The end of year party season has well and truly begun. Case in point: it was not yet 3pm last Friday at a team lunch when one attendee grabbed her breasts in an illustration of the difficulty caused by her lovely (but possibly workplace inappropriate) backless top. I'll have you know I was a model of propriety. Oh, hey now, doubters: I had to get back to the office so I actually was well behaved, unusual or no!
The party got me in the holiday spirit. I dragged P to a Christmas tree farm and thence to the Warehouse for cheap decorations. We bought a ghastly Michael Buble Christmas CD and I thrashed it while adorning the tree with super! cheap! candy! canes! and scattering glitter on the floor. My house smells just lovely, like pine and happiness. I abhor pine scents generally - them old fake ones - but I cannot get enough of huffing my Christmas tree. It's delicious and sends me straight back to my childhood. The tree itself isn't as big as my family memories, at least in part because the space for it ain't so big neither. I left the bottom largely undecorated, expecting the purrymouses to destroy it in five seconds flat. However, they're largely unphased. Cokes batted a decoration to get my attention last night, but then he also jumped on me, scratched my leg, ate my headphones and manufactured a spew on the living room floor all in an effort to wake us up to fill his bowl this morning, so I think I don't think he has a particular animus in relation to the tree.
TWO WORKING WEEKS, TWO WORK PARTIES AND A LUNCHEON LEFT. CANNOT WAIT TO BE DONE.
I'm so desperate to be finished this year I've started drafting my usual end of year survey. I'm still struggling with a pithy description of 2014, in large part due to denial that 2014 has in fact begun.
********************************************
On another, horrible note, I've had some very bad news that affects my Hat Friend. I am sorely worried for her. I don't pray, I think -- so I'm thinking near constantly about Hat Friend's situation and hoping for the best possible outcome. It's scary when (a) things are completely out of our control and (b) your words sound like horrible, hopeless platitudes. Words can be powerful. I need to corral them and winnow out the least effective, leaving something meaningful, I hope.
Showing posts with label Cocoa. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cocoa. Show all posts
Monday, 8 December 2014
Tuesday, 4 November 2014
colonial hangovers
Last night, in my dreams, I attended a very intimate Mariah Carey gig with Kim Kardashian and Kanye West. Let me tell you right now, my dreams suggest that Mariah's voice has really gone off the boil, but don't tell her that because it does not end well if you do. Kanye will not lift a finger to help.
It was a disturbed night of sleep. Kimye and Mariah, Tabitha sleeping between P and I and wriggling, P swatting Cokies who demanded 2am biscuits and the usual onslaught of Guy Fawke's fireworks.
I have always, always, been afraid of fireworks. I thought Dad would shoot himself with the double happies when I was small. Catherine Wheels? Def lose an eye. At a Christmas party for a part time job I once held, a colleague lit the fireworks with a small handheld blowtorch (he's is still a friend some 10 years on, I'm proud to say, despite his antics). It could have ended much worse, though the scratches on our co-worker's brand new car (as in, just picked up from the dealership) were awful. I still love a sparkler, I suppose, but I hate what fireworks do to animals and I think the injury rates are too high to justify the enjoyment.
Gosh, I hear some saying, what a boring old fart she is. Or worse: she's supporting a PC nanny state! (The co-opting of 'PC' as an insult and/or a categorical denial of any institutional societal issues really grinds my gears, if that wasn't obvious.) Get this: if you feel that way, you'll probably be even more riled about another objection to celebrating Guy Fawke's - how bizarre is it that we burn an effigy of a man who tried to blow up a parliament that's not even our own about 400 or so years ago?! So much to unpack there, amirite?
In any case, I think fireworks'll be for public displays only soon, in the land of the long white cloud.
It was a disturbed night of sleep. Kimye and Mariah, Tabitha sleeping between P and I and wriggling, P swatting Cokies who demanded 2am biscuits and the usual onslaught of Guy Fawke's fireworks.
