Shifted
Published 23 December 2011I now live in Suburbia.
After a week of moving boxes (and boxes, so many boxes) and carloads of crap (and a maxed out 4-tonne truck) we have left Bohemia.
I cried the last time I walked away from our old place. Sure, living there turned sour, but those 4½ years there were pretty amazing and transformational (Is that even a word?).
But now? We live amongst a nice community (seriously, the neighbours are so friendly) in a nice neighbourhood. And our new place is sun-drenched, in excellent condition, fully renovated and just plain nice.
Even the movers commented on the difference.
Yesterday morning, a neighbour I hadn’t met yet asked if I wanted a lift to the station. Last night the ice cream truck did his fortnightly rounds and stopped outside our place.
The noise here is so different – kookaburras, magpies and the wind rustling through trees.
The cats are having issues with settling, though — the Bear especially with his crying in the middle of the night — but nothing a visit from Train’s vet couldn’t fix (Surely? Hopefully?)
But now that I’ve finished work for the year, the internet’s connected and the TV has been set up, I can focus on the unpacking and enjoying the small things… like our new oven
Ribbit
Published 4 December 2011I’ve always been wary of carparks. I feel like one of the few drivers who knows to park between the lines… Everyone else seems to treat those white lines as though they are “estimate only” and don’t have to be obeyed.
It used to only be a north shore thing. It’s always been especially bad in the carpark under and around Neutral Bay Woollies. Those yummy mummies don’t have time to straighten up their parking, they need the extra time to unfurl their Bugaboos and bark instructions down their iPhone 4S to their pool cleaner. Mosman Council would do well to just change those parking spots from 90 degrees to 45 degrees.
I like to use this time to remind Dan that, as a former Neutral Bay resident, he is to NEVER EVER park like these people.
But, like the Cane Toad, Bad Parking Syndrome is moving south. My beloved Marrickville Metro has been overcome recently, and I’m noticing that it’s getting worse. Today, on my first round of Christmas shopping, was forced to park next to a fellow Mazda2 that was sadly parked too close for comfort. I’m especially sensitive since Talyn has only recently returned from the plastic surgeon.
Luckily, there were no scrapes to be found. This time.
If I’m forced next to park next to a car that isn’t parked properly (or parked too close to my side) I take a photo in case they scratch my car. Not that I think a photo would hold when presented to the coppers, but it makes me feel better.
Do people in your area know how to park between the lines?
Also, doesn’t this pic make you squirm? YUCK.
Hard earned.
Published 3 December 2011I learned very quickly in my life that (really) good things only seem to happen to me when I’ve (really) earned it.
Exhibit A: back in my youth, I was in a very dubious “relationship” that, in the course of a year, managed to destroy my soul to the point that it took years to recover. I had lost value of myself as a person, was treated like dirt by this supposed boyfriend and was metaphorically and emotionally dragged through the mud.
Then, just as that relationship was falling apart, I met Dan and my life got infinitely better from that point onwards. It sounds dramatic to say that Dan saved my life, but you know what I mean, right? He turned my life around so much, it’s hard to remember the old me.
It’s no surprise that last year was a complete write-off, with mum being in hospital and all the drama that it generated (okay, I generated some of that drama too). But I knew that it was only happening because of the wedding. And I can’t to go into the drama that led to us eloping, because it still hurts us today, it still hurts our families and our only consolation is that our reasons behind why we eloped are still valid. I’m sorry that it’s so cryptic, but thats the most I can share. But getting married was the best thing to have happened to me and I knew it was only made possible by the most difficult year I had lived through.
The last month has been a challenge for me; I’ve been tested personally and professionally and I’m not entirely sure if I passed or not. But you know when your life just continually kicks you in the shins, just when you think things might start to look up, life just says “hahaha, sucked in!”? My life had reached a point where even minor set backs were worthy of an Oscar-winning sook-fest. Woe is me, #firstworldproblems, etc.
I was literally just trying to get through each day, surviving on a diet of adrenaline, deadlines and shifting goalposts.
Then, yesterday, I was rewarded. I had a nice day with mum, taking her to an appointment. I even managed to get some shopping in on my way home.
Then I got home and found an email telling us that we have a moving date. Our tenants will be out within a couple of weeks and we can start to move into Suburbia.
I’ve desperately waiting for this, I’m ready to move, as much as I’ll miss living in Bohemia. The new neighbours here are shitting us off big time and as Gough said It’s Time. Everything is falling into place. And it feels as though it’s happening because I’ve earned it.
Thank you, universe.
On the buses
Published 20 November 2011Disclaimer: I wrote this yesterday, so any references to “yesterday” means Friday.
This week I’ve been catching the bus to work while Talyn gets a facelift. It doubles my travel time to work (at least) and involves catching 2 buses and about 25 minutes of walking.
I alternate between being a complete sook about it, and actually enjoying it. I sook because I have to wake up so much earlier, I get home so much later and because sometimes, people SMELL BAD on the bus. One was so bad, I actually wondered if it was me.
(It wasn’t.)
