’t cost… a lot). This drive was born from frustration and wet feet, and was getting so chokingly bad I was blaming random shoe salesmen and fellow shoppers for their inadequate meeting of my needs. The timing was key and, like everything, I undertook this task a little too late. You see, you need to get new boots NOW in London, so you benefit from their even coverage and no holes during the tail end of winter weather, but then transition smoothly through the lighter tights weather of spring and into some serious boots with dress action for summer. Time was running out.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So why did I leave it so long? I’ve been processing this, and it could be that I’m bad at letting things go. Not emotionally (give me a repressed memory and I will show that sucker the door in less than five minutes), but materially. I also give myself far too many props in the fields of handiwork. For example, I have been known to not purchase something purely because “I could make it”, or force myself to eat 6 day old risotto (I was FINE). The boots situation had gotten this desperate after too many years ignoring the growing chasm (read: heinous rip) in my old boot faithfuls. In the interest of keeping these soles active for as long as possible we had been through three different superglue interventions, including the infamous day the glue turned chalky white and I coloured over it with a black sharpie.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I didn’t think this prolonging of the slow and painful shoe death was necessarily a bad thing but then today, in a work meeting, I looked down and realised I was wearing a bracelet glued in not one, but two places. The gluemanship was amateur at best. I glanced around casually, wondering if anyone had spotted this DIY repair. Actually, on looking down, did they also spy the hem on my brown skirt, which I’d happily mended with large, childish stitches and RED THREAD? Where was the brown thread when I’d embarked on this crafty alteration and why the hell did I decide red was a worthy substitute? Panicking, I tried to determine if the naked eye could also see I was wearing two pairs of socks, each placed strategically over the other’s holes. My colleagues were judging me, I could tell. Bastards.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In the meeting (which was SO LONG AND BORING) I also remembered the last formal work party I went to, when I wore awesome red earrings. One of them was stuck together with sticky tape. Then I had a flash back of the cardigan I wore for a year, with its oversized, loose lining bunched together in a hair tie. Every time I leant backwards I had to adjust to get the knot away from my kidneys. As a final insult to my many self-inflicted injuries I began rummaging for my free sample lip gloss and realised I was carrying a teeny in your bag umbrella (see the ode to umbrellas <a href="http://jesskeeleydotcomweatherwatch.blogspot.com/2010/10/why-does-it-always-rain-on-me.html">here</a>) which was harnessed shut by a red elastic band, its two broken spindles sticking out wildly. Do I get caught out in the rain? Yes. Do I care enough to actually purchase a new brolly? Apparently not.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Doing a bit of research I’ve found the affliction of frugalness/apathy isn’t just mine to bear. A friend (who lives in Berlin… *cough*) admitted to not only having the same issue with boot finding, but that her holes had gotten so bad she was wearing PLASTIC BAGS ON HER FEET. (Inside the damaged footwear, yes, but really the above sentence pretty much spells insanity). Now that you’re reading this you’re remembering your own frugal sins, aren’t you? The bag held together with safety pins (in a non post punk way), the missing button(s) on your favourite shirt, the fact that you’re told to change your mascara every three months but you still use the free one your friend Neha gave you over a year ago… well welcome to the club!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I’m not sure if this revelation has does anything to change my approach to replacing personal goods but it does make me think it’s advisable to be a little more on top of things, to hopefully stop the weather getting on top of you…</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><i>Berlin tomorrow (the home of boot finding) if it’s in intervals or not, there’s still sun. And warmth! Embrace Berliners.</i></b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">PS. I did find boots. But for some reason I’m wearing the old holey ones again today? LET IT GO KEELEY.</span>jesskeeley.com/weatherwatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11730828726764699046noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1251877323158346260.post-11109130159825965092011-03-10T10:17:00.000-08:002011-03-10T10:17:32.277-08:00I'm having a love affair with this ice cream sandwich...<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong>...or food you love in the right time of year.</strong></span><br /><br />The
weather dictates many things. Our mood, our clothes, our desire to leave the
house or get intimate with our partners (it does, doesn’t it? Everyone?). It
also influences the food we buy, consume, crave and grow. Summer salads, winter
soups, seasonal fare, all of this is dependent on a certain kind of
weather.<br /><br />So here are currently the best things to eat
in…<strong><br /><br />THE
SUMMER<br /><em>Ice cream, icey things, iced something else and
strawberries.</em></strong><br /><br />Summertime
is a bitter sweet, double edged, food eating paradise, because it’s too damn hot
to eat the plethora of delicious goods on offer. Anything with dairy (which
isn’t frozen) makes you feel like you’ve been rolling around in fatty, creamy
unsexy mud wrestle (which is NEVER sexy, contrary to popular (mens’) belief) and
anything warmer than room temperature is like a hot iron scalding your parched
lips (melodramatic, no?). In light of this we need the freshest, juiciest, most
crunchy foods we can get our unmittened mitts on<strong>.<br /><br />Best summer
recipe:</strong></span> <span style="font-size: small;"><br /><br /><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.joythebaker.com/blog/2010/08/raspberry-and-goats-milk-yogurt-popsicles/">http://www.joythebaker.com/blog/2010/08/raspberry-and-goats-milk-yogurt-popsicles/</a></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: small;">This is from Joy the Baker, who is indeed both joyful and bakes. In
this case, she is freezing.</span><br /><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><strong><br /><br />WINTERY GOODNESS<br />Soupy soups, soupy stews, soupy anything
else.</strong></span><span style="font-size: small;"><br /><br />Eating
seasonally means having to ‘weather’ the less productive months, eg the barren
land of winter. Living in England this spells root vegetables. And more
root vegetables. The amount of damn root vegetables you get delivered starts to
get a little unwelcome come Feb. I’ve now developed a hearty dislike of parsnips
after one too many root vegetable “curries” and also concur that brussels
sprouts have limited serving possibilities. We must push our gumboot feet
through the roots and find winners like this little gem.<br /><br />Best winter
recipe:</span> <span style="font-size: small;"><br /><a href="http://smittenkitchen.com/2007/11/brussel-sprouts-and-chestnuts-in-brown-butter/"><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;">http://smittenkitchen.com/2007/11/brussel-sprouts-and-chestnuts-in-brown-butter/</span></a><span style="font-size: small;"><br /><br />This is from Deb, my favourite all
rounder, who seems to love brussels sprouts. But she calls them brussel sprouts.
I want to trust her, but I'm so confused!!</span><strong><br /><br />SPRING<br /><em>Anything pink, dewy and fresh, which
looks like a welcome smile.</em></strong></span><span style="font-size: small;"><br /><br />Spring, you joyous time. When tiny
bud heads start to poke out of the ground like a cheeky reminder of fun to come
(they're also full of euphemism). Asparagus is back! Greenery! Tomatoes which taste
like bursts of joy! This is the time to celebrate with diverse recipes (chuck a
pomegranate in a salad, you rogue) and paying full attention to detail on the
presentation. Like little flowers and stuff.</span><span style="font-size: small;"><br /><br />Best spring
recipe:</span><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/food/recipes/roseproseccococktail_93583"><br /><br />http://www.bbc.co.uk/food/recipes/roseproseccococktail_93583</a></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /><br />Don’t be put off
by the many steps in Sophie’s recipe. It’s totally worth
it.</span><strong><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span><br />AUTUMN</strong></span><span style="font-size: small;"><strong><em><br />Everything wholesome and
good in the world.</em></strong></span><span style="font-size: small;"><br /><br />When the reds and greens start to
become purple and browns, you start to get a bit autumnal with your cooking too.
This pretty much means beetroot. Be warned though. You’ll be super happy about
eating from the depths of the earth, all like ‘how awesome is it that we have
beets again! I can’t wait for the parsnip/brussels sprout casserole I’m about to
whip up!’ and then comes Feb…<br /><br />Best
Autumn recipe:<a href="http://www.jamieoliver.com/recipes/other-recipes/early-autumn-minestrone-minestrone-d-ini"><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /><span style="font-size: small;">http://www.jamieoliver.com/recipes/other-recipes/early-autumn-minestrone-minestrone-d-ini</span></span></a><span style="font-size: small;"><br /><br />Couldn't name check
Jamie but not use him as a resource,
right?</span><br /><br /><strong><em></em></strong></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Seasonal eating can be tough
(life, hey?), and I know that we’re not all Jamie Oliver type characters when it
comes to the kitchen. What I do know though, is that the weather should be our
good food guide. Finding a pineapple 4 weeks into winter? Be suspicious…very
suspicious. Check out websites like this to find out a little more about choice
seasonal eating.<a href="http://www.slowfood.com/">http://www.slowfood.com/</a><strong><em><br /><br /><br />New York tomorrow, it’s almost
t-shirt weather!! Actually screw it, its t-shirt weather. Ignore the softly
falling rain and the fact that you’re actually cold. It’s
SPRING!</em></strong></span> <span style="font-size: small;"><br /><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br />* </span><span style="font-size: x-small;">When
I say best I mean right now, in this second, and not for all time. I reserve the
right to change my mind any day, week or hour.</span></span> <span style="font-size: x-small;"><strong><br /><br />This blog is dedicated to a special
new member of the world. Welcome Milo Charlie
Gallagher! Learn to read quickly so you can up my viewing stats.