I have always, always, been afraid of fireworks. I thought Dad would shoot himself with the double happies when I was small. Catherine Wheels? Def lose an eye. At a Christmas party for a part time job I once held, a colleague lit the fireworks with a small handheld blowtorch (he's is still a friend some 10 years on, I'm proud to say, despite his antics). It could have ended much worse, though the scratches on our co-worker's brand new car (as in, just picked up from the dealership) were awful. I still love a sparkler, I suppose, but I hate what fireworks do to animals and I think the injury rates are too high to justify the enjoyment.
Gosh, I hear some saying, what a boring old fart she is. Or worse: she's supporting a PC nanny state! (The co-opting of 'PC' as an insult and/or a categorical denial of any institutional societal issues really grinds my gears, if that wasn't obvious.) Get this: if you feel that way, you'll probably be even more riled about another objection to celebrating Guy Fawke's - how bizarre is it that we burn an effigy of a man who tried to blow up a parliament that's not even our own about 400 or so years ago?! So much to unpack there, amirite?
In any case, I think fireworks'll be for public displays only soon, in the land of the long white cloud.
Monday, 4 August 2014
day in the life, winter 2014
Hi! For those who are new, I am A. I'm 32, f, married, no kids, 2 cats, from Auckland, New Zealand. My interests include books, wine, eating things, travelling, making questionable choices, being nosy and writing things about myself on the internet. I find that DiTL posts fit nicely with the latter of those two interests!
It's Friday 1 August 2014. It's winter in NZ and a working day for me.
*************************************
5.30am: wake up, but am NOT HAPPY. Lie in the dark, mentally turning over the questionable choices I made last night. We were sending off a colleague who is moving to London; predictably, one beer lead to many beers (the pub was going off! I was having a good time! meeting people! gossiping!), lead to Mickey Dees en route home (I am not proud), lead to furry mouth at 5.30am.
1-5ish: workity working. Incredibly unproductive this afternoon,
however. Drink at least two cups of tea.
9ish: finished with dinner, we wander down the road to Chapel Bar and have another bottle of wine between four, because FRIDAY NIGHT. PJ and his new girlfriend are supposed to be meeting us but they're still at dinner elsewhere, and are trying to scam us into going to the city for dancing. We're not quite in that zone!
10.30ish: wave goodbye to R & PW and walk home arm-in-arm with P. It's about a 15 minute walk, and while I don't remember the conversation, I do remember laughing most of the way home.
10.45: open the door to find Tabby and Cokes on the end of the bed, watching us mournfully. They forgive me when I fill up their bowls.
11pm: bed.
It's Friday 1 August 2014. It's winter in NZ and a working day for me.
*************************************
5.30am: wake up, but am NOT HAPPY. Lie in the dark, mentally turning over the questionable choices I made last night. We were sending off a colleague who is moving to London; predictably, one beer lead to many beers (the pub was going off! I was having a good time! meeting people! gossiping!), lead to Mickey Dees en route home (I am not proud), lead to furry mouth at 5.30am.
6.15am: finally bring myself to get out of
bed. Shake some bikkies into the cats’
bowls and discover the mess I made filling up the biscuit container when a bit
boozled last night. Turn on the
shower. It’s warmer outside this morning
thank god (about 10 degrees celcius) so the bathroom isn’t completely frigid
and I can disrobe without squeaking.
6.25am: flick on the kettle, desperate for tea.
 |
| THIS IS FIRST-RATE COMPELLING PHOTOJOURNALISM, RIGHT HERE |
6.26am: Tabitha hauls in her newest victim
through the cat flap. She has recently
graduated to trapping earthworms, crickets being in short supply this time of
year. Not wanting to waste a good worm
(or watch Tab torture a worm on my kitchen floor), I don a pair of
jandals to deliver the worm to our compost bin outside. Jandals, dressing gown and no knickers – good
thing the neighbouring house is empty at the moment because I am a sight to
behold. I choose not to take a picture
of that – count yourself lucky.
 |
| TABBY AND VICTIM AND THE TERRIBLE STATE OF THE FLOORING IN MY KITCHEN. AT LEAST WORMS ON AN ALREADY DECREPIT FLOOR AREN'T REALLY A BIG DEAL |
6.30am: flick on the TV to catch some
Commonwealth Games coverage while scoffing breakfast and drying my hair
etc. NZ has just won a bronze medal in
the Men’s Floor (Gymnastics) and a Gold in the Women’s Time Trial (Cycling) –
go Kiwis! The coverage is largely of lawn bowls this morning and it’s not quite
as thrilling to follow as, say, 100m sprints or the swimming.
