decemberish

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. 

frazzled, variously

So work has seriously kicked off.  I think it's that 'Christmas is coming' mentality setting in - oh fuck, say all of my clients, ever, at once, let's get that stuff sorted before the Christmas holidays! And I proceed to flip the flip out because I am incapable of any setting on my personal toaster between warm bread and JEEBERS TURN OFF THE SMOKE ALARMS. 

(I wrote all of that, took a break, came back and whoa there Nelly I really do know how to torture a metaphor)

So yes, two months until Christmas. We are getting the Chrissy plans sorted. In case you care, we're off down the line for a wedding, a stay with my olds, a six hour car ride with my olds to get back to the 09 (emphasis added OMG), then spending Christmas eve with my wider maternal fam, Christmas day with a visit to P's dad and stepfam, the rest of the day with his Ma, brother and sister in law, then beach with friends for a week, whew. The shut down at our offices continues to the 12th, so there's talk of finding another beach after that with P's mum.

The late spring humidity has arrived with a vengeance and is doing a number on my coiffure.  I think we all know how I feel about that.  I'm taking it personally, is what I'm doing.

Also, my eyes are watering following quotes on replacing those rotten weatherboards.  Turns out one side of the house is, to put it poetically, totally rooted.  I think we knew that in our hearts but were practicing turning a blind eye.  Home ownership and responsibility and whatnot, far out. 

31 today

Happy birthday to P, a one of a kind husband.  Only P would:

• use so much garlic in the mashed potatoes that 18 hours later I am still warding off vampires with the vapours I'm emitting
• up and announce: "It's Bluff oyster season and it's my birthday, I'm going to the supermarket" and arrive home 20 minutes later with a bundle of shallots to dice finely in pursuit of the perfect oyster dipping vinaigrette
• announce not 30 minutes later: "Watch out wife, the oysters are kicking in"
• shine his shoes to look good on his birthday
• insist, when I'm treating him to dinner (on our joint account, all funds are mixed here), that he be the one to hand over the card and sign the bill
• require the perfect blend of strawberries and raspberries on his breakfast cereal
• hold my hand even when it's all hot and sweaty
• quell the desire to criticise my parking when clearly, I'm not having a good driving day
• always come to bed 15 minutes later, and get up 15 minutes later than me exactly, no matter what time I rest/arise
• tell me that I shouldn't say those words to the cat, even if I do use a nice tone
• fish out cat toys from under the couch every day with a long handled wooden spoon

And, and, and.  P's one of a kind, wonderful and mine.  Love you P, happy birthday

three weeks off is just so....punishing, you know?!

Ahhh, the rest and relaxation of the summer break. 

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. 

Now, don't get me wrong, there will be plenty of rest and relaxation time on the island.  It's just that we'll be in close proximity with family for over a week on the back of one of the maddest Decembers I can remember, in a year when I didn't take more than two days off at a time. 

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!

celebrations / commiserations

I had a very nice birthday, once I'd thrown the hangover, thanks.  Not a day over 18, I swear.  I yell-whispered "ITS MAH BIRFDAY" and "WHERE'S MAH PHONE" at P for about 10 minutes when I arrived home at 2am on the morning of the big day, reeking of cheap bubbles and some vile energy drink/vodka combo.  As it turns out, you can forgive a birthday girl quite a bit but some things are always, always annoying. 

(I told him he should just be grateful I didn't kick on with the others.  He told me that a decision to kick on is usually made by 10pm and doesn't get remade at 2am.  He still made me a bday cuppa tea in the morning, so I was only in the dogbox briefly (whew).)

As part of my nice day, I hung out with my sister.  We were flipping channels from my couch as we lazed following a tasty brunch.  Then: golden moment! We discovered 'Making the Team: Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders'.  Now, you might think that K and I don't have a great deal in common.  Sometimes that's true - I love tomatoes, she loves tomato sauce.  She's an excellent sportsman, I have no coordination whatsoever.  Etc.   But when it comes to trash television, we have a shared passion for excellence.  That show is beyond brilliant and I want to join the kick line (but I'm worried I'm too 'soft' and have a little too much 'jiggle' - the euphemisms were offensive yet somehow outstanding).  How have I not known about it before?

