Rumors of My Blog's Death Have Been Greatly Exaggerated

It all started a couple of weeks ago when, in the middle of dinner, Husband stopped eating and looked at me beseechingly.

Me: What?

Husband: Your public needs you.

Me:  Huh?

H: Your blog.  You're losing fans.

Me: I only have, like, three fans.

H: All the more reason to keep at it!

So here I am.  Back from the dead.

They say it's best to begin at the beginning.  Actually, I don't know who "they" are, and since I don't know, and since I don't care, and since beginning at the beginning is basically impossible because I don't have a photographic memory and am basically too lazy to write down ideas when they hit me, I'll have to choose the path of least resistance and begin in the Middle.

For those who are fuzzy on the concept, this is what the Middle looks like:

Beginning ------------ Middle ------------- End

If only I was slightly more talented at photoshop I could have drawn an actual picture.  =(  But you get the idea.  I am in the Middle of a lot of things: Husband's third rotation overseas, writing the Great American Novel, training for a race that I will eventually curse myself for running, treating the White Dog for her third ear infection in two months, deciding whether to put law on hold and try my hand at knife-throwing as a viable long-term career, etc.

The Middle is kind of exhausting.

One benefit of beginning in the Middle, though, is that it gives new perspective to things that happened way back in the Beginning.  Case in point: a scenario that has come to be known around these parts as The Incident.

At the time of the Incident, Husband and I were just settling into our shiny new apartment in Singapore.  After what seemed like YEARS of looking, I had found a place I thought was pretty close to perfect: quiet neighborhood, modern furnishings, grassy areas for the dogs, walking distance to a dog park, and within radius of McDonalds delivery (Husband's requirement).  We moved in, had several borderline-ADHD buying sprees at IKEA (sample dialogue: "Holy crap!  They have Flognut!"  "But over here - whoa, Sprocken!  Nobody has Sprocken!"  "Let's get five of each color."), and generally congratulated ourselves on being masters of the rental market.

THE INCIDENT, PART I

Conscientious employee that he is, Husband was up early to shower for work.  Unemployed slacker that I am, I was still in bed, hoping that Husband would not wake me up by singing Michael Bolton songs while he splashed water all over the bathroom (he celebrates the guy's entire catalog).

I prefer to picture the following scene through a lens of "Paranormal Activity"-level graininess for maximum effect.

Husband: Oh. My. God.  OHMYGOD.

Me [under covers]: What?

H: OHMYGOD!

Me: Is it Gordon?  [Gordon is the gecko who hangs out in our apartment and scampers silently - and unnervingly swiftly - across the walls when agitated]

H: NO.  IT IS NOT GORDON.

Me [exasperated]: What is it?

H: It's a FUCKING COCKROACH.

Me [thinking, Michael Bolton would definitely be preferable to this]: Kill it.

H [slight notes of desperation]: How do I kill it?  These things are indestructible.  Right?

Me: Hit it with something heavy.

H [voice rising]: I can't.

Me: What?  Jesus.

[I get up to investigate; H points to top of shower curtain]

Me: Wow.

H: Yeah.

Me: It's huge.

H: In other circumstances I'd say "that's what she said," but I'm completely terrified right now.

Me: Yeah.

H[slightly offended]: It was STARING AT ME in the shower the whole time!

Me [haha]: We have to get it off the curtain and onto a flat surface so we can kill it.  Can you find a magazine or something?

H: OK [leaves; returns with magazine, spatula, pot holder and large reference book].  Just in case.  [Pauses.]  Can they fly?

Me: I think some of them can, but this one's probably too big.  Just get it.

H: [swipes frantically at shower curtain].

Both: AAAAAAHHH!!!

Me: Where'd it go?!?

H: OHMYGOD.  It's on the wall.  It FLEW TO THE WALL!

Dogs: Bark!  Bark!

Me: Hit it with the book!

Dogs: Bark!  Bark!

H: No [exits bathroom rapidly, shuts door].  We can just board off this bathroom and use the other one.  Good thing we got a big place.

