So I can log in via the laptop but not the phone. For inexplicable, inconceivable reason. Thus a plan has taken shape to convince hubby he needs a new laptop so I can have this one. So my writing career can finally take off. Hrm.
We have left the Big Smoke. I repeat, we have left Sydney. And not a moment too soon! Moving day traumatic as ever, running round like headless chickens chucking things randomly in bags, boxes and shopping bags - whilst trying to clean up. Bub proved to be a bigger obstruction than ever; demanding constant attention, even managing to develop teething symptoms, runny nose AND vomiting all at once.
Finally we were all packed. Sort of. A few things didn't fit. Car is just a Commodore after all.
The freedom of being out of the City is incredible. I can breathe again.
Bub has had a few whiny days, but seems to be eating and sleeping well - so there is hope. Just for the record, she is back to two naps per day...
Showing posts with label Sydney. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sydney. Show all posts
Thursday, 27 February 2014
Tuesday, 21 January 2014
Homesick?
Still in Sydney. Watched a doco today about fresh produce and farmers markets in the northern rivers area. Byron Bay! I miss thee! How did we get it into our heads that this was a good idea? To let our beautiful home in favour of living out of a suitcase for almost a year?
Just having one of those days.
Doubting decisions. Feeling out of place. Feeling tired. Wanting to be home and not knowing where home is.
Is this good for bub? Does bub care?
She is refusing to go to sleep again without epic battle first. Hubby feeling defeated by bub. Bub keeps on "winning". That is to say, being picked up, carried, rocked, sung to, played with and bottle fed.
But is it really a competition..?
Is she secretly mad at us for not providing enough stability? Or is she bored and in need of more stimulation?
Where should I send that application for mother-of-the-year?
Wednesday, 18 December 2013
Kafka City
Am sick and therefore extra whiny but just have to touch on the, for me, biggest issue regarding living in the City. Everything takes so bloody long. You cannot get from A to B in Sydney in under an hour. Regardless of where A and B are located. You could be attempting to pop down to the corner shop and it would still bloody well take an hour return.
Had this quick errand yesterday. Simply needed to pay in the bond for the house. Should be a few minutes, right. So looked up address. Looked up three or four organic shops nearby, as well as a Boost.
(Yes, I like Boost Juice)
Expected walk to take around 20 minutes one way. Off we went. Me, hubby, bub and bub's stuff (stroller, sling, nappy bag containing nappies; change of clothes; wetwipes; toys; water; changemat; towel; antibacterial handgel; tissues; teething rusk; dummy and... some other stuff).
Anyway. Walk is longer than we expected. And the entire time in direct sun.
Get to government office handling things like bond payments. Take a number to queue. Very Swedish I thought.
Half an hour later get called up. Explain errand. Hand over card. But! Turns out they do not accept card. They also do not accept cash. Have to walk to bank to get cashiers cheque. Bank 15 minute walk away. Hubby disappears into depts of bank building for 20 minutes before finally cheque has been produced.
Get back to government office. Wait half an hour. Several people look at cheque in bewilderment.
I stand up and yell "Don't tell me you do not accept cheques! Will I stand on my head and pull the cash out of my arse - will you accept that?"
No, didn't. But considered it.
Finally it's sorted.
By this point I am exhausted and feverish; we have missed bub's lunch and bub has passed out in the stroller. I am way beyond going to any organic shops meaning will not be able to cook fresh food for bub. Again. Feel like a terrible mother.
Then cannot find Boost. Because in the City, an address is just an indication of in which bizarre mall something is hidden. Out of energy. Get sprite and chocolate - and undo years of hard work not eating garbage.
Had this quick errand yesterday. Simply needed to pay in the bond for the house. Should be a few minutes, right. So looked up address. Looked up three or four organic shops nearby, as well as a Boost.
(Yes, I like Boost Juice)
Expected walk to take around 20 minutes one way. Off we went. Me, hubby, bub and bub's stuff (stroller, sling, nappy bag containing nappies; change of clothes; wetwipes; toys; water; changemat; towel; antibacterial handgel; tissues; teething rusk; dummy and... some other stuff).