</strong></span></div>
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</div>jesskeeley.com/weatherwatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11730828726764699046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1251877323158346260.post-51029638567554985692011-03-01T09:30:00.000-08:002011-03-01T09:30:00.750-08:00Why do they call it spring cleaning?<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">We’ve just hit a fantastic date in the weather watching calendar, when Mother Nature decides to slip in to something a little more comfortable. Yep, the seasons are a changin’, and spring is sprung for those of us in the Northern Hemisphere. A costume change is also happening for you in the South (as it tends to in this topsy, turvy world), offering a like chance to ready your homestead for the coming new temperatures. Are you ready for a fierce spring clean, or to free your winter woollies from their moth ball beds?<br /><br />Sustaining the energy for these seasonal cleaning jobs can be difficult. How many times have you gotten half way through removing mould from your grouting using white vinegar and a toothbrush only to wish you’d just painted the black marks with white-out? In the interest of rescuing you from the house cleaning blues, here are a few home tips to add inspiration and organisation to your yearly clean out. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /><strong>TAKING IT TOO FAR</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />• Cleaning your oil burner. I have a friend who did this, which is actual insanity. It’s like cleaning the inside of a fire place. <br /><br />• Dusting the top of doors. The 1960’s are over (which I presume was the time people swept door top debris into their pans, along with a dream to ever be anything more than a damn housewife whose primary goal is finding the perfect table centrepiece. If Mad Men has taught us anything it’s this, and that a high level of body hair isn’t a turn off if it’s on Jon Hamm.)<br /><br />• Under the bed. Meh. <br /><br />• Establishing a CD catalogue system involving stickers, library cards and an overwhelming need to explain the placement of Dr Albarn next to Jeff Buckley. This says more about you than you know…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br /><strong><br />THINGS YOU SHOULD PROBABLY GET TO AND QUIT AVOIDING</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />• Bottom of the bin. You’re in denial that bin juice has most definitely found its insidious way through the bin bag and is now making a happy liquid home in the bottom of your receptacle.<br /><br />• That awkward space around the bottom of the toilet. No long handled implement can access this notorious spot, admit it. This is a hands and knees, face near the bowl kind of job. Hmmm this first, or the bin juice? What choice!<br /><br />• Receipts. If they’re out dated, get rid of them. Especially the ones from the early 2000s which are so faded you can’t actually tell what you bought but you think it’s a best of Crowded House CD, a packet of malteasers and bandaids. What kind of shop were you in that stocked all those things? <br /><br />• Go through the everything drawer. I once found three mosquito coils, a sparkler, the Pretty Woman soundtrack on cassette and a dead cockroach. Imagine all the cool things tucked away in yours!!</span><br />
<br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><br />THINGS YOU SHOULD ALREADY BE DOING </strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />• Fridge assessment. Those happy carrots hanging out in the veggie drawer have an unseen side. That would be the side sporting the mould beard. Also once, at a friend’s mum’s, we found a jar of chutney which expired in 1998. Still looked good.<br /><br />• Freezer. Same as above really. You probably have no idea what it originally was, but now it all looks the same… white. <br /><br />• Sock drawer clean out. I realised the other day I was wearing fluffy cartoon heart socks. I’m a 30 year old woman. <br /><br />• Medicine cabinet. Medicine goes off, we’re told. This might be bullshit, so sometimes you think its okay to drop a couple panedine forte from 2005. It probably isn’t. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />So aside from channelling a bit of Martha Stewart (minus the actual help and jail time Martha would have brought) I hope you’ve found this guidance and inspiration for your yearly sprucing helpful. Now you just need to find your perfect cleaning soundtrack and polish your halo.<br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong><em>London tomorrow (on this second day of Spring!) as long as you’re not out at 3am, it’ll be sunny skies. Spring time frolicking begin!</em></strong></span></span>jesskeeley.com/weatherwatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11730828726764699046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1251877323158346260.post-33821163504909669152011-02-20T09:52:00.000-08:002011-02-20T09:52:36.050-08:00Celebrities tweeting about the weather.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I know what you think sometimes. This is not in a creepy, ‘every breath you take’ way, I just know that you occasionally read this blog and have a little, niggling voice of doubt. It’s possibly saying “Not EVERYTHING is about the weather. Jess just can’t take any topic and connect it in some loose and often dubious way to how we’re all ‘affected’ by the weather and need to be more respectful and in awe of it’s awesomeness. I mean, preachy much?” Well yes, I know we can be drawing the occasional long bow in aligning the weather with absolutely everything in our lives. I can however demonstrate how its burly ways affect everyONE, with some random celebrities tweeting about the weather. </span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Stephen Colbert, speaking for the everyman. And shoe retailers.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Peter Serafinowicz takes weather analogies to a graphic new level. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Kanye DEFINITELY read my <a href="http://jesskeeleydotcomweatherwatch.blogspot.com/2010/10/peaking-too-early.html">post</a> on peaking too early, and obviously concurs with the sentiment. I feel Kanye and I have a lot in common, aside from the fact this is one of his only tweets I actually understand. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Wayne Coyne takes a break from posting naked pictures of his wife to </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">chat about the weather! If you’d like to see regular naked pictures of his wife, feel free to follow.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Radiohead weather metaphor! They are changing the face of EVERYTHING.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">I really wish she was talking about the weather here. I don’t think she is. YOU’RE WASTING TWITTER LILY.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLhZ7AKlKIysQ1Q3SAaYnt1mtmVztLWC6HO5MbsTIeKzY0WsU4dmfT8ECikaRZ5CtkUvl1wLERP5Vvae3i1a50ekHKk2RUaUf-3GQUr5t9mapEzk8r8oKompJYo8NxOKCxmAZwr8owTyo/s1600/lilyallen_tweet_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLhZ7AKlKIysQ1Q3SAaYnt1mtmVztLWC6HO5MbsTIeKzY0WsU4dmfT8ECikaRZ5CtkUvl1wLERP5Vvae3i1a50ekHKk2RUaUf-3GQUr5t9mapEzk8r8oKompJYo8NxOKCxmAZwr8owTyo/s400/lilyallen_tweet_2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">That’s better. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">And to end on a serious note:</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">I haven’t read this article, but I’m sure its full of positive studies about how summer is just one long party. Thanks Al! </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Celebrities. Even they love the weather. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><i><b>London tomorrow, see aforeposted Peter Serafinowicz tweet. And then throw up in your wellies.</b></i></span></div>
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<br /></div>jesskeeley.com/weatherwatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11730828726764699046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1251877323158346260.post-27021313012847039472011-02-07T10:48:00.000-08:002011-02-07T10:48:56.816-08:00The Beautiful People<!--StartFragment-->
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Made a discovery today. Copenhagen, Denmark, is full of beautiful,
healthy looking, envy inspiring natives. The local Copenhagians glide around
their gorgeously designed city with the aura of the blessed. Girls zoom by on
fire engine red bikes, skin glowing, flaxen hair floating, angel dust sprinkled
across their golden brown cheeks. The men stroll, with calm eyes and strong
shoulders, their hands weathered by soft breezes. All of this physical poetry
was simply a lovely sight for London weary eyes (no offence). What is it about this place?
There can’t be anything in the water, so it has to be the weather. (Good deduction,
non?)</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We've talked before about the weather making a city. Nature's turns,
and our need to adapt to them, are a huge part of how we've evolved into the
gorgeous beings (speak for yourself Danes) we are today. It's one reason folk
with darker skin come from deserty areas and why gingers should only live in
Scotland. And it turns out the weather influence in Denmark is pretty darn
handsome. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Today people were joyful. They were all song of joy, just bursting with
it, in minus 2 degree weather. Maybe its because the sun was shining and their
city looked gorgeous, but I prefer to think it's because they were able to
picnic on ice. This isn't some kind of all in community icecapade, but is quite
literally the locals having a snack, while sitting on solid ice. Copenhagen has
celebrated the changes in weather so much that when the city's lakes (there
are 5 of them) freeze over, it’s no time to bitch and moan and watch all 86
episodes of The Sopranos. It's a chance to take shortcuts (on your bike), to meet
friends for a chat halfway, and to park yourself, blanket and all, for a quick
canapé on the ice. When traversing a lake Jesus style becomes a reality, the
Danes cuddle the opportunity to their naturally gorgeous bosom.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So why does this make them good-looking? Well happiness breeds
loveliness, generally in the face area. And why are they so happy? It could be
the delightful description of the climate from goscandinavia.com. <i>“</i></span><span lang="EN"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Denmark's weather is quite mild and the climate of </i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>Denmark</i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i> is
temperate, made mild by mostly west winds and by the seas surrounding Denmark
almost entirely. The winters are not particularly cold and the summers are
mild.”</i> You know what that’s the equivilent of saying? Everythings fine.