6.40am: P emerges from the bedroom,
grumbling. As many bad life decisions as
I made last night, he made a few more out on the town a bunch of graduates from
his office, following a training session he ran for them. He likes to think he can keep up with a bunch
of 23 year olds, but looking at him this morning I have my doubts.
7.15am: I have managed to dress and make myself
mostly presentable. I am wearing opaque
tights, a red silk mullet dress fresh from the drycleaners, a black blazer with
a sheer back (sounds very odd when written like that) . P however is struggling to get his stuff
together and is yelling for help to find a grey cardigan. I don’t know where he thinks I might have
secretly stashed it, but if it’s not in the drawers or on the wardrobe rack,
he’s well out of luck.
 |
| OF NOTE: (1) MY HAIR STAYED LIKE THIS UNTIL I WAS APPROX. 5 STEPS OUT MY FRONT DOOR INTO THE FOG. REST OF DAY HAVE BEEN SHAGGY BEAST. (2) THE STATE OF THE LIVING ROOM BEHIND ME. THIS IS REAL LIFE, PEOPLE. PEPPER GRINDERS AND ALL. |
7.30am: the Great Man Cardi Hunt of 2014 has
proved unfruitful and most unsympathetically I throw another sweater at P,
telling him to put a sock in it. We
manage to depart the house for work.
7.30-8am: walk to work with P. He’s on rare form today and, upon hearing
about my DiTL post day, he announces ‘Well I’m looking hot today so you should definitely
take a picture of me for the internet’.
He raced over to a wall nearby and struck a pose and I nearly died
laughing – he thought he was taking the mickey out of magazine styling, but it
is so completely fashion blogger I nearly wet my pants.
 |
| I HOPE NONE OF YOU THINK THIS IS FOR SERIOUS. P'S TONGUE IS FIRMLY IN HIS CHEEK - THIS WAS DONE IN A HEARTBEAT AND WE RAN ON, LAUGHING TIL MY FACE HURT. I'VE ONLY JUST NOW NOTICED ALLTHE CIGGIE BUTTS AT HIS FEET, WHICH MAKES IT EVEN BETTER |
8am: arrive at work. Debrief with my secretary, who was also a
party to yesterday evening’s shenanigans.
She lasted longer than I did but is regretting it!
8-10.30: workity work work. Nothing thrilling, believe you me: drafting,
emailing, considering, reviewing. At about 9.45 I get up to go to the printer
and realise I have a terrible static situation going on with my dress. Slip or no slip, it’s a clinger which is just annoying because the colour is so nice
(a change from my usual drab wardrobe choices).
 |
| THIS PICTURE IS A FAIL AT ILLUSTRATING CLINGAGE, MOSTLY DEMONSTRATING INCREDIBLY WEIRD BODY SHAPE INSTEAD? IT'S THE ANGLE, I PROMISE! THAT'S NOT A GIANT BOOBSHELF! |
10.30: weekly morning tea for the firm with
speeches for colleague S, departing to the UK.
Stuff face with a scone, a cheerio (not the cereal, the sausage-y
type!), carrot sticks and scarper and take a wee sammie & pie for the road (I
don’t eat lunch on Fridays as I usually make a piggy of myself at morning tea). Tell the firm’s chef I love his work.
10.45-12.30: more work, until M calls me. She wants to go for a wander and a
smoothie. We look briefly at cases for
our cellphones. Mine is new and if I don’t
get a case, I’ll probably destroy it. No
dice making a purchase though, I want a pretty one! I order a green smoothie, which I feel good
about (if I don’t consider the quantities of frozen yoghurt in it).
 |
| WINTER. |
5.10pm: nip upstairs where Friday Night Drinks
are happening. Look at beersies and feel
ill. Say goodbye for the final time to S
and depart to meet P to scarper up to Ponsonby Road. Call my sister K on route, because we have to debrief about the amazing video someone from her hockey team posted on FB in which she is doing the Fat Amy Mermaid for her team's amusement. So funny, but she's worried her students might see it (she's a high school teacher).