Anyway. Walk is longer than we expected. And the entire time in direct sun.
Get to government office handling things like bond payments. Take a number to queue. Very Swedish I thought.
Half an hour later get called up. Explain errand. Hand over card. But! Turns out they do not accept card. They also do not accept cash. Have to walk to bank to get cashiers cheque. Bank 15 minute walk away. Hubby disappears into depts of bank building for 20 minutes before finally cheque has been produced.
Get back to government office. Wait half an hour. Several people look at cheque in bewilderment.
I stand up and yell "Don't tell me you do not accept cheques! Will I stand on my head and pull the cash out of my arse - will you accept that?"
No, didn't. But considered it.
Finally it's sorted.
By this point I am exhausted and feverish; we have missed bub's lunch and bub has passed out in the stroller. I am way beyond going to any organic shops meaning will not be able to cook fresh food for bub. Again. Feel like a terrible mother.
Then cannot find Boost. Because in the City, an address is just an indication of in which bizarre mall something is hidden. Out of energy. Get sprite and chocolate - and undo years of hard work not eating garbage.
Sick
Unbelievable. Have come down with a serious case of man flu. Why man flu? Because it's making me whiny and leading me to believe I am possibly the sickest person in the world.
Bub sick too. We were so worried. Took her to doctors after hearing her cough at night. Doctor looked at us as if we were insane first time parents dragging baby to doctors for case of mild cold. We were.
Yet, when I got the same cold - it's suddenly a million times bloody worse. See! A classic sign of man flu.
We're in beautiful Sydney. But have, as yet, not been able to enjoy.
Tuesday, 20 March 2012
Sydney Celebrations
Have been absent for a few days - drove down to Sydney for a little bit of debauchery. And no, do not have iphone or whatever you call those things, so have not been able to update blog on the run. Am old-fashioned. Retro, one might say.
Sydney was... Sydney.
Awesome time celebrating St Patrick's Day, and an engagement party, with some mad Irish people and got to catch up with all my besties.
Back home again after quick stop at auntie Mia's in Bellingen, where we indulged in some cinnamon rolls.
That will be all for now, have got some very urgent gardening to attend to.
Sydney was... Sydney.
Awesome time celebrating St Patrick's Day, and an engagement party, with some mad Irish people and got to catch up with all my besties.
Back home again after quick stop at auntie Mia's in Bellingen, where we indulged in some cinnamon rolls.
That will be all for now, have got some very urgent gardening to attend to.
Saturday, 1 October 2011
Communication Skills and Book-dreams
Home alone today, as hubby is extending and deepening expertise in area of wildlife rescue and, if remember correctly, specifically birds. Now, birds may be entirely wrong - it could be snakes or something like that; it has many times become apparent to me (usually by way of people telling it to my face; as it seems am not very observant) that communication between hubby and myself is often found wanting.
We both passionately blame the other for not listening (me) / not telling in first place (him).
For example:
Me: Baby, what are we doing next weekend? Was thinking we could do daytrip to Nimbin?
Him: Baby, you know we are going to Sydney/Melbourne/Brisbane for X-Festival/Gig, which we have talked about for months?
Me: No, what are you talking about? You know am never ever going to go to a festival/gig ever again, so we can't go, won't do it.
Him: But baby, you agreed - I told you about this weeks ago!!!
Me: Absolutely not baby, you didn't, is first time have heard about it in whole life!!!
Him: Well, suck it up baby, already bought the tickets.
Me: You what?!?
Him: I TOLD YOU ABOUT IT.
Me: I NEVER HEARD ABOUT IT BEFORE.
And yes, we call each other "baby." To be able to call partner "baby" was one of my main reasons for marrying English-speaking individual.
Suspect may sometimes be a little inattentive when it comes to friends as well. Just texted back and forth with girlfriend, agreeing to meet soon. She stated she hoped she would be better company this time round, as last time she had not been feeling well.