Everything is always fine.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The fact </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">that
they have a beach ripe for summer time swimming, and a bridge to go to Sweden,
could also contribute to the potential for Denmark to breed the entire cast of
Next Top Model.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Jaws dropped when we came across the stunning 6ft 2 amazon woman whose middle
name was Muff. (Jaws were down more on the announcement of the middle name.
They scrapped the floor when she told us the story of being 15 and researching
her name history using her Christian minister Dad’s computer. She goggled muff,
saw 'muff divers' appear as the lead search and thought she was possibly
related to a clan of hard core* traditional food foragers. She watched not one,
but two videos. She then spent the next week petrified her dad would be fired
for accessing far too many muffs on the church patrolled laptop). After this meet we quickly saw that the Danish beauty delves below the skin, because the Danes
seem super trusting (eg telling complete strangers your middle name story).
People park their pushies unlocked, knowing they will definitely be there when
they get back, and even leave their prams outside restaurants (on closer
inspection this was sans child but I definitely think they would…). </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The weather seems to make the Danes rugged and strong, sun kissed and
radiant, and smiley and kind. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Are you looking around now wondering how your
weather has evolved you? It’s there, you can’t avoid it. It might be your Dad’s
permanent sock tan, your Uncle’s body hair covering him like a wet suit, or
your webbed feet, but your weather has definitely made a part of you. It might
not be the radiant godliness of the Danes, but hey, we can’t all be blessed.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><b>Copenhagen tomorrow, more loveliness. They don’t even have rain, but
have ‘sleet’. Because it’s more interesting than rain and you something to offset the gently falling snowflakes every once in a while...</b></i></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><b></b></i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">*Possible inappropriate use of the term 'hard core' right there. </span></div>
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<!--EndFragment-->jesskeeley.com/weatherwatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11730828726764699046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1251877323158346260.post-70982171920397032742011-01-23T15:34:00.000-08:002011-01-23T15:43:13.169-08:00Smells like teen... um, I can't remember.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We had a musical challenge in our office this week. After a heated debate on the importance of Radiohead’s 'Ok Computer' (we are such wankers) the challenge was set to spend the weekend listening to a definitive album from another person’s youth. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Luckily this isn’t a music blog (or you’d be hearing my review of Suede’s ‘Dog Man Star’ right now) but what this musical reminiscing did make me think of was how often the weather had been a part of our seminal music moments. (Of course I thought that…) When you draw on your favourite musical memories where does the weather feature? I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised to find the answer is, more prominently than you think. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Here are a few of my examples to help you jog the memory bank.</span><br />
<ul>
<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A scorching Adelaide Big Day Out wearing the skimpiest of outfits along with five girlfriends (clearly all matching). Trying to squeeze doc martin clad feet into a jammed pit for Smashing Pumpkins, sunburn and sweaty, huge, shirtless men with Southern Cross tattoos be damned. I WOULD be at the front for 1979.</span></li>
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<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The six hour, 13 chilly degrees line up for Red Hot Chili Peppers wearing naught but a Hole-era floral dress and the aforementioned doc martins, which turned into a sweet love affair with a boy and his Offspring hoody. Went downhill when a full beer was pegged at me for being a precocious little twat during Regurgitator’s support.</span></li>
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<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">One summer (which coincidently is a great Darryl Braithwaite song from my youth) when I tried to sneak in underage to The Mavis’s concert in Victor Harbour and had a deluge of rain to thank for granting my passage. (Pitying security guard and sodden skirt over pants outfit also given gratitude.) </span></li>
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<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The amazing weather performance during The Strokes at the Sydney Big Day Out, which saw them playing in a dramatic and violent thunderstorm only to be followed by Metallica and the weather turning it up and putting on a lightning show!! Exit light indeed.</span></li>
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<li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The day I discovered Mazzy Star’s ‘Fade Into You’ and broke up with a boy, made all the bitter sweeter by the raining drifting like my tears down the bedroom window pane (okay I’m getting ridiculous here, and possibly channelling an episode of Dawson’s Creek. I don’t think this ever happened).</span></li>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The point is that the weather can be a memory stimulator. We feel the weather with all our senses. We hear the rain coming, we smell it’s scent on hot asphalt, we can taste it’s icy form, we watch it filling up puddles and feel it dampening our back as we run back from getting the washing in. The weather can help us conjure up a time, a place, a person, an outfit, an embarrassment, it helps us rebuild our memories in all it’s forms. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What do you think the jogger is for you? Is it the night flower (I’ve been told it’s jasmine) whose scent wafts during the first, darkening nights of summer? Is it the gentle patter of rain above, transporting you back to your grandparent’s farm? Are the first icy winds of the coming winter making you want to pull out a photo album of browning polaroids and old Christmas cards? Well n</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">ext time you reminisce, give the weather a little credit for bringing it all back.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Remember how awesome the weather was that time? </span><br />
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<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">London tomorrow, more of the quite pleasant winter weather we’ve been having, bit sunny, bit cloudy, bit chilly. There is a northerly a blowin’, so if you have a compass walk south. </span></i></b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(And for those wondering, yes, I was told to listen to Suede’s 'Dog Man Star'. Never really being a Suede fan I found it surprisingly sophisticated and Bowie-esque. Myself? I passed on You Am I’s ‘Hourly, Daily’. Sigh.)</span>
</div>jesskeeley.com/weatherwatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11730828726764699046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1251877323158346260.post-25251166639243700672011-01-16T13:32:00.000-08:002011-01-16T13:32:01.289-08:00The problem, you see, is the rain.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The amazing images coming from Queensland, Australia this week have been, quite frankly, amazing. Don’t know about you, but I’ve experienced the kind of jaw dropping amazement which only comes from someone who had never ever thought bull sharks could swim their way down to the shops, and who absolutely cannot conceptualise the sheer size of the area affected by gushing, life taking water. A space larger than France and Germany, combined?? With news that 43 towns in Victoria have now experienced flooding (including my sister! renovated kitchen and all) we’re probably feeling that this is a once in a lifetime event. This has to be a tragedy that will never be repeated, it’s not like we need to get used to this kind of performance?</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">What’s interesting is that as Australians we SHOULD be used to the weather being this ferocious. We’ve regularly fielded the rough hand balls from Mother Nature which force us to live up to the endearment, ‘Aussie Battler’. Sizzling droughts leading to destructive bushfires, force of a gale winds tearing <a href="http://wiki.answers.com/Q/What_is_the_plural_form_of_roof_-_roofs_or_rooves">roofs</a> from houses, and of course the brown, murky waters of the flood. A recent piece in the UK’s Guardian has Germaine Greer asking “Australian floods: Why were we so surprised?” Greer describes the multiple warnings we’ve been given from Meteorologists over the past ten years about the ‘La Nina’ weather system. La Neens results in water-laden air dropping its cooling load over a land mass (Aus in this case) and apparently computer modelling has shown that this system would be super likely in 2010. There was even a comment from the Bureau in June last year giving us a six month heads up that it was going to be a wet one. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/environment/2011/jan/15/australian-floods-queensland-germaine-greer">Read about this in Germaine’s article</a></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Aussies, do you remember this? Were you watching the ABC TV weatherman (I feel like his name is Graham? Is it? Still?) and were subsequently shocked into a pre-emptive action plan to protect your property, your family and your tomato plants from the coming deluge? Guesses are not, because as Australians we let that news wash over us (bad choice of words) for something to deal with on a rainy day (ohh, and again). Was it the choice of words that stopped us from taking notice? If Graham had gesticulated madly and shouted, "Look Juanita, it is going to bucket down like you wouldn’t believe for MONTHS, resulting in people being able to surf on your front lawn", would we have been spurred into action? </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Germaine Greer has an opinion on our reasons for inaction (she is mad for an opinion) but I did find her an interesting choice of author for this article. She has long been an inspiration for a certain kind of woman, but never before had we seen potential for her as spokesperson for the weather watchers… until this paragraph:</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><i>“British people might think that they're rain experts. Truth is that they hardly know what rain is. The kind of cold angel sweat that wets British windscreens isn't proper rain. For weeks now rain has been drumming in my ears, leaping off my corrugated steel roof, frothing through the rocks, spouting off the trees, and running, running, running past my house and down into the gully, into the little creek, into the bigger creek, and on to the Nerang river and out to sea at Southport. “</i></span></span>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Oh Germaine! The poetry! Seriously, angel sweat? I knew she could be a woman after my own heart, but she’s propelled herself into an entirely different league. This kind of descriptive weather watching is what likens this art to say, wine tasting. You drink in the elements, really taste them, and wait for the words to swim their way to your lips.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So, as a result of the scale of this flooding there’s now going to be a lot of discussion about government preparation, strategies and whether or not to mince words. That debate won’t rage here, but what we will look at it, with awe, is the enormity of the weather’s power and know to never take it for granted. Mother Nature is indeed a cruel mistress.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Frog riding a snake. </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times; font-size: small;"> </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b><i>London tomorrow, you don’t know what rain is! So when the forecast calls for ‘heavy rain’ don’t be fooled. You wont be meeting a flathead outside your office. </i></b></span></span>jesskeeley.com/weatherwatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11730828726764699046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1251877323158346260.post-35734487676886863422011-01-09T13:27:00.000-08:002011-01-09T13:49:29.761-08:00It's raining men! (And birds. And some rain.)<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It has been raining a weird amount of shit lately. Actual rain has seen water cover (using this word literally) an area the size of France AND Germany, but in Australia. Snow is still falling (so sweetly) on much of northern England, and in Beebe, Arkansas, a blackbird storm hit town.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><a href="http://www.ignitionnews.com.au/2011/01/thousands-of-blackbirds-fall-from-sky-in-beebe">http://www.ignitionnews.com.au/2011/01/thousands-of-blackbirds-fall-from-sky-in-beebe</a></span>
