27 February 2009
Oh hai! I didn’t mean to leave the blog hanging on a Post of Doom; but it often happens it seems. Either that or a Post of Drunkenness. (What do you mean you don’t notice those? Are you implying they blend right in with the normal state of affairs? I am HURT.) Anyway, I have been ignoring the blog because I have been getting comment spam, which is very annoying and my current comments system is not coping well. Mainly because I can’t log in as an admin which means I can’t delete spam comments easily. Well, OK, technically that’s a problem with ME and not with the comment system, which really can’t be blamed if I can’t remember my own login, but GOD, you are so PICKY today. Also I can’t lock old posts against getting comments which is where the spam was coming from. So, in effect, I have had to enable Blogger comments; and I am really not too confident on the outcome. Especially since this then required a new template, which I don’t love and am not convinced is working. CAN YOU SEE ME? If so I guess that’s Step One. Success! Let’s break for a beer.
You can’t see me. I am hiding.
Incidentally, do you think I can sell my barkcloth curtains on eBay?
… And OK, um, you’re not seeing a new template. I wrote that last night. I uploaded at least two templates in quick succession, only one of which worked, neither of which I liked, and turns out I also don’t like the new Blogger comments. Since I never actually comment on my OWN blog this really shouldn’t matter to me; but turns out it does. So I have put back the original system and template and solemnly swear never to waste four hours on a Thursday night doing this sort of crap again. Especially when I reverse it all in twenty minutes on a Friday. I still can’t disable comments on old posts when I want to but I’ll live with it. FOR NOW. She says threateningly. To no one in particular, it turns out.
Mr. T would like to make a joke here about what’s in his pants, but ignore him. Look at my pretty ottoman! I finally got it recovered and now it’s a Marimekko print. Only took me, um, a year. The scratching post in front of it is a very necessary precaution.
All is going well here; the kittens are pretty much cats and they are idiots. I always suspected as much and now it is true. The Grey Cat loves the toilet – in fact I need to emphasise that he loooOOOOooOOVES the toilet, with a dedicated and all-encompassing love. If you go into the bathroom he will patter in after you on his little white feet within seconds. With me, he sits on my lap and purrs with great satisfaction and vigour; with Mr. T, he stands on his hind legs and puts his feet on the toilet seat and peers between Mr. T’s legs, putting himself in great danger of being weed on. He also enjoys the flushing part of the proceedings, watching in great fascination as the water swirls and stops. I haven’t yet actually found him IN the toilet bowl, but he is so clumsy I’m sure it’s only a matter of time. As for the Ginger Cat, he could take or leave the toilet; however he loooOOOOooOOVES being picked up and held on your shoulder. It must always be your right shoulder though; he contorts himself greatly if you try to hold him on the left. He is also the talker, with a wide array of murps, squeaks, chirps and yowls. Both of them are lovely cats. You can’t have them.
Speaking of the toilet, the cats pull down the towel in the bathroom all the time. I walked in there the other night, turned the light on and saw this. I went to pick up the fallen towel and IT BIT ME. Apparently I had disturbed someone’s Lair. Not a bad lair, as lairs go, I imagine.
(And yes this is our unrenovated bathroom. Although I have replaced all the white & gold plastic hardware with silver, it remains resolutely mint green and the lino is a horror and I don’t know if I’ve ever told you about the shub. I haven’t? Oh, are you in for a TREAT.)
9 February 2009
As was predicted, Saturday was insanely hot. Mr. T kept checking the temperature map, which reached 47.3 degrees in the middle of Melbourne. I didn’t even step outside of the house until about 2pm, when I realised the vege garden was flat to the ground – you couldn’t even call it wilting. The wind was fiercely hot and stinging and huge eddies of leaves and dust and sticks were gusting around our street and our house. We left at around 4pm to visit friends, driving towards the east. We were detoured off a major freeway due to a spot fire burning and smoke shrouding the road. When we finally reached them, we found them in their pool – “wear shoes!” they yelled at us, because their glass-topped outdoor table had shattered in the heat earlier in the day. We spent the night in the pool or watching movies, after the cool change came through. We drove home. It rained, lightly, in the night.
It wasn’t until the next morning that I realised that further east, the state was burning fiercely and is still burning now. The death toll keeps rising and is now over 100. The animals in the thousands of hectares of burnt forest will remain uncounted. What can you do? We will donate money and we will donate blood, but what can you do, really?
The Grey Cat on our drought-stricken lawn, far away from danger.
7 January 2009
“Move aside, move aside there. Official Produce Inspector coming through. Mmm, yes, this seems to be a direct violation of the Cruelty To Vegetables Act 1987. This potato has clearly been languishing in a dark drawer for some time, as younger, less wrinkled potatoes are selected from around it, even as it reaches despairingly for the light. Criminal. You’re nicked.”
