6 August 2009
It is really windy outside – howling and whistling around the windows. I am thinking much more about the weather since I have been catching the train for the last month. Or is it more than a month? I’m pretty sure the mechanics who have my car are fobbing us off with stories and slowly stripping my car for parts. All I can say is, I wish they’d hurry up about it as it’s bound to rain on me one of these days. I have been walking around four times a day, five days a week, for five weeks in the middle of winter, and I’ve been rained on twice. Plus one sort of drizzle which I didn’t count. If that doesn’t tell you we’re in a drought I don’t know what will. Over the same period in Auckland I would have been soaked to the skin at least three times, and dampened considerably for another dozen. But: Rain = 2. In other train counts, Crazy = 1 (a guy who was probably more drugged than crazy but was wearing a large Mad Hatter-style hat, rendering him quaint rather than scary), Inappropriate Conversations = 1 (one lady ringing up her daughter’s school to plead for her to stay on the netball team even though she hadn’t paid the school fees), Wrong Trains Caught = 1 (I leapt on a departing train, congratulating myself for my cleverness, before discovering far too late that it was running express to Laverton, which is a long way from where I live; and also is not the sort of place you want to stand around at night waiting for a train to go back the other way, necessitating a call to Mr T to pick me up, as fortunately he was working out that way and on his way home, and this is the longest sentence EVER that is totally official).
… and it is at this point that my laptop shut down without warning. AGAIN. It has been overheating regularly in the past few weeks, so this time I cracked the shits and made Mr. T open the back of it to see if there was any dust in the fan thing. Apparently this can contribute to the overheating. So he waited for it to cool down then unscrewed the back and… um. Turns out this laptop is quite an effective vaccuum cleaner. Packed into the fan vent bit was a tiny carpet of compressed dust and dog hair. He peeled it out of the little recess like he was picking up a thick piece of felt. Whoops. Hey guess what! The laptop is SO MUCH COOLER on my lap now. Who could guess? And here is my post, saved automatically into Drafts, thank you WordPress. I mean, it’s not the best post ever written, or even the best written TODAY, but I would have been annoyed to lose it.
OK here is a photo of my cat. I was taking it to show his new collar (I have never known cats to lose collars as often as this one and his brother, it’s an epidemic I tell you) but I don’t think I’ll send it to the Etsy seller as it looks like…
… I’m poking the cat in the eye. I’m not, for the record. And he’s sitting on my stomach as I’m lying flat on the bed so the photo was quite hard to take, OK? I’m not sure that justifies me not-poking him in the eye (I’m NOT), but I thought I’d point it out. Mitigating circumstances, and all that.
26 July 2009
Well I have none of the photos we discussed recently; that’s just the sort of continuity expertise I’ve got going on over here. Look, there’s no point in being jealous. Also, speaking of continuity, I have finished the Aldi breakfast cereal mentioned over there —> in the sidebar. By the end of the packet I had remembered why I don’t like cereal; the flake things scratched the roof of my mouth, and there’s never the right ratio of nice bits to not-nice bits, and when I left the bowl of milk dregs sitting on my desk at work all day (something I did, sadly, extremely often) the milk practically solidified into a revolting remnant-filled pannacotta. What is IN cereal? I probably don’t want to know. So now I’m back to not liking cereal, apart from porridge, which doesn’t count.
Actually I’m feeling a little bit sick at the moment, not due to cereal I’m sure, but possibly due to cleaning all the old paint splatters off my ensuite bathroom window this afternoon. Not splattered from ME; they were there when we bought the house. And now, some 18 months in, I’ve decided to do something about it since they shit me every time I see them, which is twice a day minimum, which is a lot of built up irritation right there. Anyway, turns out the paint spatters are NOT on the outside as I thought; they are on the inside. So I spent a frustrating half hour with a bottle of turps and a safety pin, alternately rubbing hundreds of tiny paint spatters then scratching at them with the pin. And apparently being trapped in a tiny bathroom with a bottle of turps will give you a headache. Hey, it’s not like I could open the window; because a) I was scratching at it with a pin, and b) it’s locked and we can’t find its key. Anyway, the window now looks MAHvellous, or at least at marvelous as a brown aluminium-framed window can look. There’s no photos of that either; think of a window. There, isn’t that nice?
Anyway, what I do have a photo of, and I had forgotten all about it, is this:
I know! A herd of bunnies! With little love-heart pockets on their bums! I made these several months ago as part of the toy collection for the Victorian bushfire appeals. Livebird did the same, but she remembered to post photos at a decent interval; please note she made multiple toys, with actual arms and legs and EYES, with carefully chosen fabric combinations. Whereas my inspiration was pretty much: OMG BUNNIES!!!1!11!!