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<span lang="EN-AU"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(Ignore the use of THOUSANDS in the headline, which is subsequently downgraded to hundreds in the bulk of the article. I’ve already sent this to media watch).<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-AU"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">On New Years Eve ‘thousands’ of blackbirds fell from the sky in Beebe, in a terrifying night of fireworks of the worst possible kind. This raining birds thing is something I hope to never experience, having an extreme fear of birds (yes, from taking film studies), plus not feeling I really have the right kind of umbrella for such a day. We might have to prepare though, because this PT Anderson* moment doesn’t seem to be an isolated phenomenon. Avian raindrops have recently been seen falling across other parts of the US, and even Sweden. (I’m wary of the Swedes at the best of times and this, where birds are being piffed at your head from above, is surely not even close to the okay of times.) Why is the sky no longer holding up our feathered friends? (Not my friends, but possibly yours.)<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-AU"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A genuine signal of the end of the world, I hear you ask?? Birds rising up to take on their human oppressors with a really average, kamikaze style plan? Debate has raged, as it should, on the reasons why such an occurrence, occurred, and well know expert Kirk Cameron from Growing Pains added a pinch of his thoughts to the pot.<o:p></o:p></span></span>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><a href="http://www.examiner.com/political-transcripts-in-national/kirk-cameron-bird-death-spin-more-pagan-mythology-than-christian-apocalypse">http://www.examiner.com/political-transcripts-in-national/kirk-cameron-bird-death-spin-more-pagan-mythology-than-christian-apocalypse</a></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-AU"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Kirk Cameron seems to be a religious spokesperson now, with about 80 (6) children. He suggests that falling birds as a religious sign of the apocalypse is more from pagan, rather than Christian, mythology, so don’t panic. He then complains about the state of American politics.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-AU"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Thanks for that Kirk. His even approach does make you think that whilst looking apocalyptic (like when you leave your house and don’t see any cars or people and for about 3 seconds you think you could be the only person left on earth, until, oops, there’s the postman) maybe there are more than terrifying, supernatural reasons for this bird rain. <o:p></o:p></span></span>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This is what national geographic have to say.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><a href="http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2011/01/110106-birds-falling-from-sky-bird-deaths-arkansas-science/">http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2011/01/110106-birds-falling-from-sky-bird-deaths-arkansas-science/</a></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-AU"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Sensible and calm, as you’d expect for Nat G. They pretty much say birds lose it in flight all the time and it’s coincidental that these occurrences, occurred, during a pretty slow news day. They do sport this little sentence of joy in the report. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Young birds that hatch in the spring have an approximately 75 percent chance of not reaching their first birthdays.” Sucks to be a bird, even with the joy of flight.</span>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So whilst being super creepy, and potentially disease riddled, whatever side you take there may not be anything to worry about with this whole animals being rain thing. Store your raining cats and dogs pants for another day.<o:p></o:p></span>
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<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">London tomorrow, something has seriously changed for 9 degrees to feel positively balmy. It’ll be mild as tomorrow, but take a brolly in the off chance of something, anything (probably water), falling from the sky.</span></i></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span>jesskeeley.com/weatherwatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11730828726764699046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1251877323158346260.post-67954214943242458012011-01-03T10:01:00.000-08:002011-01-03T10:24:06.911-08:00Resolutions<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Around this time, when we're making definitive statements about how to approach our brand new, shiny year, we sometimes need a bit of guidance. How do we articulate all the fantastic changes we plan to make, how incredibly self improving we’re going to be, how much better a weather respecter? Well I don’t know how you’re going to lose weight, become a nicer person or change that Year Two haircut, but here are some ways to make your weather watching pipe dreams a reality.</span><br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Buy a barometer</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">.* Hang it outside your front door and give it a light tap occasionally on your way to the shops. You care about the humidity. That's what a barometer says.</span>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Invest in a pair of shoes that scream winter, walking time.</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> These should be very, very sturdy and therefore unattractive. Now you look like a dedicated weather adventurer!</span>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Learn the names of the different cloud formations.</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Take black and white photos of your favourite, frame them, and display in your bathroom. Go cirrus!</span>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Start mentioning the weather in the middle of conversations.</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Beginning a chat with the weather is boring and predictable; don’t relegate the weather to small talk! Bring it up during the intense conversation listing the pros and cons of wikileaks and whether Julian Assange is a douche. Your chatting partner will be both surprised and pleased.</span>
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<span lang="EN-AU"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Pay attention to the local television weather reporting</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> and determine your best forecaster based on their graphics, ability to follow green screen and how good their weather puns are. </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“</span></i></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The forecast was for freezing rain, and sure enough it was an ice day!!”</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Write them a fan letter.</span>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Learn from your fave presenter</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> and try to include weather references and metaphors in your everyday conversation. </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"My, your sweater is very autumnal." "This conversation is experiencing a cold snap!"</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Oh, how you'll laugh.</span>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Self improvement is admirable and occasionally achievable. In 2011 you can start a new decade by being the best weather watcher you can be. At least for the month of January.</span>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">London tomorrow, who the hell cares, we’re back at WORK! It’s not like we could be taking advantage of any unexpected warm spell, cooped up in the office. Wear a tracksuit.</span></i></b>
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<b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span></i></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">* For trainspotters a barometer doesn’t actually measure humidity, it gauges the atmospheric pressure. But no one else knows that, and a barometer looks cooler. We MUST maintain the cool. </span>jesskeeley.com/weatherwatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11730828726764699046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1251877323158346260.post-21608451442263719112010-12-28T15:42:00.000-08:002010-12-28T15:42:45.519-08:00We've got obsessions<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We all have them, obsessive thoughts, tendencies. This blog is representative of one of mine, which</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">recently </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">took hold in a way I could have never anticipated. And I’m not talking of my rather excessive excitement about a white Christmas (happy holiday season BTW).</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We’ve spoken before about the weather ‘negatively’ impacting fun times. Rain on your wedding day (not ironic), temperatures so hot you’re seeing mirages, but most of that you can combat. You can take action to make you feel in control, and not controlled, by your weather system. All that changes with travel. Yes, I’m talking about the current and seemingly unrelenting weather frustration people are feeling towards their xmas travel plans. It would have been remiss of me not to discuss this issue and also very unlikely to not be personally involved with my own weather travel journey.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I was stuck in Cologne for a day just before Christmas. I was meant to be coming home, work had finished, everyone else had left and there was me. Alone. By myself. Angry. I stayed in a hotel for one night then got up at 4am to catch the only flight back to London the next morning. The flight scheduled for 7am eventually left at 11am, I made it into London Stansted, caught a train home and bitched about the whole saga on arrival.