25 December 2008
Merry Christmas internet!!!
The wrappings are just as good as the presents…
23 December 2008
Oh hai! Would you like to see some nature photos?
 Isn’t that a lovely branch. Nice and large, from one of the trees that line the scenic boulevard of Swan Street. Very large indeed, it was, as it SNAPPED OFF THE TREE and fell DIRECTLY ONTO MY WINDSCREEN as I was driving along the road. Holy jesus fucking wept, people. Nature attacks! Luckily I was by myself on the road; but – I was BY MYSELF ON THE ROAD! How unlucky do you have to be, to be driving along an empty road and have half a tree fall directly on top of you? Christ on a motherfucking cracker. I had no warning – all I heard was an almighty BOOM as it hit my bonnet, then a pleasant rustling sound as it BOUNCED up my windscreen and rolled over the top of my car. What can you do? After I pulled over, and helped a cyclist pull the branch out of the road (it took two of us), and took these photos, I had a look at my car. It had a big bark scrape up the bonnet, and the branch sort of mangled my windscreen wipers (it must have pulled them up and out as it FLUNG ITSELF at me) but apart from that it seems to be OK. No dents or scratches that I have yet found, and Mr T scrubbed off the bark markings last night. I tangled with a tree AND LIVED. Nature 0, Land Rover 1.
 Look how THICK that is! If that had fallen at an angle it would have come directly through my windscreen and speared me through the heart. Or something. I’m not willing to rule it out at this point. Also I feel the need to accentuate my trauma, since I sent these photos to my boss yet got no stress leave or danger money. I did get to go to the pub for lunch though. Beer helps dull the pain of the post-traumatic stress flashbacks.
Onwards to more photos! Ones that don’t show the harbinger of my death!
I have been sewing and I have a little helper. He likes to lie on the wadding, and he likes to bat around the buttons, and he likes to jump upon a small piece of material and run off and hunch over it, nomming it like his life depends on it. But I emptied out one of my caddys looking for a zip, and when I turned back THIS had happened:
This is not right. I know there is space for two, but I don’t even want ONE. Actually, the more I look at that photo, the more I feel sort of vertiginous. It’s the angle, combined with the lines of the carpet, or something. I feel like my eyes are crossing. Maybe they are.
It’s been hot here the last few days, so the kittens are sleeping stretched out. WAAAAAY out.
Hey, that’s MY bed. And I made it and everything, which is a really rare occurrence, like, I don’t know, getting HIT BY A TREE or something. I’m not thrilled with you both lolling all over it, to be honest. Why don’t you go and sleep on someone else’s bed?
…Oh. You are sleeping on someone else’s bed. The poor dog is sleeping on the floor. That sounds about right.
15 December 2008
Well, I’ve finally pulled the memory card onto this computer. You would think I would learn, after losing months of photos in a hard drive crash… but no, I’ve been walking around with all my photos entirely on my camera and backed up exactly nowhere. Considering I lose my mobile phone on a twice-weekly basis, this is not the best plan.
Glogg! Or, as some Danish friends kindly explained, it’s pronounced “glugg”. Or sort of more “gloog”. OK, like “gloog”, but like the Swedish Chef is saying it. Which is pretty much all you can say after drinking it. But isn’t the bottle pretty?
Oh hai we has a cat tree!!!1!! If I were cleverer, I would have tried to do that thing where one cat goes into the cubby and the other cat looks like it’s coming out at a different point, thereby creating a long and monstrous Giant Cat of Two Colours. That would have been cooler. Pretend that happened, OK?
I can has festivus? Here is my tiny tree. It doesn’t look that tiny here because of the Gigantor Payload of Presents below it. Trick: spread your presents out in a line one present deep, to maximise the aura of generosity. Also, for size, the tree is next to the TV cabinet – that’s the video clock you can see top right. Extrapolate the tree size out from the video size and you get quite a small tree. That carousel ornament is one I’ve had since I was 14 – my mum sent it over in my box this year. Hanging off the top is a pohutukawa angel, rather than a star.
I have stayed away from candles since the kittens burst onto the scene, but this one is brandied apple! Or apple brandy! Or something! Look, it’s festive is what I’m saying. It’s next to a tiny wooden bear I pretended I was buying for a five year old, but do you think it’s going to make it into his stocking? Even as I was pressing “Add To Cart” I knew I was kidding myself. Don’t tell him.
“So, dog, you try to ignore me. But you cannot ignore me. I shall not allow it. I shall get up from this spot and bite your jowls. Then you will know I exist.”
