Cheesy

Ah, Mondays. Don’t you just love them. Mine was even worse given that I had to get up an extra hour early to salt my cheese. That sentence may make sense after the weekend tales are complete.

On Friday night I gathered a group of friends from The Local and off we went to watch our footy team’s last home game for the season. It was great, especially given that we won. On the way home, we stopped in at a bar. I was refused entry. “We can’t let you in ma’am, you are wearing a football jersey”. I might add, this was one of the seedier establishments in the area. I responded “We are in Parramatta, right?” The bouncer agreed. I continued. “Parra just won a home game, in this very suburb, right?” The bouncer agreed again. “And I am not allowed in because I have a Parramatta jersey on?” Yep, that’s right. I obviously looked oh so threatening, I’d have been frightened myself if there had been a mirror nearby.

Once Saturday morning rolled around, I said to The Boyfriend that I was taking him somewhere special. I should possibly have let him know that it would not involve me feeding him, as he got all his nice clothes on and thought we were going out to lunch. I wondered why he got all dressed up. The Boyfriend drove, so I gave just the address. No other clue – a street address. His response? “What, the homebrew shop?” Yes, folks, my boyfriend seems to know the address of the homebrew shop off by heart. I did buy him something special, of course – all the ingredients needed to make a tasty Stella Artois style beer. And let me tell you – hops smell nasty. Very, very nasty. While at the homebrew shop, I bought myself a cheesemaking kit – just a small one that makes brie/camembert style cheese. I started the culture on our return home on Saturday and I’ve been making the bloody stuff ever since. We watched footy at The Local yesterday afternoon – well everyone else did, I was running home every hour to turn the cheese over. Anyway, I have a new appreciation for why nice cheese costs so much. This stuff had better taste good. Little Miss Muffet curds pictured below.

On Saturday night, after deciding to have an early night with a DVD, The Boyfriend arrived in the bedroom with this nice little tray of pickles, cheese, and milk before bed. OK, Kahlua and milk, but close enough. I think I’ll keep him.

I sure hope my cheese turns out as nice.

Yes, We Have No Bananas

The weekend before the one just finished saw me going to a fancy schmancy hotel in town for a package deal that included afternoon tea, pre dinner drinks and canapes, 2 course dinner including bottle of wine, hotel room with king sized bed and buffet breakfast. Wow, I rolled out of there. With a banana, pinched from the hotel buffet breakfast. *Note to self – take a large handbag to the next breakfast you go to like that so you can arrive at work after it with a bag full of pastries.

In other news I was amused to check the incoming search terms that land people here. Women who hate undies? Embarrassing bulge boyfriend? How tall is doctor who? Embarrassed skirt lifted? It’s all about me umbrella? Toilets with teeth? I stopped looking after that one. You guys are weird. (No, of course I don’t mean you!)

Is it 5 o’clock Yet?

I’m sitting at my desk, giggling to myself. I realise this is a clear sign of madness. I’ve been sitting here for a good 15 minutes giggling on and off. They say laughter is good for the soul, so at least my soul’s getting a good workout. (Though I must admit I am a goof, my soul gets regular workouts this way.)

I hate those stupid messages that get sent around – and am annoyed, having just got one with a subject of “THIS IS NOT A JOKE!!!!!! MAKE SURE YOU READ THIS!” along with a detailed story about notes on the back window of a car and axe wielding maniacs jumping from the shadows and chopping your arms off before taking your car and wallet and keys and address. And now they are on their way to your house in your car to kill your entire family. OK, so maybe it didn’t say the bits about axes or chopping off arms, but you get the drift.

I’m now hearing other giggles start to filter across the office, as people receive the warning I sent in response to all recipients of the axe wielding car thief story. It’s only fair I share it with you too, after all the same thing could happen to you.

Generally, I hate these warnings that get sent around but even I have to admit that this one is important.

Please protect everyone you know and care about by sending this to your entire email list.

If someone comes to your front door, says they are conducting a survey, and asks you to show them your bottom, DO NOT SHOW THEM YOUR BOTTOM!

This is a scam. They only want to see your bottom!

I wish I’d got this yesterday, I feel so stupid and cheap.

Boys are Dumb

I returned from the wilds of South Australia last night after a weekend with The Boyfriend and his sister and brother in law. The trip was to go to an AFL game – The Boyfriend follows one team and his sister and her family the other team that were  playing. They farmed off their kids to different sleepovers and the adults all went out and drank beer and shouted like yahoos at the footy. It was mostly fun.

It occurred to me that The Boyfriend is an idiot when we had been there for only a few hours. Sure, we were both suffering from lack of sleep having had to get up at 4 (IN THE MORNING! YES! IT HURT!) to catch our flight down to Adelhole Adelaide. Not sure that is enough reason for this particular sterling effort. The Boyfriend’s dad had driven us to the airport. He’s not getting any younger and seemed to struggle a little. I commented quietly afterwards that The Boyfriend should have a chat to his sister privately about the fact that their dad is getting on, and getting distracted a little when driving. Which of course is why he announced to all and sundry “12 thinks that dad’s driving’s getting dangerous”. Oh good work. He really improved the situation later, after I’d told him that was not quite what I had in mind by him having a private chat with his sister about it, when he said to her “You know, 12 didn’t really say that about dad, it was me”.

There’s this vibe I get that she is not a huge fan of me. That vibe? It’s getting stronger.

Snippets

On Friday I accidentally won another huge beef roast at The Local. I’m getting pretty good at making roast beef now, that’s for sure. Although I am getting a bit sick of roast beef sandwiches. This week’s roast was 2.5kg (5.5 pounds) and it was boneless so not any part of that weight was from a bone. Last week’s was even bigger. Luckily, I am not thinking of turning vegetarian any time soon.

The last 3 weeks have been rather boss-free at work, with him being on holidays. He’s back today. Something tells me I won’t be getting home early all week this week. Or coming in late. Gee the last 3 weeks were good though.

This financial year is the first year I am in charge of a budget at work. We are 1 month into the financial year and I have discovered already items that are regular charges that I did not budget for. This should be an interesting learning experience!

This is my little Ned. Ned likes to fall asleep while reading books. Ned was named after Ned Kelly the bushranger.

I booked a holiday in December. A cruise. It was a bargain price or I probably would have opted for something more exciting. I found out that someone from my work has booked the same cruise. Actually 2 people have – they both work at my work. I am friendly with them because I learned long ago to be nice to people at work, and they will remember that and help you out when you need it. If I didn’t have to be nice according to my rule I would say they are both wombats (waste of money, brains and time). Must spend next 4 months working out avoidance strategies and studying the layout of that ship.

Oreo

Here’s Oreo in the garden.

She certainly wasn’t always the most elegant of cats.

She took up far too much room in the bed than you would think possible for a little cat. I think she thought she was a human, she used to lie with her head on the pillow and her body under the covers, just like me.

On Saturday we sprinkled her ashes into the garden where she loved to sit in the sun.