The Back Yard

Slugs:

You all know that I am an animal lover. I will absolutely not kill a spider or even a fly. I have even rescued many a mouse from my cats mouths when they were outside in Chicago.

Warning: Do not read further if you are a “Slug Lover”:

We have a little tiny courtyard at the back of our apartment in New York.

Our friends who live in Melbourne will agree, that because of the rain there in Victoria, we used to get millions of them over summer & autumn.

We’re so used to, and not opposed to the odd slug going missing in Melbourne!

Here in New York I have only had three slugs inhabit my yard this summer, (three in total, not kidding), so I didn’t care about them much.

Frankly, they can go about their business, as long as those gross moving sluggish beings don’t come near me. I never wanted to hurt them like all of our other BBQ partners did though!!

I used to pick up ‘Dan’ (that’s what I called what I think was the boy slug – the one with the stripes), when he got too close to the BBQ and R’s size 14 feet. I used to pick him up with a leaf, very, very carefully, and pop him into the neighbours yard. We don’t like that guy next door anyway – Dan always came back to our garden, well I guess it was his destiny? (Past tense, very sad, you see where I am going with this).

The three of them, “Mum, Dad, and baby slug” have been here for a long time, only coming out for rain. (I’m getting dramatic, they probably didn’t even know each other).

This afternoon I fear (I know) I have squashed them all. I have been concentrating on avoiding them for months now during my frequent cigarette breaks outside, but today I was multi-tasking, not looking, and well…it’s a real pity.

Well, they are squashed now, and it wasn’t on purpose I promise – I even apologized to them after stepping on all three in succession (and thank the Good Lord for thongs).

Finally… Farewell Slugs, and we hope you come back in the next life as something less gross.

Packing

All set for our trip tomorrow night, as you can see in the photos, I think Boo Boo wants to come with us!! They get ansy whenever we pack for a trip...

Tell them they're dreaming......

It's just the vibe of the thing'......

The Castle

If it is possible to have an “iconic Melbourne movie”, then it would have to be “The Castle”.

R managed to find the DVD on-line at Buy.com, and although we have seen it a million times, we were cracking up, as usual, last night when we watched it again.

Eric Bana has a really small role in the movie as Tracey’s (Sophie Lee) Greek husband (his name in the movie is Con, of course). A couple of his best lines are not neccesarily the words but the way he delivers them deadpan:

when describing the airline food on the flight to Thailand for their honeymoon:
“…it was an absolute credit to the airline”

And when talking about the cable tv in their hotel room:
“they had kickboxing, 24 hours…. (pause)…a day”

And when Daryl asks him why anyone would want to leave Australia to visit Thailand:
“ It’s all about the culture Daryl, it’s full of culture”, and Tracey adds, “Chokka’s Dad” (we watched that bit three times)!

I especially love the bit when ‘Con’ is kickboxing at ‘Bonnie Doon’, and does the twirl.

Then there’s Santo Cilario playing the lawyer “Dennis Denuto”. Need I say more? The guy is hilarious.

What’s happening with all those guys over there who produced that movie? – I think it was Rob Sitch, Santo, Jane Kennedy, Tony Martin, Mick Molloy et al?

Do they still do “The Panel”? I used to love that show.

Andie Pandie

Good morning:

This photo is of Andrea ('Ond'), my best friend in the whole wide world, and her son, James.

I love her so much, and I remember the first day we met in ‘Science’ when we were at school, I think it was the same day I set the bunson burner on fire for fun? Can’t be sure?

It was ‘Firbank Anglican Girls Grammar School’ in the mid eighties. We really hit it off. She was 14 and I was 15.

We have never denied that the both of us are a little bit crazy, we used to lie down on the carpeted hall, outside the lockers at school, and pretend we could do ‘astral projection’.

Ond and I also used to have sleepovers in her twin-bed room, jump on the beds, and take a hairbrush or deoderant or something for a microphone, and pretend we were ‘rock stars’. We sang “Wild, Wild West” (Escape Club), and she knew ALL the words! (I didn’t, but she taught me) – she had the luxury of big brothers who taught her all the words.

