I spend many hours (although not as many as I used to) cruising the interweb. The list of blogs I check on a semi-regular basis has become unmanageable again ( I am going to have to divide the blogs up into foodie/non-foodie categories). Every once in a while I will search the expat blog list for someone close to my demographic (US expat living in Oz, of a "certain" age...you know the type - someone old enough to not want to be considered an "oldie").
I have come to the conclusion that I am unique in that if there are any other women in Oz that fit my demographic they either don't blog or if they do blog they do it so infrequently that their blog never finds its way to any of the "you might enjoy reading this" lists.
A lunch time trek down to the la-de-da food court of the la-de-da department store goes like this:
Make a quick dash into the handbag shop and end up purchasing a teenyweeny bag that is just the right size for the wallet and phone only. Good for lunchtime treks to the la-de-da food court.
Another side trip into another store where I manage to pick up 3 pairs of shoes made for wide feet. Shoes that fit! Shoes that are comfortable! I can't believe my luck.
Finally make it to the food court where I tell my shopping companion "just a second, I want to go to the butchers". Manage to barge into a conversation where a woman is asking the butcher for salt pork. Butcher tells the woman, "we have pickled pork". So not the same thing. Tell woman her search is futile as if there is a butchery that makes and sells salt pork in the greater Sydney area I have yet to find it and I have been searching for 6 years.
Buy some lovely calves liver for dinner, and manage to have Butcher B slice it for me (not thin enough, but who cares) and do this all in sign language as his accent was a thick as mud and I couldn't understand a word he said.
Return to work.
Manage to get off the train at my stop with my cell phone in hand, and my shiny new purse (containing the wallet) still on the train.
Ring Mr H who is just exiting the freeway at our exit. Mr H dashes to the station to pick me up.
Frantic phone calls to the next train station where a very nice gentleman tells me "I will go look for your bag".
Nice gentleman rings back, saying "I have found your bag".
Arrive at the station in the full throes of a panic induced hot flush to find my bag & contents of wallet intact.
We now have a ticket machine at my train station. It doesn't take bank cards yet. But we now have a ticket machine. I wonder how long we will have it before it gets vandalized.
Anyone care to make a bet?
After letting me sleep in yesterday until 10 am (10 AM!! I NEVER sleep that late), and allowing me about 30 minutes to wake up, Mr H & I were off to "do something". We drove to a suburb I didn't know existed, had breakfast/lunch, browsed through a second hand book store (6 books purchased!) then went to an antiques fair where all the kit there was extremely overpriced (for the most part) and depressing to look at (I used to have one of those! and one of those! when they were original! I'm not an antique!). While we were looking at some bits and pieces by the front door I turned around to say something to Mr H who had disappeared. Ten minutes later he showed up with two green depression glass butter dishes I had been admiring earlier. Then it was off to drive through towns I had never seen before, finally stopping at a place in the southern highlands which was full of bookshops & stores full of things you just can't live without. We did find a cook-shop that had some stuff I have been looking for and left with a cast iron frying pan. Hurray! Potato pancakes, here we come! Fried chicken! Corn bread! I'm gaining weight just thinking about it.
The day was sunny and warm, we came home with treasure & the dog has forgiven us for leaving her alone on a weekend day. All in all, a good result.