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. 

octoberish

Had the first casual wine on the back deck of the season, this weekend gone.  It was a chardonnay I'd popped in the fridge in anticipation, waking on Saturday morning to a clear sky.  Two friends visited to check out an open home over the back fence* and we ruminated over the marketing material over a glass or two of wine.  I shared sunscreen with my visitors.  Towels were drying on the washing line, flapping in a gentle breeze.  Felt properly summerish and not a moment before time.

SUNDAY AFTERNOON GROUP SNOOZE

P had disappeared for the weekend on his annual migration to the river to 'catch fish' (for which, read: commune with nature in the company of male relations).  He did manage to bring home a fat trout so I think he's assuaged the hunter-gatherer urges for another few months.  Fishing has been a hot topic in our household, of late.  He's organised a charter to catch kingfish or hapuka over the Christmas holidays, as well as a snapper expedition with work.  I will gladly eat the spoils.

I'm planning the next set of work on the house.  I booked a plumber to add some exterior taps (nothing's gonna die on my watch, this year! Filling the watering can in the bathtub got a bit tedious, after a while.  No doubt I've just jinxed the summer into being wet, wet, wet.) I've also planned a quick refresh of the kitchen window.  But the real buzz is getting a builder in to replace weatherboards in anticipation of an exterior paint job.  We're going to leave that to the professionals, I think, but I'll find it satisfying nonetheless.

OH HEY LOOK HERE IS MY NEW LIGHT FIXTURE IN THE DINING ROOM.
SEE ALSO: CEILING OF SANDING DOOOOOOOOOOOOOM

*It would be so nice if they bought the place but the eau-de-dog permeating the front rooms was powerful.  I know it can be overcome but boy, it affects your first impression!

what's next, gout?

Fresh page, blank slate notwithstanding, my bloggy muse is still AWOL.  Am feeling very stilted on the old blog recently, given I don't tend to write about work, my husband generally (other than, you know, putting up mocking faux-fashion pictures) or details regarding my friends.  Maybe it's just that I'm leading a boring life?  Probably.  I can usually wring a drop of drama or six out of the most innocuous material, so I'll resort to a nice list and see what pops out:

• Summer holiday is mostly organised, including a trip to see the olds, a week at the beach with friends, and a visit from P's mum.  We've also booked a trip to Golden Bay (upper South Island, v remote, hippy heaven) for a wedding in March.  Am feeling good about summer time on the horizon.
• Friend saga.  Friend 1 has been a dick to Friend 2 over a gift that Friend 1, a bunch of other friends and I arranged for Friend 2.  I heartily disapprove of Friend 1's dickish behaviour and dealt with endless email/FB correspondence, including a few calls to other friends myself for sanity! Mother above, how is it that friends can still bring the drama at age 30+? I am actually ashamed of having had any involvement in a squabble at all.  But given I'm not going to parse the details here, you probably don't care much about that at all.  Safe to say: my policy on this sh*t now is: Let's All Calm Down and Have a Glass of Wine.  Actually, that's an excellent policy to apply across the board for me, I'll have it printed on an inspirational fridge magnet in no time.  Watch out Pinterest.*
• Tabitha cat has found an access point to the roof and scares the bejesus out of me on the regular.  She creates massive thumps, and I rush outside to see what's caused the noise, only to realise I'm being watched over the eaves by a furry wee stalker.  Gets me every time and is somehow worse than when I realised I'm being watched during midnight pee trips. 
• HAHAHAHA I jinxed myself with my recent post about musical theatre. Turns out the Sound of Music is coming to town and my sister K is desperate to go.  Mum said no way, on the basis that it won't be as good as the movie, but K pointed out that comparing it unfavourably is half the fun.  I mean, why would you watch the Keira Knightley version of Pride & Prejudice otherwise?  So, I'm going back to the theatre for a singalong, goodness help me.
• Weekend: nearly upon us, whew. 
• State of the Chubby Update: fell off the food recording bandwagon hard, but am making better decisions and feeling better about meself generally.  More cups of tea, fewer diet Cokes, no snorting chips before dinner.  Good rules, hey?
• OMG I COMPLETELY FORGOT TO TELL YOU: I think I had an attack of gallstones! No, I'm not 90 or a very fat man (the population segment I associate with gallstones)!  The other weekend was spiked with abdominal pain, that started near the bottom of my ribs and worked its way down.  I was achey on and off all weekend, with marginal improvement on the Monday.  After I was palpated by the doctor (ick! palpation! sounds vile, right? Mind you, it could have been worse - she threatened me with a transvaginal scan at one point), she concluded that the likely culprit was gallstones.  I was so ashamed, but did you know that it is actually more common in women?  And that it can be caused by long term oral contraceptive use?  Well, that's what Wikipedia tells me anyway.  I had a blood test/pee test to rule some other stuff out, but they won't know that it was the 'stones for sure unless they do an ultrasound.  Given I'm feeling better, I'm going to flag that, so unless they flare up again, I guess we'll never know.  GALLSTONES.  AM SUFFERING FROM MYSTERIOUS OLD PERSON AILMENT.  SHAME.