Had a quiet evening with friends, watching the rugby and chatting.  Just lovely, really.  Oh, and I am devouring my new copy of Wolf Hall, superb (why yes, I am about four years late to the Hilary Mantel party, thanks for noticing my lack of cultural relevance.  I am about to go and discover Hemingway or something, then present it to you like it's a revelation, OK?).

Birthdays are alright with me. 

my dad worked in a purple building, once

And now a return to our regular programming: ME. 

Two and a half weeks 'til we move in to my new purple love shack (oh, I forgot to mention the house is purple? How...ashamed remiss of me!  It won't be purple for long...I hope.)

Oddly, this time last year, I was playing the waiting game too.  It was a matter of days before I finished my job.  I could not wait.  I had worked out a three month notice period (please read the word 'worked' loosely in that sentence, or feel free to swap it for "planned a trip and read the internet") and was a matter of five working days away from the end, itching for it to be over and the fun to be started.  This time, the rip-tide of work is threatening to pull me under but, never fear, I'm spending a whole swathe of time on design websites daydreaming about the contents of my new home.

O stylish yet uncomfortable looking couches! O quirky lamps and sideboards!  O printed tea towels with whimsical designs you SLAY me!

As sands through the hour glass, these are the days of my shallow, materialistic life: travel obsession replaced with house obsession replaced with homewares obsession...I really should find an obsession that is less me me me and more productive to society as a whole.  I'll get back to you on that.

So, I turn 31 tomorrow.  I had sort of forgotten about that whole 'my bday' thing this year - it got subsumed in the house excitement and, prior to that, the general worky malaise I've been suffering from.  What does 31 mean to me, apart from declining fertility, inclining fatness and broadening wrinkles?  Um, it means taking up the yoke of adulthood I suppose, given I'm chaining myself to a mortgage a few weeks later.  What were you doing when you were 31, or, assuming you're a delicate young petal who hasn't yet reached this golden age, what do you think you'll be doing when you're 31? 

Oh god, this game is a complete rabbit hole for me to fall down.  I'm keeping myself on a short leash here, but here are a few brief predictions:

- At 41 I'll have two smalls and a middle-aged hangover from being ridiculous with P & champagne;
- At 51 I'll have ditched the rat race and moved to the sticks where P has a vineyard; and
- At 61 I'll be living part-time in France, learning the language and working at a bar or cheese shop, with P making wine out the back.

I can but dream, I suppose.  More desires than predictions, but aim high, why not?  Happy 31st, me.

YOU GUYS WE DID IT

WE BOUGHT A HOUSE. 

WITH WALLS.  AND A ROOF.  AND HOLY HELL NOW I HAVE TO PAY FOR IT.

It kinda doesn't feel real (more like WE DID WHAT?).  S, if you're still looking then please know that we're thinking of you guys and that when you purchase something you will think your heart is going to bust out of your chest it is thumping that hard.  And then, if you buy at an auction on site, you will wish you had your retractable measuring tape that your husband proudly brought home in a hubris-filled moment of  "for when we have a home" but then you realise that TOTALLY would have jinxed it.  And then you notice a rotten weatherboard.  And wonder where the hotwater cupboard is and just where on earth you're going to store the excessive number of wine glasses you own.  No, just me?

(I really hope we can sort the finance now.  Otherwise I'll feel a bit silly, won't I?)

I own two beds and a chest of drawers.  A boat load of books.  Wine glasses, obv.  No couch, fridge, washing machine, table, chairs - anything else.  The place will be a disaster zone for weeks.  It needs painting and it's only partially renovated, so the bad news is: welcome to blog posts of the future!  Wherein I whinge about my home!  I kid - sort of.

We rang the fambily with the news.  We've got good news, we said.  The family, despite knowing we've been househunting for oh, say 5 months, immediately guessed I was pregnant.  Way to be a disappointment to your nearest and dearest, A.  Instead we just invited them over for a working bee.  Poor sods. 

