The beautiful Tom is working tonight so for the first time since we moved in to our darling little flat I have some time to blog. He has been very kind in offering me time and space in which to do so earlier but given that the only internet access we have is from a little dongle-thingy that isn't entirely reliable, I wanted to wait until I was able to take my time with it. By the way, if any of you happen to know of any brilliant wireless/naked ADSL internet deals going, I'm all ears.
The move itself was seamless if you forget that both of us had the flu and that the flat is located at the top of a spiral staircase. Oh, and that we were given a parking ticket by a bored inspector who chose to ignore the fact that the moving truck was a) parked legally and b) in the middle of a move. Thankfully, we've a band of strong and lovely friends who came over to assist and we were unpacked that same night.
In the time since our move we've been getting to know the local area. Not that we really needed to; most of our weekends were spent either at the market or a cafe on Toorak road or at the pub around the corner beforehand. But knowing that we can now wander down for a $4 pizza whenever we want is somewhat intoxicating. As is having a practical use for the red kitchenware I've been collecting for the past 5 years or so.
Last night I went to see The Sound of Music at the Astor, a beautiful old art deco cinema on Chapel St with Heidi and Nat, some school friends. Sitting in the Astor's faded glory, eating cherry-ripe flavoured choc tops and listening to Julie Andrews whilst gazing at Christopher Plummer -oh, Christopher Plummer - it was a rather magic afternoon. Finishing the evening with afore-mentioned cheap pizzas and a bottle of red made for a perfectly civilised winter Saturday.
For reasons I can't remember, talk turned to Judy Blume novels read in adolescence, with particular reference to Forever. If you're not familiar with Judy's work, this is the book that caused quite a stir when first published for its references to teenage sex, pubic hair and bodily secretions.
Strangely, we all remembered it for the fact that the main male character had named his penis Ralph. Heidi was perplexed by this, having never encountered one with a name herself.
H: In all my years, I've never come across a penis with a name. Have you?
MD: Come to think of it, no, I haven't.
N: Neither have I. But then, I've never asked. (A look of worry crosses her face.) Is that rude?
Cue laughter and snorts from Heids and I.
Wonderful movie action, great food and drink and time spent with people who make you laugh. Perfect Sunday indeed.
Monday, 6 July 2009
Wednesday, 24 June 2009
Does this make me a twit?
I've done it. I've finally succumbed to the monster that is Twitter.
I'm still not entirely sure about Twitter. Honestly, isn't it just one big great ego machine? Surely no one is so bored that they wish to hear all the ins and outs of other's lives as they occur? The one upside that I can see is that I can write my blog ideas down as they occur to me - but are there any others?
We'll see, I guess. I know Ling is a fellow twitterer - is anyone else?
My ego speaks here.
I'm still not entirely sure about Twitter. Honestly, isn't it just one big great ego machine? Surely no one is so bored that they wish to hear all the ins and outs of other's lives as they occur? The one upside that I can see is that I can write my blog ideas down as they occur to me - but are there any others?
We'll see, I guess. I know Ling is a fellow twitterer - is anyone else?
My ego speaks here.
Tuesday, 23 June 2009
Try before you buy
I spoke to my dear Nan on Sunday. Seems the bush telegraph is working well and truly as she already knew that Thomas (as she calls him) and I were moving in together.
Normally I'd be worried about how someone of her age would take it, particularly given my Dad's somewhat traditionalist stance. Then again, it wasn't so long ago that Nan told a rather nosy man where he could stick it when he tried to upset her by asking about my living arrangements.
Still, I don't know that I was prepared for what she told me during our phone call.
Nan: So, darling, I hear you and Thomas are moving in together!
MD: Yes Nan, next Saturday. We found a place really easily.
N: Great news! I think it's a fabulous idea. Best to try before you buy, don't you think?
M: Well, yes, quite.
N: I mean, if I'd lived with my first husband before we got married, I NEVER would have married him. Would have saved myself a lot of heartache there. Oh yes, you're doing the right thing.
M: It feels that way, Nan. I'm really happy and he's a lovely boy.
N: Good, good. And you know what I've always said.
M: What's that?