BUNNIES! OMG!
23 July 2009
I don’t know why I feel like if there’s no photo, there’s no point in posting. Why, when I started this here blog thing, back in the mists of time when I was typing on a DESKTOP missy, and none of your flat screen LCD monitors either, this was OLD SCHOOL, and… wait, where was I? Right, yes, back in the mists of time. Then, along with my peeps King Arthur and Run DMC, I very rarely posted photos. And now it seems I feel odd posting without one. Do you need the photos? You’ll come for just the whining, right? I mean, I can TAKE photos. Right now your choices are:
a) Orange cat stretched out to a ridiculous long noodle-like length beside me, down the side of the couch
b) The Roomba, newly revitalised with clean sensors and a new battery (yeah, my Roomba stopped working. Didn’t help that I used to have this grey cat who loved to stand on top of it and move his paws until he hit the Power button, then jump aside and watch with fascination as the Roomba reversed… then stopped, see: new battery above)
c) Mr. T sitting in front of me on the ottoman, drinking a bottle of water and watching Prison Break (note we do not watch Prison Break and I had to ask what program it was) (now he is mocking me typing, which I can do without looking at the screen, thank you fifth form shorthand/typing elective) (now he is back on the couch and seeing how long and noodle-y he can stretch out the orange cat) (LIVEBLOGGING, PEOPLE! Quick! To my neglected Twitter!)
d) No photos of the Brown Dog possible as he has put himself to bed in our bedroom and it is COLD up that end of the house and I’m not going there (at least until Mr. T goes to bed and warms it up to an acceptable level, ie. frost no longer visible on the sheets)
e) Two empty teacups on the side table beside me (let’s not also discuss the empty chocolate biscuit packet also on that table; hey, they lasted A LONG TIME, almost a WEEK even)
Right, wait, what was I talking about? No photos, that’s it. Aaand… instead I’ve discussed the photos I didn’t take. This is SO MUCH better.
13 July 2009
Thanks for all your lovely comments on my cat, and from nobly refraining from slandering my wedding choices to my face. But hopefully you’re doing it behind my back, right? Right? Although it’s the internet, you know; you can actually do it right to my face and there’s not a damn thing I could do about it. Apart from delete you, like the (holy crap) 29 spam comments I just deleted. WordPress, you were worth it just for your delicious spam-catching abilities.
Anyway, none of you are spam and I appreciate you, and should write you a thank-you card within 4-6 weeks. Or is that the wedding? I forget. Anyway, all my invitations have been addressed and sent out so WOE BETIDE anyone that asks me about the cake. Also, I’ve realised that nowhere on the invite is my or Mr. T’s last name mentioned. Oh well, if you don’t know my last name you’re probably not invited, no? That’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Just eat your free cake, dammit. The addressing of the envelopes was quite a performance in itself; because I can’t write in a straight line, I printed out some nice dark lines on printer paper to slip into the envelope and use as guidelines. However my envelopes were too thick to see the lines through the front. What do do? I need a light table, is what I need. Which is why you would have seen me addressing envelopes cross-legged on the couch, leaning on a glass baking dish on my knees, with an Ikea lamp between my legs and shining up under the glass dish. Voila! Instant light table. Of course, it’s quite hot having a lamp between your legs, but it just encouraged me to finish the job quickly. 60 watts of encouragement, as it were. Luckily there are no pictures but I’m sure you’re all very imaginative.
What else? My car has died AGAIN. I really do like my car, but the advice of the mechanics who currently have it is, “Once we fix it, sell this car immediately”. Um. OK then. Cue Mr. T pretending to drive me to fun places like Target (I had to buy Lego! Do you know how expensive Lego is? It is WICKED expensive) and on the way suddenly swerving towards car yards and making me walk round them. This weekend just gone in Melbourne was BLOODY FREEZING and also FUCKING WINDY and the last thing I wanted to do was walk round goddamned car yards. However this rates as one of Mr. T’s Favourite Things to Do (it’s a guy thing I think) so he was more than thrilled to expound on the virtues of this car or that car. My input? Sitting in the driver’s seat and making sure I can see to the edges of my bonnet (I hate not being able to see the front of my car) and that I don’t sit too low (I like the high sitting position of 4WDs, being a shortarse myself). That’s it. That’s my sum total of requirements for a car. Wait, and cup holders. So I am interested to see what I end up with. It’s in Mr. T’s hands now. But as of the last few weeks I have not had a car, requiring me to catch the train into work, which has been fine (seeing as it’s been school holidays here). Tomorrow: not school holidays. And it’s not that my train fills up with schoolchildren, it’s that a lot of people take leave in the holidays. In theory they are all back tomorrow. And I have been enjoying having a seat and reading my way through the Narnia series too. Oh well, it was good while it lasted.
