Sleep, come claim me. Cause i'm bloody tired.

It feels as though this week has flown by - tomorrow night we are off to Adelaide for the weekend with Dave, Mel, Leah and Chris, to go wine tasting in the Barossa Valley. I'm sure we will have many other fine adventures too, and you shall here all about them upon our return. My main concern about this trip is that we're flying Tiger Airways, whose anal-retentiveness about every single thing is totally putting me off, despite the cheap fares we scored. Hopefully there will be no hiccups, but with our little circle, you never can tell.




So, this morning i got up at 5.45am (no that is not a typo) because i was babysitting Jack all day, and had to be there early to get started. I will pause a moment here to shout out to Rochelle in NZ who suggested i could blog tonight about my insights into babysitting, which made me laugh only because i generally offer no insight whatsoever into anything. But, Rochelle, i will say this - I was absolutely thrilled to discover that he had already done a morning poo by the time i got there, which meant the likelihood of me having to change a gross, disgusting, smelly nappy was very slim. Thank you Jesus, for sparing my gag reflexes on this occasion.




Jack is a very easygoing kid, so there were no dramas. Morning snacks were consumed, he went down for his nap without complaint and was asleep within a few lullabies, he got up and ate his lunch...the hardest thing is actually his energy. Running, jumping, throwing balls, being thrown in the air, hide and seek...also, if i never have to read The Very Hungry Caterpillar again, it will not be soon enough. I swear i think i know it off by heart..."In the light of the moon, a little egg lay on a leaf..."




He is currently obsessed with this male toy action figure doll that he refers to as 'The Man". When you ask him what The Man's name is, he says "Man." Naturally. This obsession means that The Man has to do everything with you, no matter what it is. So, if Jack has a shower, The Man must also have a shower. If Jack has a nap, The Man also has a nap. If Jack eats, The Man also sits in a chair and eats. If Jack has his nappy changed, The Man also has his nappy changed. For those wondering, yes, that does involve pulling down The Man's pants and pretending to change his nappy. And if you're disturbed by that, spare a thought for me - i actually had to do it.




It's much more amusing now that he is actually talking so much - it makes interacting with him a lot of fun. Though he finds the strangest things funny - for example, we do this thing where i pretend to sneeze - 'Ahhhchoo!'.




Sorry, did you think there was more to that? Yeah, no. But he thinks it's a hoot, and will proceed to also sneeze, and laugh hysterically. We'll do this maybe 5 or 6 times in a row at least. Just sneeze at each other. He also loves to pretend to do 'ninna', which is the Italian word for taking a nap. So he will have me lie on the couch, and then lie next to me, and then have The Man lie on the other side, and sometimes Monkey too, if he's in the mood for Monkey, which sometimes he is and sometimes he isn't. And we'll all just lie there, pretending to sleep. Over and over again. Maybe i indulge the kid too much. I really can't help it. Parents are there to set the boundaries - Godmother's are there to be awesome and fun. Besides, it melts your heart when he looks at you and says 'I love you LaLa' (cause he can't quite say my name properly yet), and you know he actually means it. Or when he has a big grin on his face for no other reason but that you've just walked through the door. I mean. Come on. Y'all know it's true.




Anyway, we had fun. I'd better go pack some clothes for the weekend, or I'll get in trouble for doing everything at the last minute again. What can i say, it's just how i roll man....oh yeah, i finished The Lost Symbol, which was...pretty good, not great, and not as good as The DaVinci Code in my opinion. So I'm onto a new book which is called Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell. It's about a couple of magicians living in 19th century England, basically. That's the short synopsis - in fact, the book is over 900 pages long, so I'm pretty sure other stuff happens. It's won a lot of awards...supposed to be good, so i thought i'd give it a go. Adios amigos!

A note on breasts.

So, i just wanted to point out to y'all that October is Breast Cancer Awareness month, and there is still a whole week left to participate. If you haven't yet, get out there and buy a pink ribbon or any of the other cool stuff the National Breast Cancer Foundation have on sale. OR, make a donation here if you like, on their website, because without donations, we will never be able to improve treatment, let alone find a cure, for a disease that will affect one in nine women in this country. In fact, it's the most common form of cancer for women in Australia. The good news is, the survival rate of women with breast cancer is also improving.