N: Well, it's far more comfortable to do it in a bed than in the backseat of a car. And this way your mother knows where you are, too.
This from my 91 year old Nanna. Just when I think I have her pigeonholed in the crocheting, biscuit-baking, blue rinse set, she blows away all my assumptions.
That said, when I mentioned it to Mum afterwards her face quickly turned to thunder.
Mum: She said what?
MD: That I should try before I buy. And that in a bed is better than the backseat of a car.
Mum: Hmmph. She didn't have that view before your Dad and I got married. She would have killed us both if we'd tried it.
It must be so much easier to be a grandparent than a parent.
Normally I'd be worried about how someone of her age would take it, particularly given my Dad's somewhat traditionalist stance. Then again, it wasn't so long ago that Nan told a rather nosy man where he could stick it when he tried to upset her by asking about my living arrangements.
Still, I don't know that I was prepared for what she told me during our phone call.
Nan: So, darling, I hear you and Thomas are moving in together!
MD: Yes Nan, next Saturday. We found a place really easily.
N: Great news! I think it's a fabulous idea. Best to try before you buy, don't you think?
M: Well, yes, quite.
N: I mean, if I'd lived with my first husband before we got married, I NEVER would have married him. Would have saved myself a lot of heartache there. Oh yes, you're doing the right thing.
M: It feels that way, Nan. I'm really happy and he's a lovely boy.
N: Good, good. And you know what I've always said.
M: What's that?
N: Well, it's far more comfortable to do it in a bed than in the backseat of a car. And this way your mother knows where you are, too.
This from my 91 year old Nanna. Just when I think I have her pigeonholed in the crocheting, biscuit-baking, blue rinse set, she blows away all my assumptions.
That said, when I mentioned it to Mum afterwards her face quickly turned to thunder.
Mum: She said what?
MD: That I should try before I buy. And that in a bed is better than the backseat of a car.
Mum: Hmmph. She didn't have that view before your Dad and I got married. She would have killed us both if we'd tried it.
It must be so much easier to be a grandparent than a parent.
Monday, 22 June 2009
If you see me walking down the street
Aren't all of you lovely to post such good wishes about the move! It's truly exciting for me, but when you know others are excited on your behalf it means so much more.
I left work at lunchtime today. I'd had a funny tummy since yesterday and given the pig flu that's circulating of late, figured it was best to go home lest I infect the entire office.
Strolling through the Degraves St subway to catch my train, I noticed a figure coming towards me. Hmm. Looked a bit like Richard from far away. Certainly walked like him. Wearing a funny hat in an attempt to be avant garde, too.
Shit.
It WAS Richard. What's more, he'd seen me, too.
We each did an admirable job of ignoring the other as we crossed paths. Sitting down on the train moments later, I was amazed at my complete lack of feeling. I've not seen him since I left my previous job 18 months ago and had imagined that when/if our paths ever did cross again, it would be traumatic. But it wasn't.
Truth be told, it was like seeing someone that you might have gone to primary school with. You have a vague recollection of the face, but not enough to go over and say hi.
I told a girlfriend who'd seen me through the messy part this afternoon. She asked how I'd dealt with it and I commented on my lack of feeling - no anger, no pain, nothing. Her response?
That's good then. It has been placed where it should be - in the past.
Amen to that, sister.
I left work at lunchtime today. I'd had a funny tummy since yesterday and given the pig flu that's circulating of late, figured it was best to go home lest I infect the entire office.
Strolling through the Degraves St subway to catch my train, I noticed a figure coming towards me. Hmm. Looked a bit like Richard from far away. Certainly walked like him. Wearing a funny hat in an attempt to be avant garde, too.
Shit.
It WAS Richard. What's more, he'd seen me, too.
We each did an admirable job of ignoring the other as we crossed paths. Sitting down on the train moments later, I was amazed at my complete lack of feeling. I've not seen him since I left my previous job 18 months ago and had imagined that when/if our paths ever did cross again, it would be traumatic. But it wasn't.
Truth be told, it was like seeing someone that you might have gone to primary school with. You have a vague recollection of the face, but not enough to go over and say hi.
