Sooooo, this is pretty slack. I have excuses! Well, mostly one excuse. She’s quite small but takes up an inordinate amount of time. Also, it was my birthday and I got an iPad. I thought I would barely use it but as it turns out, it has barely left my hot little hand and I don’t remember the last time I turned the computer on. Totally unprecedented and I have actually changed my Internet workflow to accommodate it. The shame. Therefore I am trying to figure out how to blog via iPad before this thing withers up and dies completely. I now have a little dongle thing which lets me transfer my camera photos (issue 1) and the wordpress app installed (issue 2) and I think I have a way via Instagram to actually post said photos (very major issue 3). Let’s find out, shall we? Also I think I need a keyboard. My hands already feel like they’re crunching up into claws.

Last time we talked, baby Alice looked like this:

Well, usually she is more sort of upright. And although it looks like the Frog has dropped her, in fact I laid her on her side and she raised her leg and arm. Tricksy!

The Hair. You are jealous.

Someone found a cosy place to sleep. I had to put a saucepan in the pram for a week or so until he reluctantly admitted defeat.

Baby Jail! Confined while we helped friends move house. This is last week, Alice is five months old and the hair is finally making a break for it. It all fell out in the bath over about three days… floating on top of the water in a thick layer. I hope it starts growing in again soon as I barely recognise her.

On nom nom.

And this is yesterday at Fed Square in the freezing cold. She has to wear hats now to keep her head warm. Yes, many of the hats have ears. I’m not made of STONE here, people.

So now you’re up to date. It’s all going well and finally my habits of talking to myself in public and pulling ridiculous faces are paying off. The Frog dog is happy with all the company during the day while he maintains his busy sleeping schedule, and walks well with a pram. As shown the Orange Cat is doing less well on the sleeping front but is holding his own. And unfortunately the other cat, who has been turning more and more feral over the past few months until we could barely touch him, met his end on the busy road. I am sick of losing cats so we will be sticking to the one remaining representative from now on. He is a ginger, true, but we have to work with what we’ve got.

april? really?

This year is going really fast. Just me? Maybe. My parents have just been here for two weeks and now they have gone home and the baby is bored. And no one is hanging out my washing. OUTRAGEOUS.

I spent $7.50 to dress my baby in a shark sunsuit I knew she’d only wear once. WORTH IT.

And as per commenter Cas’s suggestion, I am changing the baby’s blog pseudonym to Alice. WHY DIDN’T I THINK OF THIS. So Alice it is… only because I don’t think Shark Girl will really catch on.

Oh, and if you look at the top of the page there, there are more photos under the Photo A Day meme. Mind the gaps. Although I often take photos every day, it’s not always the RIGHT photo. As it were. I’ll plug the gaps when I get a chance. Probably.

So how have YOU been?



OK, so I did not get around to making the cake. What, nobody is going to even pretend to be surprised? Mr T expressed a desire to make an orange poppyseed cake, and that also did not eventuate. Woe. No cake. Regardless, it was a beautiful warm day, the sort that Melbourne just throws at you all casual-like to keep you hanging on through the blustery scattered showers of spring. We went down to pick up some dinner earlier and the beach/pier/foreshore/reserve area of our little suburb was heaving. I personally counted three lobster red arms + white singlet outline casualties in the first ten metres alone. Mostly, I was glad it wasn’t me.

 Still too cold for swimming. Then again, I am a wimp.



I went to Ikea today. I got none of the things I particularly went to get (linen curtains, a particular type of storage box) and instead ended up with Christmas decorations and a silicone cake tin. Although it’s silicon, so it’s not really a tin, is it? Cake pan. Cake holder. Whatever, you know what I mean. I’ve just looked it up on their website (it’s the SOCKERKAKA which clearly needs to be in caps, and also said aloud with JAZZ HANDS) and apparently it’s a cake mould. And because there are two of them I’m supposed to make TWO cakes and put one on top of the other. I did not realise this. This sounds good. I will do that tomorrow. It is supposed to be 30 degrees tomorrow, to which I say: OUR TURN FOR SUMMER, NORTHERN HEMISPHERE. It has been cold and dark and dark and cold here and I have been doing a LOT of sleeping. Not your ideal cake baking weather, true, but if I do it I will have a lovely sunny day and also cake. This is win-win.

I went to find another photo to add to this post and could only find the one below, which is the first photo I took with this new camera. Oh, I dropped my old camera in wet sand at the dog beach. Don’t do that, by the way; your camera won’t like it. I did try to get all the sand out with a little paintbrush but it ground its little gears at me and still refuses to turn on. I live in hope.  Anyway, I got a new one (thank god little cameras are cheap these days), charged the battery, sat on the floor, turned around and took a photo of the nearest thing to me, which was my ginger cat in the dog’s bed. Apparently the flash was on. He wasn’t impressed.