As the proud niece of TWO fabulous aunts who have been diagnosed with breast cancer, this is a cause i strongly believe in. One of them is still alive and cancer-free - many years after her illness. The other is no longer with us, and missed every single today. She was the bestest and strongest woman i have known apart from my own mother, and even when nobody believed she could, she fought that son-of-a-bitch disease like a trooper till the day she died.




Not that I'm bitter or anything, but I hate cancer. It took away one of the people i loved most. But it's a fact that you will almost certainly know someone in your lifetime who will be diagnosed. So i urge you to help me say 'screw you cancer' and donate to this important cause - and remember to be vigilant in checking your own breasts every month because early detection is the key.




Now that my public service announcement is over, i also encourage you to head on over to my bestie Faatasi's blog - he is a laugh a minute, and you'll also see that his latest entry talks more about our (mis)adventures yesterday afternoon. You can read that here - i take no responsibility for fits of laughter that may cause you to choke on your own phlegm.

Food for thought. Or, some more funny stories.

I mean, i thought my omelette was fine, despite having consumed a bottle of wine or two throughout the afternoon. I blame Faatasi - he visited us today, and let's face it, Nell + Faats + readily available alcohol = bad choices will be made. Like. Making an omelette despite having consumed a bottle or wine or two. I admit, that part was my idea. But the eggs were there, and we were all hungry and i really believed i had control of the frypan. Certainly the hair was a faux pas. But we all survived, right? Adding two types of cheese really was genius...




But it was great to catch up, and as always topics for discussion were varied. We discussed our careers - he aspires to be Lady GaGa's backup dancer, i aspire to get rich quick by selling valuable body parts that i don't really need. What they are you'll have to guess at yourselves. Then we discussed other peoples careers. For example, whose singing career is heading down the toilet faster - Miley Cyrus or Hilary Duff? Hilary, we decided, offended us more overall, mainly because she had the nerve to bring out a 'Greatest Hits' album at the grand old age of 21. Why does it feel like every pop-star kid is doing that these days? Greatest hits should be released when you're dead. At the very least, you need to have a good few hits under your belt that actually ARE great. Bah. But music always seems to be the focus of our chats - if you wondered, Black Eyed Peas get a thumbs up from us, Kelly Clarkson gets a thumbs down.




Unlike today, yesterday was HOT! It was beautiful weather, which we took advantage of by going to brunch with David and Mel at Favoloso, a little cafe in Bronte which is owned by Sicilians, so they have a whole Italian thing going on which we liked. The food was delicious - i had the 'Sicilian Delight', which was fresh ricotta served with pistachios, honey, currents and strawberries, and hot bread of course.




We got to talking about chocolate, as you do. Mel is a very healthy person, which we all admire, but alas, it also means she likes...dark chocolate. Very dark chocolate. Which is the height of Ew for me and David. For her, the higher the cocoa content, the better. High in antioxidants, apparently, and helps you digest your food. Jo agrees - he too prefers dark chocolate. David and I, on the other hand, couldn't care less how many antioxidants that crap contains - give us milk chocolate any day of the week - it tastes about a million times better, and when you're talking junk food, that's really all we care about. In fact, we said, you couldn't pay us to eat the stuff, and we were willing to bet that most people out there would agree with us. Mel and Jo disagreed, saying more people would definitely choose the dark (to which, we laughed in their faces). After some healthy debate on the issue, David took it to the next level and a bought packet of both milk and dark chocolate. Around the table we went, tasting both, as David threatened to ask everyone in the cafe their opinion on the topic. I had to force myself to eat the dark stuff. It's just way to bitter for me. In the end, they admitted it was an acquired taste, which David and i saw as a semi-victory...still, he has the dark chocolate here at home, and plans to poll people on the matter. What do y'all think?




Afterwards, Jo and I headed to Bondi for a walk along the beach. Here i am admiring the view...