WE BOUGHT A HOUSE.

a+p do melbourne

so apart from beating my husband at night, I've been working about a billion and THAT'S RIGHT I went to Melbourne!

So great.  SRSLY.  27 degrees, sunshine (+ a shower or to, to be fair), sights, eats etc.  We had a lovely time.  So lovely in fact, that we made it home at 6.30am on Sunday morning after an extended sesh in the Laneways bars and at the Supper Club.  I have not done that since I was about 20 (I think the closest was the time I "tipped" the cab driver my camera by accident in NY at about 4am following an East Village bender with V and L - got into the apartment and fell off the bed taking my boots off while P watched in wonder) (I lie! It was the time I hit Shoreditch with the girls and got hit on by Essex lads with too much cologne at the Hoxton Pony and ate pizza on the roadside, possibly my favourite night in London ever).  Mind you, this was not a dance party.  Our particular brand of being 30 is much more old fogey than that.  We sat for ages in a bar that resembled a womb (red leather dangly trimmings and vulval couches), another that featured outdoor lavs but served something delicious with lychee and eventually ended up in comfortable sofas at Supper Club, sipping red wine, eating cheese and talking, talking, talking. 

AS PER, TOOK FUCK ALL PHOTOS AND AM REDUCED TO USING A VAIN ONE I TOOK TO CAPTURE AWESOME SHOES.  NAH, I'M NOT ASHAMED ACTUALLY - ROCKING SOME EXCELLENT SKINNY ARM TOO SO BUGGER THE TERRIBLE QUALITY, I'VE FILTERED THE BEJESUS OUT OF IT AND YOU'RE JUST GONNA HAVE TO LOOK. EXCEPT NOT AT MY FACE, WHICH IS A BIT OLD LADY-ISH.  LONGEST POINTLESS CAPTION EVAH.

We caught up with old friends and I probably used my yearly word quota in yakking away - just bliss. 

P (29Y364D) + A (NOT ME, T'OTHER ONE) + VIEW

More importantly, I think P had a great time.  Happy 30th P, and here's to many more decades of bad behaviour with you.

(I really hope our trip trumps the bad memories of the nosebreaking incident of 2013...)

i live for the weekend

Monday morning, how much more do I adore thee when thou art followed by a four day week?  Easter.  Can’t come soon enough.  Choc + a four day weekend is the best thing I can imagine right now.  If the weather stays the way it currently is (clear, 20+ degree days, cool nights and mornings) it will be sheer bliss.  This lingering summer is melting into autumn but slowly, slowly.   

Weddings for the season have now been attended, gifts given, cards signed and we’re facing down the barrel of a bleak, ceremony-less winter.  When I see a house I like I think I might marry it, though, because then it can’t leave me, right?  Those two pics I posted on Friday were of houses we visited this weekend and decided we could TOTALLY live in so that brings the next round of auctions to three possibles.  You will have to wait until after Easter to ride the rollercoaster again though – auctions are on the 3^rd, 10^th and 13^th of April.  We will have been house hunting for about three months then.  May not sound long to many of you, but it’s far more of my life devoted to the process than I ever previously intended. 

Other updates: P spent the weekend chatting with Melbourne based friends about how we should totally go over for a visit, apparently ignorant of all my birthday scheming (muahaha).  R nearly wet himself, writhing with excitement over the secret when P was speculating about a good time for a visit (P in his best man’s speech about R: “Apart from the fact he can’t keep a secret, he’s the best friend you can imagine”).  I think he might be on to me, actually.  Sneaky beggar is very sneaky and I cannot for the life of me work out how I’m going to secretly pack him a bag to get to the airport. 

Also, not to boast (totally to boast), but it is EXTREMELY attractive when one’s husband makes a speech about his best mate and has everyone in tears of laughter and emotion.  The booze helped a willing audience to be sure, I was so proud of him nonetheless. 

And so, hi ho hi ho etc – work. 

my summer holiday: a report

Oh hey blog.  Long time, no ... blog.  Ah well, thems the breaks as my venerable mother would say.  Don't ask me what that means; I don't have a clue. 

