Cats are naturally pretty curious and alive (PM)

Well I'll be gosh darned. 

For once I have a totally different experience to talk about in the afternoon, instead of just reiterating what J said and then complaining about how tired I am. 

Here's the way the cookie crumbled for me. The other day I was listening to 774 which is something I sometimes do. Claire Bowditch does the early afternoon shift and it's quite listenable. She can be annoying, like when she overuses the word extraordinary. It's her favourite adjective and she deploys it the way millenials deploy the word 'amazing'. But I quite like being annoyed, so that is OK with me and therefore I listen to her show sometimes. Just quickly, it's also annoying when she interviews an actor who is currently in a play that your Appleheart has written and no one mentions the name of the playwright for the whole interview! What gives, Bowditch! Those words actors say don't write themselves goddamit! 

But that's a seperate issue. On this occasion, her guest was an American podcaster who was in town to speak at the Wheeler Centre. You guessed it readers: Starlee Kine. 

They talked about the her work on TAL and played a bit of her conversation with Phil Collins and also talked about The Mystery Show and episode about how tall Jake Gyllenhaal is. I figured I would listen as soon as KB went down for his nap. Then about an hour later I got this text from J:

 HAHAHAHAHAHAHA, I thought to myself. J was listening to 774 too, but J didn't want to wait for no nap time, J just got straight into it. Good for her! 

I was so sure this is what happened that I didn't even ask her whether she had just been listening to what I had just been listening to and then comment on that being a coinkydink. I didn't even bother! 

I was so sure that when I told Appleheart about the Jake Gyllenhaal episode of The Mystery Show and he asked where I had heard about it I said "774, then J listened to it right away and sent me the link."

But I was totally wrong! Ha! 

This is how the conversation wound up,BTW.

Cats are naturally pretty curious and alive (AM)

You know I love learning stuff on Wikipedia in the name of research for Miss Soft Crab, which is why I read a little about the expression "curiosity killed the cat" last night. Turned out that Wikipedia page is pretty boring. I was reading it because I was thinking about what a stupid expression it was. I mean maybe curiosity can lead to dangerous things, but also it leads to scientific discovery and basically every discovery that isn't stumbled upon by accident. Basically accident and curiosity is how you make discoveries, right? And discovery is important, right!? And often rad, right?! Ipso facto, curiosity is great!

I discovered a great podcast last week due to my curiosity. On reflection it is possible that Blizzie told me about this podcast months ago but apparently the name Mystery Show was too hard to remember so I had to wait 6 months until my curiousity about the appearance of Starlee Kine overwhelmed me right at the time when I had a spare minute to ask my phone to do an image search.

Starlee Kine produced one of the first ever stories I ever heard on This American Life, the story about breakups where she interviewed Phil Collins. It was a great story, I wrote about it here in fact and it remains one of my favourite TAL stories of all time. Anyhow, there I was listening to This American Life the other day and enjoying a story by Starlee Kine and I wondered, 'I wonder what she looks like." Of course I have pictured her in my head, you gotta, right? She has this babyish voice so I imagined her small and with bobbed brown hair, so I Google Image searched her. It's all so easy. She looked kind of different to what I imagined, but they always do. But half way down a Google page full of Starlee Kine images Jake Gyllenhaal started appearing. 'Allo, 'allo, 'allo, what's all this then? I thought to myself. So naturally I clicked on one of the pictures, I mean, I had a couple of spare minutes on my hands, why wouldn't I spend one of them looking at Gyllenhaal? That first picture was accompanied by a heading that said something like, 'Is Jake Gylenhaal the best phone call maker in the world?' Well of course I needed to know more so I clicked the link and learned that Starlee Kine had her own podcast called The Mystery Show where she tries to solve mysteries, one of which is how tall is Jake Gyllenhaal. Naturally I listened to it right away and enjoyed it on so many levels. First, it was very funny and entertaining, second it was about Gyllenhaal. So I guess I enjoyed it on two levels. But then I listened to all the other episodes and they were great.