That afternoon we headed out to my parents for a BBQ - Jo washed his car, and i wanted to bring my brothers dogs up. I thought a walk would give them some exercise, and they could play with Cooper in the backyard for a while. I went down to collect them by myself, since no one would come with me (read: Jo), and let me tell you, i will never walk two dogs by myself ever, ever again. It was like they'd been pumped full of amphetamines. Ennis especially has a bad habit of JUMPING, rather than walking, and HAS to walk right next to Reggie all the way, even if it means choking himself on his collar to get to him. Reggie, on the other hand, would rather not have Ennis all up in his face like that, and tries to walk as far away from him as possible. God it was painful.

We are watching Bad Boys, so I'm outta here to get me some 90s love.

Hello summer, my old friend...

As i write this, I'm staring out into the dark from our window, which is wide open, because it's warm and a cool breeze is floating through, and I'm in heaven because it's that first tiny taste of summer, which is kind of like a first bite of chocolate, where your taste buds are totally satisfied but you haven't gorged yourself yet on it's richness.




Maybe I'm being over the top. But always at this time of year, i feel as though I'm on the brink of something wonderful - my favourite season is coming, months of sun and the beach and Christmas and laughter and listening to the radio with the windows down and pink sunsets and warm breezes. Fish and chips and playing out back with the dogs, long walks and the hot asphalt on a 30 degree day, thunderstorms and ice water and sand and Dad mowing the lawn while we stare from inside the air conditioned house. My birthday and Sunday afternoons at the pub and water restrictions and ice cream and thongs and lots of public holidays. BBQs and eating outside and dresses and tying my hair in a knot cause it's stinking hot out. Cricket and going barefoot on the grass and watermelon and mangoes and parties and everyone is mostly happy. These are the summers of my childhood, and i think they will give me pangs of nostalgia until my dying day. The good news is, the above List of Goodies will ALWAYS be a part of summer (so why i get so nostalgic around this time of year I'll never know). As you can probably tell, it is my absolute favourite time of year. I am absurdly happy to think that it's coming. Perhaps I'm just a crazy lady, but I'm smiling right now at the thought, and Jo is asking me what's so funny. "Summer!" is my reverential reply, and he rolls his eyes because he knows this about me and thinks its ridiculous, maybe because he comes from much cooler New Zealand. Is this all about being Australian then, that old 'summer at the beach' cliche? Maybe it is.




As in all things, Jo and I are opposites too about the seasons. When winter comes along, he is the one who is smiling, because it gets cold and he can see his breath in the air sometimes on a chilly morning, and the rain comes down harder, and you can snuggle in under a blanket and do nothing the whole day, and it's bliss, for him. You know, we can't even agree on what types of apples to buy - he likes red, i like green, and so we have to buy both. Total and utter opposites in every way. It is the thing i both love and hate about us, but like most polar opposites, one cannot live without the other and that is a good thing, on the whole. Anyway, it keeps it interesting.




So. This has been thought-provoking right? In other news, earlier in the week Romina and I went to see the movie Julie and Julia, with Meryl Streep (brilliant in everything she does - I'm sorry but it's true) and Amy Adams. You may remember i read the book last month, so i was eager to see how the movie would turn out, and it was very cute. My friend Yvonne said it inspired her to go home and cook a black forest cake from scratch, which pretty much nails it on the head i suppose - like the book, love of, and learning through, food and cooking is it's central theme, and we really enjoyed it. I have finally finished the book i was reading, American Wife, which i highly recommend if you're into that sort of thing (reading i mean), and am now being a sheep and reading Dan Brown's new book The Lost Symbol. OK, so it's not amazing literature, but i still maintain that he writes entertaining books with entertaining subject matter, even if he isn't that great a writer on the whole.




Meanwhile, Jo has a new obsession - baseball. The last few days he's been watching the American League Playoffs EVERY night - the NYC Yankees are playing the L.A Angels, and all of a sudden he's saying things like "Nell, they're at the bottom of the fifth", as if i actually know what that means. Still, his boyish enthusiasm is so great that i feel i can't spoil it by telling him how truly boring i think this sport is. Every time he calls out "look at this catch!", rewinding it so i too can enjoy the magic, i pull myself away from whatever I'm doing, nod vigorously, agree that it was indeed an amazing catch, and secretly roll my eyes as he continues "you know, i haven't seen the Angels play like this all post-season", as if he's been watching them for years. I mean, it's cute really. Kinda. Ish.