I know, right?

Guess what? It’s May. MAY. I don’t know where the hell this year is going. Anyway, I’ve been in New Zealand for the past three weeks, which explains my complete lack of internet-ness. The previous weeks… well, I’ve got nothing. Disappearing! It’s what we do! Anyway, now I’m back and I have some sort of hideous throat infection which has become an horrific sinus cold thing. Why am I always getting sick lately? I remember when I was never sick. Never! I took the train by god and no germs could touch me! Now, however, I have been coughing weakly and staring with great suspicion at anything which looks like food. Which is to say, anything. This has only been compounded by the smell of my kitchen, which I have not walked into for a week. You think I am joking but I am not. We came back from holiday to find the power had gone off and tripped a fuse, which meant everything had been off. Including the fridge and freezer. For a week. A WEEK. Thank god Mr T dealt with all of that because in my sickened state I couldn’t even face it. We have three fridges and two freezers and all of them were mouldy. Currently they are filled with nothing but giant mounds of baking soda and, funnily enough, ground coffee. The coffee is really doing the trick. There’s a tip for you, should you ever need to throw out $500 worth of spoiled meat. And I sincerely hope you don’t.

Little dog is back, and is… pretty big now actually. He went to his breeder’s house and played 23 hours a day with his sister and three other dogs. He’s exhausted. Also skinny, as he walks away from his bowl (an only dog, obviously) and the other four fling themselves towards the unattended food like homing missiles. Three weeks and he never learned that if he turned his back on dinner, it was NEVER THERE when he came back. The cats, on the other hand, are fat and glossy. I have no idea what they were feeding them but they are in far better condition than when we dropped them off. Sushi? Avocado oil? I should find out, they look like a shampoo ad.

oh dear

Happy New Year internet! Cue tiny glittery trumpets, and party hats, and party poppers with streamers (and may I say that last New Years Eve, someone set one of those off right in my face. This year they were setting off marine flares. I kept my distance.) I do have lots of photos of my entirely too short summer camping getaway(s), but as aforementioned I have an iPhone and as of about 20 minutes ago I now know how to take screenshots. Cue the text messages between me (walking through Costco, stung with the consumer desire to BUY THINGS ANY THINGS NEW THINGS, and emailing photos of said things to Mr. T); and Mr T (at home in a slightly more rational state of mind). Note Mr. T had previously looked at watches at Costco, so that comment is not entirely out of context.

And this right here sums up our entire relationship.

I should note that for full context (and slightly more value from this blog entry) you have to have seen The Castle. And not just to make sense of this exchange; but because it’s genius. The movie, not the exchange. That’s pretty pedestrian really.

…. This is going to be one of those things that’s only funny to me, isn’t it? Oh well. As usual, I amuse myself. Dog photos on the way, promise!


Look, it’s the internet! HIIII INTERNET. Here I am. Did you miss me? (Great silence) See, that’s what I thought. Fickle internet! Now you’re onto your new sporadic-posting, giant-dog-having blogger of the moment! And I even updated my template (again). For you. FOR YOU, INTERNET. Oh the humanity.

Anyway, my most recent absence has been to to my parents visiting Melbourne for my mum’s 60th birthday, which has been fun. It also means my house has been cleaned to the apex of its possible cleanliness. I don’t know if I’ve mentioned that my mum, and my sister to an even greater extent, are compulsively tidy people.  By that I mean that yes, they clean, but more properly they Neaten. Neither will leave a room if there is a mug or a newspaper or a pair of shoes that should be whisked into their correct place. They will wipe down the bathroom sink before they leave the bathroom. They hang up clothes after they wear them. Me? I am not a Neatener. I am sort of its polar opposite: a Messener. Yes, I’m totally making up words here. You see where I’m going with this. Anyway, it’s not like my mum doesn’t know this, being my mum and all, but she is my houseguest and so if I don’t clean stuff up, she will get up and do it instead, negating the Guest part. So I have been strenuously houseproud for about two weeks now and damn, it does not come naturally. I wish it did, because my house is so much nicer to live in, but it is totally against my slovenly nature. And by that, I mean that I will leave a mug on the side table overnight. For a few days, even. Shoes will build up by the front door (mostly due to Mr. T, who is unfortunately a fellow Messener). The bathroom sink gets hair and toothpaste on it as well as the necklace I wore last week and the glass of water I drank the week before that. Clean washing builds up in a big pile instead of being folded and put away immediately. It’s not a Pit of Filth, but it’s far from the home of a Neatener, if you know what I mean. Anyway, if anyone knows some sort of shock therapy or something to make you enjoy Neatening, please let me know. Or just apply the electrodes directly to my scalp. I love surprises!