And in actual fact I haven’t been in Melbourne; I was in Sydney for work, where the weather looked like this:
Yes it’s the middle of winter in Sydney too. Yes I was wearing long sleeves, but not long sleeves plus a coat plus a scarf plus arm warmer/glove things. It’s times like this I can see the attraction of Sydney, I really can. And I also found a fantastic IGA with heaps of my favourite Asian snacky things, like this:
It’s a cowboy! Who is also perhaps some type of pretzel! I haven’t eaten him yet, but I’ll keep you informed.
15 June 2009
Hmmm, this updating thing is just not happening. Can I blame winter? Because it’s bloody FREEZING. I feel I can also blame the fact I’ve just worked twelve straight days in a row, including all three days of a long weekend, which: SUCK. I mean, it’s my job and I knew it was coming and I’ll get days in lieu, but still. And it was freezing then as well, to boot. Anyway, I’m still waiting on my co-worker’s photos of our overseas trip (which are way better than mine, given that he had no qualms about winding down the car window and taking photos of people, which I felt a bit Colonial Imperialist about) so no photos of that yet. Instead, look at Some Things I Bought:
No, I don’t have a maltese. This cost me 20c and I paid 50c at a sort of giant garage sale/market, and the nice man running the stall then followed me round the hall to try to return 30c to me, bless him. I should have bought the other wine glasses that were “Best of Breed, Canberra KCC” but I’ve never been to Canberra. I’ve never had a maltese either, come to think of it, but that didn’t stop me buying this one. I like the angry little expression on his angry little face.
Speaking of angry little dogs (or… not), here is the Brown Dog in his new dog bed. A week ago, Mr. T was seized by the notion that the Brown Dog was cold at night, and nothing would do but that I buy him a dog bed on ebay. Putting aside the fact this dog has never been cold in his life (he lies down on snow – SNOW – and then licks his bollocks) he also does not take well to beds or mats, preferring instead to sprawl out all over the floor. However, most mornings when we’ve woken up we’ve found him curled up in the bed; so maybe he’s onto something. Next thing, he’ll be wanting to get him a little coat. Might as well get a maltese, then.
NYERH. I scorn your maltese suggestion.
28 May 2009
OH YES I LIIIIVE! O. Hai. Yes, I have been back since Sunday. Yes, it is Thursday. But unfortunately for your good selves (and even more unfortunately for me) I was felled, FELLED I tell you, by gastro not 12 hours after I returned triumphant to Melbourne. No, not swine flu. Nothing so important to the government. Just run of the mill, regular old debilitating gastroenteritis. The last few days have been a bit of a blur. Nobody wants to hear the details of gastro (the pain! the whimpering! the BUCKET!) so I will spare you. The worst part though, was the first night, where I was up every half an hour and my actions blended into some sort of ghastly dream sequence and I would wake from my sweaty doze convinced this was the last time. It’s the last time! Thank god! My dream said so! Let me tell you, it was NEVER the last time. NEVER. Days later, I thought to ask Mr. T where he was during this time; turns out he was sleeping on the couch. Under a towel. Yes, a towel. He would not approach me nor the spare blankets during this time and I DON’T BLAME HIM. Anyway, I feel much better now (yes, it’s Thursday and I have lost an entire week) but as a result I have basically no memories of my week away, wiped out as they currently are by The Horror. Give me time to get actually well and I’ll post some photos up. OF THE TRIP. I have no photos of the last four days and you should thank me.
And I did actually get tested for swine flu (well I went to the doctor and he stuck a thermometer in my ear) and I am 100% swine-free. Which I am glad about, because I sat next to a very nice English couple on my connecting flight home from Singapore and I would hate to ruin their holiday. So. What have you been up to while I’ve been gone?