Of lazy days and snail bait

Our weekend consisted of considerably less running around that normal, and thank goodness for that cause I'm just too damn tired to think straight let alone negotiate social situations with my usual finesse. Still, we did enjoy the pleasant company of a number of very nice people.




On Friday night, we met up with an old friend, John, who hosted quite the par-tay actually, we all had great fun. As is often the case when you drink a lot of wine, i recall every story he told as being marvellously funny, though i should point out that John IS actually a marvellously funny story-teller, so it really couldn't have been that bottle of muscato (methinks...). He is one of those rare people who can tell a story that goes for at least 45 minutes or more, but you're still hanging on to every word by the end of it because he's not at all boring. The vino certainly did flow though, and by the end of the evening we were gathered around John's piano as he played some very spirited versions of Hey, Jude and Daydream Believer and Che Sara, Sara and we obliged his musical genius by belting out the tunes accordingly (if not a little tipsily. but let's face it, that 'na na na na na na na' bit in Hey, Jude is the perfect 'round the piano on a drunken evening' song. right? am i right?).




Although i may or may not have suffered from a slight headache the next day which had nothing at all to do with any alcohol that may or may not have been consumed the night before, we were playing hosts that evening to Daniel, Romina, Maria, Peter and Jack, so we had to go shopping in order to feed the masses. David recently purchased a BBQ, and it was such a nice day out we thought it would be great to fire it up and cook some good old fashioned meat (funny story - he initially got a small BBQ which we all felt was appropriate for apartment living - it was more like a grill really, and perfectly fine until his friends came over and gave him grief about how small and girly it was. His manhood clearly threatened, he went out the very next day, returned it and brought home the biggest BBQ I've ever seen). So anyway, everyone came over and we had a lovely evening - it was warm enough to eat outside which i love in summer. Plus Jack kept everyone entertained as always.




Sunday, on the other hand, was totally lazy. I spent the day watching trashy shows like The Rachel Zoe Project (NEW SEASON! FINALLY!), and reading. We watched Righteous Kill, which had both Al Pacino and Robert DeNiro in it, but still manages to be just OK...actually, i dozed off for about 15 minutes somewhere in the middle, so for all the hype when it came out about the two of them being in a movie together, it really didn't do it for me.




In other news, Cooper the wonder dog managed to get into Dad's shed over the weekend and ate himself a nice pile of snail bait. To be fair, it was all Dad's fault cause he left the door wide open, and he really should know by now that Cooper isn't going to stand back and respect the fact that he is under no circumstances allowed to be in there. No siree, he's gonna barge right in and take whatever he can as quickly as he can. Which is exactly what happened. After helping himself to a large portion of snail poison, he promptly threw up (like, a lot), and was rushed to doggy hospital to have his stomach pumped like some sort of drug addict. I'm told he eventually made a full recovery, and is back home bouncing around and being a pest as usual. Alas, Cooper isn't the brightest crayon in the box, so I'm confident if Dad left the shed open again, he'd be right back in there finishing off what he didn't manage to fit in the first time round. Hopefully the door is firmly locked from now on...




One more thing. Our work Christmas party this year is dress up, and the theme is Famous. When i asked Faatasi who i should go as, he immediately replied "Lady GaGa". Whilst the idea of wearing a wacky space-age outfit complete with a severely cut peroxide blonde wig initially thrilled me, i soon realised that there was no way i could get my hands on a wheelchair or sparkly cane fast enough, and as these seem to be her current favourite accessories, the impersonation would just be incomplete without them.




So. I'm looking for other suggestions.

Here a noodle, there a noodle.

Some interesting stories about food. Firstly, you can have high tea at sea now. Who knew? Well, me actually, cause that's where i was last Saturday. It's October, and in Sydney, that means it's the month of the International Food Festival. There are all sorts of foodie events going on, and special deals at restaurants and so on, so there isn't a better time to get out there and eat. Not that i need much persuading. But back to my story. As part of the festival they have this cruise thing where you can go have high tea out on the rolling ocean, and actually it was very nice. Leah and I took our mothers, and let me tell you, three glasses of champagne later i couldn't be in a better mood. Although it's definitely the first time I've seen sausage rolls on a high tea platter, "gourmet" though they were.