Me: Oh, Jesus.

Me: [opens door, throws book on cockroach, checks to make sure cockroach does not have the Herculean strength necessary to survive such a blow].  I think it's dead.

H: Just leave the book there and close the door.

Me: What about the shower?

H: I'm never showering in there again.

THE INCIDENT, PART II

Later that day, I got a very disturbing text message from Husband, who had apparently shared his own personal "Psycho" shower scene with some appreciative co-workers.  The co-workers, however, had given him some unpleasant news.  The text read: "If you kill them their family and friends will come to investigate."

Fuck.

So, hurrah, a trip to the nearest shopping center was in order to get some industrial-strength bug killer.  No sissy organic, good-for-the-earth bug killer for this girl.  I wanted the kind so potent that it makes unborn babies grow extra limbs.

The closest store happened to be the Mustafa Centre, which is a 24-hour department store chock-full to the brim of awesomeness and cut-price Bollywood DVDs.  It also has a grocery and hardware department.  I asked the sales clerk where I could find roach killer.

Clerk: For roaches?

Me: Yes.  To kill them.

Clerk: To eat them?

Me: No.  To KILL them.

Clerk: Oh, for eating.

Me: No, for KILLING [makes knife motion across throat].

Clerk: Oh, ok.  Second floor!

Me: Thanks!

The second floor was the grocery department.  FOR EATING.

Always Leave 'Em Wanting More

It's been a while since I wrote.  Let's just say I've been busy.  This whole moving-your-life-from-Australia-to-the-US-to-Singapore-finding-a-job-getting-two-dogs-through-quarantine-in-one-piece-and-navigating-the-ridiculous-Singapore-rental-market thing is kind of time-consuming.  But rest assured: in my absence, I've been collecting lots of stories that I will soon unleash upon the world.  Oh, and they're good.  Really good.  But because I don't have time right this second to get into too much detail, I'll just leave you with some tantalizing photos to keep you obsessively checking this website daily, hourly... until my return. 

(evil laugh)

What is that?  Seriously, what the hell is that?

Am I in China?  What's going on?

No, we moved to India, just messing with you!

Ha ha, very funny, we really moved to Abu Dhabi.  Let's go watch "Sex and the City 2" and laugh about how inappropriate it was for them to film a movie there!

Actually, I just wandered onto the set of "Best in Show 2: Unclipped"

Is this supposed to be Spain?  If so, I want to go to there.

What the hell is THAT? (part deux)

And finally...

Looks can be deceiving.

Fin.

Belford. Beaten. Barely.

When I started planning my trip to Colorado way back in January, I knew that I would be powerless to resist the siren song of the 14ers.  For those who don't know, I've been hiking for a long time, and climbing for a slightly less-long time, and one of my goals is to eventually hike/climb/whatever-you-call-it all of Colorado's 14ers.  There are 54.  Since I moved to Colorado in 2003, I've hiked 30.

To be fair, I did do my best to avoid them for over a week after I landed in Denver: I walked the dog, suffered through jet lag, ate Mexican food, drank margaritas, drank other alcoholic beverages, attempted to run on my gimpy leg, went to breakfast at the Buff, got my hair done, and had a slightly drunken table dive/slip-n-slide adventure in the backyard of friends who shall remain nameless for the good of their respective careers...  In other words, all the things you do when you're in Boulder that don't involve hiking. 

Friends who shall remain nameless.

But.

I also bought new hiking boots, broke them in religiously, hiked Mt. Sanitas once a day, and lusted after fancy new gear at REI.  Now, why would I do that?

In the end, it all got to be too much.  So, on Sunday, I dragged my husband away from the above-mentioned slip-n-slide party and we pointed our shiny silver rental Mazda towards Buena Vista for some good old-fashioned pain and suffering.  But first we stopped at K's, because a trip to BV would not be complete without a greasy burger.  Then, in dwindling light, we headed out of town to our mosquito-infested campsite (a mini-adventure in its own right) and set up camp to prepare for an early start in the morning.