Did not respond to text. What to say? Obviously not the truth, which is;
Oh really, didn't notice!
So, opposite of what Teenage Anna assumed; am not gifted with supreme intellect and an aptitude for reading vibes (although suspect might be a little psychic).
No matter. As my auntie Mia always says - It's OK to be a little hopeless, as long as you have QUALITIES.
By qualities she means:
- Cooking skills: am a fantastic cook even if I say so myself.
- Housekeeping skills: need I say more, see previous blog about sink.
- Good genes. Must admit she loses me here. Unless you count unwarranted slimness (knocking frantically on wood) and suspiciously white teeth.
Anyway.
When hubby is not home I get a little mischievous.
Will do wicked things like eat lunch at 10.30 am. Watch Dr Phil. Take twenty minute showers. Leave lights on even in middle of day. Go into town and look at make-up and shop at Supre.
This last one is a little out of control. Am not proud of myself. Would be there already, except there is thunder and black clouds and do not wish to get rained on...
Could write! Finally nagged hubby into getting me a word-processing program for the laptop.
Only, well, what to write about?
Found these great free postcards at a Cafe in Newtown, which by the way is the BEST Cafe in Sydney. Scrambled - on top of Enmore Road, if you should be so lucky as to find yourself there in time for breakfast or brunch.
Have put the postcards on office-wall, as felt strongly connected to their message:
We both passionately blame the other for not listening (me) / not telling in first place (him).
For example:
Me: Baby, what are we doing next weekend? Was thinking we could do daytrip to Nimbin?
Him: Baby, you know we are going to Sydney/Melbourne/Brisbane for X-Festival/Gig, which we have talked about for months?
Me: No, what are you talking about? You know am never ever going to go to a festival/gig ever again, so we can't go, won't do it.
Him: But baby, you agreed - I told you about this weeks ago!!!
Me: Absolutely not baby, you didn't, is first time have heard about it in whole life!!!
Him: Well, suck it up baby, already bought the tickets.
Me: You what?!?
Him: I TOLD YOU ABOUT IT.
Me: I NEVER HEARD ABOUT IT BEFORE.
And yes, we call each other "baby." To be able to call partner "baby" was one of my main reasons for marrying English-speaking individual.
Suspect may sometimes be a little inattentive when it comes to friends as well. Just texted back and forth with girlfriend, agreeing to meet soon. She stated she hoped she would be better company this time round, as last time she had not been feeling well.
Did not respond to text. What to say? Obviously not the truth, which is;
Oh really, didn't notice!
So, opposite of what Teenage Anna assumed; am not gifted with supreme intellect and an aptitude for reading vibes (although suspect might be a little psychic).
No matter. As my auntie Mia always says - It's OK to be a little hopeless, as long as you have QUALITIES.
By qualities she means:
- Cooking skills: am a fantastic cook even if I say so myself.
- Housekeeping skills: need I say more, see previous blog about sink.
- Good genes. Must admit she loses me here. Unless you count unwarranted slimness (knocking frantically on wood) and suspiciously white teeth.
Anyway.
When hubby is not home I get a little mischievous.
Will do wicked things like eat lunch at 10.30 am. Watch Dr Phil. Take twenty minute showers. Leave lights on even in middle of day. Go into town and look at make-up and shop at Supre.
This last one is a little out of control. Am not proud of myself. Would be there already, except there is thunder and black clouds and do not wish to get rained on...
Could write! Finally nagged hubby into getting me a word-processing program for the laptop.
Only, well, what to write about?
Found these great free postcards at a Cafe in Newtown, which by the way is the BEST Cafe in Sydney. Scrambled - on top of Enmore Road, if you should be so lucky as to find yourself there in time for breakfast or brunch.
Have put the postcards on office-wall, as felt strongly connected to their message:
Tuesday, 27 September 2011
Sydney
Back from Crazy-Town. Am absolutely exhausted.