14 May 2009
I know, right? I’m going to just post here like I didn’t just disappear for ages. And really I’m only here to say I’m going away for a week. WHAT SORT OF A BLOG IS THIS I DEMAND A REFUND. Clearly not all parties are living up to their ends of the bargain here, if you know what I mean. And I think you do. Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yes, I’m going away for a week, overseas for work. To a WAR ZONE. OK, maybe not the actual war zone itself, but definitely a country on the No Travel list. It’ll be fine, of course. The worst of it is my arm really hurts from the vaccinations. My doctor was positively gleeful stabbing those things in. “Work’s paying for this, you say? Get inoculated for this as well! And this too! Just in case!” The things I am protected from do not include swine flu, bird flu or any other sort of flu; so of course I shall be seated adjacent to the most coughing, hacking person on the plane. Oh, and to keep the coughers at bay I bought a fake travel engagement ring from ebay. It was listed as a “child’s ring”. Oh yes. Apparently my ring finger is similar to that of “a child 3-4 years old”. Now, that CAN’T be right. I am short, true, but my fingers are not particularly small. I would say they are positively stubby, in fact. And yet I am wearing a fake gold ring with a fake emerald in it like some sort of fake 4 year old. Oh well. At least if I lose it down the drain I can throw a tantrum.
Brown Dog Update: He’s fine. He wants you to know that he’s hungry and would like some ice cream.
Wedding Update: Tried on dresses. Eh. Not feeling it. Mr T ordered a titanium wedding ring and isn’t overly impressed, so will return it. Date is set; venue is booked; photographer is booked. Please note my mum did the entire last bit, while all I did was to trip over multiple bridal petticoats and nearly garotte myself with the lace overlay.
Oh, and Photo Update: Don’t you love it when what you’re cooking turns out just like the picture?
Mr T’s brunch masterpiece (some sort of fluffy apple pancake) (I typed pantcake first) (not as tasty)
The original, from delicious magazine. OK admittedly they have a nicer cast iron frypan than me, and a much more stylish kitchen, but COME ON. Close.
24 April 2009
I return! Thanks for your kind wishes; they are much appreciated. I told my family about the engagement rather offhandedly, thinking it was such an obvious step that nobody would be surprised – turns out everyone is WILDLY EXCITED and treating it like a huge event. Thinking about it, it’s probably because everyone thought we would never get around to it at all. And they would not be wrong. But here we are, and there are millions of bookmarks on my computer for things that I never even knew existed a month ago. Actually I’m quite glad people are excited as we’re having the wedding in New Zealand, which means that others need to do all my running around for me. Apparently they’re enjoying doing it, so it’s win-win. As for the planning. let’s get it all down here. Skip to the next part for dogs if that’s your preference.
- Date: Narrowed to two (09/09 and 10/10; it’s a family tradition for me and yes 09/09/09 is a Wednesday. Your point?)
- Venue: One of the many beachside restaurants of Auckland. Mr T’s only request is to have the ceremony on a beach in bare feet, which is fine by me. I don’t want or need a huge dedicated reception venue as the guest list is just…
- Guest List: Approx 50, plus about 8 children (I wanted smaller but am not fretting about it)
- Broidesmaid: My sister
- Best Man: Mr T’s oldest school friend, for whom he was best man a few years ago
- Dress: Liking a tea length, Audrey Hepburn style in my head. However I am yet to try one on; will no doubt find out I look nothing like AH and weep overwrought tears… “BUT OI’M THE BROIDE!”
- Hair: Scrunched up into a bun thing with a flower. An old family friend will do my hair and makeup, such as it is. Tick.
- Flowers: Either my aunt or someone’s 92-year old grandmother will do the flowers. Low on my priority list so this suits me fine. Please don’t ask any more details on the grandmother as I’m hazy myself.
- Ring: Looking tomorrow, but I am notoriously fussy and can’t find anything I like. Almost all diamond solitaires do nothing for me, which leaves me with much less to choose from.
OK that’s as far as I’ve got. You may all open your eyes now and look at this photo of My Dog:
Can you see? It’s not very clear in the photo, unfortunately, but his left leg (on the right of the photo) is about twice the size of his right (on the left). The vet said it’s either a ligament thing, or a sprain, or a fracture, or, you know, bone cancer. Ah. Good. Here, have $500 to have a closer look with x-rays. They didn’t knock him out for the x-rays (my good placid dog) and have ruled out cancer (big relief) and any fracture, but we still don’t know what it is. Hey, haven’t I just HAD a really sick dog? I’m pretty sure I don’t need another one, thanks. So far our treatment strategy consists of grabbing his head, pulling his face really close and saying firmly, “DON’T HAVE CANCER.” It seems to be working.
