S#73: Get away from it all
We’re here!
CJ and I are on our second honeymoon* at The Palms Apartments, Merimbula. This is precisely where we came on our original honeymoon, except this time we’re on the first floor – which means THIS time we have water views and a proper balcony.
The proper balcony (also, a portrait of the author in her night attire):
It also has a good-sized spa bath in the spare bathroom (having two bathrooms on our honeymoon was a very nice way to ease into sharing a room and house). And complimentary bubble bath, naturally. (Side note: I brought a little plastic duck I was given eons ago, thinking it was full of bubble bath. It wasn’t: it was bubble mix and a blower stick. Every so often, when I least expect it, bubbles float down into my vision. CJ’s guerilla instincts have been drawn out by a duck. Who knew?)
Other than various awesomenesses and beachin’ it, we will spend a lot of time mooching about. This is a Brown Brothers Moscato that I particurly like (and thus “tidied up” from the leftovers at the birthday part last week).
Yeah, this is the life.
Our apartment also has a feature I look for in companions and houses alike: eccentricity. All the Palms apartments (other than the giant Penthouse) are built very, very long so that everyone gets water views. Which is why visitors end up with hallways like this:
The far end is the front door and the main bedroom is right next to it. I’m taking the photo beside the kitchen/living area, which is also (rationally enough) where the AC is located. CJ and I spent the whole week saying things like:
“Hey look! The hallway has a vanishing point.”
“I’m going to fetch my phone from the bedroom. If I’m not back in half an hour it means I got lost.”
“Do we have any snacks for me to eat on the way?”
“I’d fetch the camera from our room, but it’s only three hours until dinner time.”
and so on.
CJ also pointed out it was an ideal location for Australian Rules Indoor Quidditch**. All you need to play is a long (and indestructable) hall and one of those bouncy balls that lights up when you hit them against something. You also require complete darkness.
One person throws the ball hard against a wall. It bounces several times as it goes toward the other person, who attempts to catch it based on the sudden flashes of light.
*repeat*
We considered playing it, but the light fitting is glass and the walls are plaster (which could break or get stained). Oh well.
Let me know if any of you manage to play Australian Rules Indoor Quidditch. . . it would make me so happy.
*not actually true. I don’t mention trips away online until we’re safely back home. So nyah.
**for which we tip our mutual hat to Nick, who has played it many a time.
#271: Snake!
There’s a park in Belconnen called John Knight Park, a grassy and shady expanse on the shores of Lake Ginninderra. As I child I picnicked there with my family, paddled in the water (with or without permission), and played on the playgrounds. As a teenager I attended Lake Ginninderra College (which in Canberra means Year 11 and 12), and wandered out between classes to daydream that one day I’d wander there with the boy I liked.
I’ve been there for parties, barbeques, and dates. I’ve walked from one end to the other countless times, and often fallen asleep in the soft grass.
But before I knew it as John Knight Park, I knew it as “The Snake Playground”. One of the playgrounds is a veritable castle of tin and plastic slides (the former is extra exciting on a hot day), ladders and poles and bridges – all leading up to the highest chamber, where numerous snakes weave in and out of the wall gratings, guarding (presumably) great and terrible treasures.
I distinctly remember screaming while one of those snakes slowly swallowed me whole (if memory serves, my brother was giggling. Typical). I also remember wrestling a two-headed fiend, screaming for my life.
But best of all, perhaps, is the distinctive bulge some other child left behind one fateful day.
I think it’s a rite of passage on the North side for children who’ve grown up to return to the snake platform and be quietly surprised that the snakes don’t writhe in an untamed mass – don’t even TRY to eat visitors – and are in fact made of metal and paint. AND, to add insult to injury, there’s less than half a dozen actual snakes – when memory states they were beyond counting. There’s a moment of grief as all the memories choose to either edit themselves into a different shape, quietly disappear, or defiantly stay themselves – bloodthirsty and triumphant.
Mine stayed. Naturally.
CJ’s stayed too. He grew up on a farm North of Canberra, so when his family visited the city they were drawn to John Knight Park just as mine was.
And it’s worth noting that my teenage daydreams turned out rather better than plausibility would suggest. Perhaps my childhood daydreams aren’t as silly as they seem.
So if you take a pleasant ramble through John Knight Park on a sunny day, don’t forget to cast your eyes upward – way up to the very heights of the highest playground. If the childhood giggles filtering down from above turn suddenly to screams of terror – run. And don’t look back.
#268: “The King’s Speech” at Dendy Premium
CJ and I have now been married for two years – and we still like each other.
