Lame Hobbies.

Do you know my absolute favourite way to spend time is reading books in pools?

Catch me lathering up my sunscreen, grabbing a water bottle and a stack of books and I'll see you in 5 hours.

Now I do want to highlight, I didn't say by the pool. Who wants to be sitting there sweating through a story? Not I. My books are in the splash zone. I do not believe in the idea of not creasing the spine by any stretch of the imagination. If my books don't have wavey, water logged pages and scuffed bases it is a god damn miracle. I am a pro, deep lunge in the shallow end, precariously balancing a hard back out in front of me. I have perfected resting a book on the side, scrapping it lovingly against the bricks as I frog kick away because I'm a multi tasker baby.

I work from home and when it was cooler out I used to walk my little baby angle pup on my lunch break...

Unfortunately (for him) now that we are deeeeep into November it's far too hot at 12pm for a walk so instead I wake up in the morning and put my bathing suit on in preparation, and when lunch time hits I set a 25 minute timer on my phone, grab a book and sprint to the pool.

It's top notch, would recommend!

Books I've read in the pool within the last 2 weeks-

• A Dog called Harry by Jill Baker 
• Eat a Peach by David Chang
• Psychedelics by Aldous Huxley
• I'm Glad my Mum Died by Jennette McCurdy

Another lame hobby?

Podcasts and puzzling. 

Remember how I used to have stories about scaling fire escapes in heels and throwing parties in strangers houses? That girl is dead!

The other day I told Dan he had to lower his volume and could only sit with me if he wanted to puzzle in peace and quiet whilst we listened to my favourite Gilmore Girls podcast. He elected to work instead....I'm so fun that work is now the preferred past time. 

I feel like all my posts recently are about how much slower my life is now and honestly, I'm not mad about it. In my early 20's I lived in the hustle and bustle of NYC where 40 miles an hour felt like a dead stop. In my mid 20's I lived in Hermosa Beach, still technically Los Angeles yet calmer, nights out ended earlier and getting home from dinner and drinks involved a walk along the beach surrounded by locals taking their Labradoodles on a late night stroll. In my late 20's I now live in suburban Brisbane. I never go out to dinner more than twice a week (3 times at an extreme push!) I spend almost every Sunday night drinking wine and eating roasts with my family who I used to never see more than say once every 4 years or so and my days are spent walking my dog, at picnics with friends..... or as if you missed the whole first portion of this post....reading in my pool. 

It's called adaptation kids, if a situation doesn't serve you anymore, pack up and leave.

Don't be too scared to throw yourself into the chaos and forgo sleep for a few years of crazy, but there is no harm in packing up while the party is still in full swing and Irish goodbye-ing straight out of there! 

Skip town, skip the state, skip the continent, do whatever you want. Ain't no harm in giving up something that used to bring you joy but now drains your energy, Marie Kondo that shit straight outta your life.

Peaceful Easy Feeling

 This morning I cried twice.

Once at the finale of Desperate Housewives and once when Kevin Magnussen took pole position in Brazil.

That my friends, is called multi-faceted!

It's been a while, but I'm here for my 6 month life update.

Life is mostly the same. I was supposed to be on my way to the US right now for the first time in 3 years but alas, I'm currently at home, making a breakfast burrito and getting ready to redo my garden whilst my scruffy, dirt encrusted adventure pup is going to do everything in his power to stop me taking his precious long grass away. Well step aside honey because Mumma bought a lawn mower and she's ready to go! 

To be honest, post mow I will probably burn the back of my neck yanking weeds out in the hot November sun, before getting fed up around 2pm. This will give me enough time for a quick AC snooze, an episode of the Crown in the bathtub, a quick Norman walk, a dinner date at sAme sAme rounded off with a cocktail or two. Tomorrow I will wake up and go and meet my friends for a picnic and a catch up, before ending the day at my families place for famiy dinner and most importantly, my body weight in ham.

That's life kids. She's giving calm and serene and this is why I know I am going to peak in my 30's.

Catch me in my garden, growing things and walking my dog not a worry in the world (except for the extortionate airfare costs at the moment....those can go!)

Catch me sneaking in a little intermission shut eye

Catch me the happiest little clam in the car on the way home to bed at 10pm on Saturday

Catch me inviting my friends over at 4pm so we can get jolly in sweatpants, I can roll upstairs early to bed and wake up to left over red frogs as a clean up snack.