13 April 2009
Well I just got back from my Easter break, which was in Gippsland. You pronounce that with the g like ‘gills’, not with the g like ‘gypsy’. I don’t know whether that’s a long G or a short G, but I do know I called it Gyppsland when I first got to Melbourne and was mocked mercilessly. I mean, it’s not like I’m not mocked mercilessly still, but it’s less for pronunciation these days and more for plain old stupidity.
Anyway, there was horrendous rain and thunder when I was driving in: there was lightning all around me and it was suddenly very dark and it was like I was driving into a horror movie. Mr. T had a martial arts camp all Easter so it was only me going away – SUCK IT, I said joyfully as I accelerated away. Or so I thought until I realised there was nobody but me to drive towards the Eye of Mordor. Bugger. Once I got there it rained for a solid three hours and then the weather was beautiful for the rest of the entire long weekend. Ah yes, where was I? SUCK IT, that’s right. We spent a lot of time down by the lake…
… just sitting around doing nothing. This is my ideal holiday, except I FORGOT MY BOOK and had to talk to people instead. The hell. However there was much Easter chocolate which went a long way to restore my spirits. I bit the head of multiple Lindt bunnies and JE NE REGRETTE REIN. I keep their little red bells like trophies. Nom nom nom trophies.
It was also my birthday on Friday – Good Friday, naturally – and I got lots of good presents and also engaged. Also by this photo, freakishly tall:
No, not really that tall, but yes really engaged. It has been discussed for a while and so it begins. I can’t promise I won’t talk about wedding planning here but if I start to become obsessed with, I don’t know, table linens or boutonnieres or something, I want one of you stalkers to turn up at my house and slap me hard. Especially since I don’t know what a boutonniere is, really, but I have an uncomfortable feeling I’m about to find out. The plan at present is a really small wedding, in September, in New Zealand. Once I started drafting a guest list I realised Really Small might have to move up to Quite Small or perhaps Medium Small, but the rule still stand that we both must know every person there. And possibly dance the boutonniere, but I’ll get back to you on that once I learn all the steps.
And yes, Mr. T did propose and I did drive off for three days not two hours afterwards, telling him to SUCK IT as I went. Might as well start how we fully intend to go on, don’t you think?
9 April 2009
OK, so we’ve established that the audience here is 80% more likely than the general population to be unlacing themselves as they head to the toilet. MY PEOPLE. I am, you are, we are Australian. Or perhaps not, but I am at least using their toilets.
You’ll be pleased to know that I charged my camera battery. The charger was in the metal bin which all the chargers are kept in, the same bin I had looked in four times, the same bin that Mr. T looked in ONCE and in which he found the charger almost immediately. I am finding it hard to live that one down. I mean, I grabbed it off him and told him to shut it and whipped him with the power cord; but it didn’t make me feel any better because I AM THE FINDER and HE IS THE BAD LOOKER WHO CAN’T FIND and the natural order of things has been reversed. I’m sure it will all go back to normal next time he wants, like, the sellotape (in the hall cupboard) or his passport (in the safe) or a piece of licorice (down the side of the couch). I just have to bide my time.
OK where was I? Photos! The weather has been nice here lately (although not this week; daylight savings has finished and it’s been raining. OH HAI AUTUMN.)
OK, this is the most common form of jellyfish on my beach. It’s like a transparent cylinder, and often curls into a comma-type shape, although it’s often stick straight as well. It’s about the same size and shape as one of those joke water-balloon things that slip through your hands in an endless loop (what are those things called?) I have only ever seen these washed up on the sand, not in the water.
This is the second most common jellyfish. Or, I guess, the rarest, since I’ve only ever seen two types of jellyfish here. Much bigger and much prettier. I always regret not bringing a stick with me so I can poke these ones back into the water. Their heads (bodies? ectoplasm?) reminds me of a hot cross bun, with the pale cross inside. BRAINS! JELLYFISH BRAINS!
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phantasmagoriaReading:
Stephen King, "Everything's Eventual". I found this abandoned in a suitcase.
Listening:
The snores of the Little Dog, who sadly seems just as loud and snorty at night as the Brown Dog.
Watching:
Endless episodes of UFC, which is some sort of fighting... thing. Do not want.
Eating:
I'm having a bit of an avocado binge. The Little Dog likes them too.
Liking:
Renovations! Apart from the cost of said renovations. Let's not think about that part.
Pondering:
If there is dirty washing in the basket, the cats ignore it... but if it is CLEAN, one of them has made a nest in there within 10 minutes. Five minutes, if it's black clothes.
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