*I joined Pinterest in 2011, pinned approximately 3 wedding hairstyles I knew I could never be achieved with my hair, and never looked at it again. I often get so-and-so-is-now-following-you-on-Pinterest! emails, and every time I feel sorry for them, because it must be pretty damn boring.

diy

I posted something terribly depressing, then I fled the scene of the crime for a solid two weeks.  Well done, self, you're a real peach. 

The break was prompted by my holiday from work...AKA the week in which I learned my deficiencies in the home improvement realm!

Here's how it actually went:

1) I paint swatches all over the dining room wall and melt down about the difference between Quarter Surrender and One Eighth Surrender, because it's clearly a big deal.  Much time spent staring at walls in different lights.

INSTRUCTIONAL VIDEO/NAP TIME.  THIS IS ACTUALLY HOW AMATEUR WE ARE.

2) We have a cup of tea.

[50 SHADES OF GREY JOKE HERE]

3) P starts demolishing the linings.  It transpires they're hard board not gib (plasterboard) and there's a fuckload (official term) of wood behind them for bracing.  There is a technical term for this but it escapes me, or perhaps I never had it.

4) I cart loads of rubbish to our bin.

5) I cart loads of rubbish to the bin of the empty house next door, looking around to see if anyone's busting me.

6) More tea. 

7) Sparky comes to fix the outlets in the dining room and add a heated towel rail to the bathroom.  HOLY SMOKES a heated towel rail is a super luxury item! I mean, my towel is always dry now! AMAZING.  Yes, I have had an HTR (we're on close terms now) in my life previously but seriously, it's a minor improvement to an incredibly shabby bathroom and it makes me beyond happy. 

8) Tea while watching electrician and his apprentice (who seemed about 17 and named Silkie.  'Silk, get under the house.' 'Silk, get in the roof.' 'Silk, have you fixed that yet?' Endlessly entertaining).

9) Spend HOURS pulling superfluous nails out of the bracing.  HOURS.

SOMEWHERE IN ALL OF THIS WE WENT TO WAIHEKE ISLAND FOR A LONG LUNCH BECAUSE HOLIDAY.

10) Get dressed up in a disposable overall (something I hope never to do again) to install insulation.  Install insulation and only breathe a bit of fibreglass in the process.  Feel itchy.

11) More nail pulling.  It turns out they used approximately a million tacks to secure the hard wood lining, none of which came out when we ripped off the lining.

12) Freak out when P uses the drop saw. Convinced he will lose a finger, so instead of sensibly supervising with my finger on the dial to call 111, I go outside to paint a window hoping I'll somehow avoid the emergency.

13) P still intact, hammers things. 

14) Gib fixer and plasterer arrives.  Takes ages to dry.  Attempt poorly planned pathway around side of house as landscaping project in interim.  Present status: muddy.

