life on the 21st floor is all a bit too much today

At least once a year (six monthly? three monthly?), I seriously reconsider my choice of career.  Why am I not doing something with little stress, easy + predictable hours and fuck-all consequences? Does that job even exist?  I'm probably still doing what I do partly because here is where I've found myself without thinking about it too hard, partly the money, partly the days where I enjoy what I'm doing (as elusive as they are). 

Eh, consider this whinge over - I think I've bled lawyer-moaning dry. 

Three hours later: NO I HAVEN'T.  Plenty more where that came from! I'll spare you more today, however, since I'm feeling magnanimous (can you feel magnanimous or is it more the nature of a thing? i.e. making a magnanimous gesture? clearly I can expend key strokes on it here but not in doing a spot'o'google on it.)

Possible career changes:

• Go back to check out at the supermarket.  Poorly paid, but the days went fast and I got to talk to people. 
• Horses.  Find a career involving them.  In the middle of a city.  Hmmm.
• Become Actress, Indulge in Theatrical Tendencies (said with a flourish requiring capital initials).  Shame I Have No Talent. 
• Um.
• Um.

As soon as I started seriously trying to brainstorm alternatives, I realise how poorly qualified I am to do much else but lawyering.  Teaching would require another diploma at the least (poor old P couldn't face a 7th year of me in post-secondary education), academia requires self-motivation which HA HA, I don't haz any really appealing writing skillz or ideas, I am numerically challenged and I'm IT illiterate.  Skills I do possess include procrastination, talking and making a really excellent brew of earl grey. 

Time for a cuppa and a bikkie, I think.    Play to your strengths.

i am stupid and i already have blisters

Can't believe I forgot to tell you this.  If I do say it, it becomes a real thing and then I can't back out.  That's the theory, anyway.

I'm gonna run the Auckland Half Marathon this year.

I know, I know.  Not exactly earthshattering or excessively ambitious.  I'm not running a proper marathon for charity, I'm not pushing the boundaries of human endurance for love, etc etc.  I'm just running a half marathon for a second time; the last was 7 years ago.  My knees will hurt, my feet will be blistered, the underside of my boobs will be chafed and dear god, that'll be enough to keep me moaning on here for MONTHS.  Good god, it's not even 'til November. 

But writing it down makes it real; as does the first run I endured yesterday.  I'd really like for 31-year-old-me to beat 24-year-old-me when the time comes but I'm not holding my breath (24 year old me was not exactly a speed machine but current 30-year-old-me can only race you to the bottom of a glass of G+T.)

Shame about the fact it's sold out already and muggins here doesn't have a ticket. 

An auspicious start, no? 

dull alert: of interest only to aucklanders currently active in the residential property market. the rest of you have been warned.

I do not yet know what my housing situation will be post-7 May 2013, when the extension to our current lease runs out.  Yes, that is an indirect way of saying we failed yet again at auction over the weekend. 

You must be thinking either:

(a) they have a warped perception of what properties they're looking at are worth; or
(b) they're hopeless at auction technique.

I'll admit that a couple of our offers have been of the cheeky 'can't hurt' variety.  Also in our defence, I think the market growth is rapidly outstripping some of the valuations we've obtained (case in point - the weekend's auction involved a house that sold for $136,000 more than valuation obtained a matter of days beforehand - auctioneer told us afterwards that he'd had some difficulty in keeping a straight face during the latter, obscene stages of the auction.  There were certainly audible snorts from disaffected members of the public attending the auction, though the lady over the fence was stoked).  I'd like to think our auction technique is pretty shit hot though - we've played the occasional sniper move to good effect (but yet, we are still Losers, note the Capital L). 

Basically, I think we need to retrench.  Keep it between you, me and the rest of the internet, but we think our options are:

(a) Give it up for now and hope the alleged 'bubble' bursts.  This is a gamble, of course.  Interest rates are good now and it would be good to lock a decent rate down.  Also, the rate at which Auckland is growing population wise is far outstripping building rates, so long term, investment in the 09 is sensible.  Plus, I just want to.  So there's that.