I once ate a whole jar of ‘mint jelly’ (the stuff that goes on roast lamb) on the way to Sophie’s house one night, I got terribly sick, and Andrea patted my back ‘til I felt well again.

Then my Mum had to come and pick me up!

I love andrea,.

She is my oldest friend.

I have not yet met her baby boy (in the photo), his name is Jamie, (R and I call him JJ). He was born in May last year, and I can’t wait to see him next week. (Check out the colour of his eyes – so gorgeous).

We should go back to AUS more often?

K.

Boo Boo

I promised I would attach a photo of my other cat... so here she is... "Boo Boo Pocket Head" !!!

Funny People...

R and I absolutely love funny people, and thankfully we know a lot of people who happen to be funny. We especially love a good story-teller.

We gravitate toward the "Funny-Story-Teller" people (commonly known as 'FST's') at parties, and insist that they become our friends.

We are the type who are a little bit lazy. We like to be entertained.

So the other night, R & I were sitting on the couch, and we started a discussion about the funniest people we know, (yes, we were a little bored that night).

We decided to do a family Poll.

After much 'courtroom' discussion, and a couple of re-enactments, we finally decided that our friend DW in Brisbane is the funniest person we know.

After both of us having agreed on this landmark decision, I feel that DW deserves a write-up in ‘People Magazine’, or at least some kind of ‘People’s Choice Award’.

I hope he has another scorcher of a story for us when we see them next week-ish!

I think I really love my husband...

The other day he came home from work, and he found me crying.

My tears were from frustration, not from sadness. No matter how hard I tried that day, I could not get my hands on a couple of tickets to see Elton John at Madison Square Garden.

He knows how much I love Elton, and today --- guess what he did… we’re going to Las Vegas on October 21!!!

That’s right, he found out that E is playing at ‘Caesar’s Palace’, and we’re staying there for the weekend.

We have never been to Vegas, so it should be a real trip. We don’t actually gamble so not sure what we will do for the rest of the weekend.

Actually, I think I may take R to the “Chapel ‘o’ Love” and get married again - by an Elton impersonator!!!

H & D

A while ago R and I booked a week trip to Los Cabos in Mexico for October. Today I found out that our very best friends (H & D) from Chicago are joining us there, they talked a good story for a while, but today booked their flights.

So excited.

R is very angry with me...

I’ll start by saying that I consider myself an extremely good travel organizer.

Qantas know me when I call to get the best seats. (eg: they know that I know that they DO actually allocate the exit row prior to travel).

But, I have slipped up.

We booked our flights back to Australia, and we are going through Sydney as usual.

I admit I am a bit of a princess, and I like to have a shower, and change clothes in the lounge at Sydney before we leave for Melbourne. (It’s a long flight).

So I called Qantas the other morning, and of course there are flights from Sydney to Melbourne every half hour.

I booked us on the midday flight which gets us into Melbourne at 1.20pm.

The only problem is, that our flight from New York gets in to Sydney at 7-ish in the morning. I misread the itinerary. For some reason I thought we arrived at 9am.

This means that we will be spending 4 hours at Sydney airport.

So we tried to call and change to an earlier flight, but wouldn’t you know it, they are all booked out.

R just looks at me occasionally and says “4 frigging hours in Sydney?”

He’s really cross.

But at least my hair will be washed, and I will be wearing clean undies!

My "Why" List

I've been compiling this for a while now, and these are my current top 7 "why's", you can be sure they will change over time....

1) Why, when there is a line of 50 people at the supermarket, does the cashier have to talk on her mobible phone to her friends?

2) Why do they not sell cold water in London?

3) Why do they put sugar in iced tea?

4) Why are there so many Starbucks? (sorry... "Davebucks")

5) Why can't one wear white after Labor Day?

6) Why are there no pedestrian 'stop/go' signs at Park Avenue and 59th Street?

7) Why can't I get tickets to the Elton John Concert at Madison Square Garden?!!!!

The Cats

The Luckster

Not only have we moved to New York, bought an apartment and endured all of this ‘Co-op’ stuff, but now it seems I need to start planning for our return to Australia (soon-ish)

So, I talked to the vet today, because I like to be organized, and they say that the cats have to have rabies blood tests and other tests 6 month prior, on top of this they both have to be in quarantine at least 30 days in Australia – there’s no Rabies in Australia, so ---‘Customs’, well they’re a little freaky about bringing that into the Country – can’t imagine why?