I told a girlfriend who'd seen me through the messy part this afternoon. She asked how I'd dealt with it and I commented on my lack of feeling - no anger, no pain, nothing. Her response?
That's good then. It has been placed where it should be - in the past.
Amen to that, sister.
Thursday, 18 June 2009
Home and hosed
I've been back from my travels for almost 3 weeks now and am only just finding the time to sit down and write. So much happened whilst I was away - learnings of a professional and personal nature, weight gain (mmm, fika) and sightseeing to name a few.
Having time away from work gave me an opportunity to think about lots of things. Something about lots of forests and picturesque lakes encourages one's mind to wander. I wondered - what do I want from life, my job, my relationship? The time apart gave Tom time to think, too. Happily, we both reached the same conclusions - we want to spend more time together, not less.
So, once we arrived home from Malaysia - where everyone referred to us as 'honeymoon' with singsong voices and knowing smiles - we started looking for a place together. The Melbourne rental market being what it is, we expected the search to take several weeks. But the day after submitting our first application, we were accepted. We move in together a week from Saturday.
Looking to share our good news, I rang Dad to tell him that we 'd been successful. Dad asked where it was, whether it had off-street parking and how much we were paying. He gruffly told me that 'it's alright, I guess.' Right. Not the response I'd been hoping for.
I was upset. I've always looked for my parents' support and not getting it wholly makes me uneasy. I called Dad back and told him that he'd upset me and asked why he wasn't entirely supportive. It took a bit of pushing, but evenutally I got it out of him. Seems my Dad is somewhat of a traditionalist and is a little troubled by the idea of his daughter moving in with a bloke without 'a sign of commitment'.
Dad and Tom have a brilliant relationship and Dad's said how happy he is that we're together - his problem isn't with my choice of partner, but that I haven't a ring on my finger. He knows there are no guarantees in life, but he would feel more comfortable if we made our feelings for one another 'official' - to minimise the risk of my getting hurt.
Maybe I'm setting the cause of feminism back 20 years here, but I love that Dad cares enough to want a commitment for his girl. And it's good to know that if I'm ever dying to get engaged and Tom isn't quite getting the hint, Dad's waiting to be enlisted.
Having time away from work gave me an opportunity to think about lots of things. Something about lots of forests and picturesque lakes encourages one's mind to wander. I wondered - what do I want from life, my job, my relationship? The time apart gave Tom time to think, too. Happily, we both reached the same conclusions - we want to spend more time together, not less.
So, once we arrived home from Malaysia - where everyone referred to us as 'honeymoon' with singsong voices and knowing smiles - we started looking for a place together. The Melbourne rental market being what it is, we expected the search to take several weeks. But the day after submitting our first application, we were accepted. We move in together a week from Saturday.
Looking to share our good news, I rang Dad to tell him that we 'd been successful. Dad asked where it was, whether it had off-street parking and how much we were paying. He gruffly told me that 'it's alright, I guess.' Right. Not the response I'd been hoping for.
I was upset. I've always looked for my parents' support and not getting it wholly makes me uneasy. I called Dad back and told him that he'd upset me and asked why he wasn't entirely supportive. It took a bit of pushing, but evenutally I got it out of him. Seems my Dad is somewhat of a traditionalist and is a little troubled by the idea of his daughter moving in with a bloke without 'a sign of commitment'.
Dad and Tom have a brilliant relationship and Dad's said how happy he is that we're together - his problem isn't with my choice of partner, but that I haven't a ring on my finger. He knows there are no guarantees in life, but he would feel more comfortable if we made our feelings for one another 'official' - to minimise the risk of my getting hurt.
Maybe I'm setting the cause of feminism back 20 years here, but I love that Dad cares enough to want a commitment for his girl. And it's good to know that if I'm ever dying to get engaged and Tom isn't quite getting the hint, Dad's waiting to be enlisted.
Wednesday, 15 April 2009
Disappearing MD
But only for a few weeks, I promise.
As threatened, I have packed my laptop and flown the coop to beautiful Sweden. After a hellishly long 28 hour journey, I arrived this morning and was instantly bewitched by the natural beauty of this country. Fir trees, rolling plains, peaceful lakes - it's pretty much all you expect and more.