This is where I should recap Xmas/New Year.  I was going to try and do an express version of this recap but it's ended up long winded and vaguely ranty (yet ANOTHER assessment of the state of the nation, because a minute examination of my own mental state is my favourite writing subject.  NARCISSIST ahoy).

- Three families, too many places to be at once.  Love being wanted though!

- Caught a bug off Whanau Number 1.  This lead to me throwing up Christmas dinner at Whanau Number Three.  Was not a good look.  P is still incredibly dark about missing out on dessert as (selfishly), I fancied going home to my bed after spending 20 minutes retching over someone else's toilet. 

- The HAM, people.  THE HAM.  Hot, cold, sandwich, omlette, frittata, toasted sarnies, pasta, you name it, we've eaten that little piggy treat. 

- New Zealand summer!  Sure, we've had some rainy days, but New Years' Day on the Coromandel peninsula (or, more accurately, on a tiny wee island off the side of the Coromandel) was glorious: clear skies, water so azure we watched a gurnard swim on the shores of the beach from 100 metres away, sun so blistering we sat on top of one another to hide under the shade of the umbrella.

- Friends!  Saw some wonderful friends who live far from Tamaki Makaurau this summer.  So, so good to see their smiling faces.  We sat in quiet contemplation on the rocks, as the last rays of 2012 lingered redly, violently on the edge of the Firth of Thames.  Someone started strumming a guitar (Tom Petty and Pearl Jam appropriate replacements for Auld Lang Syne, n'est-ce pas? Or not); we hummed through the hard parts.  I saw tears in the corners of H's eyes as she beamed at me.  My heart hurt happy. 

- Three more days of holiday!  Yussssssss.

Oh, it's not all daytime naps and eating ham straight out of the fridge over here.  This is the summer at it's glossiest, bloggiest best, of course.  It's a weak woe, but illustrative: today I spent about 50 hours using bleach on different surfaces of my house.  As I type this, sitting with a shandy and three different coasters (because I NEVER want to WIPE another surface AS LONG AS I LIVE which will not be long if I have to continue bleaching; my lungs will be seared out of existence) (also, who the fuck takes white shorts to an island possessing only an ocean and a long drop by way of ablution block? A moron, that's who), I'm a touch melancholy about some rain on my parade, the roots in my hair (fuck me MORE BLEACHING required), a break up, an illness and the amount of work ahead. 

BUT. I'm excited about 2013.  We don't have Big Exciting Things Planned (unlike 2012), but I'm gonna enjoy the shit out of the kitchen equipment I received for Xmas, spend more time with my husband and friends and make the most of career opportunities.  It's a pretty good outlook. 

Let's see how long that lasts!

{PS Totally had some photos to support this snoozefest post, but blogger is being an asshole.  Bad Luck.  No doubt we'll relive this all with some shitty pics in the NEAR NEAR future, interwebs YOU SPOILT THING!}

end of year thoughts (only 12 days early)

Ha.  I've bought in to this posterity recording meme situation.  Warning, serious navel-gazing ahead.

1. What did you do in 2012 that you'd never done before?

Quit a job not knowing what was next.  Usually, I have the next job/study plans all lined up etc.  While I had options sorted prior to leaving the UK, I didn’t lock anything down until after I arrived back in New Zealand and that was pretty scary for me.

2. Did you keep your new year's resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

Do you know, I could probably find out what those resolutions were simply by looking back to January’s blog entries but fff that…cause I suspect I failed.  No doubt I’ll have some in mind come 1 Jan (garden variety: exercise more! Be better person! Drink less!) but even less doubt that it’ll go to the pot pretty quickly.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

My sister-in-law gave birth to a gorgeous wee boy who I call Squishy and a variety of other awful pet names.

4. Did anyone close to you die?

No.  I am so grateful to be able to answer that question with a no, ‘specially given the health problems circulating in our family at the moment.