THIS WINS THE PRIZE FOR MOST BORING PHOTO OF ALL TIME BUT WE HAVE WALLS!  ALSO, A SHIT VIEW FROM THIS ROOM. 

15) Sanding stuff.  Architraves, ceiling.  (OMG sanding the ceiling). 

16) Select paint.  Resene Quarter Surrender with white for ceilings, archs, skirts and scotia.  USe Dad's store card for discount and P nearly gives the game away asking me how I got it in front of the clerk.  Immediately have regret about colour choice. 

Aaaaand that's about as far as we got.  I didn't bother writing it in, but we made approximately 50 trips to Mitre 10, Placemakers, some fancy Villa timber store down the road, the booze store, the paint store and the supermarket during that time.  OMG, I bought building paper from Mitre 10 and nails and shit, all by myself.  They let me buy it all without some kind of licence.  (Not so much feminism's win as it is capitalism's, I expect).

that's a big assumption

Assuming everything goes to plan, P and I are taking a week off in August. 

We have needed to have something to look forward, so we tentatively locked in some leave a couple of months ago.  We're not going anywhere because we're trying to save, though I toyed with the idea of booking a getaway to Milford Sound and Queenstown.  Instead,we're going to engage in a spot of light demolition at Chez Mauve. 

This has (expensive) disaster written all over it. The plan:

- Remove all the internal linings from the spare bedroom.
- Insulate the walls.
- Replace linings with fresh gib.
- Get the electrician in to move outlets, and the plasterer to finish the linings.
- Sand, including window and door frames.
- Paint.
- Replace manky door, or at least give the current door a handle.*

*What, all your doors come with a handle as standard? The Purple Palace really is, um, unusual.

What is likely to happen:

- Have fight over logistics while moving all furniture out of spare bedroom.
- Rip down linings and create hellish mess. 
- Discover serious issues with timber frames which no doubt means whole house is screwed.
- Call builder, discover no one can help for at least six months.
- Leave the rest of it forever.

I can conjure at least six different permutations of the 'What is Likely to Happen' list.  Most of which end with all the bedroom stuff living in the dining room while the bedroom is unfinished for months, nay, years.  I am cursing our DIY efforts, no doubt, with my predictions of dire consequences.  But I know my limitations and while I'm not sure of P's, I'm nervous.

So, in order that the holiday feels, well, holiday-ish, I booked a long lunch for us the first weekend we're off.  Think of it as a marital counselling via pasta and wine before the arguments actually occur. Aren't I optimistic?!*

*Please note the move away from yell-y caps to an angular italicisation for emphasis.  I am attempting to be less...strident...in my piffling.  I know, not much of an improvement.  Still a great deal of overuse of the exclamation mark, to say nothing of the other egregious grammatical offences. 

did catherine morland attend the opera while in bath?

P and I attended the NZ Opera's production of La Traviata last night.  I am an operatic Philistine, in that I know nothing about opera other than fictional genteel flutterings of fans and eye contact amongst the crowds attending the opera in Regency romances (OH GOD I'VE EXPOSED MYSELF.  Yes, I read Regency romances.  I'm so sorry).  I'm pretty sure no one was making eyes at me last night.  But I was also probably 30 years too young for most of the crowd.  Aaaaaaaaanyway, I know little about the opera, so bear that in mind when you read the list below:

• Lovely set.  Similar to last year's production of Madame Butterfly in the use of a central pivoting stage, but beautiful.  The chandeliers as set dressing on the ground at the right moments were haunting, as were the dusty mirrored walls. 
• Lorina Gore as Violetta was beautiful, suitably fluttery at the right moments and had a magic voice.
• Alfredo's a bit of a numpty.  You know, aside from all the other plot holes, I found old Alfredo vaguely stalkerish (you've been in love with her for a year from afar but just met her three minutes ago?!), nauseatingly in love (noble! mysterious! love), easily taken in (YOUR DAD WAS MEANT TO BE VISITING IN YOUR ABSENCE, 'FREDO. WHY DO YOU THINK SHE'S CRYING AND LEAVING?) and ultimately, not very good at being angry.  He didn't make my heart swell.
• I need more sparkly dresses in my wardrobe for these occasions.  About 40% of the audience were dressed to the nines and I loved it, wished I made more of an effort.
• The chorus songs were so great!
• I'm pretty sure I saw a girl I went to primary school with in the audience, but I was too chicken to approach her.
• Wish I could have seen into the pit - I really wanted to watch the orchestra, as they sounded wonderful.
• We ate a really great meal at Depot first (again.  Love that place).