6pm: Grand Central Bar, Ponsonby. We're meeting R and PW for drinks pre-dinner. R has recently been to Austria for work but
also managed to spend time in the UK with friends en route so I squeeze her for
gossip. It's warm enough that we're able to sit outside under the heaters and enjoy some fresh air for a change.
7ish: we get our call from Orphan’s Kitchen,
which doesn’t take reservations. We rush
in and order wine and tasty treats.
Highlights included smoked porae with a celeriac and green apple slaw, YUM. Hipster central - so many good beards and artfully mismatched water jugs. I love it. They also have a very tasty wine list, highly recommend.
 |
| A WEE SIGN ON THE EXTERIOR WALL OF THE BAR THAT MADE ME SMILE. |
9ish: finished with dinner, we wander down the road to Chapel Bar and have another bottle of wine between four, because FRIDAY NIGHT. PJ and his new girlfriend are supposed to be meeting us but they're still at dinner elsewhere, and are trying to scam us into going to the city for dancing. We're not quite in that zone!
10.30ish: wave goodbye to R & PW and walk home arm-in-arm with P. It's about a 15 minute walk, and while I don't remember the conversation, I do remember laughing most of the way home.
10.45: open the door to find Tabby and Cokes on the end of the bed, watching us mournfully. They forgive me when I fill up their bowls.
11pm: bed.
Thursday, 1 May 2014
why hello there
Hello foreign visitors! Welcome!
I have been feeling guilty - you're all peeking into my terribly staid life in New Zealand and I am offering up no lovely pictures of children or views or activities - in part because I'm not a mother (unless the cats count) and in part because I seek to keep mah blog semi-anonymous. Also, I am useless at taking pictures.
Here's a brief intro - probably enough material together to make it apparent exactly who I am!
A: Female, 31, Married, No Kids, Auckland New Zealand, Solicitor. Lived in New York for a year '09-'10 and in London '10-'12. Likes: eating and drinking, writing silly/whingy journal-type bits on the internet, travelling, reading, theatre, pottering in backyard, her fambily. Swears too much but generally has a sunny outlook, even if she does spent a disproportionate number of blogposts whinging. Generally useless. SRSLY.
Husband is P. P likes: wine, whiskey, sports, cooking, travelling, does worky things at work and has a wicked sense of humour. I broke his nose one time in the middle of the night.
Hometown is Auckland. City of about 1.5 million, full of traffic jams, beaches, dormant/extinct volcanoes and weather that makes A's hair crazy. Subtropical, so it rains a bit - temps year round between 0 and 30 degrees celcius. Kiwis like to wear black, jandals (flipflops), say 'yeah nah' because even if we disagree, we can't be too rude about it, watch/play sports, eat fish and chips, drink beersies, and go to the beach. We have horrific accents (somewhere between an Aussie and generic-British accent, very flat vowel sounds) and talk incredibly fast.
Cats are Tabitha and Cocoa. They are SPCA moggies who are cute.
Um, that's all I think? Nice to meet you.
I have been feeling guilty - you're all peeking into my terribly staid life in New Zealand and I am offering up no lovely pictures of children or views or activities - in part because I'm not a mother (unless the cats count) and in part because I seek to keep mah blog semi-anonymous. Also, I am useless at taking pictures.
Here's a brief intro - probably enough material together to make it apparent exactly who I am!
A: Female, 31, Married, No Kids, Auckland New Zealand, Solicitor. Lived in New York for a year '09-'10 and in London '10-'12. Likes: eating and drinking, writing silly/whingy journal-type bits on the internet, travelling, reading, theatre, pottering in backyard, her fambily. Swears too much but generally has a sunny outlook, even if she does spent a disproportionate number of blogposts whinging. Generally useless. SRSLY.
Husband is P. P likes: wine, whiskey, sports, cooking, travelling, does worky things at work and has a wicked sense of humour. I broke his nose one time in the middle of the night.