Don’t even try bringing a packet of lifesavers into Australia! (I learned the hard way).

We have two cats – one called Lucky who was is actually Jess’ cat. I didn’t like him much at all when we first acquired Lucky (Lux) by default, In fact I thought him an arrogant pratt. He’s nearly ten years old now.

(We have another cat “Boo-Boo Pocket Head”, but I’ll talk about her later).

Then one day (call it an epiphany) I returned from work in Melbourne and just fell in love with him.

So when my husband and I were asked to moved from Melbourne to Chicago, of course I insisted we had to take him with us.

Let me just say he’s been pretty pissed off with us ever since!

The poor cat got lost in the State of Washington, with the pet mover people, and then finally arrived in Chicago, lived under our spare bed for about 3 months. Refused to emerge.

When he became really hungry one day, he came out from under the bed, he saw that it wasn’t such a bad house, and got just a little bit comfortable.

Then we had to move him to New York City – so we moved him to Manhattan on yet another plane. He then had three different ‘sub-let’ apartments to explore before we bought and moved into our own apartment.

He finally moved in and was happy, but now we’re going to to have to move his big fat bum back to Australia.

(By the way, the big fat bum thing – this apparently, is a medical condition – the vet basically told me I was a bad mother! – It’s not just me being mean; he’s really on prescription diet food – because he no longer moves! And I won’t let him outside. See photos).

I have a girlfriend (and she knows who she is - - “I’m Jake the Peg”), who would offer the advice to put Lux out of his misery and get a new one.

Not going to happen.

I love this cat.

So when we move the ‘Luckster’ back to Australia on the 747 (hopefully it’s on the plane and not via surface mail), will he remember that he used to be an ‘outdoor cat’?

Will he remember to avoid traffic, will he be looking the wrong way on the street?

Will he notice the cars driving on the wrong side of the road?

We’ll see!

Here’s to you Luckster, you big fat Pog!!

Food

R and I have been on this diet and exercise kick lately, but we are human.

Sometimes we get really homesick for some food from home. (Like Nola and Jack’s roast pork - - with crackling -- but that’s not going to happen here). Or roast lamb with the real mint jelly - the type that doesn’t look like it’s radioactive.

When we get off the plane in Melbourne, we always get the same thing, meat pie with sauce for him. Fried Dim-Sim for both of us, and a ‘Rainbow Paddle Pop’ for me.

So the other day, we found a ‘hole in the wall’ British restaurant called “A Salt And Battery” (www.asaltandbattery.com) on 2nd Avenue. Yes, you guessed it. Fish and Chips.

I was cursing the ‘diet god’ for at least a week before we just decided to get it over and done with.

My lovely R went to get ‘take-out’ one night when we were feeling particularly vulnerable.

I decided on the “Chip Butty” which is basically (real) chips in a bread roll with Canadian bacon (thank you very much) and I doctored it with mayonnaise and butter.

R got the good old fried fish and chips. It was wrapped in paper, the chips were exactly like we used to get in Melbourne.

So we ate it all, while watching “Rock Star: INXS".

Then we sat back on the couch, just looked at each other and almost in unison said, “That was absolutely disgusting”.

It actually was pretty good, but we’re over it now, and don’t think we’ll be going back there anytime soon!

Can’t wait for my rainbow paddle-pop next week though!

New York Yankees Vs Texas Rangers

This is a little belated, but it was R's birthday on August 13 and we went to see this game at Yankee Stadium.

The Yankees won (only just). I love how they play Frank Sinatra's "New York, New York" when the Yankees win.

Public Transportation in Manhattan

Fifth Avenue:


In New York there are two types of people, those who prefer the subway and the people who only do the bus.

Now I haven’t been here long enough to really make a decision (it’s like picking a baseball team), but if pressed, I would say I am a ‘straphanger’, that is one of the subway mob.

I love the Subway system. I love that it takes no time at all to get to my destination. I love living near a ‘hub’ station. I love spying the rats on the underground tracks, perhaps even giving these rats a secret name if I need to waste time when the train takes too long to arrive.

