six impossible things

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.

I know, right? Let’s just move RIGHT ALONG and pretend I’ve been here the whole time talking to you all … my god I have just been distracted mightily by seeing Miss Panama’s Miss World costume, seen in the first pic here. Now THAT, my friends, is a costume!

And since I’ve been here the whole time, no doubt I told you a friend of mine had a costume party for her 40th. Did I also tell you I have a friend old enough to have a 40th, spinning the rest of us into a spiralling vortex of our own mortality? Anyway, my costume was lame but Mr T’s costume was Scooby Doo and was a sure-fire hit. He didn’t like people grabbing his tail, though. The only downside was that he wouldn’t do a bottleshop run in the Scooby costume – he insisted on stripping down to his shorts and T-shirt he was wearing underneath. Which didn’t look at all weird, on a freezing night of about 2 degrees. Maybe marginally better than the Scooby costume. And then we went to ANOTHER 40th birthday (oh my god how is this happening, I swear it was all 21sts just a couple of years ago), this one a birthday dinner (at which I made the cardinal mistake of not looking up the restaurant and turned up in jeans – albeit jeans with a fancy shirt – and found everyone else in suits & little dresses at one of Melbourne’s fancy CBD restaurants, um, oops) and ended up sitting next to a vet, who turned out to be no ordinary vet, but one of the spinal surgeons who consulted on my Black Dog’s gold-plated spine operation. He was very excited to hear how well he did after the operation, which was nice. He wouldn’t refund any money, though.

I went to Costco on the week of its opening (I made work buy a membership, which happened to be in my name, funny how that happens). (For foreigners: The first Costco in Australia just opened in Melbourne. Also: you all talk funny.) I was really hoping for more American food (Mr. T and I steered our giant trolley through the crowds chanting “Goldfish! Goldfish!” but unfortunately Costco FAILED to import crackers, damn their eyes) but we did OK. I did buy a gigantic bucket of caramel popcorn, complete with pecans glued into the caramel, and that was yum. Mr. T bought jerky and that was eh. We solemnly bought our 48 rolls of toilet paper (I don’t think you’re allowed out without that) as well as a few other bits and pieces, and got out relatively pain free. Having said that, all around us on the other registers people were buying stuff that I never even SAW (gigantic pizzas! Crocs! An orchid plant! A gigantic whole fish!) (SO not joking about any of these items) so clearly we need to go back when the entirety of Melbourne is not standing gape-jawed in the aisles like yokels. We may have hit a few people in the arse with our giant cart as they stood there vacantly staring at jars of coffee (hint: it’s JUST LIKE the coffee you currently buy in Woolworths, but in a BIGGER JAR) and we may not have apologised. You know how it goes.

The wedding planning continues but my mum is now panicking, which is annoying because there is nothing to panic ABOUT. I think she just wants to. There is a gigantic amusing saga with my dress which ends with a seamstress being flogged, but remind me to go into all of that when a) I have more time and b) my dress is safely in my possession. I have bought all sorts of other fun bits & pieces (clutch bag, underwear, hair fascinator thing) so I am still enjoying the whole process. Buying fun things! What’s not to like? I also went and checked on my ring once it was finished last week (but which I’m not picking up until the week before we leave) and I love it. New jewellery! This whole wedding thing is really stimulating the economy.

Oh, also I still have no car. That’s over eight weeks, people. And I have developed a horrible chesty cough thing, no doubt caught from my feral fellow commuters. Curse you all! They are promising my car back any day now, but I am now resigned to the fact that it will NEVER RETURN. I always said I didn’t want a new car and I would just drive this one into the ground; well, turns out I’ve done that. Huh.

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.