We celebrated by visiting Dendy Premium cinemas for “The King’s Speech” (knowing via word of mouth that it would be stellar).
My perfect evening involves food, dessert, Baileys, CJ, a couch, and a movie – Dendy has it all. You order from a menu half an hour before going in, and you sit in pairs of enormous reclining arm chairs, where your meal and drinks are delivered at whatever time/s you desire.
Brilliant.
The film itself is all about the horrible (and real) situation King George VI suffered through: being a public person without the ability to speak in public. As he says, “We’re not a family; we’re a firm.” Colin Firth plays the king (or rather prince), and the pain in his face is excruciating without ever becoming too much for the audience.
His wife, Elizabeth, is played flawlessly by Helena Bonham Carter (who’s come a long way since selling the worst pies in London). Geoffrey Rush plays the last in a long line of speech therapists – a determinedly antipodean fellow with determinedly antipodean manners. I hadn’t realised Rush was actually playing an Australian, and blogging this film for Australia Day turned out to be overwhelmingly appropriate (even more so since Rush has been nominated for an Oscar – along with Nicole Kidman and Jackie Weaver). Australians are no longer proud of Mel Gibson or Russell Crowe (because they’re violently idiotic and/or racist), but Rush’s performance made my heart sing.
Colin Firth, however, deserves an Oscar even more.
This is certainly not an action film, but it is full of human triumph, and is often funny. Wikipedia informs me that many of the best lines were taken directly from the real-life speech therapist’s diary of his experience.
*historical spoiler*
The speech of the title – his first as King – is familiar to every British schoolboy. It is a triumphant part of the UK psyche, born in a moment that could easily have been filled with utter despair.
#267: Let him kill the spider
I’m scared of a lot of things, so my fear of spiders is no big deal. But it’s nice, every so often, to not bother being brave. And it’s nice, every so often, for a man to do the manly thing. So in our house, CJ kills the spiders. It’s an elegant symbol of my trust and his strength.
It was a whitetail, by the way – a spider wikipedia says is “known to bite humans”.
I was going to put in a whitetail pic, but wordpress is acting up. You’ll just have to imagine it.
Oh, and that regency dress thing? There were two bottles of wine involved. All will be revealed tomorrow.
#247: Sarcastic Christmas Letter
The Year of Internal Parasites
Alternative title: Hey kids! Travel is ever so fun!
January
Went to China (cold) and Indonesia (hot). Walked the Great Wall of China in the snow, and accidentally trapped CJ in a windowless Indonesian toilet. Oh, and we got horribly ill – also in Indonesia.
February
Still sick, especially in the morning. Lost two kilos through sheer force of will. Took three pregnancy tests (all negative). Found out about a pregnancy – not mine, silly – my sister. But hey, *I* have a cat.
March
Told I had giardia. Decided it was totally just as cool as bringing a new (human) life into the world. Took medicine. Got worse. Stopped taking medicine. Annoyed at constant pointless nausea, I decided to “earn” the nausea with chocolate. Gained six kilos.
This pic is from wikipedia.
April
Blog of Daily Awesomeness got off the ground. Discovered I’m now allergic to fruit. Thanks, Indonesia! Less nauseous now, so faced the pain and lost three kilos.
May
Bought fish. Fish died due to parasites (theirs, not mine). Bought more fish. Fish didn’t die. Yay! Also, lost one kilo.
This pic is from wikipedia.
June
Went to Sydney for CJ’s cousin’s wedding. Disappointed no-one fell in the water. Otherwise good. Met a married couple related to us called Barry and Sharon (which, translated into Australian, is Bazza and Shazza). Gained and lost two kilos.
July
Went to Sydney for a writer’s conference. Chatted to Publishers B, D, and H. Realised contacts in the biz are the key to publication. Was asked if I was pregnant. Also went down the coast with family including my sister, who at six months didn’t look as pregnant as I did. My nephew ran away (can’t imagine why), but we knew another was on the way, so were not concerned. Lost one more freaking kilo, and reached the healthy weight range! Ta da!
August
CJ was promoted at work. I spent all the extra money on writing conferences.
Went to Sydney for my grandpa’s 90th. Went to Melbourne for massive writing festival. Connected with Publishers A, C, D, I and K. Discovered getting up at 3am to fly interstate doesn’t increase my publisher-schmoozing skills. Or healthy-eating skills.
September
Went to Brisbane for writing festival. Connected with Publishers D and J. Specifically, I woke up in Melbourne at 3am and showered, then went to Brisbane, Sydney and Canberra before my next shower (the cats found me utterly fascinating). Gained ten kilos from all the writing conferences. Another person asked if I was pregnant. Nope – just fat, nauseous, and irritable.