(b) Look for something further away from the city.  Major issue with this: you need to go a fair way in order to get cheaper prices.  I know from experience that I don't handle commuting well.  P might be OK with it, but he loves the urban lifestyle.  When we drew up our list of 'wants', being close to work was numero uno on the list. 

(c) Throw a bit more money at it.  Scares the bejesus out of me, but there it is.  Don't think I'm talking squillions extra here, but if we'd stretched a further $20k or so at previous auctions, I think we'd be home owners already. (RBATWAFD and SNWACK houses, I'm looking at you; in both cases an extra $5k probably woulda done it, speculation until the cows come home, etc).

(d) Look at something smaller.  Problem being, we're basically looking at the tiniest already.

OK, so this is basically a massive affluent person whinge and you're all entitled to scream "CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS, BITCH" at me.  Here is the defensive part: my diary (public consumption or no), my deal.  See also: mo' money, mo' problems.  We think the answer is a bit of a combo of (c) and (d).  I really don't like losing, so on we go. 

Advise me, o wise and venerable internets: strangers, this is basically the biggest invitation for ass-vice ever.  What would you do, were you me?

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 broke my husband's nose last night

I BROKE MY HUSBAND'S NOSE LAST NIGHT

I DID

P's NOSE, I BROKE IT

Night terrors, awoke screaming, decided something was in my bed, leapt out shrieking, headbutted P on the way, blood, yelling, more screaming, total out of body experience where I could hear him but couldn't do anything about it.

Finally got my shit together and got towels, ice, ibuprofen, water and whiskey for the poor boy.  He nearly threw up.  I nearly threw up.  My bedroom looks like a murder house.  I hope to god that I didn't permanently ruin his boyish good looks or give him another fucking concussion.

(still don't know what gave me the terrors)

I FUCKING BROKE MY HUSBAND'S NOSE.  His colleagues are going to think I'm a beater

(godalmighty, I think I need another holiday)

awol

workworkwork

f me, I have to get on a plane to Melbourne tonight and there's workworkwork

I'll be back next week

Oh yeah, I've got an offer on a house

Sweat that for the weekend with me

ffffffffff

x

four (5?) hours later: no house.  of course not! that's ok.  i'll find one.  plus, i'm going to melbourne with a guy who woke up at 1am to let me in from work, held me tight and told me he was glad to see me.  things are fine. 

auckland can be just lovely

Hallo April, you're looking pretty.  Weather report: few drops of rain over the weekend, but also gorgeous sunny clear weather too.  P and I flopped down in the middle of Victoria Park yesterday because sunshine! and then I got eaten by a cloud of midges so you know, this extended summer business has its drawbacks too.

MUST TELL YOU: the Auckland Art Gallery Toi o Tamaki is magical!  I forgot my glasses so had a limited span during which enjoying the art was, well, enjoyable (gets a bit ruined when you have to stand next to the piece and squint) - but my gosh we had a superb visit yesterday.  The bit of the collection we saw was just lovely (largely New Zealand artists of the 20th century in the Toi Aotearoa exhibition) and the building itself was fantastic.  My favourite part was sitting on a balcony with a coffee, with a perfectly framed/unframed view of Albert Park and a twisty pohutukawa, complemented by native birdsong.  I chose that moment to break his bday surprise news - he's pretty excited. 

GRETCHEN ALBRECHT, GOLDEN CLOUD (1973) VIA

We'd wandered into the city on foot to see the gallery; we followed it up with a visit to Unity Books (fave bookshop, EVER, hands down) and mosey around the sunglasses stores (an unfortunate victim of R + A's wedding).  P and I were so drunk off our own lovely city/country that we ate Bluff oysters and drank Mission Reserve Chardonnay for lunch + felt blissfully happy/like proper Auckland nobs.  Easter Monday was lufferly.