Oh, how I miss summer. And conversely, how glad I am we don’t get snow in Auckland. I must admit I was a little disappointed when confronted with the reality of wet, white mush on Ruapehu for the first time in ’07. I had pictured snow fights, snow men and all sorts of wintry hijinks! But it wasn’t to be. But realistically, I hate the cold. And I sure don’t want to be trekking home through snow, buying gumboots, snow tyres and chains, let alone salting the car.
Anyway, FB’s lovely post on attaining summer-worthy feet was great escapist reading, not to mention practical!
Meanwhile, Investing Newbie discussed drawing up a time budget – or in other words, a fancy schmancy pants way of saying to-do list on crack. While I don’t do too well with excessive organisation, I could see how this would work wonders for some.
MPP blogged about the expense of trying new recipes and branching out in terms of ingredients. Girl, I feel the pain. BF is a total foodie, but alas, we’re forced to substitute cottage cheese for feta, and the like. Prosciutto? Prawns? Furgeddabout it. What works for us is trying one new kind of dish a week, and aiming to build the rest of the week’s menu around similar ingredients – that way you aren’t wasting anything.
Having just bought her own place, Amanda writes about the struggle to furnish her small apartment. It’s true – the good ol’ quarter acre dream is still alive, and as she says, she’s willing to pay for quality but cheap furniture is all that’s available in the sizes she needs. What’s a girl to do? (We live in a shoebox, but we’re renting and couldn’t care less at this stage in life about our furniture. Even our cutlery is mismatched and all our furnishings have been hand-me-downs, free or close to it.)
SP bucked the trend by having a dance-free wedding reception. You know what, that sounds freaking awesome! I actually don’t enjoy dancing and can’t think of anything worse than having all eyes on me trying not to trip over my own feet. And while we’re on the topic, I wouldn’t be averse to having a dry reception either. My parents are teetotallers, while T’s family would drink the bar empty. And what with the whole Asian flush thing, I won’t be having alcohol on the day – at the least, it would ruin the photos, if not the entire experience.
Finally, Katie – who always seems to crawl right into my head with these kinds of posts – wrote about being that girl. Who always has a stain on her jeans or a stray lock of hair. “There’s always one little detail I’ve missed – one wrinkle left unironed, one little tiny pebble left unturned.” I envy those people who float through life, polished to perfection; but sometime in the last three years I just got too damn busy to care anymore. Finally, I’m at the stage where I can accept myself the way I am.