I'll post some pictures once Leah sends them through to me. In more food news, we went to brunch on Sunday at The Book Kitchen in Surry Hills, which i really enjoyed. They go for that hippie, organic thing that's so popular right now, which is fine, but the highlight for me was the fig and date pikelets with vanilla ricotta and poached pear. I mean. It was freaken awesome. I'm still thinking about them like a week later. Which doesn't say a whole lot really, cause there are some meals I'm still thinking about years later. Which is the great thing about food. And also the great thing about family, cause in our family, big dinners or lunches with a whole bunch of people is totally the thing - you know, gathering for a meal and all that. Which sounds corny, but also kinda wonderful in it's way. Which is probably what's created this vicious food-obsessed cycle. Also, I'm using the word 'which' a lot, which is weird.




Wait, i have one more food related story - Maria, Peter, Jack and I headed to the night noodle markets after work today. It's a massive open market in Hyde Park (again, part of food month), which will run for two weeks and was really fun actually. Live music, and all of the big Asian restaurants in Sydney have set up stalls where you can buy noodles and dumplings and stir-frys and pad-thais and all sorts of other delicious things. There are tons of tables set up so you can just go ahead and eat there, if you can actually find one that's free, or hell, go wild and sit on the grass if you want. Y'all should check it out, it's on all next week too. Speaking of Jack, he is talking like a pro now and it's a crack-up. When we went over there last Sunday afternoon, he entertained us by singing Happy Birthday to...well, whoever he felt like really, and The Wheels on the Bus (which gets really irritating after, like, two rounds). He also likes you to join in where possible, and prefers you to do the actions as well, cause if you're gonna do something, you may as well do it properly.





So, to combat what i call my food "problem", Jo and I have taken to going for long power walks in the evening now that daylight savings is finally here. I know you'll be shocked to hear it, but it's true - I've put on weight. Listen, i don't like it any more than you do. But there it is. So, walks it is, and maybe some yoga if i can find a good class somewhere. I used to enjoy it until i got lazy and stopped going, but i think I'm one of those people that can't exercise by myself - there's just no motivation. I'm a people person. A social butterfly. A...yeah. Lazy. OK.





What am i reading? American Wife, by Curtis Sittenfeld, which is fiction, but loosely based on the life of the former first lady, Laura Bush. I haven't really researched which bits exactly are based on her life, but I'd really like to know cause so far we've had a lesbian grandmother, an illegal abortion and our heroine accidentaly killing the love of her young life, so....errrr...*blinks*





Oh, and you know what i watched this week? Three Men and a Baby. Remember that movie? Tom Selleck at his ruggedly handsome best (my mother totally had a thing for him, don't think i don't remember mum), and Ted Danson when his hair was still brown. Which made me remember that old urban legend where everyone thought you could see the ghost of a boy in the movie cause there's this one scene where Ted Danson's character walks past a window with his mother and there's a child standing right there in the window. Turns out that it was supposedly a cardboard cut-out, but you can definitely see it, and let me tell you it scared the bejeesus out of me the first time i did. David showed it to a bunch of us actually, and we screamed our heads off, but we may or may not have been slightly tipsy at the time, which I'm sure heightened the experience (Romina, remember??).




Speaking of David, we got to talking tonight about full-cream milk, as you do, and Jo made the point that milk in New Zealand tastes better than milk here. "Well to be fair", said David seriously, "they are different cows." And on that note, I'm off to bed.

The Great Escape

On Friday night, after a very pleasant dinner at the Sugaroom in Piermont with David and Mel (in summary: great atmosphere, great cocktails, OK food), i received a disturbing text message from my mother which simply read:




"Reggie and Ennis have escaped. Been looking for them since 6 but no luck. Will resume search in morning."




Reggie and Ennis, my brothers dogs, have been in my parents care since he and Ashley have been in the USA the last two weeks. My Dad goes down to feed and play with them every night, but alas, on that fateful Friday night, he was dismayed to find the gate ajar and the boys long gone. Arrivaderci Roma. Adios Amigos. See ya suckers.




I rang my mother immediately to begin preliminary interviews, and she, close to tears, recounted the search that had taken place once the discovery had been made. After 4 hours, i agreed it was safe to declare them officially missing. The old man was stonily silent in the background - as much emotion as we would get from him - while mum was clearly distraught at the thought of the two of them out in the cold and stormy night.