5. What countries did you visit?

It’s kind of ridiculous – what with our wedding trip, Le Grand Tour and moving back to the Southern Hemisphere we went quite a few places - (in rough chrono order) England, US, NZ, Hong Kong, Thailand, Scotland, France, Holland, Croatia, Bosnia, Lithuania, Northern Ireland, Ireland, Spain, Italy, Greece, Turkey, India!  (I know, I’ve counted the bits of the UK separately but throw me a bone here; they certainly FEEL very different!  Don’t even start on the Ireland thing).  We spent the most time in the UK and NZ but managed to visit France thrice during the year.  And Germany missed the cut in 2012 by a day or two – we were there for Xmas 2011 and a damn fine time we had there too.  Germany has the best schnitzel and some very tasty bakeries.

6. What would you like to have in 2013 that you lacked in 2012?

A home!  One of my own!  Probably unlikely but a girl can dream.  And a CAT. 

7. What dates from 2012 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

11 February.  CHEESE ALERT: I married the best man ever.  Not P's best man, I mean P is the best man.  Just in case that wasn't clear.   

15 June: I turned 30 and discovered a good friend was having a baby.

4 September: stepping out onto NZ soil, a resident.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Well, if getting married counts as an achievement, then that!  If not, it’s a toss up between moving back to the other side of the world and finding gainful employment or planning and experiencing an epic holiday.

9. What was your biggest failure?

Being an old grump far too often.  I feel like I’ve fought with P frequently this year which is very unusual for us (symptomatic of stress?).  It feels like a failure though – knowing I’m married to the most wonderful, thoughtful fella BUT YET still being a bitch on occasion.  From time-to-time.  Regularly. 

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

The Bowels of Death have been quite a regular feature on this old blog in 2012…

11. What was the best thing you bought?

That damned holiday.  But if it has to be a tangible, the camera.  Not that any of you’ve seen a photo I’ve taken with it; all you get here is the damn iPhone instagram BS.

12. Where did most of your money go?

Wedding and holiday! Oh yeah, rent was also a bitch. 

13. What did you get really, really, really excited about?

Fuck this is getting repetitive.  MARRIAGE AND VISITING PLACES.

14. What song will always remind you of 2012?

Jono McCleery – no clue on the title of the song, but it was playing as we hit Barcelona’s motorway to the airport.  I hear it and I conjure up the most intense recollection of the place, the moment.  Um…don’t judge but Jay-Z and Kanye’s Watch the Throne album has the same effect for me driving over the hill from Cadaques to Roses on the Costa Brava.  Time, place, indelible.

15. Compared to this time last year, are you:

a) Happier or sadder? Happier

b) Thinner or fatter? Fatty fatty boom boom. 
c) Richer or poorer? Poorer. Spent all that pinger as aforementioned, also was earning GBP rather than NZD (despite the fact the NZD is rapidly climbing!)

16. What do you wish you'd done more of?

Picture taking and enjoying time with P – too much is never enough.  Also, MORE travels.  MORE OF THEM.

17. What do you wish you'd done less of?

Being a witch to my husband.  Also, eating. 

18. How will you be spending Christmas?

Traipsing around the countryside to be with our various extended families.

19. Did you fall in love in 2012?

Yes, I did.  With France all over again, as well as Greece and Croatia (probably the stand outs…though how can I miss Istanbul off that list? Or Florence?!! Or Amsterdam!! Etc)

20. What was your favourite TV programme?

Game of Thrones (I’m embarrassed for me.  SUCH a nerd).  But 2012 is the year we finished watching The Wire, which = BEST EVER.

21. What was the best book you read?

Big call, this one.  Elizabeth Costello by Coetzee left a really indelible impression so it was probably the best, but it certainly wasn’t the book I enjoyed the most.

22. What was your greatest musical discovery?

Jono McCleery or Trixie Whitley.  Trixie could have been 2011, but that might have just been the year of obsession with Black Dub.  Anyway, claiming it.

23. What did you want and get?

A fancypants camera.  Also, love, light, sunshine etc. 

24. What did you want and not get?

I wanted a first year of complete newlywed bliss – but that was not to be of course, because, well, LIFE.  With its vagaries, frustrations, illnesses - - yet joys as well.