See, I told you I know nothing about opera. 

_____________

Also, I want to say I feel good about writing the #yesallwomen post, now.  I hope you didn't feel obliged to read it (don't feel obliged, if you're just reading my blog for the first time.  It's about 2 posts ago).  I found it cathartic.  I suspect that part of the purge is the feeling that I'm contributing to something broader, an education, a movement.  If I can do one thing for someone else now (be it tell a man that consent is a yes, freely and knowingly given, or tell a woman that she's not alone), I won't beat myself up about the decision I made at the time not to speak of it. 

I've also done one thing for me.  I've acknowledged what happened.  That alone might be selfish, but god has it made me feel free.

year thirty-two

I turned 32 this weekend.  Cataloguing the comparisons to my last birthday, at 32 I am:

• Squidgier
• More settled
• About as happy
• Wrinklier
• Sunnier
• A mother of dragons cats
• Tireder
• Longer haired & blonder
• More nervous about the outlook
• Yet calmer, generally

We had friends around to watch the rugby and eat dinner in a very civilised fashion the night before my birthday.  We kept the fact of my birthday reasonably quiet -- I've always felt odd about hosting a celebration for MEMEME, but P never wants to let the moment pass, so we usually end up having some kind of hybrid function that makes me feel squeamish (see for example the leaving/30th party in 2012 - I love celebrating and usually relish a bit of attention, but feel odd about celebrating my anniversary of life!). As I was doing the dishes just before midnight, most of the guests having left, P's friend PJ discovered my birthday was about to begin and started teasing me -- you're not too old for dancing, let's go to town! Come on woman, get your glad rags on! -- and as I sluiced the sink, I thought, challenge accepted.  I threw on a pair of heels, winced at the likely blister they'd cause, slapped on a red lipstick and we charged for the city.

I felt old but happy.  Old, as in we headed for bars frequented by the 20 year old set.  I was wearing far more clothing than they were, which made me feel vaguely prudish, but stuff it, I thought as we knocked back a drink and headed for the dancefloor.  P and PJ (the only others from the dinner party who'd had the stamina or ability, babies and pregnancy presenting obstacles to last minute debauches) took turns at dancing with me and making me laugh breathlessly.  They shamelessly showered me with compliments, which was extremely sweet and a lovely birthday present.  We chatted up girls for PJ, visited a few old haunts and a few new.

I was grateful to be me and 32.  I didn't want to be 20 again, as fun as it once was.  I am grateful for my friends and my husband and my life that sees me tucked up in bed before 10, usually.  I'm glad I went though; I had a good time. 

queen's birthday 2014

Me? Oh I've been working like a slave, and then rushing off to Waiheke for a day wine-tasting with friends, getting way too sauced on the good stuff, wasting all of Sunday curled up in a ball of vino and regret fumes, and spending most of the Monday off at work.

But, I made a new friend! This is Bobby:

BOBBY IS THREE.  LIKES: SHOELACES, COAT BUTTONS.  DISLIKES: DOUBLE KNOTS

And we saw the sun!

SWIPED FROM P'S FACEBOOK.  STONYRIDGE VINEYARD, WAIHEKE, LAST DAY OF AUTUMN 2014

I swear, the only way to tell it was the beginning of winter was by examining the vines:

TE MOTU VINEYARD, WAIHEKE, HOME OF BOBBY

Before I wrote off my tastebuds (and the rest), we had a swig of the LaRose from Stonyridge.  Heaven in a glass, if you're into that sort of thing.   Visitors to Auckland, a day trip to Waiheke cannot come highly rated enough.