But then I enjoy catching the bus because I get to read (or at least try to), I can listen to Adele (or a podcast) and I can get in some quality time just people-watching. Or enjoy watching the world as it zooms past.
I get to listen to the high school kids who are all giggly and noisy and talk about things that are both too mature and immature for their age. I listen to the mobile phone conversations about family dramas and how the traffic is making us all late for work. I watch how people standing in the aisle STILL don’t know how to move to the back of the bus, how they don’t move from the front seat for the sweet little nana on her walking stick and how they sit in the aisle seat when the window seat is still empty (and how they get stroppy if you dare to ask to sit next to them).
But I HAVE noticed that more people thank the bus drivers when they’re getting off. That’s nice.
Yesterday was one of those days where buses were running late (or just not turning up) and the traffic was hectic enough to make me late for work. One of my pet hates. It’s a test of my patience and it teaches me that I can’t control everything (not even peak hour traffic).
But by comparison, Thursday was one of those dream days where everything ran perfectly. I thought I’d missed buses, but they were actually running late. The buses were largely empty (hurrah, seat to myself!) and I even had enough time to duck into the servo while I was waiting for the last bus home and was able to enjoy my Snickers bar and bottle of icy cold Coke Zero in relative peace and tranquility at the back of the bus.
NRMA very kindly rang the plastic surgeon yesterday and estimate that Talyn will be ready for me to collect on Tuesday. They originally said Monday, but it’s still better than Wednesday, which was the estimated completion date when the accident actually happened.
Needless to say, it’s going to be a VERY happy reunion when Talyn and I are finally reunited!
Postscript: so now that today is Sunday and Talyn is supposed to be ready Tuesday… this means that tomorrow I can say that I’m “picking the car up tomorrow”
Newtown and Enmore bucket list: get a Thai massage
Published 7 October 2011Now that we’re moving to the ‘burbs, I’m dealing with the reality of leaving the area we’ve called home for the last four years. Living on the Newtown/Enmore border (or, as I’ve called it, Central Bohemia) is a fascinating experience and I’d be lying if I said I won’t miss it (even though the parking situation sucks and makes me stabby). It’s noisy, colourful, eclectic and smells of dope (so I’m told; I’m not sure I know what it smells like). Our friends live here. Our family is nearby. My beautifying team (my hairdresser and podiatrist) are nearby.
When we started to seriously think of moving, I mentally planned a Newtown and Enmore bucket list; all those things I’d planned to do/see/experience when we moved here. Yet somehow, still haven’t actually gotten around to actually doing.
So, with the move coming up in the next couple of months, it’s time to make the bucket list a reality.
Rah’s Newtown and Enmore Bucket List
Go to a Newtown Jets home game(fail, the 2011 season’s already over)- Eat at Gourmet Viking
- Eat at Inca
- Eat at El Cuervo Cantina
- Go to bellydance classes
- Take a beginner’s course at Coffee and a Yarn
- Catch a performance at the New Theatre
- See a show at The Vanguard
- Get a Thai massage
- Go shopping at Alfalfa House
Completed: get a Thai massage
Even though I’ve had this week off work, it took until yesterday for me to decide I had the “time” to spend an hour relaxing.
I went to a Thai massage centre opposite the Enmore Theatre (not this one, because they use Comic Sans and the dreaded <marquee> tag on their site). I got a 1hr oil massage for $85.
The massage itself was equal parts relaxing and painful. I think my masseuse walked on my back (I know she was sitting on my tailbone at one point; perhaps she thought she could ride me like I was a Shetland pony. Or a unicorn). I think because I live in the area, it was easier for me to block out the sound of the hustle and bustle of Enmore Road.
My masseuse was very friendly and explained what to do (it was pretty obvious I’d never been there before). I’ve been to a fancypants dayspa for a massage (that cost a lot more) and I think I preferred the Thai massage. Because it was more “organic” (wooden beds, the staff were barefoot), I wasn’t spending my time listening to/analysing all the noises of chairs moving around, shoes squeaking on the tiles, cupboard doors opening and closing and how often they were checking the clock. Yes, my brain has issues with slowing down.
I found it a tad confronting when the “modesty towel” was slowered about halfway down my arse – much, much lower than what I was used to. While my “glutes” were being worked on, I kept getting visions of my masseuse slipping on all the oil she’d rubbed on me and somehow her thumb (or, god forbid, her fist) ending up where the sun doesn’t shine. There were a few times where I thought it was going to happen, but thankfully, it didn’t.
I spent more time hearing the slaps of other massages taking place on the other side of the curtain. I kept hoping I’d walked into the “right type” of massage centre. Turns out I had.
When my time was up, I was given a hot cup of tea. Delicious tea! I don’t normally like black tea!
“What type of tea is this, it’s yummy!”
“It’s Thai tea”, she said, smiling, but giving me a “weirdo” look at the same time. And I put Thai tea on my mental shopping list. It was so nice, a bit sweet and very easy to drink.
It wasn’t until I got home that I realised she meant “Chai tea”.
CHAI.
That would explain the weirdo look.
Either way, I still need to go out and buy some.
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