The alarm was set for 4:30.  Yes, that's right.  Those who know me will appreciate how very much I must love the mountains, because usually it is a herculean effort to get me out of bed before 9.  And guess what?  That's not even the earliest I've ever woken up to hike!  Try 1:30 am!  It's almost stupid to even try to sleep at that point!  But I did!  And then woke up!

Anyway.  The snooze was hit a few times, so we didn't actually get moving until about 5:30.  The mosquitoes were still sleeping when we packed our bags, threw some food on the ground for the dog, and drove the last few bumpy miles to the trailhead.  We were on the trail by 6:30, a reasonable hour (but not, as it turned out, early enough for us to hit up our planned second peak, Oxford).  I usually like to start at 5am (or earlier) for optimal storm-avoidance.  Friends, shake your heads in awe.  I actually PLAN to wake up early on MULTIPLE occasions!  On PURPOSE!

Note the elevation gain chart on the middle left of the map.

From the parking area, we started up the Missouri Gulch trail.  This led us into the forest for about an hour or so before we hit treeline.  Along the way we had a couple of fun stream crossings, as well as the always-enjoyable switchbacks from hell.  Cody, at least, seemed ok with it.

Fun fact: this is the only known photo of the white dog without a stick in her mouth.

Near 11,300, we finally got a good glimpse of the rest of our day.  It was deceptively simple-looking.  Look, a slight bump in the ridge!  You can totally see the summit from here!

Mt. Belford in the center: you can see almost the entire route.

As it turns out, that was only the beginning of a VERY long hike for two people who, not so very long ago, had been blissfully breathing in the salt-tinged air of a sea-level Melbourne.

At around 11,600, we reached a trail junction.  The following conversation then occurred:

Me: I think we go left. 
Chris: There's a tent over there.
Me: Yeah. We should have done that instead of camping at Mosquito Hotel.
Chris: Do you think they'd care if we took a nap?
Me: Look, they're camped right next to a "No Camping sign."  Ha.
Chris: Can we take a nap?
Me: No.
Chris: I don't like nature.
Me: So do you want to turn around?
Chris: No, let's see how far we get until we black out.

We went left.

A bit farther on, past treeline, we made the acquaintance of a group of marmots.  They were pretty rude and made faces at the camera.

Cody's new friends.

After that, I pretty much blacked out for about 2,300 vertical feet.  Fortunately my camera provided evidence that we had, in fact, physically walked up the trail under our own power.

At around 13,900, we reached a (relatively) flat spot.  I took photos.  We had another conversation:

Me: I think this is the last false summit.
Chris: No.
Me: Yes.
Chris: No.
Me: If it isn't, let's turn around.  The clouds are getting bigger.
Chris: No.
Me: Can you say anything except no right now?
Chris: No.

Finally, with less than 100 vertical feet to go, we spied the REAL summit.  Joy!  Rapture!  Wheezing!

Thar she blows.

It didn't look like much at first, but it was, in fact, an amazing summit.  Know why?  Because it was the top!  14,197 feet of rock!  And we were at the top of it.

What happened next?  Well, we gave Cody some water, we gave ourselves some food, we took an obnoxious amount of photos, and Cody begged for goldfish.  Now I'm not sure, but I think she might have gotten some.

Who could resist that face?

The way down was about what you'd expect: steep, never-ending, and knee-punishing.  When we are about done with getting down a mountain, Chris and I have a game we like to play:

Me: So how much money would it take for you to turn around and climb this again?
Chris: a lot.
Me: How much?
Chris: Let us never speak of this again. 

Fin.

Only In Colorado

Well kids, it's been an exciting few weeks in Colorful Colorado.  And we're not done yet!  After a series of setbacks, I'm back to writing.  Ok, so the "setbacks" were mostly just me having too much fun to sit in front of a computer for more than a few minutes a day.  Which is a good thing, right?  Right?  Bueller?