I think you get the point by now. We don't run anymore, we cruise. I never left that lockdown haze of breadmaking and puzzles, I moved right in and made myself at home. 

Now I have got to go I'm burning my burrito because some things don't change! 

Music Monday XX

9 Finger Frankie.

Hi Gang.

Today I almost cut my thumb off....again.

I'm not sure if I ever blogged about it the first time, I tried to go and see but alas I did not post a single blog in 2017 or 2018 and the first time I hacked myself was in early 2017...so I guess not!

Let me take you back. There I was a new resident of Hermosa Beach, California. After spending a few too many dollars at my number one shopping establishment, Target, I came home and in an attempt to cut through the zip ties holding my cutlery hostage, the sharp knife I was using slipped and sliced directly into the base of my left thumb. 

Blood was...ugh...how you say....pissing out of my hand.

I blacked out and came too in a pool of the stuff, staining my new kitchen floor. At the time I had been in the city like...maybe a day? I had an empty house, no friends and nary a bandage in site. 

So I did what any responsible 23 year old would do....I took a picture, posted it online for my Mum to assess, wrapped my hand in an old pillow case, propped it above my head and went to sleep.

I woke up the next day (thankfully, no bleeding out here baybeee) to a comment from my aunt, who also happened to be a nurse, informing me that ugh yeah that looked like it needed stitches. Lo and behold after a cool eight hours of sleep my hand was still bleeding but, as stubborn as ever, I was determined to not go to a doctor (I heart American Healthcare!) and instead ignored the fact that I had no feeling in my thumb, taped it to pointer finger, and kept it rocking.

Eventually....the bleeding did stop.

Cut forward 5 years.

Today I was at home, listening to a podcast, baking some apple muffins and wondering how the Queen's Corgi's were doing. It was a casual day. Dan was in the backyard suited and booted, ripping out a large bush that was covered in long prickles that were constantly getting stuck in Norman's snout.

Sir Prickle Snout.

When, in a fun throwback to my previous self, I was holding a mixing bowl on it's side to try and scrape out some batter when suddenly it slipped from my hand, immediately split in two and swiftly lodged itself into my poor, hard done-by left thumb! 

The added fun this time, is that I'm now on perma-blood thinners, so the bloody mess was even more horrific. Prickle snout was in bloody floor clean-up heaven and as I tried to shoo him away, my kitchen slowly filling with blood, it quite literally looked like I had massacred someone.

 As I am now a much more sensible 29 year old, and living in a country with far more affordable healthcare! We did elect to go to the emergency room buuuuuut the wait ended up being way too long so I convinced myself that actually, maybe stitches are beneath me and we went right on home again.

I was supposed to go to see We will Rock you with my family tonight, but instead I ended up, for the second time in my life, snuggled in my bed with my arm propped above my head willing the blood to stop pouring out of my poor left thumb!

The bright side is the stinging in my thumb temporarily took my mind off my excruciatingly sore shoulder that I woke up with many weeks ago whilst on a girls trip to Sydney. 

A natural photo of me in Sydney....wondering if it's possible to self amputate your arm. 

Anyway, sure it's nothing.

Or it's everything and I will be dead soon.

It's been nice knowing you world, and Syd was still fun, life threatening arm pain be gone.

Arrabbiata! 

(Doesn't that sound like it should mean goodbye? lol)

 

 

Phil Collins really popped the fuck OFF with the Tarzan soundtrack.

STRANGERS LIKE ME? YOU'LL BE IN MY HEART? Are you kidding me? Trashin' the camp? The Phil Collins x *NSYNC crossover we never knew we needed!

Fuck it up P.colli!

Rose from my 6 month blog death just to make this post.

Will update further once I am revived from my Philly Colly induced death.

Flood Watch 2K22

 Back in January of 2015, I wrote a post about waiting for a blizzard to hit New York 

Fast forward 7 years and here I am again, waiting for a potential disaster yet thankfully, much more prepared. 

This is my backyard and that white patch under the tree is a lake....They always say....hey when it's flooding it's best of live right at the waters edge! Also 10 points for spotting the water dragon in the picture.

Back in 2015 at the ripe old age of 22, I only had a shitty bottle of Prosecco and some most likely stale popcorn. Fast forward to 28 and I have several bottles of rose, some Korean beef marinating for dinner (my new obsession is Gochujang...bury me in it!) and the $500 worth of new books I bought last weekend.