3 November 2008
I think I have weaned myself from the Twilight thing, thanks in no small part to My thoughts on Twilight, let me show you them. I LOLed. I think it’s passed now. You can all be grateful; I know I am. Mr. T will no doubt give heartfelt thanks that he no longer has to discuss vampires with me.
My other internet timesuck that I forgot all about once The bOoks appeared: Surf The Channel. As you can tell by the link, I myself was watching my way through Weeds (a series which always seemed to be on at odd times or be taken off without notice). But you may watch whatever takes your fancy. It’s FINE. Really. I don’t mind. I DON’T.
(As an aside (which is basically this entire website, really) I have decided to leave my capitalization error up there because it reminds me of The Librarian.)
So how was your weekend? We braved Ikea this weekend (I know, what the fuck possesses me sometimes) to buy something to fit in the computer/sewing room and hold all my junk. We did this (note I am glossing over the Experience that is Ikea on any given weekend) and slid the flat pack (Part 1 of 2) into the back of the Hilux. I said, “Do I need to hold that?” as Mr. T let it go to get Part 2 of 2, and Part 1 fell over onto the internal wheel arch. And BENT. Oh god Ikea is only made of fibreboard oh god my brand new ELFSTRUNG or whatever is snapped in half before it is even out of the box. I hyperventilated all the way home, and had formulated elaborate plans on how I was going to disguise a large piece of furniture with a big break across its top. Once we opened it at home, I found to my intense relief that it had bent at some internal point where there was a gap, and nothing was damaged. But I could just see it, you know? This is exactly the sort of thing that happens to me: spending several hundred dollars on some piece of furniture that is basically made out of wet bracken and Nordic dog hair, and snapping it like a pencil before it’s even in my house. If it is going to happen, I WILL HAPPEN TO IT. Then Mr. T had to spend 1 hour 22 minutes putting it together (I timed him) with kittens trying to get into every nook and cranny. In the end I shut them in one of the cupboards. They were confused by the glass door. Maybe I won’t tell the Save a Dog people that part.
We also went to the Vic Market and bought protein: prawns, meat, and a snapper. My only criteria for seafood at the moment is that it has to be Australian, which means we eat hardly any at all because the supermarkets are full of Vietnamese fish and Chinese prawns. Anyway, Mr. T chopped the snapper’s head off and smoked it. It was delicious. This meant the Brown Dog got the fish head, and about five minutes after he ran outside with it (you don’t think I’d let him eat a fish head INSIDE, do you?) he was back at the back door howling with impatience to get back in. As I went to open the door I was yelling at him, “Where’s your head? You can’t have finished that head already? That’s the only head there is, don’t be expecting another head when you get back in here.” I then realised that I might have hit my Top 5 Surreal Conversations with Myself this week without even breaking a sweat.
PS. SHE SMELLS DELICIOUS. LIKE BACON. (I feel uncomfortable using quotes without attribution; you don’t need to go here, it is just catharsis for me.)
I am the Grey Cat, and I am very difficult to take photos of.
31 October 2008
HIIIIIIIII INTERNET.
I don’t know what it is about this time of year which makes me run far, far away from the computer. The lighter evenings, probably. Whatever it is, I just don’t write much of anything anymore. It’s a loss, clearly.
Things I have done:
I went back to NZ last week for my nana’s funeral. Not the most fun trip home. I spoke as well, which… gah. Don’t do that. On the plus side, she was 92, sharp as a tack, and died peacefully. The alternative was the cancer which was diagnosed about 6 months ago and which had recently spread to her lungs, and apparently lung cancer is a nasty and painful way to die. For something that can never have good timing, she had good timing.
I tried to convince my kittens that the washing left to dry on the airing rack is not a gymnasium. Every day I come home to a pile of wet shirts pulled onto the floor and two innocent looking faces. Look, I know it’s not the dog. He stopped pulling washing off the line about six years ago. Also he is lazy. BUSTED.
I sprayed that spray bandage stuff onto a massive scratch on my leg caused by a falling kitten. Have you used that? Stings like a motherfucker. The kittens both have claws, but Colonel Mustard still has those needle-sharp baby claws, while Earl Grey seems to have thicker adult-like claws (and never uses them). Guess which one fell off the cat tree and onto me taking photos below it? Yeah.
Oh I bought a cat tree. Crazy cat person in 3… 2… wait let me go buy some cat toys from Ikea… 1. Having said that, at least they USE the cat tree, which was my biggest concern. And it is covered with plain beige carpet, not paw print or leopard skin fabric, which was my second biggest concern. Which is funny really, considering the house in fact looks like several bombs have gone off inside it (not helped by the wet washing all over the floor). But by god at least my cat tree blends in.
