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Month: January 2012

  • January 6, 2012

    Goals 2012

    Who doesn’t love a new year and the opportunity for a fresh start?

    It comes as no surprise that tons of people are posting their big manifestos.

    I don’t really know what mine would be. I suppose the three things I believe in are:

    Work hard.

    Put yourself first, because nobody else will.

    Do good (by others and the world around you).

    Two years ago I made a vision board. And it’s time for a new one.

    However, my goals this year are pretty small.

    I’m happy with the life I’m starting to shape.

    I think I’m heading in the right direction, and I don’t feel the need to set goals like read a certain number of books (81 last year – though Atlas Shrugged should count for about five) or spend a certain number of hours every week with my guitar. I’m a dabbler in many things, and that’s okay – I will never be amazing at any one, nor do I wish to be, because they’re all fun. The key is making some time to fit each one in, which I have been.

    Rather, I’ve got a bunch of small things to cross off (plus other miscellany on my Day Zero Project list):

    • go on a bush walk
    • go tandem biking
    • go to the theatre
    • go to a travel agent and start hashing out potential 2013 Europe trip/honeymoon
    • get started on wedding planning, if we’re committing to a 2013 wedding
    • visit my friend in Whangarei and hit the Kai Iwi lakes
    • snorkel across the Goat Island channel
    • visit the Puhoi tea rooms
    • volunteer
    • make two manual Kiwisaver payments
    • plan and execute our South Island road trip (or overseas for a white Christmas?!)
    • donate blood

    I’m also embarking on Project 365, aka taking a photo every day. (See my Tumblr.) But I’m not going to force it – I know there are days I won’t take any, and days I don’t take any that are worth posting. The point is that it’s a prompt to really embed photography into my routine.

    Blogging over here, I’d love to get more cohesive. Expect to see more photos and posts on food as I work through my Delicious recipe backlog and get into some of my newly gifted cookbooks. We’ve also still got a way to go to get through my list of restaurants to try – some with Entertainment Book vouchers, a few without – so I’ll write about those too. While I won’t be chronicling every single book I complete, feel free to join me on Goodreads – and I anticipate reviewing the odd standout on here.

    Financially, I really need to focus on saving. I want to ramp this up and finish off the road trip and wedding funds, and keep lifestyle creep at bay.

    Last year I made just over $2000 extra (mainly from my regular side gig, which eventually became my new main gig) but I now need to focus on my FT job. Apart from the odd editing gig or mystery shop, I won’t be bringing in additional income.

    So killing expenses it is. Rent has gone up with our move to a bigger place (though it’s still relatively cheap). To compensate, we will:

    • play some Sky TV roulette (downgrading and upgrading extras)
    • smarten up on power use
    • really adhere to the grocery/eating out budget (we’ve got a groove going, keeping things in check – my MO is to list essentials that need replenishing every week, then shop according to what’s on special and freshest. And if we space out our restauranting sensibly + watch the small purchases, $160/month eating out is realistic)
    • attempt a no-spend year on clothes/beauty. I don’t foresee needing any makeup, and the only things I think I might need to replace are moisturiser and possibly my basic ballet flats at some point. I will make exceptions should anything else key suddenly give out on me, on a case-by-case basis.

    I won’t include petrol in there, because I do want to get out and about more this summer and do more domestic trips, but I definitely am going to crack the whip with T on wasteful cruising – he has a motorbike for that (although who knows when he’ll be able to ride again).

    So, that’s me! Here’s to accomplishment.

  • January 4, 2012

    Delay and pay

    English: Excavations into the sand on Hot Wate...

    Image via Wikipedia

    Have I mentioned that I’m engaged to the biggest procrastinator on earth?

    Whatever doesn’t need to be done today, he will put off until tomorrow. Which is pretty much everything outside of work. If he has two chores to attend to this week, it will be a struggle to get him to do ONE today and almost as much to get him to do the other task tomorrow.

    And did I mention that I am always right?

    May be something to do with being a woman. Or just my intuition. Or simply practicality and knowing how the cruel world works.

    I wanted to go to Hot Water Beach these holidays – the one thing I really wanted to do in the Coromandel. Instead of going there on the way to Whitianga – when low tide was at a decent hour – he insisted on stopping by on the way home.

    We got there in the end. And it was crap. For one, the weather was miserable. For another, his right arm was more or less out of action from the elbow down thanks to someone slamming into him in the pit at Coro Gold. And low tide by then was at 7.30pm. We got there as early as possible – 5.30 – to stake out our spot. And even then, it was PACKED. People squished in shoulder to shoulder, shivering in the wind, digging their toes into the hot sand, waiting patiently for the waves to recede so they could dig themselves a hot spa (some have NO manners at all. In my world, first come, first served still stands. Not so, apparently). Idiots were attempting to dig even as the tide continued to lap up against the rocks, washing away their work – and effectively ruining that spot of sand for the day, leeching away the hot spring heat. We ended up leaving after less than an hour. A word of advice – go with the biggest crowd you can find. You’ll need it to a) secure your real estate and b) do the heavy digging.

