I went to the beach for a long weekend. It was deserted (I thought). The bach had tinted windows (I thought). The only person, aside from P, I saw on the beach all weekend was driving past the bach on a four wheeler, looking directly in through the glass as I towelled myself off. Not to worry, I thought, I'm safe from view. I leisurely finished drying, then slowly anointed myself with moisturiser.
I became more uncomfortable as the four wheeler zoomed back around, and slowed right down this time as it passed.
After I dressed, I went outside and checked the tints. Not so tinted AT ALL.
You're welcome, random farmbike enthusiast from the Bay of Plenty.
___________________________
P and I are the types who turn up at least five minutes early for every appointment. It's important to us to be on time. There are any number of clocks in our house: kitchen, stove, bedside tables in all bedrooms, not to mention electronic devices. Being the time-minded lady that I am, yesterday I did the rounds adjusting all clocks forward an hour for daylight saving. It's a real shame that P, being the time-minded gent that he is, did exactly the same thing. We were at work extra specially early this morning.
Monday, 30 September 2013
Wednesday, 25 September 2013
2.03pm
"She Drives Me Crazy" - Fine Young Cannibals
It's not your average cafe music...but I love it. Weirdest cafe ever!
It's not your average cafe music...but I love it. Weirdest cafe ever!
la la la, very small things
Long time, no type. You know, caused by the usual: work, a dearth of anything valuable to say (HA. Something of value!? I'm sure you're all clamouring for a return of the "shitty cafe music updates" AMIRITE? I'm always producing kwality kontent on this 'ere blog!)
I have the next two days off - a glorious four day weekend ahead of me. P's organised it, the destination is a surprise (who knows? He might propose! Oh, wait. We already did that.) I cannot wait. Our wee home is dealing surprisingly well with the stresses of four adults and two children, but my mental capacity is not. Weekdays are fine, really, but on weekends I get pretty desperate for some quiet. I know, says you. How on earth will you ever be a mother? Well, that's not a given and also, I keep thinking that there must be some biological pay-off to having children of which I'm not yet aware. I mean, the kids are pretty cute, sure, but they're so....relentless. And grubby. To be fair to them, my excitement is also over the desire for space from their parents, too.
So yes, I intend to souse myself in wine, whiskey and books this weekend and maybe, if he's specially lucky, I'll converse with my husband too. No guarantees, P!
Ok, so I completely lost my train of thought (work interrupted, how rude. Or entirely predictable). Anyway, I hope to see you here a revitalised woman soon. Ha.
I have the next two days off - a glorious four day weekend ahead of me. P's organised it, the destination is a surprise (who knows? He might propose! Oh, wait. We already did that.) I cannot wait. Our wee home is dealing surprisingly well with the stresses of four adults and two children, but my mental capacity is not. Weekdays are fine, really, but on weekends I get pretty desperate for some quiet. I know, says you. How on earth will you ever be a mother? Well, that's not a given and also, I keep thinking that there must be some biological pay-off to having children of which I'm not yet aware. I mean, the kids are pretty cute, sure, but they're so....relentless. And grubby. To be fair to them, my excitement is also over the desire for space from their parents, too.
So yes, I intend to souse myself in wine, whiskey and books this weekend and maybe, if he's specially lucky, I'll converse with my husband too. No guarantees, P!
Ok, so I completely lost my train of thought (work interrupted, how rude. Or entirely predictable). Anyway, I hope to see you here a revitalised woman soon. Ha.
Friday, 20 September 2013
pop quiz
This is about me, of course. When wouldn't it be?
1. You see Three drop his bowl of porridge on the floor. Do you:
(A) Immediately run for the cloth to wipe it up.
(B) Tell Three's parents what he's done.
(C) Huff a bit under your breath and pretend you didn't notice the problem.
2. It's the middle of the night and One is crying. Do you:
(A) Get up and calm the child back to sleep.
(B) Go back to sleep; it's his parents' problem.
(C) Roll over and huff in your husband's ear: 'will somebody SORT THAT OUT PLEASE'.
3. You're watching the telly and Three is desperate for today's 4th viewing of some dire cartoon on DVD. Do you:
(A) Say 'Bad luck Buster, auntie wants to watch the news.'
(B) Say 'Of course my precious, whatever your heart desires.'