25. What was your favourite film of this year?

This is incredibly sad and it’s a 2011 film, but at the beginning of this year I saw Warrior on a plane between Hong Kong and London.  I freaking cried.  I HATE fighting movies, think they’re BULLSHIT, but seriously, LOVED it.  Could not get enough of huge, tattooed men beating on each other.  WHO AM I??!  I don’t even know me anymore.

26. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

I went to work, and then I flew to Lithuania!  I turned 30 and I was not evil/hateful/despairing even.  We discovered on arrival that our very good friend was pregnant – it was so exciting!

27. What kept you sane?

P, the family, copious cups of tea, sushi lunches with a colleague in the UK.

28. What political issue stirred you the most?

Yeah, that whole abortion bit really wound me up.  LET’S NOT REHASH IT, shall we?!

29. Who did you miss?

My Mum, a lot.  Dad too.  Solved (in part) by moving back here…but they’re still 5 ½ hours away! Also, still missing my grandmother four years on.

30. Who was the best new person you met?

My newest nephew, Squish.  He’s delightful. 

31. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2012

The sunscreen thing, again.  Also, your travelling companion WILL hear everything through the walls and dignity will be lost.  Resign yourself!

 

all i want for christmas

I sent P a barrage of emails around lunchtime today with requests for Xmas – bras, knickers, Wodehouse – and then remembered to ask him if he was feeling better (he was all hot and shiver-y last night and growly this morning about the level of noise I made in the shower which *surely* is a symptom of a deadly disease).

When he got back from a client lunch (oh Christmas, you are full of events that seem like treats but are still work underneath it all), he thanked me for my concern for his delicate constitution and wished me a happy anniversary.  It’s only been 10 months since we got married but we’re both basically convinced that while we were pretty good at de facto, we’re likely to be hopeless at married, so we’re congratulating ourselves on the small milestones.  I had completely forgotten and promptly became concerned about the need to keep our marriage alive.  Over a series of increasingly desperate emails, I sent P a variety of suggested activities to keep us together that finished with :

“…destroying the Beach Boys back catalogue or eating cookies or something”

He said that those options were very different but nonetheless appealing when done with me, but had I been drinking?

I think I need to work on my marriage maintenance skills.

flaking skin is a good sign?

My lips are burnt because……dun dun duuuuuuuuun….. I saw some sun this weekend!  Miracles never cease, we may have a summer yet here in NZ! 

LOVELY LAKE WAKATIPU.  WAS MUCH WARMER THAN IT LOOKS; MAH PHOTOG SKILLZ SADLY LACKING IN ACTUALLY CAPTURING THE SCENE

P and I packed our (10kg or less and within the applicable dimensions) bag on Saturday morning and Jetstarred off to Queenstown for the weekend.  All the NZ-resident Kiwis we’ve talked to have bitched and moaned about Jetstar, but apart from the dire lack of leg room, we didn’t have any incidents.  Unless you count the squalling ginger toddler on the way back, that is.  Hardly Jetstar’s fault, nor the baby’s for that matter; either the squalling on descent or the gingerness. 

IF YOU ARE NOT FAMILIAR WITH QUEENSTOWN, HERE ARE SOME FACTS: IT IS IN THE DEEP SOUTH, IT HAS MOUNTAINS AND IT HAS LAKE.  LOVELY.

This was a flying visit for an old friend’s 30^th.  He had arranged a time-share situation with a fab deck overlooking Lake Wakatipu so we had a few bevvies on the deck and enjoyed the sunshine massively.  My face is a bit pink, despite the liberal application of sunscreen.  I had forgotten exactly how violent the sun is in NZ – once or even twice a day applications of sun protection is not enough on a bright day.  We rode the gondola and saw some fantastic views, celebrated excessively when we discovered the DSLR has recovered from India (the display is now working again…we took two weeks’ worth of photos in India with no VDU following some splashy times at the Agra Fort, but now it’s magically sorted itself out – YUSSSS – because the warranty is British and they weren’t going to honour it here, the assholes), ate merino lamb and smacked our (burnt) lips, all v nice.  I had a bit of a mozzer on Saturday night when the tiredness of the week caught up with me and I basically bailed just after 11 when the others were just warming up for a good time, so I looked like a prize party pooper. 