"How did this happen??" I asked again and again. Did they two of them plot their escape once they'd realised their owners had abandoned them (well. for 5 weeks at least. but how do you explain that to a dog?)? Did they watch as my Dad opened and closed the gate every night, silently taking in the mechanics and then spending the long, lonely days wondering how they could achieve the same results with opposable thumbs? Did they stockpile food, plan a route, call a mate and ask if they could put them up for the night? "We're blowing this joint Scruffy. Gonna need a place to stay. Just the one night mate."




Maybe they had someone on the outside helping them break out. Some fellow canines who formed part of an elite gang - The Boneheads. Maybe they had to pass initiation - "break out of your own backyard and shit in ten others before daybreak and you're in boys!" They spend their days graffiting toilet bowls before drinking out of them.





Or maybe (likely...) Dad just didn't shut the gate properly and they saw an opportunity.





"Holy shit Reg. The gate. The old geezer didn't shut the gate! We're free!"
"What? No way Ennis. He checks it every time. There ain't no way we're getting outta here. Just shut up and eat your kibbles."
"I'm telling you Reggie! It's swinging open! Look! Look!"
"AY! WHADDID I TELL YA? JUST SHUT UP AND EAT YOUR DAMN...wait. Is that gate swinging? WE'RE FREE! Let's get the hell outta here!"
*dogs gleefully scamper into the night*





After watching the CI channel regularly on foxtel, we knew the first 48 hours would be a critical time - after that, the hope of recovering a live victim steadily decreased. So Jo and I headed straight out there to conduct a thorough search of the surrounding areas and comb the scene of the crime for clues. When we turned up at Andrew's, Jose the cat revealed nothing useful and the gate had already been safely secured again by Dad, so we discovered exactly squat that would be valuable to our investigation.




Instead, we combed the streets yelling for them to get their butts back home right now or there'll be big trouble, but to no avail. Other dogs came running. But no Reggie and no Ennis. Despairingly, we headed back home and hoped the dawn would bring answers. Would we ever see them again? If only i had patted them a little extra last time i visited...





But all's well that end's well, cause in the morning Mum called with good news - the RSPCA had BOTH dogs, who had been dropped off the night before by a kind man who had seen them wondering the streets in a rather forlorn manner, suggesting that they actually had no plan whatsoever for what to do after their Great Escape, and probably couldn't find their way home.





We'll never know what really happened that night, and no-ones talking (not even Jose the cat). But i can tell you this - that gate has been newly padlocked within an inch of it's life. If they get out again, it'll be put down to divine intervention. Or dad's shoddy workmanship.





The end.

Bathroom violation. Not to be read by the fainthearted.

It was a rainy long weekend in Sydney, which is probably a good thing all round because we didn't feel at all guilty about sleeping late, watching movies and eating junk for the majority of it.



On the whole we achieved very little in three days, but a few stand out stories come to mind. Firstly, on Saturday night we went out for dinner to the Red Oak with an old workmate of Jo's. It's kind of an upmarket beer place - they make their own specialties, like the raspberry bubbly beer which was delicious. It started out fine, as these nights always do, but a couple of these later, we were feeling ready to embrace the evening ahead, and embrace we did...

We ended up at PJ's, an Irish pub i haven't been to in what feels like forever, but which i used to frequent regularly in my younger and wilder days. Shots anyone? Why yes, thank you, I'll take four. And so it was that we stumbled home and a time i can't be sure of, exhausted but happy - or maybe that was just the room spinning, but really, who's bothering with those sort of insignificant details.

The next morning may have dawned, but frankly i wasn't ready to face it, so i slept on until a time i felt was more suitable to arise, which may or may not have been 2pm - ha, you'll never know. We headed out to my parents to watch the grand final, and topped that off with McDonald's - i blame my mother for this, as she wanted to try the new Angus burger, and who are we to deny the woman some pleasure i ask you? I mean i wanted to be healthy folks, and i DID try to persuade her to enjoy a salad or a lovely sandwich with me instead. But she would have none of it, and so i, being the dutiful daughter that i am, said of course mother. Of course we can have McDonald's, because that is what you feel like, and i respect you and your feelings and so we shall eat burgers till the cows come home. It was a sacrifice, but i did it for love.