(C) Say 'Go to bed.'
4. You're washing the dishes when you become aware of a funky aroma emanating from the tea towel. Do you:
(A) Continue washing. Ignore the problem, it'll go away.
(B) Sniff every tea towel in the drawer and find that 50% are suffering from some kind of stank issue.
(C) Fling it in the direction of the laundry and huff as you walk away from the problem.
Correct answers, if you're me, appear to be (C), (C), (A), (B). But it would appear that there are NO RIGHT ANSWERS generally with smalls. Especially when your tea towels have been inadequately washed with what seems to be effluvia of small child.
Grizzle over - just one last question:
4. One wants to play a game where you pretend to share his blanky then he snatches it away. Do you:
(A) Play once then get bored and ignore him.
(B) Snatch the blanky for a cuddle on your own.
(C) Play again and again because of the priceless smile that cracks his face every time you do it. And because he only plays that game with you.
(C), of course.
1. You see Three drop his bowl of porridge on the floor. Do you:
(A) Immediately run for the cloth to wipe it up.
(B) Tell Three's parents what he's done.
(C) Huff a bit under your breath and pretend you didn't notice the problem.
2. It's the middle of the night and One is crying. Do you:
(A) Get up and calm the child back to sleep.
(B) Go back to sleep; it's his parents' problem.
(C) Roll over and huff in your husband's ear: 'will somebody SORT THAT OUT PLEASE'.
3. You're watching the telly and Three is desperate for today's 4th viewing of some dire cartoon on DVD. Do you:
(A) Say 'Bad luck Buster, auntie wants to watch the news.'
(B) Say 'Of course my precious, whatever your heart desires.'
(C) Say 'Go to bed.'
4. You're washing the dishes when you become aware of a funky aroma emanating from the tea towel. Do you:
(A) Continue washing. Ignore the problem, it'll go away.
(B) Sniff every tea towel in the drawer and find that 50% are suffering from some kind of stank issue.
(C) Fling it in the direction of the laundry and huff as you walk away from the problem.
Correct answers, if you're me, appear to be (C), (C), (A), (B). But it would appear that there are NO RIGHT ANSWERS generally with smalls. Especially when your tea towels have been inadequately washed with what seems to be effluvia of small child.
Grizzle over - just one last question:
4. One wants to play a game where you pretend to share his blanky then he snatches it away. Do you:
(A) Play once then get bored and ignore him.
(B) Snatch the blanky for a cuddle on your own.
(C) Play again and again because of the priceless smile that cracks his face every time you do it. And because he only plays that game with you.
(C), of course.
Sunday, 15 September 2013
it just gets better
7.49am, Cafe, bottom of my office building: 'You Can't Hurry Love' - PHIL COLLINS, Y'ALL!
(Also, I just went to look up the lyrics for that. Do you know I've been labouring under the delusion that it was 'you can't buy me love'. I think that's a better message?)
(Also, I just went to look up the lyrics for that. Do you know I've been labouring under the delusion that it was 'you can't buy me love'. I think that's a better message?)
Friday, 13 September 2013
theatrical
Last night P took me to the theatre - Speaking in Tongues, produced by the Silo Theatre Company. Verdict: the first half really made me think and I wanted more of the same - Andrew Bovell's second half felt a little disjointed as a result; it had the same strong themes but I wanted to know more through the eyes of Jane, Pete and Sonja who vanished for the benefit of Sarah, Neil/John and Valerie. Oliver Driver was excellent - as John, in particular.
However. The takeaway from last night's performance is that I can never eat at a yakitori bar again if I don't want to end up the size of a house. Edamame, completely justifiable. However, chicken skins, pork belly, octopus balls and chicken livers all on their own wee sticks are entirely too much fatty deliciousness and I cannot resist. Starving myself of yakitori is the only way - but Tanuki's Cave is on my walk home...I am doomed.
Also, I drank far too much sake with dinner (just before the final skewer arrived I annouced to P: "I am officially impaired") and that's a recipe for feeling alternatively extremely hot and then shivery the day following. I am having real trouble regulating my body temp today.
However. The takeaway from last night's performance is that I can never eat at a yakitori bar again if I don't want to end up the size of a house. Edamame, completely justifiable. However, chicken skins, pork belly, octopus balls and chicken livers all on their own wee sticks are entirely too much fatty deliciousness and I cannot resist. Starving myself of yakitori is the only way - but Tanuki's Cave is on my walk home...I am doomed.