Wow, age really comes at you like a freight train, huh? 

Annnnnywayyy....I thought it only fitting that as I sit here and wait for another potential disaster, I update my list of "blizzard thoughts"...

Flood Thoughts

• This one here is a classic of mine aka I have annoyed my mum with this thought for a decade...but isn't the concept of a pet so bizarre? Normally, if an animal came racing through my home I would be very alarmed. Yet for some strange reason, we pick one particular animal of fur and sharp teeth, and think...this one is mine, you will live in my house and you will be my friend. You can not leave if you wanted to, I will dictate your entire schedule and you will love me. If a possum ran through my home the same size as my dog I would simply pass away but when pup races around the corner and tackles me, I think, Oh yay that is just Norman....a random animal I have named a ridiculous name and claimed as my own....Ok, I'm spiraling now. 
• I think Survivor is one of the greatest TV shows of all time....I 100% have spoken about this before on here...I just love Survivor man.
• I think weddings are the most ridiculous wastes of money I have ever heard of. If someone ever said to me, Hey I love you and now I want to blow $25,000 on a party I would simply get the ick and fade into the bushes Homer Simpson style. Seriously, who even likes 150 people? I like about 15 at a bush. I think if I was ever with someone who for god knows what reason craved a wedding, my actual response would be ok fine let's meet in the middle....a grazing platter and some drinks in the backyard and never EVER make me kiss you whilst everyone we know watches on otherwise I'm taking Norman and we are outta here! 
• I only like cooking if I can take my time and prep all my ingredients. I have these little Le Creuset bowls that are the perfect size for my intricately minced garlic and diced onion. It really adds to my dreams of cooking show grandeur.
• It blows my mind that people can simply brand Taylor Swift as untalented since they don't like her music. I'm hardly a Swifty, yet I think she has an amazing ability to craft a story into a catchy fucking song! I think people like to paint young female "popstars" with this same bimbo brush and call it a day. The fact that they sing pop music, aimed at females somehow makes them untalented and simple for a young female has no taste. She is branded boy crazy and simple, who wants to hear another song about love and heartbreak? Yeah dope, tell that to any musician ever. 
• On Thursday night there was a 120 million lottery draw, and my coworkers and I all had a discussion had a big chat about how we would spend our winnings and it absolutely blew my mind that most of them didn't want to give a lot of it away to there loved ones, no strings just...here let's share this. The thing that would thrill me the most about winning a ridiculous sum of money would be giving that shit away to those I love so they could share in it.  Hell, what did I do to deserve it anyway? It's not like I would have toiled away for the money,  it just fell into my lap so fuck it, everybody take a piece. Also, this isn't me being all high and mighty but like...what joy would I have living large while someone I loved worried about how to pay there bills? Nah man
• My entire life I was convinced the lyric to Me and Bobby McGee by Janis Joplin was "Windshield Wipers, Turpentine,  I was holding Bobby's hand in mine..." and you can not convince me "slappin' time" is literally anywhere in that lyric. I simply do not hear it! (I want to clarify that I can hear it in the Kris Kristofferson version but let's be real.....there is only one version that matters...sorry not sorry)
• Speaking of Janis Joplin, as a 28 year old, I find the idea of the 27 club so wild. There is nothing like looking at a picture of Janis Joplin and thinking shit man, she was younger than me in this picture? Like I'm sorry, when I see a picture of Jimi Hendrix I see a whole man, not someone who was never older than I am now. That sir, is wild. 
• I wouldn't call myself a people pleaser, but I have this weird need to be viewed as helpful, even if it means I over extend myself and bitch about you constantly while performing said task, I will never actually say no to a request for assistance. 
• I am also a big rule follower. Which seems confusing if you know me and my personality, I don't seem the type, but I don't like getting into trouble so would rather follow the rules to avoid the risk of being reprimanded as my default reaction to getting in trouble is bursting into tears...and that shit is just embarrassing. 
• My favorite song for like a decade strong was Pocketful of Rainbows by Elvis...but in the last year it was dethroned by Bright Side of the Road by Van Morrison....it's just such a fucking jam I don't even care. 
• This is what a baby angel looks like..

• Watermelon is the superior fruit...even though I think I may be allergic...
• I could be a vegetarian if I only ate Indian food for the rest of my life...
• I understand the hype about The Beatles and Elvis but can't see it with Bob Dylan and Led Zepplin.
• I have a theory that some foods need to be introduced to us as children for our palates to understand them...which is why American's struggle with things like Vegemite/Marmite...yet they lap up a taste like Root Beer that is baffling to those of us who didn't grow up with it.