And then, we came home.

We knew David was having some friends over, but let me describe for you the scene upon entering the apartment.

Food, empty beer bottles, shoes, wigs, backpacks and wet towels are strewn everywhere. Upon closer inspection, i discover the wet towels are in fact OURS, taken from OUR bathroom without OUR permission. Already i am wary. We move on. Not a soul is in sight, and we wonder where everyone is. The lights are on everywhere, but no one is home. We hurriedly grab supplies for the night and retreat to the safety of our room without further ado. We do not, in case you are wondering, touch the towels.

We enter the bathroom, where Jo discovers our scissors lying suspiciously on the counter. Bits of hair trail from said scissors. Our hearts sink. We look to the floor in dismay and our worst suspicions are confirmed. Hair, of unknown origin, lies chopped and course in a pile on the floor. "Did you trim your hair earlier?" Jo asks me hopefully. My glare confirms that i had not. Shuddering, we go into our room and shut the door. We do not, in case you are wondering, touch the hair.

Fast forward. It's 4am and we are in a deep and blissful slumber when someone knocks ever so gently on our door. Is this a dream? Surely no bonehead would actually be knocking on our bedroom door at 4 in the morning? Alas, the knocking persists. "What?" grumbles Jo, obviously annoyed. George replies "Oh sorry Jo mate, just wanted to see if you were home". Er? And if we weren't home George? What would you want with our room, exactly? There is the unmistakable sound of female giggles in the hallway. I roll my eyes in the darkness. Unbelievable. We roll over and try to go back to sleep. Mere minutes later, our door bursts open. Enter small blonde female whom we have never seen before in our lives. This, i presume, is Hallway Giggler. "What the hell is going on?" Jo roars, and i silently applaud. Hallway Giggler seems terrified by this greeting, and hightails it out of the room as quickly as she entered.

We attempt to sleep, but from the hours of 4.30am to 8am we are treated to Hallway Giggler laughing, George shushing her, and our bathroom door opening and closing. Furthermore, the rise and fall of what can only be called totally ludicrous conversation wafts up the stairs, followed mostly by hysterical cackling. We conclude that a pack of hyenas has taken up residence downstairs, and are too disturbed by the scenes we might witness to actually get up and venture out, so we do nothing and hope the damage will be minimal. I wonder what is happening in our bathroom, feel nauseated by the thought, and then squeeze my eyes shut, trying to find my happy place.

Eventually, we sleep.

A couple of hours later, exhausted and running late to a friend's birthday, we slowly emerge. The freeloaders from last night are clearly still downstairs. We creep into the bathroom and grimace. There is wine perched on the counter. Towels and clothes have been mushed up in the corner. Something hangs from the hook on the back of the door. We are unable confirm what it is just by looking at it, and refuse to investigate further. We have to get ready, despite the squalor. I shower as quickly as i can and feel contaminated. I want to kill George.

We go downstairs. It smells. Six or seven humans lay scattered around the living room and George, i see, is one of them. I grit my teeth, imagine all the ways it would be possible to break his head open, and push past the wreckage to the door. Jo stomps out behind me and we not-so-subtly let the door slam behind us.

And that, my friends, is the story of how one Sunday evening so quickly turned into what David calls "Fiasco Heaven". Here here.

As i mentioned, it was our friend Kama's birthday on Monday - so i will shout out to her quickly as i do on these occasions - Happy Birthday Kama! Hope you had a great day! She hosted a champagne breakfast to honour the occasion, and i honored her honouring by drinking plenty of it. Oh, how i love champagne! Yellow, pink, whatever. As long as it bubbles, I'm happy. Tony manned the BBQ and Kama manned the pancakes and i did nothing at all but eat and drink and entertain the masses with stories from the previous evening. A marvellous way to wile away the hours. Later that afternoon, Con, Kat, Jo and I wandered up to the local cafe for a much needed coffee before heading home.

In his defence, David hung his head his head in shame as we recounted all the gory details of his friend's antics. Actually, he said, he was surprised George had the decency to knock on our door at all. Deep sighs and head shaking all round, before we decided to forgive him (George that is, for after all he has provided a very funny story that i reckon i can re-tell at parties for years to come), and i ended my long weekend watching SVU while Jo headed out to the movies to see District 9, which he tells me is very good indeed.