Hometown is Auckland. City of about 1.5 million, full of traffic jams, beaches, dormant/extinct volcanoes and weather that makes A's hair crazy. Subtropical, so it rains a bit - temps year round between 0 and 30 degrees celcius. Kiwis like to wear black, jandals (flipflops), say 'yeah nah' because even if we disagree, we can't be too rude about it, watch/play sports, eat fish and chips, drink beersies, and go to the beach. We have horrific accents (somewhere between an Aussie and generic-British accent, very flat vowel sounds) and talk incredibly fast.
Cats are Tabitha and Cocoa. They are SPCA moggies who are cute.
Um, that's all I think? Nice to meet you.
Monday, 28 April 2014
day in the life, autumn 2014
23 April 2014: Autumn, Auckland, New Zealand.
(Once again, a disclaimer: I am dull. Also, very few pictures as I spent the bulk of the day with work colleagues. If you don't have a taste for wordy blatherings and extremely poor quality photographs, I'd stop here.)
******************************************
5.45: roll over, eyeball clock, sigh. I woke up from a terrible dream about my Granny, which involved lashings of guilt and, inexplicably, picking up bacon at the supermarket. Flop onto my back, start scrolling through FB on phone. Even though I don't need to get up for another 15 to 30 minutes, if I go back to sleep now I'll be a wreck when I wake. P slumbers on, peacefully.
6.10: drag myself out of bed to feed the cats and have a shower. Disturb Tabitha, who had been curled up beside me, bushed after a night of exciting antics - the cat door allowed her to go outside at night for the first time. Cocoa is AWOL. We feel pretty confident that old Cokes can manage himself round the 'hood now (please don't let those be famous last words) as he's sauntering out for a couple of hours at a time during the day and evening, coming home when he's hungry and/or hot and/or wet and/or fancies a cuddle.
6.30: earl grey tea and a breakfast of canned peaches and muesli. It feels virtuous but is probably packed with sugar.
6.45: floating around the house aimlessly, starting to get ready (black pleated sleeveless dress, black belt, black cardigan, black tights for the first time this autumn, black stud earrings. WOE I am so BORING wearing the standard NZ black ensemble).
6.46: OH NO had forgotten work trip to Christchurch this afternoon. Hastily grab bag and throw in a change of underwear, make up, essential toiletries, phone charger, blue striped suit and black top. The suit'll get terribly crushed in the bag but decide I don't have time to find anything with less crumple-factor.
7.15: the car won't start. P has an 8am meeting and a dinner with friends planned for after work, so we intended to drive into town this morning. The flipping car however has different plans and I freak for a moment, wondering what new and exciting way I've found to drain the battery, as the last suspect to be behind the wheel (and a suspect with battery-draining form, at that). P is sure it's not the battery though so I may be off the hook - there's been a spate of gas thefts nearby over previous months, so it could be a cut line? No time to find out now - we need to leave if we're walking.
7.30: huffing and puffing up the hill, hauling my bag, P striding ahead sending emails on his blackberry regarding tardiness. The sun's out this morning, despite the crispness in the air. P's iPhone tells him it's only 12 degrees celcius outside, but I don't believe it. I've thrown on a light floral scarf and even that's proving too hot for the walk.
7.33: P spots the free bus that runs down Queen St. We run for it and nab a seat to head down the hill to save P a minute or two.
7.50: I arrive at work and contemplate my inbox. Gah, horrific.
7.55: TEA. Cannot face inbox without tea.
8.05: check in to flights for today and tomorrow online. MUST REMEMBER TO PRINT BOARDING PASS.
10.20: text message my sister K, who is in the throes of a protracted house purchase negotiation. Late last night she told the agent she'd think about the vendor's final offer overnight and respond in the morning. I ask her what the story is; but she's only just got up and hasn't called the agent yet (school holidays, she's a teacher). I don't know why she's now dragging it out - she's totally going to accept the offer. I've seen her run through the gamut over the past few days: uncontrollable nervousness, uncontrollable excitement, disbelief at counter offer, sly negotiation, expectation management, despondence, and finally, power tripping? She's a cracker, that kid (who may be 30 but will forever be a kid to me).
10.47: More tea, please.
12.35: ack, close to being late! Call cab, round up colleague M. M is the reason I have this job - she and I met at our hall of residence and flatted together for four years during university while studying. On my return to Auckland she passed my CV to my boss, knowing that I'd like working with him because she and I worked so well together as undergraduates. It's been awesome having a friend like M in the workplace.