I have no more photos of the dog, surprisingly, but here is an update: he is either ripping things to bits (sheepskins, soft toys, bones) or fast asleep after having been to dog daycare. Have I told you the dog goes to daycare? It is HILARIOUS. We want to keep him well socialised around other dogs, so he goes to daycare a couple of days a week and romps around with tiny, tiny puppies. They still class him as a puppy so he’s in with dogs about the size of his head. He’s very gentle apparently, so he gets to stay with them rather than moving in with the big dogs. He comes home completely exhausted, staggers into the house, eats his dinner, and falls asleep immediately for about 14 hours. It’s brilliant. They also give you a little sheet telling you all about what he’s done during the day and who his best friend was. ADORABLE. Hey, I guess if you’re paying for daycare, you get the full daycare experience. No webcam unfortunately but possibly that’s for the best.

And although I can’t find photos of the dog, I have found more of the trip. This one is from one of the freeways, driving into Seattle. State freeways and highways are numbered, of course, and here in Victoria they’re usually in a shield or a circle or something. Nothing so boring for Washington state, however:

The road numbers were in a Big Head. The big head of, you’ll notice, Washington. Big Head! Of Washington! Awesome, I tell you. Hey, if you have a legitimate reason to include Washington in your signage, I am totally in favour of using his Big Head everywhere you can.


Yes, I know there was a thing when people blogged every day for the whole month of November. But a few of us chose the path less travelled… to NOT post for the entire month of November! Ah, the rackings of my brains as I chose what not to post… it was epic, really. No, thank YOU.

Also: I have been sick. Quite sick. I blame Geelong, as I went down there for the day and on the way back I thought, self, throat feels sore. As in the muscles of my actual throat felt sore; not like I had a tickly throat. I got home, ate some dinner, and thought I might just drop my head onto the couch arm for a minute. Hours later, Mr. T was waking me; and I went to bed, and there I stayed for the next 18 hours. Then I got up for a few hours, then back to bed for another 18. This is pretty much the opposite of how I usually live, and it is REALLY BORING. Anyway, to top this off I lost my voice on Friday night for the entire weekend. I had sort of recovered it by Monday, so I went to work and everyone found me most amusing; then my boss turned up and ordered me home. I went, because thinking had given me a headache. Bit depressing really. I am sort of all right now, but still not 100%. Who gets a sore throat and goes down like a sack of shit for a week? Me, apparently. And I guess a special sort of languishing Victorian heroine. Although I’m guessing they’d be less likely to describe themselves as sacks of shit. That reminds me; I tried to watch some movies in the past 2 days I was sick but couldn’t connect up our ludicrously complicated home theatre so it would show movies in colour (they all came out black and white); however I did find the new BBC Emma on youtube and watched my way through a few episodes of that instead. Romola has the buggiest eyes. I say this as someone who also has buggy eyes; constantly when I watch her I am horrified that my bugginess may rival hers. Say it isn’t so.

New Cat update: He LOVES the other cat and disdains us for his company. He also still does that annoying new cat thing when he flinches away from being patted and freaks OUT for no reason whatsoever, fleeing the room madly in a panic that he might be touched. However this is less frequent now and he actively comes to be patted now, especially when you are in bed asleep and not actively wanting, perhaps, to pat a cat. He will never be as affectionate as Orange Cat, who is aggressively loving and in fact annoyingly so; this is a Good Thing, as I don’t think we could cope with another such cat.

We has a moth.

get in mah belleh

OK, so I go back to New Zealand tomorrow for a week of (I presume) frenetic activity and rushing around. Yay! I am totally organised, in that everything that needs to be done is written on index cards. I mean, I still have to DO these things, or get others to do these things, but apart from that it’s smooth sailing. Right? What could go wrong?   *crickets*

Car Update: Picked up the new car on Saturday morning. I am a bit eh on cars normally (actual conversation: “What sort of car are you getting?” “A grey one.”) but turns out I really like this one. Which is good, because now I’m stuck with it. It’s going to live at work while we’re away, so that it is nicely locked away and undercover. And I’ve only stalled it three times so far! (I never stall cars usually, but the clutch on this one is much, um, zippier than the Land Rover. Yes, “zippier” is a technical car term.)