I did want to point out a few awesome things I've seen so far in my travels around CO.  I'm sure I'll discover more this weekend as I head off for another hiking extravaganza, but these few images were basically just too good not to share.  Plus, posting photos with semi-witty comments is way easier than actually thinking about, and then writing, you know, blog entries and junk.

So without further ado, I present my current three favorite photos from my time here (so far).  Not that you needed physical proof of anything bizarre that I ever talk about (after all, my word is law), but I think it's pretty hard to argue with photographic evidence.

First: I think this convincingly shows that Boulder is the most liberal city on the planet (San Francisco, prepare for your cage match!  I've got front-row seats and a poncho).

Please note the dinosaur devouring the Jesus fish (my personal fave).

Second: proof that sometimes Boulder is just... effing weird.

So much is confusing about this sign.  What is feng shui compliant?  The sign itself?  The circle of rocks surrounding said sign?  Are patrons of this fine establishment expected to arrange their stored items in a specific north-south alignment?  Full of consternation am I.

Finally: ladies and gentlemen of the jury, this proves beyond a reasonable doubt that Colorado is AWESOME.  Therefore, you must convict it of being AWESOME.

My work here is done.  Good night.

Rocky Mountain High

I'm supposed to be sleeping right now.  Somehow, however, jet lag hasn't set in yet (or maybe my body's just too confused to rebel), so I'm up, writing instead of drifting into an Ambien-induced slumber. 

Well, I made it!  Yay Colorado!  After 20 hours, five cups of (bad) coffee, four in-flight movies, three flights, two lonely apples sacrificed to the quarantine gods, and a partridge in a pear tree, I'm finally in the land of thin air.  Couldn't be happier.  I actually broke out into a huge grin when I walked off the massive A380 in L.A.  That should tell you something right there - why else would I be happy to be landing in L.A. other than it's one step closer to CO?

This is what I saw when I looked out my window:

Then, when I landed, I saw my fabulous friend Amy, who picked me up in her fabulous little red Audi and heroically drove me (in style) through rush hour traffic to the home of my other fabulous friend, Tetyana, who will be hosting me for the foreseeable future.  Just kidding.  Only until she decides to kick me out.  Then we ate melons and went to the dog park and oh, it was wonderful.

More later.  It's good to be back.

Tourist, Take Two

Today is officially my last day in Melbourne!  I'm feeling a little bit happy and a little bit sad.  Of course I'm psyched to be heading back to Colorado for a few weeks before moving to Singapore, but I'll definitely miss it here - it's a very easy and fun place to live.  Great friends, great food, great coffee, great things to see and do...  Ah, I'm getting a little misty now.  Damn it!

I'll save the emotional stuff for another time.  Right now there's something even more important to document: my frantic last-minute attempt to do way too many random things I never got around to doing in the last eight months because "I'm living here so I'll have plenty of time to do it all... later."  Well, it's later.  Really later.  And as I sat last Thursday night looking over my list, it occurred to me that this whole thing might be a tad ambitious.  But then I ate some chocolate and the bad thoughts went away.

I've decided to document some of the the things I did this week - as well as some things I didn't get around to doing.  Just for laughs.  Also, because I have been informed that I owe it to my public (a.k.a., my husband and my mom and the possibly three other people who read this thing) to blog.  So blog I will - packing be damned. 

Here's my list.  I've also included whether I got around to doing the thing on the list, and some notes on how the thing did or did not get accomplished.  Also, if I felt like it, I graded the experience.

1.  Dandenongs.  Mountains east of town.  I use the term "mountains" loosely.  Pretty, though - smelled like eucalypts, one of my new favorite odors.  Hiked the Thousand Steps and ate scones with multitudes of cheerful Indian tourists.  Also, inexplicably, visited a puppet shop.  Unfortunately, did not purchase any puppets.

Kookaburra!

Thousand Steps!

Puppets!

2.  Melbourne Laneway Commissions.  Hint: look up.  More street art.  My fave laneway has been redecorated.  I still love it.  Grade: always an A+.

