Cheesed Off

Tips to remember when making cheese:

If the instructions say “Keep between 8C and 15C”? Keep the cheese at that temperature. For if a heatwave happens one weekend your entire batch will be ruined, only to be discovered really rotten and really really stinky several weeks later. It smelt so bad words just fail me. I would say I may never eat cheese again, but this happened on Saturday, and I ate some on Sunday (not the bad home made stuff – I bought it from the shops and stuffed a chicken breast with brie and scallions, served with a cranberry glaze).

Tips to remember when selecting a dress:

Remember that bloody awful dress from the fancy dress part last Christmas? I saw this in a shop window near work last week.

Remarkably similar pattern, I thought. The area near my work’s head office has many clothing shops that are wholesale only, selling in bulk to retail shops. They often seem to have the weirdest of clothing on display but seriously – don’t tell me I could cut the kaftan sleeves off my old fancy dress outfit and be wearing something not out of place today! (I am not going to do it, by the way! There is not enough beer in the world!)

Luckily I’m Not a Horse

Schlepping my laptop and assorted paperwork between two offices has resulted in a rather painful shoulder of late, which seems to be slowly migrating to other areas of my back and neck. Honestly, you’d have taken me down the back paddock and shot me long ago if I were of the equine variety.

Yesterday it developed into somewhat of a competition between The Boyfriend and myself, each of us insisting that there was no way the other’s back could possibly ache as much as our own. Of course, we were each angling for a back massage. Or at least I was, and can only assume he was too with the way events unfolded.

When we crawled our old and weary bodies into bed, the haggling commenced. I suggested a best out of 3 match of paper scissors rock to determine who got first massage. I won! So I laid down to get my massage, assuring The Boyfriend I would happily return the favour when he was done. Gee it felt nice and relaxing.

Then I woke up this morning, feeling fresh and fantastic, muscles the least sore they had been in days, and wondering how long he’d massaged my back before realising I had fallen fast asleep.

What do you Do if you See a Space Man?

You park in it, man!

This morning I woke to find the aliens had landed. Why else would the sky be a burning orange. Closer inspection, along with the gritty taste of dust in my mouth, revealed it was in fact not aliens landing, but a giant dust storm that blanketed the entire city in red dust.

Here’s what I saw through the window – photo taken from bed with the mobile phone.

It was enough to make me actually get up and take a closer look.

Yikes. I ventured outside to look for the spaceship. There was none to be seen. Couldn’t see much but red dust shining eerily.

There was no sitting down while waiting for the train this morning. Although I could see bottom prints from those who had.

Well, I suppose seeing butt prints on the way to work is probably a sign of the day to come. It may just suck ass.

Awkward Conversations 101

I spent the day today with The Boyfriend’s mum and dad because I was home sick from work, and they just look after me the right amount – offer cups of tea and conversation but leave me alone when I go to lie down.I love spending time with them, and in exchange I cooked them a corned beef to have on their sandwiches for lunch with pickles and cheese. Yum.

I was having a conversation with The Boyfriend’s dad, about Beethoven, and how difficult it must have been to hear the music in his head but not be able to actually experience it the way others did after he went deaf in his late 20s.

We then moved on to how many of the old composers were total nut jobs. I supplied the information that many composers had untreated syphilis, and they were all nutjobs because one of the later complications is going quite mad.

The Boyfriend’s dad said to me ” You know, apparently lots of women are carriers of that”.*

What made me reply with a cheery “I’m not, no need to worry about your son on that one, he won’t catch anything from me!”? I then tried to recover with “No, really, I’ve been tested!”

It was only when he started umming and ahhing that I realised that might have been an oversharing moment and decided not to carry on with the fact that it surely is HPV or something like that rather than syphilis that is rife in the community, and that I thought it was men who are unknowing carriers. I think I’d better cook them something else to distract them.

I Picked This One Well

Work has been somewhat stressful this past week. It was such a nice surprise to receive a text from The Boyfriend this morning: “Fancy dinner out this evening? My treat! Wherever you want to go, the choice is all yours xoxo”.

I replied immediately with just one word. “Maxim’s.”

I’m so glad he gets my humour. He worked out immediately I meant the famed restaurant in Paris, as he replied with “If you pay for the airfare!” Smart cookie, that one. Also, one of the few people who actually gets my jokes.

I’ve made some poor choices in my life. Not that I’d change anything – my mistakes have helped make me who I am. It’s just so nice to know that The Boyfriend is not one of those mistakes.

Add This to my List

Apparently it’s not normal to have a list of lists. What’s wrong with that, I say? I have lots of lists – a master list surely is a smart thing to keep all those lists in order. When I recently announced to my family that I have a master list, to keep track of my lists, and that each list is hyperlinked from the master list? Yeah, they all went very quiet. Then they all slowly shook their heads. (Well, I need a few lists – they keep me calm. Yes, I do realise I have a touch of OCD. But who doesn’t need a list for weekend holidays (two holiday houses, so that’s 2 different lists already), a list for overseas trips, a list of what needs renovating in my house (a looooong list, that one), a list of things I need to do, a list of what is for dinner that week each night, a grocery list, a work to-do list – you get the general idea.)

I bet none of them have cheese that looks as good as mine does though.

I hope it’s going to feed me well – the big R is going on at work (*shudder* – redundancies). I have to reapply for my job. Yep, the one I got bullied talked into applying for earlier this year.