October
Publisher B let me know my books were “progressing”. After 18 months, this was thrilling news. My sister had her internal parasite removed (aww). Mine stayed (ohh).
November
Finished up six weeks without chocolate. Lost seven kilos, and the will to live. But we’ll always have the (accidental) diet coke and mentos rocket.
December
Gained three kilos. Lost six by inventing the anti-Christmas diet (hint: it doesn’t involve overeating). Was still asked if I was pregnant – immediately after losing seven freaking kilos. Still got no answer from Publisher B.
On the up side, my whole family plus the newest member ate Christmas dinner together for the first time.
Merry Freaking Christmas. Good to know that I didn’t get any less published than last year, and that I lost a total of (wait for it) three kilos in twelve months.
But I did scrape back into the healthy weight range for the finish; CJ and I still like each other (and contraceptives, thanks very much for asking); and I met eight major players of Australian publishing face to face.
Here’s to next year. May it be awesome.
#243: Record the Snore
CJ has many excellent qualities, among them his ability to sleep well. Very, very well. This led to one of those Conversations newlyweds have:
Me: Darling, you know that you snore.
CJ: Oh no, I’m sorry. Did I keep you awake?
Me: Well. . . you kept me entertained.
CJ [looking slightly trapped and not knowing why]: Um. . .
Me: I didn’t mind. It’s just. . .
CJ [increasingly paranoid]: Just?
Me: Well. . . you’re not normal.
CJ [utterly relieved for some reason]: Was I very loud?
Me: Not exactly. Well, sometimes. I think maybe you should see a doctor.
CJ [giving me an, “Aren’t women peculiar?” look]: Riiight.
Me: Really. I’m not annoyed.
CJ [alt/del/wifemustbeannoyed_retreat] I’m sorry.
Me [feeling more insane by the moment]: No – you – I – breathing!
CJ: I’m breathing now.
Me: Yes. Excellent point. Well. . . I guess that means you’re fine.
CJ [cautiously]: Good.
And so it was that CJ put an app on his phone that lets me record him snoring. After a few feeble recordings, I was finally able to prove that he’s. . . well, Not Normal.
WHO’S THE CRAZY ONE NOW, HMMM?
This is the recording, along with pics of the family sleeping – do stick with it to the end (you can hear me desperately trying not to laugh and wake him up):
And this is CJ’s face as he listened to it for the first time:
In other breathing-related news, sadly the zombie walk for 5 February has been re-cancelled. We’re back to the backup plan of myself and a relatively small number doing our thing in January. Details later.
The good news?
I don’t cancel stuff unless I’m dead – an excuse which won’t work this time, now will it?
#250: Dress up for a date
I dressed all fancy-pants for a date with CJ at 6pm tonight – I’m going straight from work. Tried on outfits and everything.
See you soon, CJ.
No time for pirate pics – I have a date.
PS zombie walk tomorrow!
#222: Kidnap Your Date
You know it’s gonna be a good date when you take your partner in the car looking like this:
I took a circuitous path to the secret location, and CJ was soon lost.
My cunning plan was to walk him onto a certain island at just the right time, leaving the blindfold on until a certain sound happened, when he’d suddenly know where he was. Sadly, the route I’d taken was too circuitous, and we were about five minutes late. CJ didn’t mind. He realised where we were the instant I opened the car door.
Yep, the National Carillon. It’s usually playing from 12:30-1:20 on Sundays (pause as Louise casts a subtle eye toward the followers of this blog who have brand new boyfriends*). They played, among other pieces, “Yellow Submarine”, “The Addams Family” and the strangely appropriate “He Had It Coming.”
I’ve written about the Crillon before, sometimes even for money (go on, click the link!)
The island itself is beautiful, and we walked all the way around (something I didn’t dare do by myself, since there’s a strong possibility of stumbling across a pair making out in one of the dozens of semi-secluded spots). Along the way we spotted a Mysterious Rat-Like Creature (sleek, furry, and about a foot long – not including a presumed tail) diving into the water. That was definitely a highlight. Was it an otter? Was it really a rat (it didn’t appear to come back up)? An escaped ferret? A secret governmental water camera?
Inquiring minds want to know (but never will).
I did at least get a photo of this guy, who obligingly posed for about twenty minutes. Sit, Bobo! Stay!
We passed three patches of rose petals. I’m pretty sure that if CSI wanted to, they could analyse the rate of decomposition and work out exactly when the weddings occurred. Then they could analyse the level of sweat on the petals to determine how stressed the bridal party was, and extrapolate that into predicting whether the marriage will succeed or not.
