Thursday, 19 December 2013
I hope you all have merry holidays as well, though I don't recommend dropping a hundred bucks on bottles of cava for your team/family/friends when the lot of you are already loaded. That is not merry; that is insane. It is not very merry to get in a fight with your taxi driver, either. Or retching at 8am on the side of a very busy arterial route. BUT, singing/dancing/chatting - these things are all very merry and I wholeheartedly recommend them!
See you in 2014!
Wednesday, 18 December 2013
Identified multiple gray hairs on my husband.
Bought a car. I've never had my own before!
Bit of a boring old list of new things, isn't it?
1 July 2013: Taking possession of our first home. Eating pizza on the floor and thinking 'this place is a cold shithole. What the hell have we done?' I love it now, though.
Finding the finance to purchase said home and actually winning a fucking auction. Some worky stuff.
9. What was your biggest failure?
10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
House! Also getting piffled away on food and booze; we're just so GOOD at spending on that.
Not having to go to open homes every weekend anymore! When we won the auction on June 9, we cracked a bottle of something tasty and basically danced around the living room celebrating the fact that the house hunt of 2013 was finally over.
b) Thinner or fatter? Fatty fatty boom boom BOOM.
c) Richer or poorer? Depends how you quantify this. Probably richer, even though I feel poorer - we may be paying a mortgage and interest etc but we own equity now, I guess.
I wish I'd taken more leave. This year was a little tight on the leave front, though I guess I'm only feeling it now. Also: done more of mortgage-paying.
Fell a bit more in love with P, as I do most years. This year it was the realisation he takes so much administrative hassle out of my life. What, is handling the spreadsheets not romantic to you? I feel sick thinking that I didn't kiss him goodbye this morning and that we haven't emailed today. We always kiss goodbye and there's usually something sent to make the other laugh. The wear and tear of a long year has frayed our edges - it lead to a serious degree of miffedness last night on my part, and this morning on his when I stonily endured his cuddle. I think we need a bit of time out to reconnect properly, but I do love him more each day, I promise. Maybe 2013 was the year of domestic discontent?
20. What was your favourite TV programme?
Sidenote: you know people on Idol-type television shows are all 'music's my life' and every conversation with a new person you had in high school started with 'what sort of music are you into?' and people now discuss their top-25 lists on their iPod? Yeah, music isn't the necessary art for me. I need words to survive. I am loathe to admit it but I don't even have my own iTunes and music selection - P has pretty good taste and he'll upload anything I've purchased, within reason. I do still buy and enjoy music, but often, when at home alone, I prefer silence. A: enjoys the mute button.
24. What did you want and not get?
26. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
On my 31st birthday I was at work, slogging it out on a big thing and ... wait, I just checked my calendar. I've got total false sorry-for-self memories. It was a Saturday and I ate brunch with my sister which was excellent and then I think P and I went somewhere? Hopeless.
Missed my grandmother.
Facetious: use discretion when considering whether dry-clean only really means dry-clean only. It's surprising what can go through the wash on a cold cycle, but devastating when you get it wrong.
Tuesday, 17 December 2013
Last weekend's mosquito bite count sits at over 20. So many are on my feet I can't wear shoes as they're too itchy and swollen.* BUT THE WORST BIT:
THEY'RE ALL OVER THE BACKS OF MY THIGHS.
I wore a dress to a 60th bday party this weekend.** We sat outdoors, beside a swimming pool. I didn't think to take repellent. Perched on the edge of the seat, the dress was swirly so it fell away from the backs of my thighs. All the mosquitos in creation thought 'JACKPOT' and feasted with a VENGEANCE. Now I'm inappropriately scratching all over creation and am too embarrased to be seen naked-legged by my husband. The very husband who has kindly taken pictures while I was passed out mostly naked on the floor of our bedroom, who obviously does not give a shit about the manky state of his wife (did I not tell you about that? One of the nights I lost my phone this year. 2013 was the year I revisited being 18 only fatter and with glasses, apparently).
I have subsequently bought two new bottles of insect repellent and will be inhaling toxins for the next three weeks solid. If on my return my typing gets any worse or if I get even more parenthetical (assuming such a thing is possible!) you'll know the reason why, I intone darkly. But I won't be scratchy, at least.
* I kid you not, today I got asked by the most direct colleague: 'Are you pregnant? Is that why you're wearing sandals and have swollen feet?'
**Why yes, I have friends who are 60! Actually, it was a good friend's father's party but I felt v grown up while schmoozing the tennis club ladies.