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">When you sum it up, it’s not a huge drama. I’m home, it sucked, but now it doesn’t seem like the drama I thought it was at the time (cheers hindsight). During the stuck day and the travel day however, my anxiety levels were rather high. As an example, this is what my browser looked like.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBY_JPnlA3zIR_pul2exZwjJh7Dtk3coGO8FkaDD6-_C-INex_3KFHv5NuoVsWsKHZWI7IC68KwvQwXZiNFsxOItuIL1PhAuwDYCPf3tzahQH9N1VTiFuPppvIIywojuLE1bPjq9hUzpM/s1600/shot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBY_JPnlA3zIR_pul2exZwjJh7Dtk3coGO8FkaDD6-_C-INex_3KFHv5NuoVsWsKHZWI7IC68KwvQwXZiNFsxOItuIL1PhAuwDYCPf3tzahQH9N1VTiFuPppvIIywojuLE1bPjq9hUzpM/s640/shot.jpg" width="540" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">I hit refresh on each of those tabs probably every three seconds (except maybe facebook, every five. You're not all crazy updaters). It was like tourettes of the keyboard, completely uncontrollable. Weather updates, airport closures, flight cancellations, I needed to know it all. And what's stranger is that this didn’t dissipate when I finally got home. I felt the need to watch every news update on the increasingly long queues in ‘freezing’ conditions outside train stations. I watched people’s make shift abodes in Heathrow Airport grow more and more homelike the more nights they were trapped (I swear I saw someone mocking up an ikea coffee table in front of his floor bed and silver foil blankets). The overwhelming feeling I had whilst watching this unfold was… SUCKERS! I made it out and you didn’t and I was feeling so happy it wasn’t me. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Where was my Christmas spirit!? I couldn’t believe my reaction. My obsession with my own travel had morphed into a self congratulatory obsession that I’d done the right thing, booked the right flight, paid the right people, and if I hadn’t done it that way I would have never gotten out. I WON AT CHRISTMAS TRAVEL!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">I’ve tried to move on since then, pay more attention to my loved ones and the Christmas Eve ice skating, but then it started happening IN THE USA. People are tweeting about broken down cars, frozen Grandmas, missing the best xmas ever and instead spending it with Louise from Liverpool (see previous post re: Amsterdam), and all I can think is, IT’S NOT ME! STILL WINNING!!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">This, apparently, is what Christmas is all about. The joy of not being somewhere shit, while others are. Tis the season.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><b><i>London tomorrow, time for less rugging up and more outdoorsy fun. I saw a girl wearing actual shorts today (that spells crazy). Don’t take it that far, but the feeling outside is a lot milder than we have been having. Enjoy the last hours of 2010!</i></b></span></div></div></span><br />
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<object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/np3QLrHJmRA?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/np3QLrHJmRA?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object>jesskeeley.com/weatherwatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11730828726764699046noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1251877323158346260.post-76699351341781794072010-12-13T15:42:00.000-08:002010-12-13T15:42:44.742-08:00The weather kindness of strangers...<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-AU"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">I stumbled upon some kinsfolk this week and it came as quite a surprise to find them not at some sort of weather trainspotting Christmas drinks at the MET (where surely stumbling would be the NORM! Yeah!), but in the single room of a VERY swish Paris hotel. Coming back to number 34 late one night, I entered to curtains drawn, soft music playing and this lying on my pillow.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-AU"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqxsoUJoYY8h6P1rr4-Ou9zbo049bK-4MozV7xeSjO-u0_N7vdb0PSLqAM4hCqC-uwX-8x6lPnlfkPrCCXKCrFRmrkq3Ip77XUSGWI03Ki5qmotLfRFbBcwko-zqR2TRW6OW1jY2OMsZ4/s1600/IMG_0206.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqxsoUJoYY8h6P1rr4-Ou9zbo049bK-4MozV7xeSjO-u0_N7vdb0PSLqAM4hCqC-uwX-8x6lPnlfkPrCCXKCrFRmrkq3Ip77XUSGWI03Ki5qmotLfRFbBcwko-zqR2TRW6OW1jY2OMsZ4/s400/IMG_0206.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="300" /></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-AU"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-AU"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">HOW DID THEY KNOW? For a moment I thought maybe they were incredibly thorough and had dedicated researchers for each of their guests (Mr K in room 204 is depressingly single and here on a boring work trip. Please leave him extra Jack Daniels in the mini bar and a pass to the Moulin Rouge. Gayle in 65 is on her own eat, pray, love odyssey. She'll require an excess of complimentary chocolate and and Mr K’s room number). I’m now fairly sure that kind of attention is time consuming and probably doesn’t involve reading my blog. What it does mean is that this particular hotel leaves this kind note on what to expect tomorrow because they are weather lovers. This little thought that counts sets this inn apart from thousands of others trying to corner the weather watching market (clearly their aim).<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-AU"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">On close inspection what draws us to this little card is the graphics; they really have covered nearly all bases. Cheeky sun and cloud cover is represented, along with the necessary precipitation graphic (this is the only one that could be a little too ambiguous. I mean, FAT rain? Or little light rain? Knowing the possibilities for rain are indeed endless, we’re letting this slide. For now). Following the graphics you have the temperature reading and they’ve given you two readings, as is standard. The key difference here is that they’ve presented morning and afternoon. Morning! Afternoon! Squeal!!! How I hate the standard two temperature offering which gives you the daytime reading followed by a random middle of the night reading. Even people up and at 'em in the middle of the night aren’t generally querying the temperature. Morning and afternoon! What sense they make, the French.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-AU"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">On a negative side I was a little put out that the nameless room maid responsible for this treat hadn’t bothered to indicate the wind force, as was set out. To be fair, if I remember the day perhaps there really WAS no wind to speak of, so we’ll let no name off for this one. For now.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-AU"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Everything about this little card speaks to the aesthetically minded weather watcher. The font size (small and firm), the contrasting colours (in delightful Autumnal flavours), the format that resembles a multiple choice test (which at school were my favourite. God I love filling in a form), all of these finer details give little bursts of formal weather report joy.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-AU"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">In a world of pain, suffering, financial woes and jeggings, it is indeed the little things. So thank you to whoever committed to this little thought at the hotel's costumer service brainstorming session. Your fight to bring weather to the same level as the breakfast menu is a valiant one.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-AU"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><i><b>London tomorrow: I would tick the happy smiling sun, then possibly get a bit freestyle with some imagery around the temperatures. 4 degrees is a pretty fun number to play with...</b></i></span></span></div>jesskeeley.com/weatherwatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11730828726764699046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1251877323158346260.post-88950751296978705592010-12-05T13:42:00.000-08:002010-12-06T01:19:56.734-08:00Weather angst<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">Oh the weather rage I’ve felt this weekend. You’d think with this blog I’d be all loved up and hippy with the weather (take it easy man, it’s just rain!) but no. I am not immune to turning on the weather, using a tone normally associated with seamen, when it comes to the weather adversely affecting my TRAVEL.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;">I found myself in the setting that has been the inspiration for so many movies, spoofs and reality TV shows, my plane was delayed indefinitely due to snow. I was stuck for what felt like an entire weekend in the multi travelator sporting, limited food but abundance of fragrance offering airport of Schiphol in Amsterdam. Oh the rage. You know the completely debilitating feeling you have when everything is happening TO you and you can do nothing about it? Had it. And the boiling discomfort and frustration, mixed with anxiety that you’re going to miss something crucial if you even go to the toilet? Had that too. I also cursed the day I had ever seen snow and decided it had no real positive benefit on any of nature's ecosystems, so why the hell did it exist in the first place. The very weather activity which you’ve previously read about in glowing, nay nostalgic, posts in this blog became the one reason I didn’t get home until three in the morning, my bestie didn’t make it to a fantastic girls weekend and why I met and had actual dialogue with about 12 random people.</span><br />
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Lets look at some of the players in my little skit, shall we? Me, solo, on 4 hours sleep, getting more and more depressed with each increasing hour, but generally the silent extra. The very angry, profanity favouring, regional English lass (lets call her Louise), the smart, well dressed London male duo coming back from holiday and the group of four Australian 20 somethings heading back from a week of memory loss and greening out.</span><br />
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Louise, for the most part, was the protagonist. She partook in aggressive public conversations with airport staff about the estimated departure for our flight, vocal calls for a mini revolution from those of us not participating, constant pleading for someone to accompany her to the smoking room and finally divulged her life story, played out pantomime style. We were the for 5 hours and her fly was down the entire time.</span><br />
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The male duo were the supporting cast by taking it upon themselves to constantly update the group via the British Airways website and a slowly decreasing in power iphone. They also walked really fast around the airport, doing laps of the perimeter. They were, to be fair, quite handy. And fit.</span><br />
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Our Australian quartet showcased in a bit part, mostly entertaining for having one still ‘greening out’ mate who fell asleep on an airport buggy for three hours and then awoke thinking they had made it to London. The others showed their skills by joining Louise on one of her infamous trips to the smoking lounge, only to leave their luggage there. Luckily the males were on hand to fast walk them back.</span><br />