I read the Twilight series, all four books, in four nights. For those who don’t know, this series is aimed at teenagers and has a massive, probably rabid, fan following and the movie of the first book is out in a month. I did not know these things, so I read them without any hype, which was undoubtedly beneficial since it is, after all, Young Adult Romantic Vampire Fiction. My favourite was Book 3, I think, but because I read them in one long ribbon it might have been the latter part of Book 2. Book 4 is awful and then GOT WORSE. Stop at Book 3 if you can make yourself. I felt faintly nauseated after reading all four books at once, but I did feel compelled to. Make of that what you will. Executive Summary: he is beautiful and cold and intense; she is determined, in a limpet kind of way, astonishingly non-self-aware and frustrated the hell of me, to be honest. But again: compulsively read all four. Tell me if you’ve read them. We can bond. Like survivors.
I started using my Kitchen Aid which I bought in the US and made Mr. T lug halfway around the world. Due to a long and boring story, I didn’t need to buy a step-down power converter to get it to work, as Mr. T installed the Australian motor instead. I am using it far more often than I thought I would. It mixes a mean banananana cake, and last night I made afghans. The biscuit, not the rug. (Speaking of afghans, I have two massive crochet-square blankets that my nana made, and although I love them because she made them, it does make me smile to know they are the height of crafty fashion at the moment.)
I have Proof of the kittens. They are almost six months old now though, and are probably better called gangly adolescents.
Why they eats my food?
Brother on brother smackdown.
29 September 2008
Yes I’m back! And I have 600 photos (probably more like 800 now I think about it) and I cannot be arsed finding any to post here. Poor, poor form. So nothing changes.
The holiday was brilliant and we had a fantastic time. Highlight = Yosemite National Park, hands down. I could have spent close to three weeks there alone. I ate lots and lots of sweet food, bought too few clothes and shoes and too many kitchen accoutrements, and we just about hit an elk. No bears, though. I’m quite disappointed about the bears. I promise I will dig up some photos at some stage, but it’s either write this now and throw it up there or wait for a magical post full of photos. I think we know which it’s going to be.
Also, on Saturday it was Grand Final Day but we scorned it and went to the RSPCA for kittens. Which sadly means that my cat has not come home since he disappeared during a massive storm in April. We are sad about that, because he was The Best Cat In The World. However if he comes home now, he will have to deal with two kittens in his house (one of whom is currently biting my ankle OW and the other is making eyes at the mouse cord). Much as I would have liked to adopt an adult cat or two, it’s just not fair to make them deal with a gigantic dog who loooooves cats. So kittens it was. There were very few cats at the RSPCA, so onwards to the Lost Dogs Home in Malvern, which also has Lost Cats. There we found two 5-month old littermates, and now they are here.
Photos (probably waaay too many) to follow. However I will let you determine their colourings by their internet names: Colonel Mustard and Earl Grey. I think I have posted here before my love of the name Colonel Mustard; and Earl Grey is funny. Take my word for it.
Oh wait, I do have a couple of photos on this computer. This should tide you over. I’d like to be here right now.
21 April 2008
Look, I’m never going to write anything if i try to write down everything. I’m going to have to start slow and go from there.
- My hands are covered in paint as I’m writing this… there are one and a half rooms to go. This doesn’t count the lino-ed rooms (kitchen, dining room, 2 x bathrooms) which will wait for another time. The new carpet is coming on Friday, thus the haste for painting while I can still drip paint on the horrible, horrible old carpet with equanimity.
- I can’t see the TV because there is a mattress standing on its side between me and it. The TV. Because we’ve been sleeping in the lounge for weeks due to paint fumes. Well, for days due to paint fumes. Weeks, due to laziness to put back up the curtains. It’s not so bad except the dog can walk straight onto the bed and lie down on your throat. Well, he’s only done that once. Twice.
- It was my birthday. I had cake. It was good.
- The cat has gone missing, the day of the massive storms in Melbourne. This is not good and I am heartsick about it. We have letter dropped, signs, rung all the shelters repeatedly. We spend hours walking the streets calling. Which is also not good because it excites the dog and he looks around for the cat. Awful. I’m not talking about this any more, and won’t until we find him.
- Before all this, it was Easter and I went back to New Zealand. It was good and the weather was great. Man, I haven’t written here for a LONG time.
- I resigned from my job and am starting a new one in three weeks. This will be good but I am sad to leave all the people at my old job. Well, most of the people.
- I tried on a dress today and loved it, then casually looked at the price tag before I bought it. It was $249. I had no idea and I will not pay that. It was a tough call though, because I have no willpower. But I also have no money. I also didn’t buy green Camper boots, which were considerably more than $249, but they didn’t fit them properly so I didn’t feel so bad about leaving those behind.
I think that’s all for now. I don’t even have any photos. Well I do, but they’re all in the camera. But if I wait until I have photos… I think you know the rest.
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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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