GLORIOUS VIEW OF FAREWELL SPIT AND GOLDEN BAY AT THE TOP OF THE SOUTH ISLAND ON THE WAY HOME.  I'M TOTALLY BIASED BUT NZ REALLY IS THE FAIREST OF THEM ALL. 

Also *sigh* - we’re in the middle of sorting out what’s happening at Christmas.  Does anyone else find this quite stressful?  P and I have spent the last three Xmases with his mum and various others (both family and friends), given that the three of us were living in the same hemisphere, far away from the rest of the whanau.  This year, we’re torn between three sets of family and it seems to me that we’re building up for what will likely be a long day.  Basically, I figure I’ll survive by just having another drink.  I started laying in supplies of bubbly stuff at the supermarket yesterday, having predicted the need.  Spoke to my mother yesterday and confirmed we would likely see her Boxing Day; she took it very gracefully so now I owe her a pretty decent prez.  Ideas for mothers who like farms and tennis and gardens, anyone?  Maybe some more paeony plants? 

Well, that’s my newsy little update for you all.  Bit like a Christmas letter really; the writer enjoys putting it together and the recipients could probably care less.  Very tempted to post a family picture featuring seasonal sweaters and an update that reads something like:

“Dear Family and Friends,

“Well it was a wonderful year in the A & P household!  A few highlights of the year:

-       January: We started the year with a disappointing return to work and never saw the light of day in London because of the rubbish winter sunlight hours.  Seasonal Affective Disorder FTW!

-       February: We got MARRIED!  Here are 50 bazillion photos of the Big Day for you to peruse. 

-       March: Went back to work and sulked; decided to quit and return to NZ on flimsy basis of “it means we can have a nice holiday on the way back”

-       April – May: planned said holiday on work time, in between fits of sulking about rubbish Spring weather in London.  Got really boozed in Bordeaux, ate stuff in Amsterdam etc, etc.

-       June: Started our Big Trip!  Here are 50 bazillion photos from the first part.

-       July-August: More Big Trip!  Look at some more photos you suckers!  Mostly unedited and seriously repetitive because one photo of the Blue Mosque is simply not enough!

-       September: We arrived back in NZ and promptly remembered about this Nation’s serious lack of proper insulation!  Got chilblains immediately, bitched about losing our tans and attempted to recover from bowels of death!  Started work in our new jobs.

-       October/November: Whinged at one another regarding how HARD full time employment is.  Continued oversharing about our bowel problems.

-       December: Began resenting our beloved families who we moved back to NZ to be closer to because they care about us and would like to spend Xmas with us.  Aren’t we just peachy?

“Isn’t that lovely?  In summary: we travelled, we drank, we wed and, most of all, we poohed.

“All our love, A & P”

A bit early for that sort of palaver; I must be getting my Xmas spirit(s) on. 

a new decade

30 feels much like 29 did, only more tired and a little hungover.  I joined P and a couple of his colleagues for a drink to watch the football last night, following which we injudiciously imbibed some sake with sushi for dinner.  I rolled home boozled and skyped my parents (which? drunken skyping with relatives? BAD idea)...and woke up this morning feeling fairly average.

You know what though? I'm happy.  In a week, I'll be unemployed and getting ready to roam.  I've got a lovely husband, a great bunch of friends and adventures ahead.  This is (at 10.20am) turning out to be a pretty good birthday. 

I TOTALLY feel like I should be writing something DEEP and INSIGHTFUL about turning 30 but that's because I overthink EVERYTHING, IN THE WORLD, EVER.  Instead, I'll go with the flow - I have to find treats for the office afternoon tea (bday shout), do some work, catch a plane tonight.  Just keep it simple. 

feckless

You know how I'm planning a little bit of a travelstravaganza on finishing work on 21 June?  And how I just had a month overseas and a wedding?  And how I did a masters' degree two years ago that completely wiped me out financially?  And we're going away practically every weekend from here to 21 June because JC on a piece of toast, we're not going to live within three hours of Paris by train soon? 