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Ultimately the very frustrating and inconvenient night turned into an epic story I’ve told at least three times since. Here I am telling it in part to you! Why do we love these stories? We wouldn’t normally take relish in retelling an event that at the time was filled with such frustration, but weather travel stories are generally hilarious. We might not be laughing when we’re in them, but the aftermath can become some of our best material. We’re faced with adversity, we prevail, and the Louise’s of the world become some of the funniest shit we’ve told at the pub.</span><br />
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So I can’t be all hating on the inclement weather, it’s time to change the attitude and have a little foresight. The next time you’re stuck in snow, floods, an insane tornado, get through the angst but remember to take notes. In the retelling, it’s all in the details.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"><i><b>London tomorrow, we are slowly experiencing that deep winter chill where 5 degrees feels balmy. Tomorrow will NOT be tshirt weather.</b></i></span>jesskeeley.com/weatherwatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11730828726764699046noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1251877323158346260.post-24325033627058003232010-11-28T10:37:00.001-08:002010-11-28T10:39:10.815-08:00Let it snow, let it snow<link href="file://localhost/Users/bj/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0clip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List"></link> <link href="file://localhost/Users/bj/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0clip_themedata.xml" rel="themeData"></link> <style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-AU"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Our UK winter adventure started this week with the promise of SNOW. This has been combined with the trickling through of social network statements from friends in Berlin, Amsterdam, Bristol, all decrying this to be SNOW TIME!<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-AU"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And the excitement! Truly, people are losing their shit over the snow. They’re also losing their shit when promised snow and said snow is a no show (how awesome is language). What is it about this white rainfall? A friend on facebook wondered, “</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Am I the only one who finds the fact that frozen water falls from the sky exciting and weird?” No Kizza, you’re not alone. In fact, it seems everyone is in awe of the whiteness. Just look at the ways we get so heavily involved during a snow day.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">SNOWMEN. Hilarious. We decide the best ode to this natural wonder is to build something from it vaguely resembling the human form. Oh, people. So predictable.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Look how happy he is!!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-AU"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">SNOW FIGHT. Throwing anything else shaped into a ball at someone (read mud, rocks, faeces) and you’d be banished from the fun times friendship group. But with snow? You’re the FUNNEST GUY EVER! Snowball fight!<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-AU"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">SNOW ANGELS. Living in Canada as a kid, we would do this on the walk home from school. The snow fight rule pretty much applies here, mum would be none too happy if we came home after making dirt angels. But in snow? Photo moment!<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-AU"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">This isn't me, nor do i know the small children in this photo</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-AU"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-AU"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">SNOW CAVES. Another childhood moment, because I have yet to do this as an adult (the day is still young…) We used to carve snow caves from the mass of snow outside our house and my sister would determine the strength of the structure by asking me to lie in the cave while she ‘tested’ the roof. With her boots. She was no engineer so this inevitably led to tears. Mine. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-AU"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So snow = fun, excitement and immaturity. But there’s another side, when snow = cosy winter times with the fire, soft smiles and forgotten arguments. For some reason the delivery of snow, even though it’s a result of freezing temperatures, is the weather phenomenon that represents hope, joy, calm, rebirth. How many Christmas movie moments showcase an argument dissolving into swelling orchestral music and snowfall? In that surreal, engrossing weather moment, all is forgiven. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-AU"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Maybe it’s the gentle way it falls from the sky, the soft pillows it forms on tree branches, the white purity which covers the mundane everyday, but snow is the warmest, most joyful weather hug on a grey day. And its hands are freezing. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-AU"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIBMV9grMnBJYzrFzmVpO3KDxlUfPdAqSu7qQyO_JFxXmGAg3HVHZpUFBX6W6Jey6bKRhaU6u9U15orDCvNnDdLuZdIFwtSXAiKEHzKSAaT7SaZPUCB-B31_jrzfInP8Vjy9HnOl7f5rc/s1600/couple%252Ckiss%252Csnow%252Cwinter-ab7baf830c983045b13f1466e5fca7d2_m.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIBMV9grMnBJYzrFzmVpO3KDxlUfPdAqSu7qQyO_JFxXmGAg3HVHZpUFBX6W6Jey6bKRhaU6u9U15orDCvNnDdLuZdIFwtSXAiKEHzKSAaT7SaZPUCB-B31_jrzfInP8Vjy9HnOl7f5rc/s1600/couple%252Ckiss%252Csnow%252Cwinter-ab7baf830c983045b13f1466e5fca7d2_m.jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-AU"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-AU"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">London tomorrow, cold and sunny blah blah. But lets not talk about tomorrow. Lets talk about TUESDAY! Highest potential for actual snow this week. Let it snow!!</span></b></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>jesskeeley.com/weatherwatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11730828726764699046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1251877323158346260.post-53362545793287337162010-11-21T09:17:00.001-08:002010-11-21T09:20:00.979-08:00Holiday, celebrate<link href="file://localhost/Users/bj/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0clip_filelist.xml" rel="File-List"></link> <link href="file://localhost/Users/bj/Library/Caches/TemporaryItems/msoclip/0clip_themedata.xml" rel="themeData"></link> <style>
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<div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-AU"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">A co worker came back to our grey, overheated London office this week sporting the tan of a Brazilian parade dancer. Golden, even and envy inspiring (clearly admired for the healthy glow, not the cancer potential). This one look defined where she had been on her holiday (clearly not to take curling lessons) and also implied she had THE BEST TIME EVER. Why? Because the weather was amazing. So amazing it had tattooed it's joy on her skin in a golden hue. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-AU"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We wear our holiday weather marks with pride. The tan lines we just couldn't avoid, the racoon like goggle mark after the best ever ski trip. These markings from the environment are proof that we are open-minded world travellers, with the body to pull off a bikini.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-AU"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The tan wasn't always a look you wore inappropriately low clothing to show off, or tried to have someone replicate whilst wearing a plastic see through g string. Back in the day (not used in the common sense, like back in the day last week, but much more literally, meaning back in the day 1800s) the tan was considered the fashion choice of the lower classes. You were tanned because you were out working the fields like a schmuck, not sitting in the parlour learning languages you would never use (thanks Jane Austen). Social climbing women of this day even went as far as to use lead-based makeup to appear super pale (and therefore clearly unversed in the ways of the plough). Wiki sums up the risks of this pale trend perfectly by telling us “these cosmetics slowly caused their death through lead poisoning.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-AU"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Come 1903 the Noble Prize for medicine was awarded to Niels Finsen after he discovered his light therapy cured diseases such as rickets. All of a sudden a tan was healthy, if not also representative of a now dormant contagious disease. With tanning needing a severe PR lift in steps the lady herself, Coco Chanel (what look <i>didn’t</i> she pioneer???) Coco spent a little too long enjoying the rays in the French Riviera, therefore creating a legion of women who wanted the crisp, sunburnt look too. The holiday tan (along with it’s high end lifestyle implications) was born.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-AU"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Nowadays, despite numerous sun smart campaigns (slip, slop, slap being my favourite), we still rejoice when someone says 'you look SO brown.' <i>Sub text: I am overwrought with the jealousy I'm feeling as a result of your freedom to spend numerous days in a row bathing in blazing sun.</i> The amazing weather of our holiday is written all over our skin, in a glowing tribute to it’s carefree days.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Holiday, celebrate hey?</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi_pS6omJyKt_uiUXcer0_KLVtPiuZfnt-y8DmvevAU-wY2WXU39oJmk2Uyke1tq90ii7GNm6Q7kjXkKHf2qc4WMMOy7cUWk56hpunjUldqqUCbOypCISn2n0r2B-YnoqoQkYPLNwenXQ/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi_pS6omJyKt_uiUXcer0_KLVtPiuZfnt-y8DmvevAU-wY2WXU39oJmk2Uyke1tq90ii7GNm6Q7kjXkKHf2qc4WMMOy7cUWk56hpunjUldqqUCbOypCISn2n0r2B-YnoqoQkYPLNwenXQ/s1600/images.jpeg" /></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-AU"><i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Paris tomorrow (where I shall be working up a storm – weather metaphor!), looks a little on the chilly front. With no hint of peaking Autumn sun (it’s not even winter proper yet!!), get your gloves out. </span></span></b></i><o:p></o:p></span></div>jesskeeley.com/weatherwatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11730828726764699046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1251877323158346260.post-66597947610898731532010-11-15T13:16:00.000-08:002010-11-15T13:16:18.794-08:00Why are we always talking smack about the weather?<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">First up I WISH I had come up with that title. I didn't, it wasn't me, but I join its indignant chorus. Why are we always talking smack about the weather?<br />
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I came across an outstanding, possibly written solely for me, article on NPR. </span></span></span><a href="http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=130373159"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=130373159</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Entitled the above it delves into the reasons why our approach to describing the weather is unfair, mean and almost downright uncool.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="color: black;"> <br />