Also, I drank far too much sake with dinner (just before the final skewer arrived I annouced to P: "I am officially impaired") and that's a recipe for feeling alternatively extremely hot and then shivery the day following. I am having real trouble regulating my body temp today.
Thursday, 12 September 2013
7.27am music report
Today the cafe had reverted back to standard crappy cafe jazz. I'm not sure it's better, per se, but slightly more morning/setting appropriate? I'm unable to tell - in the early hours of the morning all I want is silence and tea. Yes, I am actually 80 years old.
All the other stories I have at the moment revolve around poo. I've already gone there once, let's not do that again, shall we? We'll leave it that living with smalls is surprisingly odorous. My olfactory senses are taking a battering.
Ok, so, what else then? Oh yes. This weekend I am going to the Rugby. Our Nation's Game, watching Our Nation's Team (the All Blacks, hallowed be thy name, the father Hansen, his son McCaw and lo! the word of his apostle Kieran Reid) belt ten types of crap out of the Springboks (we most feverently hope). While I enjoy the occasional game - for example watching the 2011 World Cup victory in Clapham followed by the most ridiculous day of my life stands out - I am going on record: I don't really love it and I've never been to the ABs before. I know, I should turn in my passport and best pavlova recipe immediately to the authorities and leave the country.
Sport attendance seems to involve far too much being cold, far too many overbearing idiots and not nearly enough cocktail olives for my precious tastes. I've been to the cricket, yes (summertime. Pimms) and I actually enjoyed a live match of American football (hot dogs! hilarious guys from Jersey commentating the game behind me!) but we'll see about the rugby. The last game I attended was the Blues versus....some other team...and I seem to recall being quite bored, though I'll admit I wasn't invested. We were with P's Irish cousins who enjoyed heckling immensely, much to my amusement, P's concern and the ire of the Blues supporters seated around us. These were the girls who also managed to convince P's friend that they weren't really P's cousins at all: they just did a fantastic accent and had looked up the most Irish sounding name in the phone book before calling to announce long lost family were on their way for a visit. Brilliant.
Anyway. Rugby. I feel like I'm going through a rite of passage. I want to see the haka - sing me national anthem - wave me flag - stand outside the dressing room for a signature - make a comment about the ruck - curse the ref - worship at the goal posts - it'll be great, I've no doubt.
All the other stories I have at the moment revolve around poo. I've already gone there once, let's not do that again, shall we? We'll leave it that living with smalls is surprisingly odorous. My olfactory senses are taking a battering.
Ok, so, what else then? Oh yes. This weekend I am going to the Rugby. Our Nation's Game, watching Our Nation's Team (the All Blacks, hallowed be thy name, the father Hansen, his son McCaw and lo! the word of his apostle Kieran Reid) belt ten types of crap out of the Springboks (we most feverently hope). While I enjoy the occasional game - for example watching the 2011 World Cup victory in Clapham followed by the most ridiculous day of my life stands out - I am going on record: I don't really love it and I've never been to the ABs before. I know, I should turn in my passport and best pavlova recipe immediately to the authorities and leave the country.
Sport attendance seems to involve far too much being cold, far too many overbearing idiots and not nearly enough cocktail olives for my precious tastes. I've been to the cricket, yes (summertime. Pimms) and I actually enjoyed a live match of American football (hot dogs! hilarious guys from Jersey commentating the game behind me!) but we'll see about the rugby. The last game I attended was the Blues versus....some other team...and I seem to recall being quite bored, though I'll admit I wasn't invested. We were with P's Irish cousins who enjoyed heckling immensely, much to my amusement, P's concern and the ire of the Blues supporters seated around us. These were the girls who also managed to convince P's friend that they weren't really P's cousins at all: they just did a fantastic accent and had looked up the most Irish sounding name in the phone book before calling to announce long lost family were on their way for a visit. Brilliant.
Anyway. Rugby. I feel like I'm going through a rite of passage. I want to see the haka - sing me national anthem - wave me flag - stand outside the dressing room for a signature - make a comment about the ruck - curse the ref - worship at the goal posts - it'll be great, I've no doubt.
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