And now, back to my regularly scheduled blawgity blawging about Not Much. 

anzac 2014

C + C visited from Wellington, and H from Melbourne.  We hosted get togethers, dinners, sunshine gossip sessions and it was just lovely.  We gathered a crew of 9 and visited P + J in their new home by the beach, ate fish and chips, scared a scallop poacher and soaked up the sunshine.  I'm so grateful for old friendships that are easy and wonderful. 

Holiday weekends are just the bee's knees.  (Knees of the bees plural? Or the knees of one bee?  A mystery of the ages).  One more in early June and then it's the dreaded run to Labour Day in October, with nary a public holiday in sight.  [Ominous music].  I would say you can expect about 50% more bitching as a result of the slog through to spring, but it's hard to fit more than 100% bitching into a blog. 

Holiday weekends I have known and loved:

• May bank holiday, Bordeaux, 2012.  Cheese and bread and wine and sun and friends.  And driving a rental car on the wrong side of the road for about a kilometre. 
• Well, there was that Easter/Royal Wedding weekend 2011 when I got engaged, that was pretty excellent.  Amongst all the festivities (and we fested, we sure did), we ate more than one pork pie with chutney.  Ploughman's lunch > affiancing?  It's close.
• Waitangi Day every year of primary school.  A day off?! Wheeeeeeeeeee!
• ANZAC Day every year of primary school - almost as good as Waitangi Day, but got up at sparrow's for the dawn service so it lost marks there. 
• Queen's Bday weekend 2013 and the attack of the Flaming Tim's.  Oh dear god, I drew on a table with a crayon and hurled out a window in tandem with my husband and he saw a dog eating it in the morning and I blame everyone but myself, as I am wont to do.
• New Year's Day, 1990ish.  The day I sizzled the backs of my legs on a lilo on the lake.  It was great up until I used the last of the aloe vera.
• Easter 1992.  I recall the size of the chocolate egg haul with somnolent reverence. 

so, so stupid

I can't be trusted to act like an adult, ever.  I spent yesterday dying a horrible, horrible, self-induced death ten times over.  The last two things I remember from the night before (the wedding after party) are swimming in the middle of a tropical cyclone (though the details of the swim are pretty hazy) and delivering a full bodied slap to someone's face (no idea who).  That last was part of a game, not malicious, but....still.

I am so, so ashamed of myself for not knowing my limits. 

If driving two and a half hours home over some of the windiest roads in New Zealand counts as punishment, well, then I've been well and truly punished.  But I'm still cracking a whip of self-flagellation and I still physically feel like shit over 36 hours later.  Just charming.  I carried plastic bags of puke + shame in the car on the way home, while P (god bless his compassionate and understanding heart) drove as carefully and smoothly as he could possibly manage.  We took an hour's breather at Thames.  I reclined the seat, swallowed the vomit and asked P to go eat outside, anywhere away from me. 

So, the wedding was lovely but I got carried away.  Awful, immature behaviour and I while I know my in-laws are amazing and very understanding I. Am. Mortified. 

I'm not typing this out of any sense of misplaced pride in my actions (trust me, there's no whoooo! such a kah-razy night! here.  More OH FUCK WHAT DID I DO AND WHYYYYYYY).  I am utterly ashamed and by god I mean to remember this lesson. 

Have I got a problem with the demon drink?  Judging by my performance, it would seem that there is a good chance.  I'm 31 for fuck's sake and I have had PLENTY of chances to learn my lesson.  Why I would get black out boozed is just...beyond me.  If you've got any material thoughts about this, plz to tell. 

Off to turn over a new leaf. 

february, be gone

FRIDAY FRIDAY FAH-RYE-DAY.

I could have finished the post right there, but I'm verbose, so.  Thanks be to the almighty it is Friday.  Am already dreading Monday.  Am so, so sad.

Going to a wedding this weekend and am having the perennial (privileged middle class female) debate:

- sexy shoes what will get broken in the grass; OR
- slightly less sexy shoes which might survive several hours on turf.