3.  Sensory Lab (a.k.a. one of the millions of coffee shops in Melbourne that I have grievously neglected, despite my best efforts).  It is no longer neglected.  In fact, they now have $6 of my husband's hard-earned money.  Good coffee.  Just the tiniest bit pretentious, but that was ok because of said magnificent coffee.

4.  State Library (inside).  I say "inside" because I've been "outside" the library lots of times, but never actually stepped through the doors.  I went inside this time.  There were guards.  One guard asked me what I had in my bag.  I said "gym clothes.  Is that OK?"  He said as long as i wasn't going to eat my clothes, it was fine.  Dodged a bullet there!  The library is large, parts of it are creaky, parts of it are modern, and parts of it are actually an art museum.  With red paint and very dead people hanging on the walls.  Verdict: Library: A (I have a soft spot for libraries); Museum: C (meh).  No photos inside, unfortunately. 

5.  Mr. Tulk (inside the inside of the State Library).  You guessed it, another coffee shop.  I liked it better than Sensory Lab, mostly because I got a piece of orange cake along with my coffee.  That's not really Sensory Lab's fault, but whatever.  Yes it is.

6.  Ian Potter Museum.  At Melbourne University.  Yeah.  I got halfway there on the tram and lost interest.  At this point... fuck museums.  Moving on!

7.  Black Light Mini Golf.  Rumored to have "one of Melbourne's most amazing holes" (clearly the selling point in this scenario).  In Docklands.  Therefore, was deemed unacceptably far away.  Reluctant fail.

8.  Eat a meat pie.  I've been here for 8 months and haven't tried one.  So, I tried one today at a shop whose sign said that its pies were "legendary."  Can't get much better than that.  Because I simply could not get past the image of mucous-y peas mixed with a few gristly lumps of gray meat, I got a "Chicken, Leek & Swiss Cheese" pie instead of beef.  Verdict: crust was good.  Chicken was ok.  Cheese was mucous-y.  Grade: about what I expected.  No grade necessary; I just won't be eating pies. EVER.  AGAIN.

9.  Victoria Market.  Had to revisit this one to pick up some crucial last-minute supplies.  Otherwise known as the most vulgar Australia souvenirs ever - think plastic boomerangs and continent-shaped ashtrays.  Or, you know, a mankini.  Friends: get ready for some awesome gifts!

10.  Burger Monster.  Supposed to have the best burgers in town.  However, I gave this a pass for two reasons: first, it was in the Docklands and, really, I couldn't be bothered even trying to figure out how to get there; and second, let's face it: Aussies don't do burgers.  Decided to wait (impatiently) for some quality at Southern Sun.

11. The Public Purse.  Kind of hilarious meta-sculpture outside the General Post Office, which has been converted into a high-end mall.  The sculpture was fun.  The mall was too expensive.  Boo.

12.  Brunch with Erin.  Yes, we got that done!  Yay!  Chris and I met up with Erin, Peter, and Peter's three adorable children at a place called the Blue Plate in Hampton.  Amazing food.  Got to see my good friend (and fellow nicnkamee) E.  Chris got to show off his latest gadget, and the kids got to tell us all about the latest Shrek movie.  Also, the food was amazing.  Did I already say that?

Yum!

So what have I learned from this experience?  Without descending too far into cliche, that's more than I can possibly fit into this space (and I don't even know if I can actually describe it all anyway).  Maybe that's best discussed over time, over beers, over a campfire, over roasted javelina at Canyon Ranch... who can say?  I do know that I did learn something from my list: you can spend eight months in a place, trying to be a resident instead of a tourist, and at the end of it two things are evident: first, you will always have a little bit of tourist in you; and second, you can live here for years and still discover, almost daily, little (or big) things about this city that surprise and - just maybe - delight you.

Melbourne: it's been a privilege.  I already weep bitter tears over the thought of having to drink Starbucks for the foreseeable future.

PS.  Contrary to popular belief, I am NOT obsessed with food (as the photos above might seem to indicate).  Just coffee.  That is all.

Told Ya!

Just in case anyone didn't believe my previous post about obedient Melbourne doggies waiting outside for their owners...

Ha!