1.20: arrive at airport. I briefly mourn the sunny, muggy day - Christchurch is going to be cooooooold, wish I didn't have to leave!
1.22 bag check, reprint boarding pass as I'd forgotten that I did in fact print my online check in. Worse, get tapped on the shoulder two minutes later as I'd left the boarding pass on the kiosk. Hopeless.
1.30: M looks at me slyly after checking in and suggests we eat the forbidden fruit for lunch prior to takeoff: McDonalds. It hit the spot and the remorse is only minor today. Wickedness is so much more fun with an accomplice.
2.10: take off. M and I have packed materials to work on a presentation we're giving together in May. However, temptation to use next hour and a half to gossip proves too great and the presentation remains untouched.
3.45: plane lands in Christchurch a little late. We hustle to meet our boss from the Wellington office and grab a cab to visit the client.
4 - 6.15: meeting with client. Out the window of the meeting room, the giant sky (Canterbury always seems so flat to me, with an enormous sky) is fading quickly and you can feel the chill set in.
6.15: Another cab, driving through the dark streets of central Christchurch to check in and drop off our bags at the hotel.
7: arrive at Saggio di Vino for a meal with clients. I had a really lovely time with M, Wellington Boss and two clients, chatting and eating tasty things, including but not limited to: beef carpaccio (is the beef redundant? do you automatically assume carpaccio is beef?), terakihi with lemon beurre blanc on a bed of sauteed leek and tiny pieces of grapefruit, Dog Point pinot noir and gooey cheese.
10.45: back at the hotel and realise I've forgotten the plug for my charger. Borrow one from reception and discover bulk messages waiting on my phone. Sister K's bought her first house! Cocoa is home safe! Friend A is pregnant! Call K and P for a quick chat with each.
11.30: fumble around the hotel remotes attempting to turn on the heat pump. The hotel room has steadily decreased in temperature - its 6 or 7 degrees celcius outside which this sub-tropical Aucklander finds chilly.
11.45: return hotel charger. Climb into bed and feel terribly naughty - I'm sleeping on P's side! Out to the count almost immediately.
(Once again, a disclaimer: I am dull. Also, very few pictures as I spent the bulk of the day with work colleagues. If you don't have a taste for wordy blatherings and extremely poor quality photographs, I'd stop here.)
******************************************
5.45: roll over, eyeball clock, sigh. I woke up from a terrible dream about my Granny, which involved lashings of guilt and, inexplicably, picking up bacon at the supermarket. Flop onto my back, start scrolling through FB on phone. Even though I don't need to get up for another 15 to 30 minutes, if I go back to sleep now I'll be a wreck when I wake. P slumbers on, peacefully.
6.10: drag myself out of bed to feed the cats and have a shower. Disturb Tabitha, who had been curled up beside me, bushed after a night of exciting antics - the cat door allowed her to go outside at night for the first time. Cocoa is AWOL. We feel pretty confident that old Cokes can manage himself round the 'hood now (please don't let those be famous last words) as he's sauntering out for a couple of hours at a time during the day and evening, coming home when he's hungry and/or hot and/or wet and/or fancies a cuddle.
6.30: earl grey tea and a breakfast of canned peaches and muesli. It feels virtuous but is probably packed with sugar.
6.45: floating around the house aimlessly, starting to get ready (black pleated sleeveless dress, black belt, black cardigan, black tights for the first time this autumn, black stud earrings. WOE I am so BORING wearing the standard NZ black ensemble).
6.46: OH NO had forgotten work trip to Christchurch this afternoon. Hastily grab bag and throw in a change of underwear, make up, essential toiletries, phone charger, blue striped suit and black top. The suit'll get terribly crushed in the bag but decide I don't have time to find anything with less crumple-factor.
 |
| AT LEAST SOMEONE GETS A SLEEP IN. JEAL. |
7.30: huffing and puffing up the hill, hauling my bag, P striding ahead sending emails on his blackberry regarding tardiness. The sun's out this morning, despite the crispness in the air. P's iPhone tells him it's only 12 degrees celcius outside, but I don't believe it. I've thrown on a light floral scarf and even that's proving too hot for the walk.