Despite my shoe dilemmas, YAY wedding.  I seriously love being a wedding guest.  Despite being so fundamentally ambivalent about the institution of marriage, ceremonies celebrating love and commitment are my jam. 

(*qualification - my ambivalence relates to the need for marriage to be the only legally recognised form of commitment between human beings.  We can all commit in our own ways and everyone should enjoy legal rights and recognition where commitment exists).  Hymph, digression, got all political there for a second.  Soz.

ANYWAY, love wedding ceremonies.  I'm going to see some of my favourite people be supremely happy tomorrow, how awesome is that?! P + R are just going to have the best day and I bet they're already having the best ever after.  [Did you also love Ever After, that Cinderella movie with Drew Barrymore?  Oh god, late 90s I had such a THING about DB movies - Never Been Kissed?! She's the business, Drew is.] [I wish NZ had Netflix because FRIDAY NIGHT memory lane time!]

The wedding is in Hamilton, so we're having another night away from the purrymouses.  The kitties will have to survive on their own this time - food will be delivered but no pet sitters, this time.  They spend lots of hours happily outdoors now chasing cicadas so I trust they'll keep out of trouble. 

I hope you all have as lovely a weekend as I will attending a wedding.  May spring arrive for you in the northern hemisphere and may summer stretch out in the south. 

end of the summer

Friday evening was a beautiful, balmy evening.  When I stepped out the door of the building, a wash of warm air ran over me and, I don't know, the pixies got into my bloodstream or something.  Two colleagues and I plonked ourselves down at an outdoor table and, well, got plonked.  We gossiped, we drank, we laughed. 

I rolled home and into bed and woke up dry mouthed at 6am, sweating white wine profusely under a pile of kitten.  P was gone for the weekend, but I like to think he would have appreciated the glory of my appearance - sweaty, disheveled, mascara smeared and all.  But as I sat under the stars at 11pm in 20 degree plus heat, swirling another glass of wine, pretending I was in South East Asia, consequences seemed oh so very far away.

As a punishment: the mornings are now crisp.  The leaves on my pear tree are turning. 

That, and after P arrived home, we had a godalmighty dingdong about the state of the house.  Positions:

P: It was dirty.  You are slovenly. [Implied by tone and body language until I asked him straight out if he was mad at me, because he was behaving like a dick]

A: Well where the fuck were you this weekend?  I still washed your shirts and undies for which you should be grateful, and any lack of fridge cleaning is both our faults. 

We scrapped.  He apologised for upsetting me, which further needled me because NON-APOLOGY.  It is dumb and the house is now cleaner but as jeebers is my witness, I will have the LAST WORD on this.  We walked to work this morning in a mostly silent stand off, until we ran into two of my colleagues.  I put on a cheery face.

This, my friends, is a relationship.  You're both tired, broken and possibly guilty from weekend misbehaviour and it ends in a fight over emptying the compost bin.  It's everything I ever dreamed and more. 

things what i drank + enjoyed, recently

I had to go to work on Auckland Anniversary day.  Hence a post in order to whinge, basically.  At least it's warm in the office today, given that there's no aircon?

(I'm sweating my face off, in other words).

Enough whining. 

More wine-ing instead please!  Wines I have slurped this weekend:

- On Friday: P cracked open a bottle of pinot noir we bought at a tasting some seven years ago - oh man, that ages us!  We were the youngest people at the tasting, I promise. I wish I could remember the name so you can take the recc, but after a couple of gins and half a bottle of pinot while wandering after kittens in the garden and then watching Federer/Nadal at the Aussie Open, my recall ain't so good.  Also, I am old.  These things happen.  Bloody delicious, in any case.

- Saturday: Kim Crawford Pansy during the cricket.  Not the tastiest rose in the world, but great name and wonderful for a hot evening.  Serve chilled, but not too cold. 

