Phantom and Enrobed Figs

Just recovering from a blissy weekend in the city with D. My birthday present was a night off and tickets to Phantom at the Lyric Theatre. I saw Phantom in Melbourne at the impressionable age of 15 and fell madly in love with the music and the absolute distressed damsel. Oh she is so honestly pathetic and would never in a million years be required to understand algebra.
Anyway it is so incredibly hard to repaint a good memory. Somehow the strokes are heavier or too textured or in terms of the guy playing the phantom this time – just too whispy. That aside, the music was still as moving as ever and D sat through it all without making those oh so funny little comments that do distract.
We stayed in the city and on the return trip picked up some gifts for his parents for minding the children. The best of these was “chocolate enrobed figs”. I mean enrobed – really? whatever happened to dipped, dunked or just plain coated? I think this is how they justify the price really – when you enrobe it – you make it royalty and when something is royalty well it just costs more doesn’t it. So I really wanted to see these enrobed figs – to see if they were princely or princessly figs – but they opened the nougat instead. I know, it was a bowling ball. You don’t need to point that out. So being the goodly distressed damsel, here I lament in a whispy whiny tone, with all the helplessness of a hairless polar bear; to have seen, to have tasted those enrobed figs.

Random Apple Pies

We had a friend over the other night and apple pies came up as a topic of conversation. What did you expect really? We all work in IT so if we aren’t talking routers, switches, firewalls and the big bad telcos, naturally we are going to be talking about apple pies.
Anyway I don’t think I’ve ever had a really tops apple pie. They are either too soggy, too segmented, too crusty or too cinnamony.. I believe in my heart there is NO perfect apple pie out there. It is a little depressing.

Also we had a spiel from our new country manager and I know you aren’t supposed to blog about work I think they just mean don’t bitchblog about work. I have nothing bitchy to say – he seems genuinely decent and a worthwhile investment of this paragraph.

So now I am debating whether to leave or stay, stay or leave, jump or fly, sink or snorkel.. it is always a confusing time when Change comes barging in and demands a schooner of New.

And using yet another conjunction.. I really do love my hubby this week. He is learning all of the time and remembering remembering like I can never remember. So smart. So decent and true. He has even tried to make me the perfect apple pie – 32 times – devotion! The fact is there is NO perfect apple pie. It is a myth.

It’s My Party and I’ll Wear a Short Skirt if I Want To

At some point today I was able to have a bit of time to go and pick out a fancy dress costume for my party tomorrow night. I have been to four fancy dress parties in my life and each time I’ve been disappointed with my costume.
Tomorrow I may disappoint others, they may claim that I am shameless, they may lower their eyes in embarrassment for me and their mouths may drop open in disbelief – but damnit I am wearing a ridiculously fancy fancy dress. It has a hat, a sword, a frilly hopelessly short skirt, tights, big boots and all I have to do is squeeze my bulging bosom into the teeny tiny corset and I will be done. And my friends – it is pink. A perfect pink pirate princess. So pink in fact that my daughter demanded she be allowed to wear it.
Oh how it rivals the other french maid, beer wench, indecent red riding hood outfits that the fifteen year old girls were parading around in. It is deliciously wrong in so many ways. I love it and hate it all at once but it is certainly not disappointing. That grey area of mediocrity I feel so at home with. The grey kiss of the already dying.
I also have flags – bright pink and yellow bali flags five metres high that will sing out to the surf and the pelicans and any cloud that dare come my way tomorrow. I will endeavour to post photos here… but my committment is written in the sand only.