The trip that I'm on involves a rather tight schedule, so unfortunately I'll be around even less than I have been of late. I will be trying to commandeer some laptop time whenever I can but fear that inspiration may not come as often. Or if it does, you may be subjected to long, dithering rants about how much I miss Tom (I'm not seeing him until we meet in Malaysia 5 weeks from today).
So, dear friends, for now I bid you goodnight - but not goodbye.
Like any good temptress, I want to leave you wanting more...
As threatened, I have packed my laptop and flown the coop to beautiful Sweden. After a hellishly long 28 hour journey, I arrived this morning and was instantly bewitched by the natural beauty of this country. Fir trees, rolling plains, peaceful lakes - it's pretty much all you expect and more.
The trip that I'm on involves a rather tight schedule, so unfortunately I'll be around even less than I have been of late. I will be trying to commandeer some laptop time whenever I can but fear that inspiration may not come as often. Or if it does, you may be subjected to long, dithering rants about how much I miss Tom (I'm not seeing him until we meet in Malaysia 5 weeks from today).
So, dear friends, for now I bid you goodnight - but not goodbye.
Like any good temptress, I want to leave you wanting more...
Thursday, 2 April 2009
A different sort of stimulus package
Yesterday was Dad's birthday and all the family gathered around. Sat around our dining table eating and fighting over gravy allocations were Mum and Dad, Anna and Dave and Tom and I.
It was the first time that we had all been together since the family wedding in Sydney, so it was inevitable that there'd be a slight recap. After all, it was a wedding. Although we'd all had a few, surely between us we could remember the entire event if we just put our heads together?
I couldn't resist sharing the story about Grandpa and his apparent keenness to become a great-grandfather. This came as a surprise to Dad, but not to Mum. Oh no. For Gramps had been on the phone that very day.
"He said he's going to write a sign with a dollar amount on it and whoever pops out the first great-grandchild gets the money. He's calling it 'Granddad's baby bonus'."
He didn't.
He did.
This revelation made my jaw slack with shock.
It made Anna ask, 'how much?' (And shortly thereafter made her boyfriend Dave turn a peculiar shade of puce).
He was kidding, wasn't he? Mum didn't think so.
According to Mum, he asked her to gently encourage Tom and I to get busy as he doesn't think my cousin and his new wife will be breeding any time soon. Apparently they're 'too career focused'.
I suggested Anna as an alternative - she likes kids. She's a primary school teacher, for heavens' sake and has ben with Dave for almost 4 years. But according to Gramps, she is probably too young. Which means that I'm the only one left.
Bloody hell. I never thought I'd see the day that a bounty was placed on my womb.
It was the first time that we had all been together since the family wedding in Sydney, so it was inevitable that there'd be a slight recap. After all, it was a wedding. Although we'd all had a few, surely between us we could remember the entire event if we just put our heads together?
I couldn't resist sharing the story about Grandpa and his apparent keenness to become a great-grandfather. This came as a surprise to Dad, but not to Mum. Oh no. For Gramps had been on the phone that very day.
"He said he's going to write a sign with a dollar amount on it and whoever pops out the first great-grandchild gets the money. He's calling it 'Granddad's baby bonus'."
He didn't.
He did.
This revelation made my jaw slack with shock.
It made Anna ask, 'how much?' (And shortly thereafter made her boyfriend Dave turn a peculiar shade of puce).
He was kidding, wasn't he? Mum didn't think so.
According to Mum, he asked her to gently encourage Tom and I to get busy as he doesn't think my cousin and his new wife will be breeding any time soon. Apparently they're 'too career focused'.
I suggested Anna as an alternative - she likes kids. She's a primary school teacher, for heavens' sake and has ben with Dave for almost 4 years. But according to Gramps, she is probably too young. Which means that I'm the only one left.
Bloody hell. I never thought I'd see the day that a bounty was placed on my womb.
Wednesday, 1 April 2009
The things you find...
in the laneways of Melbourne.
In Degraves St last night for a photo shoot (don't ask - another part of the Swedish journey), I was posing next to a graffiti laden walls when I spied a poster advertising a Comedy Festival show, the title of which intrigued me.