- Sunday: Morton Estate IQ7 sparkling.  This was delicious and is a steal in NZ supermarkets at the moment, I highly recommend it.  Also, I quite like drinking Morton Estate because they have a vineyard right down the road from my mum and dad.  There is a lovely sign that uses river stones to say 'Morton Estate' on a slight rise as you approach the vineyard.  Some clever clogs pinched the stones from the T in that sign once, and I giggle every time we drive past or pick up a bottle from their cellar door (which in fact is miles away on SH22 near Katikati, where my grandparents used to live. Yes, I can find my way around the North Island by vineyard navigation, sadly).

And yes, I am a terrible boozehound who feels guilty but HOLIDAY WEEKEND I deserve it, right?! (Please validate me.  Please)

Hey, how's that for some lifestyle blogging?  If your lifestyle is wine-soaked, that is.  OH, WAIT, I NEED A PICTURE to support this review:

LIKE FATHER, LIKE DAUGHTER

ALSO, SEE WHAT I DID THERE? GRATUITOUS KITTY PIC FEATURING WINE.  SHAME ABOUT MY HULK-HAND

i got my revenge moment...

So, you know how the pretend Microsoft software 'fixers' rang me and I wished I'd told them to go fuck themselves but I didn't I just thought it? 

Well, they called again. 

I drew a deep breath, asked the woman on the phone to stop speaking and said:

"I know this is a scam.  This is the third time you've called me.  Don't call this number again."

I hung up.

I couldn't say it; just couldn't do it.  So easy to type 'go fuck yourself', so difficult to be actually confrontational, even with muppet scam artists.  Sigh.  It was my big chance to be offensive (in person, rather than on the internet of course, I suspect I'm fairly offensive on the internet all the damn time) and I missed it. 

Mind you, there's every chance they could ring again?

2013, a retrospective.

1. What did you do in 2013 that you'd never done before?

Bought a house.  A purple one.  I've never lived in a purple house before, so I guess that's a first too.

Visited Melbourne.

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? 

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

Eh.  I don't really do resolutions because I don't need another stick with which to beat myself.  There's usually a vague thought about getting fit, losing weight, blahblah but I know in my heart of hearts I'm quite happy to truck along eating a wheel of cheese and watching the development of my bingo wings.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?

Depends how you define close, I suppose.  I define it pretty tightly, so nope.

4. Did anyone close to you die?

No. (Insert grateful sentiment here)

5. What countries did you visit?

After last year's extravaganza, this year we confined ourselves to a couple of quick visits to Australia. 

6. What would you like to have in 2014 that you lacked in 2013?

Still would like a cat, much as I wanted last year.  Hmmm. Otherwise? I'm embarrassed by putting a list of material desires and 2013 weren't too lacking really, so nothing, really.  Oh WAIT.  Patience!

7. What dates from 2013 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?

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. 

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?

Finding the finance to purchase said home and actually winning a fucking auction.  Some worky stuff.

9. What was your biggest failure?

Wishing away the passage of time, sometimes.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?

I was fairly healthy in 2013.  P, however: P chunked his thumb, had intestinal issues, suffered innumerable colds - I really felt for the poor bugger, when I wasn't monumentally pissed off at having to play Florence Nightingale.

11. What was the best thing you bought?

The house.  Followed closely by some insulation and a heat pump for the house.  P would no doubt vote for all the $$$ we've spent at Mitre 10 on DIY shit we've barely used. 

12. Where did most of your money go?

House! Also getting piffled away on food and booze; we're just so GOOD at spending on that.

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

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.

14. What song will always remind you of 2013?

Royals - Lorde.  Ubiquitous in 2013, everywhere, all the time.  Still don't hate it, miraculously.  That song is also vividly associated with driving near Matamata, of all places, as P and I meandered home from a lovely long weekend in the Bay of Plenty.

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

a) Happier or sadder? Happier.  I think?  I was pretty happy last year too, so maybe the same (this post notwithstanding).
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.

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

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.

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

Wasting mah dollarz and waistline on food. 

18. How will you be spending Christmas?

Stewart Island, fighting off sea lions and stalking kiwi - as well as hanging with the fandam. 