    THEN he refused to go to the ED once we got back to Auckland about 8.30pm, insisting his arm wasn’t broken, and it would be fine.

    Three days later, the day before we were both due back at work, the tingling finally got the best of him and off to the hospital we went. (First, he insisted on doing some Googling. Which invariably led to possible diagnoses of imminent paralysis.) Four hours later, we came out with a medical certificate and diagnosis of damage to the radial nerve. Now it’s a case of wait and see and hope it’s nothing too permanent. (To be fair, going in earlier would probably not have done much, but it definitely wouldn’t have hurt.)

    What have you put off and regretted?

  • January 2, 2012

    What to do when you find that old stash of leftover foreign currency…

    leftover currency exchangeEver found a bunch of random foreign coins or notes rattling around in a drawer, languishing after a trip years ago? (Or in my case, falling out of a jacket pocket when bending over to pick something up?)

    Even if they’re of a now obsolete currency (franc, drachma, lira) there’s a new option for exchanging these online at Leftover Currency. They are based in London, but can be used from anywhere in the world to exchange travel money in more than 50 different currencies.

    How it works: say I wanted to exchange Czech koruna from my visit to Prague. I’d select the corresponding currency, then click on the matching banknote or coin to ‘add’ it to my online wallet. (Rinse and repeat as appropriate.) It’s kind of like a reverse shopping cart.

    The screen shows how much cash – either in US dollars, euros or pounds – I would receive in return based on the current exchange rates. Then it’s a case of filling in a few details, grabbing a reference number and mailing the currency to their office. (Londoners can drop by in person.)

    Once processed, you get paid by Paypal, bank transfer or cheque (depending on the option you chose). You can also choose to donate the value of your currency to charity instead – there are a handful of nonprofit causes supported by the site.

    It’s often difficult making it work so that you use up all of your foreign cash by the end of a trip – more so in some countries than others, depending how widely card payments are accepted there. Those coin donation boxes at airport terminals exist for a reason! But now there are more choices than ever.

  • January 2, 2012

    Hello, 2012

    Orbs explode just over my head, filling the visible sky overhead in radiant reds and brilliant blues that no photo can truly render.

    I’m dancing in a $10 poncho, just sturdy enough to last the two nights.

    The crowd goes wild after chanting out the countdown, echoing around the natural amphitheatre of Waterways.

    How did I get here?

    Slopping through 15 minutes of ankle deep mud, including a direct hit to the eye by some douchebag jumping up and down in the stinking filth. Yes, I expected to get muddy. I’ve just made it past the gates for the second time, haven’t I? But I sure as fuck was not planning on an eye infection to boot. Lucky these contacts are due to be ditched.

    What the hell am I doing here? I’m Miss Priss. I don’t care how awesome the lineup at Woodstock was; I never would have survived. I’ll never make it to a Glastonbury. And if we’d been camping this NYE, I probably would’ve written off my ticket and stayed in Auckland. Thankfully, we had a house and hot showers to return to.

    So I settle into the squelching miniature swamp of my sandshoes – still damp from yesterday’s gig – and hold my tongue as the muck sloshes in over the sides and between my toes.

    I turn down all offers of booze and drugs. Even if I was into it, I need all my wits about me to navigate this swamp in the descending darkness. I don’t want to faceplant in the brown slush, or fall on my ass like the guy in front of me. And I’ll stay away from the massive mudslide on the other side of the hill.

    We’re hollering along to Shihad, the quintessential kiwi stadium rock band. Comfort Me, Run, Pacifier.

    Shapeshifter’s on, bringing the “mudstep”.

    Optimus Gryme turns up the dirty dirty dnb.

    I read a brilliant op-ed once that asserted “dubstep never got anyone laid”. It’s true. The shuffling and spazzing that passes for dub dancing is decidedly unsexy.

    My poncho is slowly ripping down the centre of the chest, and I have to physically hold it together with my hands when the rain starts. Apart from Homegrown, the weather has been crap at all the outdoor concerts I’ve been to – Big Day Out, the Foos, and now Coro Gold.

    The three skinny security guards stationed next to me start dancing. too. A drunk guy approaches and envelops me in a bear hug. I hold a can of Smirnoff for another while he videos the band on his phone, nearly nutting himself on the fence post while trying to get a better angle. He never comes back for that drink. Countless more rock up, unzip and empty their bladders a metre away.

    I’m counting down (5, 4, 3, 2,1) by myself. I’ve decided to stay up on the hill where it’s relatively clean and I can rock out to just the acts that I do like. T is off with the others in the pit, getting his arm potentially broken (trouble always finds him). It’s the perfect way for an introvert to see in the new year – surrounded by others, yet alone.

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