Judge for yourself, but given my definition of cake, I think the answer is a definite yes.
Friday, 27 March 2009
Don't say that you love me!
Two years ago I was on a work trip to Alice Springs with Brett. We were at the end of the trip and had a few hours to kill before our flight home so we decided to have lunch - and a few refreshments - in a Todd Mall pub.
It was a typical bogan pub. You know the type. Populated by men in singlets, beer-soaked coasters, large screen tvs and racing flags on the wall.
As we dove headfirst into our drinks and a plate of something fried, the video clip for Fleetwood Mac's Tusk started playing on aforementioned big screen tv.
'Man, I LOVE this song!' Brett told me whilst pumping his arm. 'It's my favourite shagging song.'
Pardon?
Apparently Brett had a list of shagging songs. You know, songs that he likes to have playing when he's, erm, shagging. I had heard of playing music to get you in the mood, but songs to give you a good rhythm?
Whoever knew.
Tusk would be, I imagine, a difficult rhythym to sustain. It's a big song with a big sound - surely you feel compelled to perform? If there wasn't a grand crescendo reached, it could be a bit of a let down. You're trying to keep up with a marching band complete with drummers, baton twirlers and trojan hats, for goodness' sake.
Now, whenever I hear the opening beats of Tusk all I can think of is Brett pumping his arm suggestively. And as much as I adore the boy, it kind of creeps me out. Thinking about your friends in flagrante delicto is, well, a bit ergh.
Tom and I heard it whilst out in the car one day and I dissolved into giggles. Given that Brett introduced Tom and I, I couldn't help but tell him. His response?
'Oh, God! I just had a visual!'
Glad I wasn't the only one.
It was a typical bogan pub. You know the type. Populated by men in singlets, beer-soaked coasters, large screen tvs and racing flags on the wall.
As we dove headfirst into our drinks and a plate of something fried, the video clip for Fleetwood Mac's Tusk started playing on aforementioned big screen tv.
'Man, I LOVE this song!' Brett told me whilst pumping his arm. 'It's my favourite shagging song.'
Pardon?
Apparently Brett had a list of shagging songs. You know, songs that he likes to have playing when he's, erm, shagging. I had heard of playing music to get you in the mood, but songs to give you a good rhythm?
Whoever knew.
Tusk would be, I imagine, a difficult rhythym to sustain. It's a big song with a big sound - surely you feel compelled to perform? If there wasn't a grand crescendo reached, it could be a bit of a let down. You're trying to keep up with a marching band complete with drummers, baton twirlers and trojan hats, for goodness' sake.
Now, whenever I hear the opening beats of Tusk all I can think of is Brett pumping his arm suggestively. And as much as I adore the boy, it kind of creeps me out. Thinking about your friends in flagrante delicto is, well, a bit ergh.
Tom and I heard it whilst out in the car one day and I dissolved into giggles. Given that Brett introduced Tom and I, I couldn't help but tell him. His response?
'Oh, God! I just had a visual!'
Glad I wasn't the only one.
I'm BAAAAA-CK!
A comment from Ling two days ago reminded me that I've been very quiet of late. Whoops.
I'm just over two weeks away from my big Swedish sojourn. Despite having known about it for 6 months it seems to have crept up on me rather suddenly. All of a sudden I've gifts to buy, things to plan, handover documents at work to write and friends to see before I disappear for 2 months. Oh, and did I mention that for various reasons I've been interstate for the past three weekends? The poor blog ends up being a bit neglected.
But never fear! I - and my ego - cannot stay away for long.
Last weekend the whole family went to Sydney for my cousin's wedding. As the extended family lives all over Australia, it was the first time that we had all been in the one place for almost 12 years.
Between the ceremony and the reception Tom and I had everyone back to our hotel room for drinks. It isn't that we're supremely generous beings - more that the ghost of Conrad Hilton was smiling on us and we were upgraded to a suite (sweet!). We had more than enough room for the 18 family members in need of thirst quenching.