I think that's all I have rolling around up there a the moment.

I'm going to go and play indoor fetch with Normie whilst we wait to get washed away! 

Score!

I got a puppy....and cried for three days straight.

 On the 26th of December, 2021, I did something I had spoken about for years.

I got a puppy (A miniature Groodle named Norman to be more precise)

I had wanted to make a post about it for weeks now, but every time I started to write it, I would give up.

I had so many conflicting emotions that I didn't really know how to get it all out.

Let me explain...I'll start on our first night together.

After a long exhausting day, I placed him on my bed whilst setting up his sleeping area in my bedroom...he proceeded to poop all over my quilt. I then popped him in to his crate next to my bed and what ensued next can only be described as the sounds you would imagine whilst beating a howler monkey with a metal bat.

He screeched so loud it seemed to echo, and I lay in the dark on my bed wishing he would exhaust himself and go to bed.

He didn't.

In a fit of tired frustration, I picked up his crate and carried him downstairs to the laundry. I had filled it with a comfy bed, his crate, a grass patch for him to use during the night, a fresh water bowl and some chew toys. 

After popping him into his pen, I shut the door and ran upstairs pretending I couldn't hear the howling rattling through my house.

I shoved a pillow over my head and cried myself to sleep. What the fuck did I do?

The next day I lay on the couch, inwardly panicking about what had come of my life in the space of 24 hours. I felt isolated, I couldn't go to the bathroom in peace let alone leave my house! What was I going to do? Sit inside with this helpless baby all day, forever? That's what it felt like. 

My parents came over to help me puppy proof the backyard and I broke down. What had I done? They assured me it would get better. My brother came over soon after and offered to look after him for a few hours...I ran out of the door so fast I should have ripped it from it's hinges. That evening when I was on the verge again,  my other brother came over to play with him and I quickly excused myself claiming I needed to go to the bathroom, when really I needed a moment to cry in peace.

Whenever anyone left I was jealous that they had the freedom to do so. It sounds so dramatic but in the space of 48 hours I had been on a one woman rollercoaster of emotions from anticipation, to excitement, to elation to soul consuming dread. Yet the worst stop on the coaster from hell was the guilt.

This helpless baby went from life on a farm with his family, Grandma Topaz and owners who knew exactly what they were doing. To a three bedroom townhouse, with store bought grass and and an owner who cried all day.

A few more days went by and I had barely left my house. I was working from home, puppy mothering from home and crying from home.

I spent New Years Eve alone at home, worried that the fireworks would all be a bit too much for him but not wanting to burden any of my friends with the chore of staying with us.

Slowly the days got a bit easier...and I do mean slowly.

He started going to bed without a fuss, and for a few short hours in the night I would get some me time. I began slowly going out to dinner again, realizing that he may bark when I left but he would soon calm himself down (Side note: I did buy an expensive Adaptil diffuser to help with his separation anxiety....saw no difference). I began hosting my friends more at my house, realizing that hey if I was going to be locked at home...I could be locked at home with company! 

Slowly we fell into a routine. If I was working from home, he was sleeping at my feet or roaming around the garden beds before knocking out on the kitchen floor . If I was in the office, he was at daycare playing with his puppy friends and coming home absolutely exhausted. On Sundays we would go to my parents for family dinner and he would be served his own air fried chicken breast. If my friends were over he was getting pats, chewing up their shoes (whoops) and trying to keep his puppy body awake well past his bedtime. 

We have now been together for 7 weeks.

Things that have made it easier:

1. When he gets scared and runs over and sits on my feet because he feels safe with me.

Things that made it harder:

1. His habit of barking nonstop at 4am every single morning. 

I have slept on my couch more these past few weeks than I think I ever have.

Some days he is a perfect baby angel, the next day his 6pm witching hour is like welcome a biting, demon into your home.

He is perfectly potty trained when he's downstairs at home, but insists on pooping in my spare bedroom if I let him upstairs with me whilst I'm getting ready in the morning.

One day he is the gold star member of puppy school, the next week (aka today) he is a feral beast who will no longer listen to me whilst I am masked up and sweating trying to get him to lay down, before wrestling him on to my lap so he can't distract the dogs around me so he cannonballs off my lap in to the lady sitting beside us (aka TODAY....the teacher had to give him a special Kong to distract him for .4 seconds).