Annnnd that's all folks!

On the brink of a long weekend

(An aside - last weekend we spent some time with the children which i didn't blog about in the craziness that followed, so I'll just post a couple of pics of the little tykes cause they're just so darn cute.)

So, busy busy as always. So busy in fact that i am not only on the brink of a long weekend, but also on the brink of exhaustion, alas. Tired as i am, here's some of the stuff I've been up to...*drumroll*

What I've been reading: Julie & Julia. The movie of which is coming out this week i think, and I'm looking forward to seeing it! It's a nice little book based on Julie Powell's (the author) blog during a year of her life in which she decides to cook all 500+ recipes in Julia Child's (one of the first 'celebrity chefs' i suppose you could say) epic french cookbook, aptly titled Mastering the Art of French Cooking. She laughs, she cries, she swears like a sailor - thus, i really enjoyed it.

What I've been watching - HA. SVU, what else, cause I'm slowly making my way through season 10 and trying not to read too much about the current season showing in the US, but that's hard cause the world wide web makes things like that way to accessible. I have not had ANY time to watch all the glee episodes that Adam and Daniel have kindly given me, so i am having a marathon this weekend and Jo can just suck it.

Also, Kat and I went to see the movie The Young Victoria on Tuesday night which we both loved - we act like tough broads, but we're both romantics at heart, aren't we Kat *winks* Plus, the guy who played Prince Albert was damn good-looking. Sheesh. It made for a great two hours. Anyway, it's all about the early years of Queen Victoria, who to this date remains the longest reigning monarch of Britain, ruling for nearly 64 years until 1901. There's a lot about how she met and fell in love with her husband, the aforementioned handsome and dashing Albert, and their marriage was famous cause they actually (shock horror) loved each other, which for royalty in those times was pretty darn rare. 9 kids and 20 years of marriage later, he died of typhoid in his early 40s. She mourned him by wearing black for the rest of her life, and had his clothes laid out every day until she died. Creepy, you say? Don't be so cold-hearted. It's true love. Right? Right?

What I've been eating - Now you're talking baby. So it was our friend Tony's birthday last week (shout out to Tony - Happy Birthday! Again!), and we went out to dinner to celebrate. Rosso Pomodoro in Balmain was the destination, which is a little local pizzeria that's always packed out basically cause the pizzas totally rock. But the highlight was dessert - nutella calzone, and LORD was it good. We cut into it and a river of nutella burst forth (did you like that? my cleverness just kills me sometimes. not.) Anyway. It was delicious.

Then last night David, Mel, Jo and I went to Table for 20 for dinner. I can barely remember when we made the bloody booking, but it must have been over 4 months ago - it's always booked out months in advance, and for good reason cause it was fantastic. The concept is that you go and eat at one big table with a bunch of other strangers, with whom you share platters of food (no menu either, you just get what you're given - i didn't tell Jo that bit till yesterday to save myself months of agony), bringing back this idea of communal dining and sharing a meal with people in the truest sense. The food is all very fresh - we had pappadelle with crab meat and tomato sauce, veal backstrap with potato's and salad, and tirimisu for dessert (made by the owner's mother, no less). He makes his own limincello (a lemon liquor) which you sample afterwards, except it was so strong that David, Mel and I couldn't take more than a sip. Not that it mattered, cause Jo came to our rescue and drank all 4 glasses. What a trooper *blinks*

Jo and I after a...few....drinks, at Table for 20

David and Mel

After dinner, we were walking back to the car and couldn't help but notice this little number hanging on the wall outside a building:

Sex workers of Australia take heed! Scarlet Alliance needs YOU! Enlist now!

Further research has led me to discover that this association actually does very good work in what can be a (let's face it) dangerous profession that many people don't choose but fall into through circumstances beyond their control. Sometimes the best you can do is try to keep it safe and speak for the ones that don't always have a voice.

But i mean really. Calling yourself the Scarlet Alliance really opens you up to vulnerability. Comically speaking.

I'm off to enjoy my long weekend folks - even in this shitty rain. Jo's going to make me brunch! Can't miss that. See y'all later.