What I don’t like, is how hot it is down there in the Subway at the moment.

So Friday, I took the sub up to 59th - - I was shopping for Maysen, Lucas, Poppy and Jamie on Fifth Avenue, and on the way home, it was so humid, about 5.30pm - peak hour, and couldn’t be bothered walking back to Lexington to get the Subway, so I decided to try out the bus down Fifth for the first time. I’ve caught many a bus cross-town in Manhattan, but never down 5th.

So first thing I discover is that there are a million different busses, traveling that route, and a million different bus stops. I walked from 54th down to 42nd trying to work out which one I needed. Got myself an iced tea, and sat and waited at 42nd Street for the M2.

I Watched all sorts of tourists trying to hail down their own rogue busses (which was a bit fun). Even saw a few running and waving after their busses – that was more fun).

Finally got on my bus, and scored what I like to call, the ‘window seat’. Shuffled right over there with all my shopping bags and relaxed to enjoy the view (and the airconditioning).

Then this happened.

A big lady got on at 34th Street.

I’m trapped in the window seat. (actually half a window-seat) I’m supposed to be getting off at the next stop.

I do the ‘gather the bags’ thing. Try to give her the ‘I need to get up in a minute’ vibe. But no… we get to 23rd street, she didn’t move! I did the requisite “excuse me”, she just looked at me blankly, but with this weird vacant smile which scared the hell out of me. I finally resorted to
“Would you mind allowing me to get off this bus?” Let’s just say that I had to wait and get off at the next stop - 14th Street!!

Now. I’ve seen weird things in New York. I’ve seen people walking around talking to themselves with no mobile phone in sight.

I’ve seen people with shopping trolleys yelling to other ‘people’ who don’t exist, and those people they are yelling at are probably still somewhere in Vietnam.

I’ve seen people doing “Interpretive Dance” in Central Park when it’s really not called for.

But this woman was silently freaky.

I think I’m sticking with the Subway from now on!

Tiny Dancer

“Blue Jean Baby,
L.A Lady,
Seamstress for the band,
pretty eyes,
pirate smile,
you’ll marry a music man….”

So.. I found out that Elton John is playing at Madison Square Garden, and again the tickets are sold out before they even go on sale!!!

I don’t ask for much, just give me Billy Joel and Elton John (and maybe a bit of Mick Jagger). Before I leave New York.

It is so hard to get tickets here.

My Dad saw the free concert - - the ‘Stones’ in Hyde park – I think it was ’69. I bet he didn’t have to go through ‘ticketmaster’ for that one!

I would do anything to see this cross, cross man perform.

I love Elton John,

PGA Championship

Phil's 'chip'

Let me start by saying golf is ok. I don’t mind playing, or even watching that much, but would not go out of my way.

My parents back in Australia are really into it, and they are good.

R and I each have a set of clubs (currently collecting dust in the basement in NYC) and we used to play quite a bit in Chicago, but I would be lying if I did not admit that my main motivation for playing golf is actually to drive those little white electrically powered cars, trying to drive as close to the hole and tempting the ‘golf police’ to arrest me - - ahh good times!

Anyway, we were lucky enough to be invited to the last day of the PGA Championship on Sunday in Baltusrol, New Jersey.

It was a whole production just to get there, we had to catch the train at Penn Station - - early - - I was still asleep I think (they have great ‘Auntie Anne’s Pretzels’ at Penn Station, so that woke me up for a bit). Then we had to deal with the lines of people to catch the shuttle to the golf course, then the security and bag checks to get into the grounds. Katie doesn't do 'waiting' well.

But I have to say, it was worth it, and it was so much fun.

I saw Tiger Woods up close.

I was most fascinated with the people who set up their little chairs and wait with their little picnics for their favourite player to go by. Weather-wise it was so, so hot, and I admit that after doing the obligatory walk, I retired to the air-conditioned tent to watch the rest of it on the TV - and have a little chardy.

Our host gave me a pair of binoculars and for about half an hour I was on the balcony looking through the wrong end, and wondering why the players were so far away that they looked like they were playing golf in Canada. (I don’t mind admitting I’m technically challenged!)