<b><i> “</i></b></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333;"><b><i>We speak of attacking tornadoes, deadly winds, killing frosts, sinister clouds. We treat heat waves like crime waves, storm threats like terrorist threats.</i></b></span></span><span style="color: black;"><b><i>”</i></b></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;"><span style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">How often have you felt in peril when faced with a ‘severe weather system’? It IS severe! You're right! Words are powerful persuaders and Linton Weeks (hello amazing name) discusses how we use them willy nilly when describing the weather. </span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> The article goes into the reasons why our own trusted weather reporters feel the need to sensationalise the weather, <i><b>"</b></i></span></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><b>A Weather Channel forecaster speaks of an October storm front as a "disturbance moving its way through the <st1:placename w:st="on">Ohio</st1:placename> <st1:placetype w:st="on">Valley</st1:placetype> ... even sneaking toward <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Pittsburgh</st1:city></st1:place>.</b></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><i><b>"" </b></i> </span></span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The sensationalist approach works for every great story. Exaggeration, drama, gratuitous use of adjectives, all helps us tell a much more engaging tale. It just might be time the weather stopped playing our villain and became our heroine. <br />
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We can fix this travesty with a little spin, another great tool of sensationalist journalism. Rain on your wedding day, an awesome way to incorporate umbrella fashion into otherwise boring group photos! Scorching sun when you're playing bowls, unreal opportunity to whip your top off and tie it around your head, Arabian nights style. Spin it right and there’s a positive side to even the most threatening of clouds.<br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3FatHtUTGso1d1-LK6sp75JZ8tgPIJr4Y-UNwIpvzoPdFvW2__2MAVcS-TAlgeNDVPklrUgm8-NSvpHfr3ijTbCIJFSE5CzZb4JOOhP_qQ48ODZ-oRhU4qdvtNcNuXgm127pdzjoXSzo/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3FatHtUTGso1d1-LK6sp75JZ8tgPIJr4Y-UNwIpvzoPdFvW2__2MAVcS-TAlgeNDVPklrUgm8-NSvpHfr3ijTbCIJFSE5CzZb4JOOhP_qQ48ODZ-oRhU4qdvtNcNuXgm127pdzjoXSzo/s320/images.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12pt; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Use the back chick as your inspiration. Front is just rather ambitious with only a bowls uniform to play with.<b> </b></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;"><span style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> <br />
Remember the last flooded outdoor festival you went to? How you were bitching and moaning about not wanting to get amongst it and that your favourite “musical group” would now have to play for you in your hotel bathroom because there was no freaking way you were getting out in THAT to see them? And then remember seeing 20 year old shirtless guys being absolute jerks and diving (literally) into a round of mud wrestling? Look at them just not giving a shit about their shirts (they’re off anyway) or the fact that this is the only year they forgot to bring gum boots. Hows them just throwing caution to the screaming wind and getting knee deep in the sludgy, smelly, thick mud pits? Possibly having the best time ever? Those 20 year olds on a footy high could teach you something,* they were having a lot more fun than you.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;"><span style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In the end we’re not going to change the weather by bitching about it. In fact, we’re just causing ourselves grief over something well beyond our skill set. Yes the weather can contribute to a shitty day and YES the weather can kill, in uber dramatic circumstances, but the weather is generally not out to get YOU. It’s just doing it’s thing. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;"><span style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So how about instead of talking smack about the weather you let it join your homeboys? Then she’s always got your back…rain or shine. <br />
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<st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on"><b><i>London</i></b></st1:city></st1:place><b><i> tomorrow, </i></b></span></span></span><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><i>a delightful “brisk” morning, perfect for starting the day with the longest, hottest shower you can squeeze in. On the walk to work fog patches will dot the atmosphere like a non contagious miasma. It will be terrifically dry later on, with the possible odd shower, especially near coasts. You lucky sea folk! </i></b></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> *These boys may be able to teach you things, but the lesson on when a motionless, drunk waitress is most definitely up for having sex with you and four of your mates is probably worth skipping.</span></span></div>jesskeeley.com/weatherwatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11730828726764699046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1251877323158346260.post-53104485118590878562010-11-09T13:31:00.000-08:002010-11-09T13:31:04.346-08:00There's a chill in the air...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So I've spent these past few days in complete weather awe. Iceland is possibly the only place I've visited where the weather not only affects the day to day, but is completely linked to people's lives. From their fashion styles to food, to literature, this whole place is one big, earthy pot of weather soup.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>On arrival</b>, snow!! Look, it's snow! And a feeling that it actually wasn't as cold as we thought it would be, despite it being 2 degrees. Night proved I'd gotten slightly cocky, with icy streets having it out with London weather boots. Pleased to report though, that the winter coat so snuggly packed away until now is totally doing it's job.</span></span><br />
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<b>Day two </b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">is a</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><b> </b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">different story, and the weather completely kicks my ass. About 3 degrees, possibly colder, with a piercing Arctic wind and just a smattering of rain. A bit damp, a bit chilly and a bit uncomfortable.</span><br />
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<b>Then today,</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"> full 'back to nature' mode. The outdoors here in Iceland are stunning, breathtaking and brutal. A picturesque day with a beaming sun and I don't think I've actually ever been colder. This is the kind of weather that really showcases your inadequacies. Tomorrow I plan on warming these limbs back up with some geothermal soaking... </span><br />
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So with the extreme chill factor the best example of Icelandic fusion with the weather is that </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><b>ALL</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"> the cool kids are in knits. Grandma knits! These are patterned and possibly sport a hood. Amazing. Found out there is a national knitting association of Iceland which not only has it's own shop, but advertises in cool kids mags. The need to dress for the weather has affected the entire culture of fashion, and for the better, considering how snug I am. (Did you think I wasn't going to purchase a knit?)</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqLEq0QEOlPpem5JQIqlCiXUiJ9V-uOuNEKeztncCEDbe6g6A6p0zbLP84lG7BTDX0gLK4YFmdCsCcyB_FotSK2rVvR7D8tXYXho6d2e4JTSCySqhxuvOny5WKlNngw68qtDnWDvNwsSE/s1600/picbig01874.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqLEq0QEOlPpem5JQIqlCiXUiJ9V-uOuNEKeztncCEDbe6g6A6p0zbLP84lG7BTDX0gLK4YFmdCsCcyB_FotSK2rVvR7D8tXYXho6d2e4JTSCySqhxuvOny5WKlNngw68qtDnWDvNwsSE/s1600/picbig01874.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.handknit.is/en/user/home">http://www.handknit.is/en/user/home</a></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">With the daylight hours fading into a seemingly never ending winter darkness, first timers here can apparently get the winter sads*. Having a cheeky tea break (from the weather) I discovered an article on, yep, surviving the winter. The very quaint and definitely sensible tips were all for making your apartment the cosiest it can be, taking up winter sports and eating. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">With the weather friendly dressing, embracing of the elements and a smart attitude to making the weather work FOR you, this is my kind of town!</span></span><br />
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<b><i>Tomorrow in Reykjavik, a beautiful day to end seeing the Northern Lights! About 2 degrees, crystal clear and brutal. Just the way Iceland likes it. </i></b></span><br />
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* this I am not making up. There is a diagnosis called SAD (not yet generally accepted, but out there), Seasonal Affective Disorder. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"><a href="http://www.psychologyinfo.com/depression/sad.htm">http://www.psychologyinfo.com/depression/sad.htm</a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Take that, says the weather. </span></span><br />
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</span></span>jesskeeley.com/weatherwatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11730828726764699046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1251877323158346260.post-14177205260534160022010-11-03T17:11:00.000-07:002010-11-03T17:11:17.443-07:00Bright Sunshiny Day<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Today in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">London</st1:place></st1:city> was pure weather joy. Stepping out into the morning you just wanted to gulp in the air and sunshine and digest it for eternity. It was mild, calm and oh, so bright. A seriously perfect Autumn day. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Just look at what was peeking out over <st1:street w:st="on"><st1:address w:st="on">Portobello Road</st1:address></st1:street> this morning!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I know it’s slightly weird to bring digestion and weather together, but in the time of the year when you know, you can SMELL, how close winter is, it seems like everyone needs to store a little sunshine </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">SOMEWHERE for the coming months.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But how do you really do it? How can you feel the summer in the dead of winter? </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>FREEZE BERRIES</b>. I have a freezer full of rosy red and blue goodness. If there’s something that spells summer fun more than berry compote, I haven’t found it. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>PLAY VOLLEYBALL</b>. Inside. How summery is volleyball? It’s like you’re on summer camp. In the 50s. With Patrick Swayze. (Sigh…)</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>HEAT YOUR HOUSE TO 28 AND ONLY WEAR SINGLETS</b>. Not very environmental and only recommended in times of desperation. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>WATCH MOVIES ABOUT THE BEACH</b>. Wearing swimmers. (See aforementioned need to heat). Not Beaches though. Too sad. Or The Beach. Too scary. National Lampoon's Summer Vacation?</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>LISTEN TO THE BEACH BOYS</b>. In particular anything from Surfin’ Safari, and <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Kokomo</st1:place></st1:city>.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">What about keeping the cosy winter vibe through summer? Sometimes you just want to hike up to the <st1:place w:st="on">Blue Mountains</st1:place> and drink red wine in front of an open fire. But it’s 38 degrees c. How to reconnect?<br />