Breakfast Update: I made (heavily modified) dutch babies for Sunday morning brunch. This may be the third week in a row I have done this; I neither confirm nor deny. They are like gigantic fluffy pancakes, but really they’re half-pancake, half-omelette. Anyway, I opened the oven door to take a photo of them, like so:

Aaaaaand all the condensation whooshed out of the oven and steamed up my camera lens, like so:

Oh, there’s the roof of the New Car out in the driveway. And no, my kitchen doesn’t usually look like it’s clearing from a morning mist; I am clearly a photographic genius. However, I am a genius with A DELICIOUS BREAKFAST, which counts for something.

live in a cold climate

You know it’s a bad sign when you have to read your own blog to figure out what you’re up to. Answer: you’re totally up to date. Nothing more has happened. OK, maybe a little bit has happened. Shall we do bullet points? Answer: Yes.

Mr T has bought some bathroom scales, which is an item we have never owned. He set them up and levelled all the complicated electrickery parts (of COURSE they’re the complicated kind of scales) and then weighed himself. I then weighed myself out of interest and was horrified. HORRIFIED. Now, I haven’t weighed myself for a good couple of years but I am quietly confident that my weight doesn’t change much. I like to think I weigh X, I actually weigh X + 3kg, and yet these scales were telling me that I weighed X + 8kg. The scales are WRONG. Clearly. Can’t be right. Can’t. I shifted my weight to see if that would help, and nearly tipped the cat off my shoulders where he was… ah. Right. That’s five extra kilos of STUPIDITY, right there. Ahem. After releasing the cat (who was quite enjoying himself) it turns out I weigh X + 3kg. As I thought. Actually, these scales can also tell you your fat percentage, a no doubt horrifying number that I have NO WISH to know.

Wedding update: OK, I was lying about the bullet points. It’s paragraphs, all the way!

Days To Go: Actually, I don’t know. Calendar? 23 days. OK then. That seems… close.

People Freaking Out: One, my mum. Maybe more. Although she now has something to wear, which is good.

Bridesmaids with Clothes: One, or 100%. This is good, because I forgot my sister can’t make a decision to save her life, and therefore telling her to wear whatever she wanted was actually a special kind of torture. Anyway, she found an awesome dress in peacock blue silk. Done.

Grooms with Clothes: One, or 100% (200% if you count the best man, who just has to follow along, poor lamb). Clothes had all been decided ages ago, but we couldn’t find any shoes (barefoot would have been fine but bloody cold). Shoes found: Chuck Taylors, which look great. He is considering bright blue ones, but turned down the silver velvet ones (silver velvet! They were so nice to pat). I’ll keep you posted on what actually eventuates.

Wedding Dresses Owned: Three. Yes. Correct. Remember when, a couple of weeks ago, I said there was a long story here? Well clearly it has now gotten even longer, and is in fact so complicated that I can’t remember where in the story I am up to when I talk to people, and just sort of gloss over the whole thing. Short story: decided on dress and couldn’t find anything similar off the rack or as a sample or second-hand. My only option, with my short timeline, was to get it made in China. China sent me the dress, which was a) the wrong colour and b) had a gigantic starfish made of beading on the bodice. I pointed out this out. China flogged the 9-year old seamstress (I may be extrapolating this part) and sent me the dress again, without requiring me to send back the other dress. Received dress number 2, which was the right colour but (due I presume to being made within a week by a flogged seamstress) had one shoulder strap half a cm larger than the other and because this colour fabric was somehow thinner, the boning was visible through the dress. Well, I felt it was, even though my Objective Opinion Person thought I was mad and that the dress looked great. It just wasn’t as awesome as I’d hoped. But the dress is flattering and fixable and I was prepared to fix it, especially considering I got it made at the standard length and had to get it taken up anyway. Except that on Saturday I just stuck my head into the clearance bridal shop I had been to at the start of my search (and found nothing then) and… of course found a dress. It’s basically the floor sample of the original dress which had just made its way into the store that week: identical designer, identical colour, very similar cut, half price. So of course I bought it and now I have three dresses. And keep in mind this is the SHORT version of this story. Are you exhausted yet? Try being me. So the moral of the story is as I said it was all the time: buying a dress off the internet is a gamble, but it is one that can pay off. If it doesn’t, be prepared to deal with it.

No, Wait, Go Back to the Starfish: I know, it really is the funniest part. On the original picture of the dress, there’s a brooch on the bodice. I didn’t think to mention the brooch to the Chinese people, as I planned to turf any tacky brooch they sent me and source my own brooch. Here is a mistake right here: NEVER ASSUME. Because instead of just pinning a crappy brooch to the dress, they “interpreted” the brooch in beading. A LOT of beading. With ARMS. I was… mildly nonplussed when I zipped open the bag, that’s for sure. I have just gone looking for photos but they are all blurry once I crop myself out of them, so I’ll get right on that.

What, No Photos At All? I’m as surprised as you are.

Car Update: Eleven weeks. ELEVEN WEEKS. I have the patience of a SAINT. They tell me this Saturday. They have told me this EVERY Saturday. I am… not optimistic.