Touch of sarcasm (TM).*
I love my family. Really! However, I find the start of my summer holidays in New Zealand completely batshit crazy and family time is not always particularly relaxing. First world problems BLAH BLAH let me tell you them.
- I finish work in December under a complete cloud of crazy. I'm frantic, as the office is closing down for three weeks and of course the clients want everything done yesterday before Christmas. At least 50% of them will be working through the summer, so they don't give a rats about the holiday. Besides which, I've been out and about on company entertaining and personal social catch up missions throughout the month, not to mention a weekend out of the country (boo hoo, what a punishment! you say. Yeah, that's fair I guess.)
- Then, once I'm finally done in the office for the year (by done, I mean I've walked out at the end with a giant 'deal with it later' pile in the corner), we immediately have P's family pseudo-Christmas dinner. At our house. We're catering. There will be fewer than 10 people this year (thank Oscar the Grouch) but there's still a lot to do. Oh, and my best friend is in town from London so I am having her around for lunch first (can't not! It's been over 18 months since I've seen her face! And having her to our place allows me to prep meals and gasbag at the same time!)
- 8am the next morning, on a plane with my sister K. We meet Mum and Dad, then enjoy a three hour drive even further south, followed by a meal with some of P's paternal family.
- Next morning, ferry over to the island. We're there for a week, plus a night in the Catlins on the way back. Poor old P is stuck on a frigid wee island in the Roaring 40s in a bach with his in-laws for a week. I pity the fool.
- P and I arrive home at approx 9.30pm on the 30th.
- We get up the next morning, and drive three hours to the beach to meet friends. Goodness only knows how many of us will be jammed into a wee place looking for a good time, but it will be mental. MENTAL.
Oh, and P has decided he wants us to go swimming with great white sharks while we're on the island. GREAT STRESS RELIEVER, P.
Call me Moaning Milly. Really, it's not so bad. In fact, all of the above sounds pretty good, sans a bit of actually having to work. Well, now you know the basic facts of my summer schedule anyway. I've got an end of year thingo to come and will no doubt feel the urge to worddump all over my blog again before Xmas, but I wouldn't be checking back again much before mid-January. For those of you I'm not seeing this Xmas, I miss and love you all.
*Touch of Grey, anyone? Best ad I saw during my tenure in the US. Young dudes giving themselves grey wings (literal, not figurative you dirty bastards) in order to seem more distinguished, trustworthy etc. Brilliant!
Sunday, 15 December 2013
My sister K has been sending messages predicting bulk barf on the ferry. The Foveaux Strait is no joke, I'm lead to believe.
|THIS PHOTO IS FROM HERE. THE CAPTION READS:|
'Rakiura is the Maori name for Stewart Island, the 'third island' of New Zealand. This summer view is taken from the summit of Bluff Hill, on the far southern tip of the South Island. Foveaux Strait is right in the middle of the Roaring Forties, and is very rarely this calm.'
Tuesday, 10 December 2013
- I purchased some cheap ornaments at the supermarket. The boxes of those bastards then scratched gouges in my legs as I lugged them home.
- They sat in their boxes on the dining room table for a week.
- Last night, P was home so instead of ignoring it for another night, I made him get down the box labelled '[Last Name] Christmas' and decorated with a jaunty sprig of holly.
- It contained one (1) German christmas light thing and one (1) ornament purchased at the Cologne Christmas Markets without a string and eight (8) festive placemats we were gifted at our wedding by a great aunt (who, bless her, also grew, cut and arranged all the flowers. What a wonderful, kind woman). Hardly the Xmas haul I was hoping resided in that box, despite having been the person to pack it lo, these five months ago.
- SO. Placemats and ornaments went on the table, baubles into the decorative salad bowl and vase situation.
- German Xmas light into the window with some shoddy electrical cord arrangement.
- I then made P source the fairy lights purchased for our wedding.