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<b> FAKE SNOW</b>. My mum once bought a whole two cans of this stuff for our xmas tree. It doesn’t look anything like snow, but it’s white. And white on green looks cold. Get spraying!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>GO ICESKATING</b>. Inside. A <st1:placetype w:st="on">Mount</st1:placetype> <st1:placename w:st="on">Thebarton</st1:placename> used to be near my house in <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Adelaide</st1:place></st1:city>. They always used to play Spaceman by Babylon Zoo. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>AIR CON</b>. See aforementioned heating suggestion, but reverse it. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>WATCH ANY MOVIE</b>. As long as it's in a cinema. Why is it always so cold in there??</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>LISTEN TO BING <st1:place w:st="on">CROSBY</st1:place></b>. In particular Winter Wonderland. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Ultimately we love the change of seasons, but those last few weeks before the change are the hardest. Who says you can't save a little of your favourite for a rainy day?</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Tomorrow in London is full of more joyous temperatures and perfect, Autumn sun kisses. Embrace while you can! I have a feeling this won't last...</span></span></i></b></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>jesskeeley.com/weatherwatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11730828726764699046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1251877323158346260.post-27586123616258111212010-10-30T09:37:00.000-07:002010-10-30T09:37:57.716-07:00Rainy days...<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I've been banging on quite a bit about the weather fashion choices we make. Not to keep on it, but a very good friend divulged to me last night that she is a part of a whole new world of weather fashion. RAIN PANTS. She wears rain pants. This is because there aint no rainy weather which is going to stop her from riding her bike (she does live in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:city w:st="on">Amsterdam</st1:city></st1:place>.)</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
This got me thinking. Is she serious? What does she actually look like in these rain pants? Then I moved to the more sensible contemplation of how often we tailor what we wear to match the elements thrown at us by Mother Nature. The probable answer for most of us is not enough! </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When I was little and getting ready for school camp, nothing gave me more giddy bursts of excitement than reading the printed list of what to pack. It often looked like this:</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCBUD9ASLIRd-ZHLYaJs2k928aM00v6CtBI11PXl2thOW5wahvdWgtxSKIkW4VBgVwv0Rc1EwrcLBYDkZMNzHLQiV9WUwA_kDTM_kYj6YMX3UPyGSS1jRspEM6mo2G10Rv5E5rc3ca9Lg/s1600/Packing+List.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCBUD9ASLIRd-ZHLYaJs2k928aM00v6CtBI11PXl2thOW5wahvdWgtxSKIkW4VBgVwv0Rc1EwrcLBYDkZMNzHLQiV9WUwA_kDTM_kYj6YMX3UPyGSS1jRspEM6mo2G10Rv5E5rc3ca9Lg/s400/Packing+List.jpg" width="400" /></span></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Everything about these lists screams sensible. Which is appropriate, because when you’re a kid you’re totally cool with wearing a hand me down Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles windbreaker. You just want to be dry, have a good time and win the “make a raft” challenge.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The lack of fashion self consciousness we had as kids is the perfect marriage to have with the weather. As adults we do sometimes make these sensible choices, like when we go white water rafting, but more often than not we’re in a constant battle of newly straightened hair vs humidity, open toed sandals vs torrential flooding. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So, I've been inspired by the rain pants and have now deduced that dressing for the weather is the ultimate un-fashion victim choice. We need to play friends with the outside and meet it halfway by donning a three quarter sleeve when the sun is out, but there’s a hint of wind, and making sure we have a covered toe in the wet. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Rain pants are definitely the new black.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ6C_8lc_W8ve19bXi986ke80Vbk56FIaXaCErIzAnsn3xHLDKn1LLSv1elALHyzSX8horWWwA0Ruj3X9x668prut1t-nuhkZN8WTOxjOU66qcV9IGzUvNzDpgPjoaMdE-mLWW00ZkhEY/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ6C_8lc_W8ve19bXi986ke80Vbk56FIaXaCErIzAnsn3xHLDKn1LLSv1elALHyzSX8horWWwA0Ruj3X9x668prut1t-nuhkZN8WTOxjOU66qcV9IGzUvNzDpgPjoaMdE-mLWW00ZkhEY/s1600/images.jpg" /></span></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">In Amsterdam</span></span></b></i></st1:place></st1:city><i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> tomorrow, all the talk of rain pants will pay off. This place gets WET. Temperatures will also be NEARLY deserving of the winter coat. Good thing the canals are so pretty…</span></span></b></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></b></i></div>jesskeeley.com/weatherwatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11730828726764699046noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1251877323158346260.post-45372042803741746972010-10-27T14:32:00.000-07:002010-10-27T14:32:57.345-07:00Why Does It Always Rain On Me?<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">When you don’t have an umbrella that cheeky cardinal rule kicks in, it’ll rain. Probably pour. The weather gods love a gag!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">But do you really want to be carrying around a golf caddy worthy sized umbrella in potentially blazing sun? What about the teeny, emergency, in your bags ones? Are they really going to do the job?</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I’m not going to go all mythbusters and roadtest the durability of these spindly protectors from the wet, but I will list some pros and cons and hopefully inspire someone to create the ultimate weather dome.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>TEENY IN YOUR BAG ONES</b></span></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"></span></span></o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: small;">Pros ** fits in your bag because it’s teeny</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Cons ** the teeniness makes the bones somewhat fragile and this will inevitably happen:</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnqv-uDv_Z1JHNTivQM-agKmcg4kRzjLPX-mjB4oCLMcw7md247z92EBOErfapAG3YlHWG6pg88wR0HeCK0dcrto5NrvCI2JGWN2gTTJtHUVZ8KtB5mlpepLSmX2ovdYJmwApXiDCeD0g/s1600/images+(5).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnqv-uDv_Z1JHNTivQM-agKmcg4kRzjLPX-mjB4oCLMcw7md247z92EBOErfapAG3YlHWG6pg88wR0HeCK0dcrto5NrvCI2JGWN2gTTJtHUVZ8KtB5mlpepLSmX2ovdYJmwApXiDCeD0g/s1600/images+(5).jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">That looks so, so sad. </span></span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b>HUMONGOUS GOLF SIZED ONES</b></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Pros ** the ultimate rain protector</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Cons ** carrying</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNxQvKJ7AB5Sy6SiPPH2FIjEeLg_XpCWlqyaFReoZuroLWT_29UgGVuZSCWelp79smhrMRnGdoNooeiFODe6lJZe-lZZc5W_rBCSP-fKo3EIYkbEOb0sUt88kzUM19MPqlGdou6rwxJLk/s1600/big_umbrella3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNxQvKJ7AB5Sy6SiPPH2FIjEeLg_XpCWlqyaFReoZuroLWT_29UgGVuZSCWelp79smhrMRnGdoNooeiFODe6lJZe-lZZc5W_rBCSP-fKo3EIYkbEOb0sUt88kzUM19MPqlGdou6rwxJLk/s320/big_umbrella3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">With those two options it's clear someone needs to be come up with a sturdy dome, which can also slip into the most delicate of pocket books.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Maybe these folk know how to do it?</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0u4c7aKYpNmVnEIHcRJXTZF-4sqA1it7c0DPvca5DZhG8abuE1ijR5PUDayU1js_9wg8S8ZTC6YJbh2_Ehm4u-YThd1ejRIHxSB_WJ_tWrMzziGlvgyBGRC9a3rRHkzN_GZB0_fuDkqQ/s1600/nubrella.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0u4c7aKYpNmVnEIHcRJXTZF-4sqA1it7c0DPvca5DZhG8abuE1ijR5PUDayU1js_9wg8S8ZTC6YJbh2_Ehm4u-YThd1ejRIHxSB_WJ_tWrMzziGlvgyBGRC9a3rRHkzN_GZB0_fuDkqQ/s320/nubrella.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Futuristic AND protective.</span></span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></o:p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnxqbgjEG7USobl1iUtv0AxtrkKegJpZvbzZK4XiFNw6ft5BkNqP-pJEQKGupzO8Ymlc9wEjNsp-GDCH46qorpKEVPuwQeZfmsN_JqlvQ55dWFduXooTSr9ZR6mFNWHcFisyJGRvhh_QM/s1600/images+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnxqbgjEG7USobl1iUtv0AxtrkKegJpZvbzZK4XiFNw6ft5BkNqP-pJEQKGupzO8Ymlc9wEjNsp-GDCH46qorpKEVPuwQeZfmsN_JqlvQ55dWFduXooTSr9ZR6mFNWHcFisyJGRvhh_QM/s1600/images+(2).jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Genius, seriously. How hard is it to walk next to someone and keep underneath the umbrella edges? Answer, super hard and <i>awkward</i>.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja0-5wn56dRSTKwMQ1AZH6qv0hXQfu3Kn3mvg3VgcJFXj8zGeCNpzx5DQFKeUEZhME5AdV3SI4bP_0shOvyYnV5A7a9gR44ISnQO3VlncSA80gQcrFmg5YkGw0XaCHhHUe_c3epYMi-64/s1600/images+(4).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja0-5wn56dRSTKwMQ1AZH6qv0hXQfu3Kn3mvg3VgcJFXj8zGeCNpzx5DQFKeUEZhME5AdV3SI4bP_0shOvyYnV5A7a9gR44ISnQO3VlncSA80gQcrFmg5YkGw0XaCHhHUe_c3epYMi-64/s1600/images+(4).jpg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It's like she's in the TV show Gladiators!!!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I'm not sure how any of those babies fold up, but surely you’d be the driest belle at any rainy ball. Lets all get inventing!</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b><i>London</i></b></span></span></st1:place></st1:city><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b><i> tomorrow, no need for any kind of brolly! In fact it looks like it might even get to, shock, three quarter sleeves weather! (16 degrees +)</i></b></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b><i><br />
</i></b></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><b><i>Or so it seems...the weather gods might be having a damned comedy night up there.</i></b></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">PS:</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYI6l-rDrrYOevWBCW9f53SELjtEmgN-5-e3c09R7NHzGrpdj9u4dhSIwvmbu6DZA_p0bZyIw_koZraK5WQEY_WlHmoAeQR5Ss2vV1bVrLe9XMW5pJWK1SKeiTGIMVu5csomCdOzNzDEs/s1600/images+(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYI6l-rDrrYOevWBCW9f53SELjtEmgN-5-e3c09R7NHzGrpdj9u4dhSIwvmbu6DZA_p0bZyIw_koZraK5WQEY_WlHmoAeQR5Ss2vV1bVrLe9XMW5pJWK1SKeiTGIMVu5csomCdOzNzDEs/s1600/images+(1).jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>??</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div>jesskeeley.com/weatherwatchhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11730828726764699046noreply@blogger.com0