Sydney makes me tired now that am country-girl. Can recall life being endless list of things to do in line with:
-get out of bed at ungodly hour such as 4am, hope flatmates not in shower for hours, pray clean clothes miraculously available, hope nobody drunk the last of the milk, hope kitchen gas not on over night (this happened) etc.
-run to train / bus only to find it around 45 minutes late
-arrive at work then run around madly for 8-10 hours (or in case of office role - sit still and go mad on the inside instead)
-go home (or stay out) and invariably consume too many drinks
-prepare nutritious meal of pasta and sauce from a jar (at best!) or some form of take-away
-set alarm for ungodly hour
-repeat
So my point was - after a weekend or a few days in Sydney, am back to feeling that way. Exhausted.
But am also very pleased to have caught up with the lovely girls; a married woman needs her sanity-breaks. Had very good time over drinks (and food - yes, we are getting older and more mature!) with the girls and naturally everyone getting pissed; falling over on balcony; losing ipods; hiding in bathroom so nobody will notice level of drunkenness - and so on.
Also attended engagement party in Manly over the weekend. Usually enjoy ferry-ride from Circular Quay to Manly - was one of the things used to do to remind me of why I loved Sydney - unfortunately weather gone from a steamy 30 degrees and sun on the Friday to a cold and rainy 13 degrees, so arrived at party resembling drenched cat. Fortunately they provided unlimited Oyster Bay and, hmm, Yellow. Paced ourselves very well and did not do anything outrageous all evening, even made last ferry back to town! Felt very smug.
A very bizarre thing has come to my attention.
Not sure if this has always been happening, and just have not noticed - or is this new twist in unsavoury meat-eating ways?
Pubs seem to advertise cheap, even free, bits of meat on posters featuring... COW!? Surely, when chomping down on piece of steak - you would secretly be pretending that it did not used to be living animal at all, but rather product (somehow) made by supermarkets? Why the picture of the cow? A new dimension of disgusting and strange.
Bit too tired to come up with truly interesting and witty blog-post today. Apologies.
Sydney makes me tired now that am country-girl. Can recall life being endless list of things to do in line with:
-get out of bed at ungodly hour such as 4am, hope flatmates not in shower for hours, pray clean clothes miraculously available, hope nobody drunk the last of the milk, hope kitchen gas not on over night (this happened) etc.
-run to train / bus only to find it around 45 minutes late
-arrive at work then run around madly for 8-10 hours (or in case of office role - sit still and go mad on the inside instead)
-go home (or stay out) and invariably consume too many drinks
-prepare nutritious meal of pasta and sauce from a jar (at best!) or some form of take-away
-set alarm for ungodly hour
-repeat
So my point was - after a weekend or a few days in Sydney, am back to feeling that way. Exhausted.
But am also very pleased to have caught up with the lovely girls; a married woman needs her sanity-breaks. Had very good time over drinks (and food - yes, we are getting older and more mature!) with the girls and naturally everyone getting pissed; falling over on balcony; losing ipods; hiding in bathroom so nobody will notice level of drunkenness - and so on.
Also attended engagement party in Manly over the weekend. Usually enjoy ferry-ride from Circular Quay to Manly - was one of the things used to do to remind me of why I loved Sydney - unfortunately weather gone from a steamy 30 degrees and sun on the Friday to a cold and rainy 13 degrees, so arrived at party resembling drenched cat. Fortunately they provided unlimited Oyster Bay and, hmm, Yellow. Paced ourselves very well and did not do anything outrageous all evening, even made last ferry back to town! Felt very smug.
A very bizarre thing has come to my attention.
Not sure if this has always been happening, and just have not noticed - or is this new twist in unsavoury meat-eating ways?
Pubs seem to advertise cheap, even free, bits of meat on posters featuring... COW!? Surely, when chomping down on piece of steak - you would secretly be pretending that it did not used to be living animal at all, but rather product (somehow) made by supermarkets? Why the picture of the cow? A new dimension of disgusting and strange.
Bit too tired to come up with truly interesting and witty blog-post today. Apologies.
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