With SCIENCE!!
CJ and I found a nice patch of grass, ate our lunch, and watched pleasure-boats pootle by.
I apologise for the above photo, featuring the High Court building. Lake Burley Griffin is surrounded by beautiful and/or intriguing buildings, and that’s just dead ugly. CJ said it was a product of its time – and that’s certainly true. There was a time when sheer naked concrete was considered special. But this is not that day. THIS IS NOT THAT DAY!!**
I feel a little sorry for those who paid to go on a ferry and meander past all these gorgeous islands without the fun of being able to dig their bare toes into the cool grass.*** Suckers.
Once we’d had lunch, CJ promptly and picturesquely fell asleep.
Tomorrow’s awesomeness is a reader suggestion – “Go entirely barefoot for one day”, which I’m actually still doing today. I’d forgotten that the island of the National Carillon is built entirely on duck poo and prickles.
The things I do for you people. And CJ and I are going out again after dinner.
So tomorrow’s blog will include pics of my death-defying Carillon island tree climb, and a fashion shoot of how dirty my feet end up after all our adventures.
Coming soon: Tomorrow is also when our initial ebay time runs out, and we may or may not (probably not) get money. I’ll let you know. Also coming soon: Archery. ZOMBIE WALK!! Watchwords. Facebook friends. And more.
In completely different news, here is an article on modern piracy (the kind with cellphones, governmental corruption/weakness, and weapons that kill innocent people). Modern piracy costs around $13 billion a year.
http://www.criminaljusticeusa.com/blog/2009/10-shocking-facts-about-modern-day-pirates/
*Two, that I know of.
**And duck poo.
***Ask Aragorn. He knows.
S#62: Find a Totem
I’ve been thinking about this awesomeness challenge for quite some time, and then I realised – I’m wearing one.
My interpretation of “totem” is a strong symbol in physical form – in this case, one that can be worn.
On the ring finger of my left hand is a white-gold band that symbolises my commitment to devote my life to a certain CJ for as long as we’re both alive. We’ve been married just over 21 months now, longer than two of my friend’s marriages (one of the women told me, “The first month was nice.”)
I still like CJ. He still likes me. We’ve worked through a couple of issues and (more or less) sorted osuyut how we run a house together, and how we relate to the members of our two families. Our house is the most peaceful place I know.
In my (beginning-oriented) experience, marriage really is all it’s cracked up to be – companionship, warmth, laughter, trust, big shared dreams of the future, and some pain.
I love the symbol of the wedding ring. The plain circle encompasses forever and simplicity (even, perhaps, boredom), and half the time I don’t even realise it’s there. But when I’m stark naked – I’m still wearing one thing. As I visit my 8.5-months pregnant sister, I still have a physical reminder of where my life belongs – with CJ.
I miss you CJ. Here’s a present: http://thefedoralounge.com/
And for everyone else, some steampunk pictures for your Wednesday morning (from our friends at geekologie.com again – and yes, it works):
Oh, squee.
#190: Lolly Review
Today was packed so full of awesome I don’t have time to blog about it until tomorrow. It did involve coins in my bra, a chance re-meeting, six hours of fruitless lurking, a zombie apocalypse planning session with someone whose name I didn’t catch, and a perky song “based on a true story about when I fell down a cliff and broke both my legs, yaaay!”
—————————————-
So here’s today’s blog (and yes, it’s late):
There is a new lolly in the world: The natural confectionary “berry bliss” pack. You may have seen the ads.
I passed them in the supermarket many a time, but didn’t quite buy them – until today (which is to say, last week, since “today” I’m in Melbourne*) CJ found this when he wandered upstairs for dinner***
I can tell you now, this is a brilliant lolly. Even if it was a standard raspberry/strawberry jelly imitation, it’s done by the Natural confectionary company, and as such it tastes better (and is infinitely more expensive). But they have that most irresistable feature: the liquid centre.
*sigh*
“Bliss” is actually appropriate.
Rating: 4 stars (it’d be 5, but the pack is 140 grams instead of the usual 200 grams, so that makes me sad).
Later on, in order to fill out my research, I bought this:
To which I say: Nom Nom.
(But don’t recommend eating a whole pack at a sitting.)
And here’s today’s twittertale picture, from my personal files (because cats are evil):
*although quite possibly eating them again**
**not the same exact ones again. That’d be gross.****
***Well, not EXACTLY this. I ate one. Just one, I swear.
****In fact I *DID* eat them today, and discovered there are three flavours, not two. Which means that when I wrote the above, I was deprived of the full range of flavours. *gasp*
Felicity Banks 