19. Did you fall in love in 2013?

Little bit with the house (WOULD YOU STOP TALKING ABOUT THE HOUSE ALREADY, EYEROLL, GEEZ).

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?

Ummmm, I'm having a bit of a Survivor renaissance which is shameful.  Either that or Top Chef or Breaking Bad or something.  Oh wait, no! Homeland.  That's it - but I can't have liked it excessively or it would have sprung straight to mind?

21. What was the best book you read?

Wolf Hall and Bring Up the Bodies, Hilary Mantel.  So. Good.  I gave them to my mother and while she occasionally raises an eyebrow at my choice in fiction, she also devoured them whole.  Screw the Man Booker, mah mum's praize is all the accolades required, right there! *ahem*

22. What was your greatest musical discovery?

Um, pass?  I discovered nothing new, really.  I like the newish Ladi 6 album, if that counts?

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.

23. What did you want and get?

A home.  YAY for that.  Love, time with family.   

24. What did you want and not get?

Patience! A better work ethic! These are things I can work on by myself and not gifts from Santa, I'm guessing, but if Santa's handing them out...

25. What was your favourite film of this year?

Eh, pass.  Nothing has sprung to mind so they can't have been that good.  Oh wait, I freaked out about space for a solid two days after seeing Gravity.  I don't think it's the best movie of the year, but MY GOD I am obsessed with space / space disasters.  This movie sits on a par with Apollo 13.

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.

27. What kept you sane?

Diet coke.  My colleagues.  P.  Taking wee breaks.  Going to visit my Mum.  TEA.

28. What political issue stirred you the most?

Roast Busters and rape culture, for sure. 

29. Who did you miss?

Missed all me friends in the northern hemisphere, particularly V.  V had a baby at the end of 2012 and I still haven't met the wee blighter.  J too, but I get to see her before year's end (YAY). 

Missed my grandmother.

30. Who was the best new person you met?

I very much enjoyed meeting and getting to know C, a friend of some friends this year.  She's got a total potty mouth and I love it.  She taught me the entirely crude phrase 'Cunt Scarf' by using it in reference to Hat Friend's skirt at the Beyonce concert.

31. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2013.

True: try to stay even tempered, it's better for your relationships in the long run.  

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.

woeful afflictions, part gazillion

Wait! Stop press! Forgot to tell you:

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.

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!

grey christmas?

The ten day forecast is looking particularly dire.  Metservice doesn't offer the weather on Stewart Island, it appears (or perhaps I can't work the website, either seems likely) but the projected high in Invercargill for the day of our arrival is 15 degrees, with lashings of rain.  The mental projection of lovely, 23 degree-ish sunshine on an isolated island in the deep south is starting to fragment.  My focus is now getting enough books to last me a week, packing the cards, and wondering whether I can fit anything else in my pack once it is holding the enormous rip-off North Face jacket my father purchased for me in China, circa 2001.   Don't worry, we've sorted the duty free booze and that'll be travelling with us in the precious, precious hand luggage.

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.'
OH SHIT.

wait! I forgot to tell you about my seasonal binge

After all that earlier Christmas tree wankery, I have completely failed to get and decorate a tree.  Instead:

• 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.

The whole thing is frankly somewhat less that Christmas Chic, but OH WELL.  It is done and twinkly lights make me happy, even if they look rubbish.  OH LOOK, I VISUALLY DOCUMENTED IT BADLY FOR YOU:

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.
 

did you know there is a stop on a sydney train line called 'zig zag'?

Am back from Sydney where I saw a very big spider and a very big cockroach.  Those are not trip highlights, per se, but were certainly memorable.  I also saw a baby, some tourist type sights, drank Green Juice in Bondi like a good hipster (freaking delicious, who'd've thought?), boozed it up in Enmore, ate slightly more genteely in Crowsnest, tried shopping and failed (Zara, WTH? You used to be SO. GOOD. and now you are mostly rubbish) and did some other things, too. 

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.