One minute we are a 5.0 UberPet rider, asleep on my lap as the driver comments on how well behaved he is... the next second he is a howling monster.

I'm not sure how many more ways I can say how up and down the last seven weeks have been. It's been the best and worst all wrapped in to one. Have the lows been awful? Beyond. Have the highs made it all worth it? Definitely! 

We are now well and truly living in light at the end of the tunnel territory. 

He is now fully vaccinated so we can begin going on walks, we are on the verge of those awful pointy puppy teeth falling out and straight in to hell where they belong and I haven't had to clean up an accident in ages (except when we go to my parents house...he loves to shit all over that place...that's always fun).

When I first brought Norman home my friend mentioned how we would hopefully be together until I was well into my 40's and it really took me back....that feels so far in the future, and it made me realize how long we will hopefully have with each other.. I have always claimed that my 30's would be my best decade, and to think that I get to have this little shaggy sheep along for the ride? It's going to be even better.

Not seen in this photo: the yellow discharge coming out of his conjunctivitis filled eye....yep...peaks and valleys. 

Music Monday XIX

 

The Harry Potter Generation.

It may sound cliche, but I am so thankful for growing up in the midst of the Harry Potter era. I still remember flicking through the pages of the first two books after my granddad sent them to my older brother when I was too young to even read. In hindsight this memory should be forgotten. Who remembers the baby blue hard cover that lived beneath the dust cover of Chamber of Secrets when they were too young to even read the title? Apparently I do.

It wasn't until right before the 5th book, Order of the Phoenix, came out that I finally decided to give them a read. Which is odd because at that point in time I didn't think it possible for my nine year old brain to even dream of reading such a big book. It was more a weapon than a book,  yet I worked my way through the first three slimmer books with ease before climbing the Everest that was Goblet of Fire and Order of the Phoenix back to back!

By that point in time I had already gone to see the first movie with my brother and our friends years before after scanning the paper to check what was on at the local cinema during the school holidays, and my mums best friend had taken me to see the second one after that.

I was hooked.

I remember an argument I had with my brother one day, I was adamant that maybe, just maybe the books would go on forever. He quickly burst my bubble, don't be so stupid Jordan, we have always known there would only be seven.  I stuck to my guns, secretly certain that there would never be a day that we were not waiting for our next fix. 

When the 7th book came out just a few days before my 14th birthday, my older brother gifted it to me before going to get his own copy, after not wanting to wait for me to finish it himself....he would have only had to wait a few hours, I was unable to put it down and finished it in a day. I then buzzed around eager for him to finish it himself so we could talk about it. 

By 14 I knew the whole story, yet that anticipation lingered with every movie drop.

My best friends and I went and saw them all within a few days of release, whispering about the missing details or buzzing with excitement about a story we loved playing out in front of us. Ironically the day we were supposed to see the final movie, and complete our childhood tradition, the summer after we graduated high school, I came down with an awful stomach virus, and no matter how much I willed it away, they had to go without me. I remember laying at home incredibly jealous, and furiously sick, having to delay my viewing to the following week.

Harry Potter encompassed my childhood, although I was never the kid to dress up or camp out on release night, I have never felt so connected to a story in my life.

As cliche as it sounds, it truly was magic. Although reading is often viewed as a solitary act, this tale became such a bonding experience to most people my age. We all choked down vomit flavored beans as pre-teens, woke up at 1am to the DVD home screen pumping the theme song into our dreams, crossed our fingers that our letter would arrive and looked sideways at our household brooms....could they....? Nah, better not try.

It's no coincidence that prestigious universities have Quidditch teams of legal adults running around with a broom between their legs, feet firmly on the ground, or that in bars all over the world merry adults drink beers and get lost in a competitive round of Harry Potter trivia, passionately arguing with their friends about the birth order of a fictional ginger family we all wanted to be a member of.

All of these things happen because this story meant so much to so many, and as I sobbed my way through the reunion, at the end the screen faded to black and in the reflection was a crying almost 30 year old, who is somehow both full grown and forever 11 when she enters Hogwarts. 

   I'm not kidding....I genuinely sobbed. 

Now if you will please excuse me, I have got to go reread my illustrated coffee table Harry Potter books and you guessed it....probably have another sentimental cry!