7.33: P spots the free bus that runs down Queen St. We run for it and nab a seat to head down the hill to save P a minute or two.
7.50: I arrive at work and contemplate my inbox. Gah, horrific.
7.55: TEA. Cannot face inbox without tea.
 |
| GLORIOUS DAY OUT THE WINDOW. DON'T LET THE CALCULATOR FOOL YOU, I DON'T DO NUMBERS. |
10.20: text message my sister K, who is in the throes of a protracted house purchase negotiation. Late last night she told the agent she'd think about the vendor's final offer overnight and respond in the morning. I ask her what the story is; but she's only just got up and hasn't called the agent yet (school holidays, she's a teacher). I don't know why she's now dragging it out - she's totally going to accept the offer. I've seen her run through the gamut over the past few days: uncontrollable nervousness, uncontrollable excitement, disbelief at counter offer, sly negotiation, expectation management, despondence, and finally, power tripping? She's a cracker, that kid (who may be 30 but will forever be a kid to me).
10.47: More tea, please.
12.35: ack, close to being late! Call cab, round up colleague M. M is the reason I have this job - she and I met at our hall of residence and flatted together for four years during university while studying. On my return to Auckland she passed my CV to my boss, knowing that I'd like working with him because she and I worked so well together as undergraduates. It's been awesome having a friend like M in the workplace.
1.20: arrive at airport. I briefly mourn the sunny, muggy day - Christchurch is going to be cooooooold, wish I didn't have to leave!
1.22 bag check, reprint boarding pass as I'd forgotten that I did in fact print my online check in. Worse, get tapped on the shoulder two minutes later as I'd left the boarding pass on the kiosk. Hopeless.
1.30: M looks at me slyly after checking in and suggests we eat the forbidden fruit for lunch prior to takeoff: McDonalds. It hit the spot and the remorse is only minor today. Wickedness is so much more fun with an accomplice.
2.10: take off. M and I have packed materials to work on a presentation we're giving together in May. However, temptation to use next hour and a half to gossip proves too great and the presentation remains untouched.
3.45: plane lands in Christchurch a little late. We hustle to meet our boss from the Wellington office and grab a cab to visit the client.
4 - 6.15: meeting with client. Out the window of the meeting room, the giant sky (Canterbury always seems so flat to me, with an enormous sky) is fading quickly and you can feel the chill set in.
6.15: Another cab, driving through the dark streets of central Christchurch to check in and drop off our bags at the hotel.
7: arrive at Saggio di Vino for a meal with clients. I had a really lovely time with M, Wellington Boss and two clients, chatting and eating tasty things, including but not limited to: beef carpaccio (is the beef redundant? do you automatically assume carpaccio is beef?), terakihi with lemon beurre blanc on a bed of sauteed leek and tiny pieces of grapefruit, Dog Point pinot noir and gooey cheese.
10.45: back at the hotel and realise I've forgotten the plug for my charger. Borrow one from reception and discover bulk messages waiting on my phone. Sister K's bought her first house! Cocoa is home safe! Friend A is pregnant! Call K and P for a quick chat with each.
 |
| PHOTOGRAPHIC EVIDENCE FROM P THAT COKES IS HOME SAFE. SEE THE SLIGHTLY EVIL EXPRESSION? THE NEXT DAY I ARRIVED HOME TO FIND A PILE OF CAT BARF ON THAT VERY SPOT ON MY BED. |
11.45: return hotel charger. Climb into bed and feel terribly naughty - I'm sleeping on P's side! Out to the count almost immediately.
Friday, 7 February 2014
where i have been / more cat news
Ack. I joined an internet thing, met lots of nice people, and then vanished off the face of the earth for nearly two weeks. Awesome work, A.
In my defence, I was working and the working thing was not my fault. Boss people, with all their demands and their 'we pay you a salary' thing, right? I know. Horrific. Can't believe I'm supposed to deal with this for the next 30 odd years. When do I get to retire, please?
(Yes. Am Entitled and Awful, I know.)