And quench thirst we did. By the time we left for the reception, it looked like the room had been used as the green room for a rock concert rather than for a family reunion. Empty champagne bottles and remnants of doritos littered the coffee table, bags of ice slowly melted in the bathtub and the contents of the mini bar had been deposited in the coat cupboard so as to keep a dozen lemon ruskis cool.
It was fantastic. We reminisced, we told jokes and we all gagged on the trick flavour jelly bellys Anna thought it would be fun to try.
Evidently Tom fit right in as I was swiftly sidelined by my three female cousins and asked when we were getting married. Sigh. But the best was yet to come.
Brave on a few Boags, my Catholic grandfather sidelined me.
Him: Oi. When am I going to get some great grandchildren?
Me: Splutter cough cough. Erm, why don't you ask Dan? You know, your grandson who got
married today?
Him: Well, I'm talking to you now. When are you and him (nods in Tom's direction) going to
have some?
Me: Gramps, Tom and I aren't married. Nor are we going to be any time soon.
Him: You can always get married later. Come on, I'm not getting any younger!
Me: Shocked silence
Later in the evening he sidled up to me and told me he was sorry about what he'd said earlier. Of course, he'd prefer it if Tom and I were married before we have kids, but he doesn't mind if we never get married. Really.
This is the man who still goes to church every Saturday and has a giant - quite gruesome actually - picture of Jesus with a bleeding, barbed-wired heart opposite his front door. The man who held back permission to marry his daughter until my Anglican-raised father swore that they would marry in a Catholic church and the kids would be raised Catholic. And all of a sudden he's encouraging me to go get knocked up without so much as a ring?
Bob Dylan had it right. The times, they are a'changing.
I'm just over two weeks away from my big Swedish sojourn. Despite having known about it for 6 months it seems to have crept up on me rather suddenly. All of a sudden I've gifts to buy, things to plan, handover documents at work to write and friends to see before I disappear for 2 months. Oh, and did I mention that for various reasons I've been interstate for the past three weekends? The poor blog ends up being a bit neglected.
But never fear! I - and my ego - cannot stay away for long.
Last weekend the whole family went to Sydney for my cousin's wedding. As the extended family lives all over Australia, it was the first time that we had all been in the one place for almost 12 years.
Between the ceremony and the reception Tom and I had everyone back to our hotel room for drinks. It isn't that we're supremely generous beings - more that the ghost of Conrad Hilton was smiling on us and we were upgraded to a suite (sweet!). We had more than enough room for the 18 family members in need of thirst quenching.
And quench thirst we did. By the time we left for the reception, it looked like the room had been used as the green room for a rock concert rather than for a family reunion. Empty champagne bottles and remnants of doritos littered the coffee table, bags of ice slowly melted in the bathtub and the contents of the mini bar had been deposited in the coat cupboard so as to keep a dozen lemon ruskis cool.
It was fantastic. We reminisced, we told jokes and we all gagged on the trick flavour jelly bellys Anna thought it would be fun to try.
Evidently Tom fit right in as I was swiftly sidelined by my three female cousins and asked when we were getting married. Sigh. But the best was yet to come.
Brave on a few Boags, my Catholic grandfather sidelined me.
Him: Oi. When am I going to get some great grandchildren?
Me: Splutter cough cough. Erm, why don't you ask Dan? You know, your grandson who got
married today?
Him: Well, I'm talking to you now. When are you and him (nods in Tom's direction) going to
have some?
Me: Gramps, Tom and I aren't married. Nor are we going to be any time soon.
Him: You can always get married later. Come on, I'm not getting any younger!
Me: Shocked silence
Later in the evening he sidled up to me and told me he was sorry about what he'd said earlier. Of course, he'd prefer it if Tom and I were married before we have kids, but he doesn't mind if we never get married. Really.
This is the man who still goes to church every Saturday and has a giant - quite gruesome actually - picture of Jesus with a bleeding, barbed-wired heart opposite his front door. The man who held back permission to marry his daughter until my Anglican-raised father swore that they would marry in a Catholic church and the kids would be raised Catholic. And all of a sudden he's encouraging me to go get knocked up without so much as a ring?
Bob Dylan had it right. The times, they are a'changing.
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