R followed the two Aussie players around a bit, then there was a “thunderstorm” (woosies), so there was no outcome that day. R was talking all night about Phil Mickleson doing a “chip” (what on earth is a ‘chip’)?

I just nodded and said “yep.. saw that!!, If there’s going to be a chip, then Phil’s gonna do it” (I always go overboard, gives me away every time). R is so onto me, he just told me to keep reading the New York Times!

We weren’t allowed to take cameras into the grounds, which is a pity, we could have got a great shot of Tiger losing, they even confiscated mobile phones on entry. They had a little cloak-room for cell phones

It was great.

Internet Stalkers:

Recently I had an email from a very good friend of mine in Australia, who had read my blog, and he berated me for giving away, on this blog, too many details about where I go to Gym, where I get my coffee, details about where I live.

I want to quote part of what he said in this email:
“what the…. Do you want to be stalked by psycho/s”?

(I love that additional ‘s’)

So from now on, I’d like you to know that my name is Beryl Smith, and I reside somewhere in Alaska.

There you go, that’s for you, friend of mine.

Oh, by the way, his name is Barry Jones, and he lives in Timbuktu.

Ha ha, Love, K.

Quote of the week

I just read what I believe is the quote of the week:

This was Matthew McConaughey’s take on how New Yorkers treat celebrities:

“If a New Yorker recognizes you in a restaurant, he’ll just say, ‘Great place, try the swordfish.’”

And this is why I agree...

The other day I was walking home and noticed a crowd of paparazzi and fan-people outside the service entrance of the ‘W Hotel’ at Union Square, they had big black cars blocking the sidewalk, in fact blocking the whole street, making it difficult to get through. Pedestrians or cars.

There were men with little headphone communication devices, and a million people taking photos of Julia Roberts with their cell phones.

Then another woman came walking down the street, pushing through the crowds, negotiating her way around the limos, obviously intent on getting to where she was going, which was clearly nowhere near the ‘W’.

She didn’t once look at Julia, the bodyguards or the fans and simply muttered under her breath as she walked past me, “For Pete’s sake”.

That’s a New Yorker for you!!

PS: It wasn’t actually “for Pete’s sake”, but something similar!! - I will not swear on my blog!! Only in person.

"We're going to Bonnie Doon"

Good morning. Well we just booked our last minute trip back to Melbourne and Brisbane on August 31. This is a very quick trip, but we are looking forward to it. Going to the footy, catching up with the fam and friends.

Sniffy’s daughter is turning four while we are there, so tomorrow I’m trekking up to corner of 49th and 5th the children’s cult land of “American Girl Place” to pick her up one of those baby dolls I have heard so much about, I think I will actually love the store, sounds great!

We can’t wait to see everyone in AUS, but more importantly, we are taking an extra bag to bring back the Saladas, the Praise Mayo, the BBQ Shapes, the Redskins, and the Masterfoods mixes!!!

So shallow! Oh… I forgot the chicken and cheese twisties!

Can’t wait to see you all soon.

"Who's gonna drive you home tonight"

I have a serious poll question.

Ric Ocasek (lead singer of “The Cars”) lives on my street, and I see him almost every day walking my block. We have a nodding relationship, which I am quite proud of!

So here is the question.

I
LOVE
the Cars, and I have almost all of their CDs, and I really want him to sign them, but I don’t want to look like a dork, or worse, a stalker!

I took to carrying the CDs in my handbag for a while, but still couldn’t get the courage to say anything to him, when I walked past.

He still looks great, and for all my friends who are boys, yes, I see his wife, the supermodel Paulina Porizkova, (she drives a very cool Vespa) and she is still very hot.

(that comment was for you Andrew).

So what should I say to him next time I see him??

the "Waifs" Concert at Joe's Pub

The Gym

I am so not a morning person.

Every single day I get up (early), and put on my gym gear, feed my ungrateful cats, get my;
1) bottle of water,
2) earphones,
3) house keys,
4) sunglasses for the short walk,

Then I make my way to the NYSC (New York Sports Club). I am so tired before I leave the front door of our apartment that I have to do a mental check list on these tiny four above items before I lock the door.