Aaaaaanyway, I spent some of this week working in Christchurch. Christchurch is still recovering from a series of earthquakes the effect of which I find difficult to put into words, given that the newsmedia has just about destroyed the impact of 'devastating' or 'catastrophic'. I drank tea from a makeshift cafe in a shipping container in a carpark while I was there, and it was great. Christchurch has an almost indomitable feeling to it - the CBD is still largely empty, but there's action there, if you look hard enough. Christchurch was also sunny and warm and not humid (Auckland, I'm giving your humidity some serious side-eye right now. Don't make me move to the South Island, yo. You know I'd have better hair there, right?)
In other cat news, my slide down the slippery slope to crazy-cat-lady-ness has gathered momentum. We are rehoming a cat named Cocoa, who was adopted some years ago by my mother-in-law and her flatmate of the time, J. When my MIL moved to Germany for work, J retained custody of dear old Cocoa, who is a dark cocoa-coloured (!) fluffy number with no voice. J has not been well for the last few years and we received the bad news that she is now receiving respite care at the hospice. The least we can do in the circumstances is to provide Cocoa with a new home, though we do so with a heavy heart. It's very hard to acknowledge that J won't be home again.
In the space of a month, therefore, P and I have gone from a no-pet family to a family of five. It's going to be a fairly traumatic move for Cocoa, who we're picking up from Hamilton on Tuesday. We'll be keeping her in the spare bedroom for a while and buttering her paws, but if you have any other suggestions for helping Cocoa acclimate to her new home, I'd love to hear them. Timmy and Tab will be kept apart from Cocoa but they'll be able to smell each other and swipe paws under the door. We're hopeful that since the Terrormouses are still only 14 weeks old, they'll be young enough that they'll accept Cocoa quickly and with any luck, she them.
So, it's a very bittersweet time at the A+P household (no pun intended - seriously, no pun intended, I just can't find a better word). We're happy to have this old puss, but so sad that she's coming to us in these circumstances.
In my defence, I was working and the working thing was not my fault. Boss people, with all their demands and their 'we pay you a salary' thing, right? I know. Horrific. Can't believe I'm supposed to deal with this for the next 30 odd years. When do I get to retire, please?
(Yes. Am Entitled and Awful, I know.)
Aaaaaanyway, I spent some of this week working in Christchurch. Christchurch is still recovering from a series of earthquakes the effect of which I find difficult to put into words, given that the newsmedia has just about destroyed the impact of 'devastating' or 'catastrophic'. I drank tea from a makeshift cafe in a shipping container in a carpark while I was there, and it was great. Christchurch has an almost indomitable feeling to it - the CBD is still largely empty, but there's action there, if you look hard enough. Christchurch was also sunny and warm and not humid (Auckland, I'm giving your humidity some serious side-eye right now. Don't make me move to the South Island, yo. You know I'd have better hair there, right?)
In other cat news, my slide down the slippery slope to crazy-cat-lady-ness has gathered momentum. We are rehoming a cat named Cocoa, who was adopted some years ago by my mother-in-law and her flatmate of the time, J. When my MIL moved to Germany for work, J retained custody of dear old Cocoa, who is a dark cocoa-coloured (!) fluffy number with no voice. J has not been well for the last few years and we received the bad news that she is now receiving respite care at the hospice. The least we can do in the circumstances is to provide Cocoa with a new home, though we do so with a heavy heart. It's very hard to acknowledge that J won't be home again.
In the space of a month, therefore, P and I have gone from a no-pet family to a family of five. It's going to be a fairly traumatic move for Cocoa, who we're picking up from Hamilton on Tuesday. We'll be keeping her in the spare bedroom for a while and buttering her paws, but if you have any other suggestions for helping Cocoa acclimate to her new home, I'd love to hear them. Timmy and Tab will be kept apart from Cocoa but they'll be able to smell each other and swipe paws under the door. We're hopeful that since the Terrormouses are still only 14 weeks old, they'll be young enough that they'll accept Cocoa quickly and with any luck, she them.
So, it's a very bittersweet time at the A+P household (no pun intended - seriously, no pun intended, I just can't find a better word). We're happy to have this old puss, but so sad that she's coming to us in these circumstances.
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