- Half the fuckers on each of the strings didn't work, despite being less than two years old. So to hide their deficiencies, we decorated the pear and bay trees out the front instead of the house.
|GERMAN XMAS LIGHT. FESTIVE, NO?|
|FESTIVE TABLESCAPE, I AM A SMUG DOMESTIC GODDESS WHO CAN PLACE TABLEMATS. ALSO THE NEIGHBOUR'S GUTTER OUT THE WINDOW. ATTRACTIVE, HEIN?|
|THE FIRST ABORTIVE ATTEMPT AT HANGING SOME GODDAMN LIGHTS. SOMEONE OUGHT TO SEND THIS TO THAT PINTEREST FAIL BLOG. I SHAN'T SHOW YOU THE PICTURE OF THE FINAL TREE DECORATION EFFORT BECAUSE IT'S SO UNDERWHELMING. STILL, FAIRY LIGHTS ARE AWESOME. P.S. GERMAN XMAS LIGHT IN SITU. MASSIVELY DISPROPORTIONATE, WHAT? BONUS POINTS FOR SPOTTING THE MYSTERIOUS P WHOSE LEGS ALSO LOOK VERY DISPROPORTIONATE. YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE TO TAKE ME AT MY WORD THAT HE'S A SMOKING HOT SEX GOD.|
Monday, 9 December 2013
I don't even know where to start with decoding that shit. Had to record it as it occurred to me for the purpose of further rumination. I'm pretty sure it says something about me...I'm just not sure what, yet.
I am become more middle-aged by the minute. I am freaking about about the state of the great pile of unwashed things at my home, the invasion of Daddy Long Legs in our absence (why yes, I do have a thing about spiders, whatever made you ask?), the emptiness of my cupboards, the emptiness of my bank account and the need to catch up at work so this is a brief placeholder (postholder?) Just had to write briefly as I feel I haven't used my weekly parenthesis quota (yet) (working on it) (obv.) Will no doubt circle back round to the trip later, in case you were worried (HAHAHAHA!)
Summed up? Sydney: Great, Aggressive (all the shoulder charging!), Lovely and Warm.
Tuesday, 3 December 2013
- The ironing board. It was all in my living room, up in my face.
- P asking if I was going to continue with ironing his shirts. While my hands were plunged in a sinkful of dirty dishes.
- P's thumb, preventing him from doing dishes.
- P's thumb, making him moan about ironing his shirts.
- P asking for help with his buttons.
- P's shoes, on the floor. EXISTING.
- P insisting he could use his suitcase if he wanted to, contrary to my wishes.
- P's face.
- The television remote controls. PLURAL.
- Eating crap food.
- Running out of breath mints.
- People in the lift inconsiderately getting out at floors that weren't mine.
- People in the lift with halitosis.
- People on the street dawdling.
- The window decorations at Smith + Caugheys (annoying songs + dopey, creepy puppets)
- Picking P up from getting his wound redressed.
- Getting attitude from P about how far away I parked.
- My pizza getting cold.
- OH FUCK IT BASICALLY EVERYTHING.
Sunday, 1 December 2013
Can we just sing a round of Hallelujah for a Christmas miracle? There was not one other person aside from medical staff in the entire emergency clinic. Unbelievable. The only delay in obtaining speedy and efficient treatment was me filling out P's form and narrating it back to him (it's his right thumb). P was not so keen on my description of how the injury occurred - I wanted to write: 'Potatoes Dauphinoise and a Sharp Thing - Need I Say More?' but my suggestion made him all huffy. We went with: 'preparing dinner', which I think you'll agree is terribly boring.
P was seen quickly and I stayed put in the waiting room, reading my fill of mimi smartypants (terrible choice for a medical centre, given mimi kept making me snicker.)** I could vaguely hear P talking to the nurses though and asking for a spot to lie down when they took off the dressing, poor love. At one point, a nurse appeared and asked whether I was the girlfriend. This made me a bit huffy, as she asked with a spot of incredulity. I composed myself, trying to believe that P's babyface probably had more to do with it that me looking like a decrepit cradlesnatcher or an uncaring witch who deserts her one-and-only, and replied in the affirmative, resisting the bizarre temptation to wave my left hand and cry 'wife, actually'.
He spent the rest of the afternoon and evening prone on the couch with the thumb elevated, as removing the original dressing had caused further bleeding. I think it was quite sore too. However, because I'm awful I kept veering between laughter (he looks so funny, giving the entire world a bulky thumbs up) and edging away from him (because ew, I missed you while you were gone but I cannot handle that thing touching my body). What a magnificent nurse I'd make. I think I've really missed my calling.
*I am NOT. GOOD. in an emergency. Think faint, freak out-y. I'm not proud of this, but at least I'm honest with myself. Oh god, I'm feeling vaguely squirmy and nauseous just thinking about it.
**Given my emergency response-mode, I couldn't deal with seeing the injury in the flesh, as it were. Poor P was therefore deprived of the soothing balm of my company in the emergency room. I'm sure he desperately missed having my hand to hold.