I walk down ‘Irving Place’, past the little brats hanging outside the high school; I’m hankering for the coffee I smell at “#71”, hanging out for the cigarettes and bagels that all the other people are having on their way to work.

So… I get to the gym, and work my butt off for five miles, and I never EVER get these so called ‘exercise endorphins’ that everyone’s talking about. (How do you get those by the way?)

But guess why I do it every day?

Not because I’ve lost nearly 20 pounds.
Not because I’ll be healthier.

Just because of the cute tiny little personal TV’s they have on the treadmills! Like on the Qantas planes back to Australia.

It’s almost worth the outrageous cost of NYC gym membership!

So much fun!

Augusten Burroughs

I was having a pedicure the other day (sounds lux, but a necessary lux when one is walking 50 billion miles a day in Manhattan).

I was reading the crappy magazines, and watching, out of the corner of my eye, a woman reading a book.

I noticed that she was laughing hysterically one minute, and crying the next.

I’m a book lover, so was instantly fascinated. No one talks to strangers in the City, so I didn’t have the guts to ask what the book was called.

I put on my old, crusty, hardly used glasses from out of the depths of my big fat handbag, and read the authors name on the cover of the book (luckily it was a big hard-back).

Had no pen and paper to write down his name or the title, so did ‘word association’ until I could get out of that chair, slipping and sliding with my shiny new toes, straight to ‘Barnes and Noble’ where I promptly bought the autobiographical book – called “Dry”.

Loved the book.
Loved him.

Since then I have read his others, “Running with Scissors”; Magical Thinking” and Sellevision.

I believe he just did a tour in our country of OZ, and I think there’s a movie coming out based on “Running with Scissors” Can’t wait.

The man is brilliant, honest, and certainly ‘dry’ in humor!

Today's Thoughts

I was walking down a crowded Manhattan street today, stinking hot, and wondering when and if we will ever see rain again. Suddenly I walked past a woman and smelled her perfume and a flood of memories came back to me.

I remembered my grandparents, and how much I loved visiting them, which was fortunately frequent.

I remembered that bump when they drove the car into the garage after picking me up from the airport.

Remembered the Brisbane heat, in, and outside of the car - the wind-up windows - the smell of the oil paints in Pa’s garage workshop.

The feeling of superiority when he got my bags out of the boot. (I was a seasoned traveler you see – after all, I had just been on a plane hadn’t I)?

I remembered their house - the blue (sorry aqua) shag carpet - the hanging ‘glass’ lights - the flowery couch, the round end table, the spiders on the porch near the front door, which my Nana told me were good luck. (To this day I have never, and will never kill a spider).

The peanut butter and honey in the pantry, and the never-ending supply of mint slice bikkies in the fridge (which she still bought for me long after I had gone off them). The Nutri-Grain cereal which Pa called “Donkey Food”.

The water glasses on the tray.

The way she told me how much she loved the colour of my eyes.

I remembered the glass fish on the front table, the brass animals which were awful, but I sent for Pa’s birthday every year, so they were kept on display - the tiled front hall, the phone table, the Avon Lady, the precious fluffy purple blanket, the study with her magnificent letter opener, her bed - jumping on it in the mornings and messing up her newspapers, wondering why Pa didn’t get to have a big bed like Nana did. Later wondering why they had different rooms!

I remember Nana saving the fluff which I had picked off the purple blanket to rub under my nose when I used to suck my thumb.

Her wonderful big mirror that Pa had attached lights to. Watching her put on make-up and thinking she was the prettiest person I ever saw. The blue earrings.

The laundry with the blue rinse stuff, the flowers for budda, the dog (Louis) with the blind eyes, the pool which was almost always full! The second fridge with the disgusting stuff called tonic water which I had mistaken for lemonade one day. Pa sitting on his chair with the remote control (with a cord) turning down the volume on all the TV ads.

I remember rolling around, playing my heart out on that blue shag pile at seven years of age, and I remember crying my heart out in that same room at my Grandfather’s funeral many years later.

I wonder what perfume that woman was wearing today? Obviously something my Nana once wore. If it were possible to bottle whatever I smelled today, I would.

It is a great thing, to remember good times.

I would call the perfume “An Almost Perfect Childhood”