I'm a lucky lady but it's freaking me out financially.

I don't regret the marriage, the honeymoon or the graduate degree.  I hope I'm unlikely to regret the experiences we'll have between now and arriving home in New Zealand.  (I'm already referring to it as home; excuse me?  When did that happen?!).  What I am regretting is the need to trade off financial stability for the purpose of my own enjoyment.

Don't get me wrong; I'm not plunging myself into the unfathomable depths of the debt sinkhole in order to have this travel blow-out.  We've simply prioritised the travel over the ability to put a good deposit down on a home sooner, rather than later.  A home or another investment, obvs.  Home ownership is not the be all and end all of investment, though it often seems that way. 

{CRY ME A RIVER, you're probably thinking.  Doesn't this self-indulgent cow know there's a frigging recession on and she's lucky to have the option to spend money this way?  Yep, not completely self-absorbed, only MOSTLY self-absorbed, so I am aware that this is a blatantly petty problem to others.   Yet I write about it because, as previously advertised, these are the chicken scratchings of a Gen-Y narcissist.}

For all that spending money makes me feel terribly, terribly guilty and panic stricken, I just spent MOAR on P's 29th birthday present.  P has purchased a stereo amp for his birthday, nominally as my bday prez for him.  He spent a very happy afternoon on Saturday setting it up, testing the sound settings, explaining the remote controls to me (which, just between you and me, was a complete waste of his time) and practically jizzing all over it.  We're justifying it on the basis that electronics are eye-wateringly expensive in Nu Zild, plus it makes him facehurt happy.  HOWEVER, I couldn't let him have nothing to unwrap on the day now could I?  Well, yes I could but I won't this year. 

THIS BAD BOY.  STATE OF THE ART SEXY FRYING PAN.  GETS YOUR JUICES SIZZLING.

The gift is an awesome frying pan.  Can you believe that frying pans can be awesome?  Well, it's true.  If I was gifted a frying pan I'd probably freak the eff out but P will genuinely love it (I think).  I actively encourage his cooking skills: previous gifts include cookbooks, gastronomic encyclopaedias, chef bios, knives, the whole bit.  Selfish, hey?  Yeah, I ate a warm lamb salad with roasted kumara and finely sliced red onion, feta and little gems last night for dinner courtesy of those gifts.  BOOM.  I assure you, it's not ALL about me though - the man has actually expressed a desire for a pan that can go from stovetop to oven. 

I think I have just done an incredibly effective job at justifiying my purchase in writing this.  Jeebus,  I can't even stick to the theme of "money spend guilts" today.

WHO SAYS THAT ROMANCE IS DEAD?

Sushi bar, lunchtime.  Pile of teriyaki chicken steaming before ridiculously hot girl A wearing effortlessly stylish and chic lawerly attire.  (My blog, my rules people: I will reinterpret facts as and when necessary.  though I will admit that I considered retiring this SUPER (in)EXPENSIVE THEREFORE KLASSY Next dress last time I wore it on the basis that the lining is holy)

A: [answers phone, looking longingly at pile of soy-based treats]
P: Hello. 
A: Are you telepathic?
P: What?
A: Telepathic? Are you this thing? How do you always know to call exactly when my lunch is hottest and most appetizing?
P: I'm thinking of your waistline.  Anyway, I'm in Oxford Street and it's all kinds of godawful and I'm about to punch someone.  Did you get my Christmas present yet?
A: Part of it.  Why? [said knowingly]
P: Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeell, I went to La Senza and they don't have your size, what can I say, you're chest blessed, butanywaydon'tgettherestofmypresentlet'snotbotherthisyear.
A: So, you got nothing right?
P: Nothing but love. 


[in the interests of full disclosure, he is generally very good with presents and I do love to have ammunition in the ongoing battle of who's the boss so not all is lost.  HOWEVER.  hymph.]