I'd say Starlee Kine is pretty curious and also pretty great at her job and I for one am super happy I was so curious about what she looked like the other day.

Shivers (PM)

Ugh, when I was supposed to go back to work 11 months after Bewbie was born the idea was so abhorrent I put off returning next to work for another 6 months. What do they expect?  Tumble outta bed and I stumble to the kitchen, pour myself a cup of ambition, and yawnin', stretchin', try to come to life.

Jump in the shower and the blood starts pumpin', out on the streets, the traffic starts jumpin' with folks like me on the job from 9 to 5. It was all just too depressing. No wonder I quit to do freelance after 5 months back. 

Shivers (AM)

I'm going back to work in a little over a month. I can barely believe it's been almost a year. And also that it's only been a year, and that there was a time pre-KB. The other day I was looking at a photo of some place Appleheart and I had been and I thought to myself I wonder who was looking after KB that night. It was 2013. Anyway, I'm going back to work and I guess I'm a little freaked out about it. That's all. 

The help I need (PM)

HAHAHAHHAHAHA! A hair specialist! Good one subconscious! I mean sure, that was totally lame bowing to the patriarchy and making K's GP a man, but the hair specialist was a touch of genius!

If only, am I right?! God, I need a hair specialist. At least I've found my old GP who moved to the outer suburbs but finally does one day a week in the inner suburbs. But she's not going to sort out my hair is she?! I guess I just need to see a hairdresser. I mean, they are hair specialists, aren't they. But I've never met one that could cure what ails me. Not in the long term anyway. Long story short, I've been thinking about booking a haircut for a long time and today I'm finally going to do it. I'm delighted that I no longer have to rely on only my subconscious to tell me my innermost desires but can also use K's! Thanks K's subconscious, I'll be in touch soon with some more problems you can solve!

The help I need (AM)

Last night I had a dream that I went to the Doctor to talk about some things. You know that list of things that are slightly wrong with you but not so urgent or annoying that you do anything about them? Well in my dream I decided to do something about them. I sat down opposite the Doctor and told him* my list of complaints. The doctor listened carefully in that comforting way GPs do and then said to me "K, I'm really glad you came in to talk about this. I think it's really positive that you're seeking help. I'm going to refer you to a specialist and get you the help you need." I felt a little confused and asked what kind of specialist he was referring me to. He said "Someone who can get your hair sorted out for you. A hair specialist." 

Oh readers, I can't tell you the feeling of relief that washed over me when he said this. Finally, finally I was going to get my hair sorted out by an expert. Everything was going to be fine! It was such a wonderful dream. 

*Weird, because my GP is actually a woman. Good one, stupid patriarchal subconscious. 

Haiku Thursday (PM)

J deserves the best

Last week she baked croissants. Yum.

Ice cream this week, mate? 

Just jokes. Not really.

Ha ha! Of course it's just jokes.

And yet, not really. 

I still remember

Cinnamon ice cream, sandwiched

Between gingerbread.

Haiku Thursday (AM)

In praise of K

In a loaned esky 

At Easter I found Hemsworth 

The best one too, Chris

But birthday gifting

More delicate, difficult

It's not all easy

Here lies gwyneth 

Loathed and loved, I'd never buy

But own this? Yes please

It is better to have loved and lost (PM)

I knew J would it hard because when it comes to Prince, in the words of John Travolta, "(she) dig it the most". 

Funnily enough, I was also up at 5am that morning because KB likes that sort of thing. I was playing with him and watching tv on mute and when ABC news breakfast came on I could not figure out why Virginia Trioli was crying. 

It really was a heck of a knock. 

Also funnily enough, I just got a copy of the New Yorker that has an homage to Prince on the cover. It also has a little obit for him called 'Prince and the meaning of genius'. I am planning to read it, but because KB has just gone down for a nap after being up, more or less, since 5:30 (!!!!!!!) I'm just going to look at the back of my eyelids for a few minutes first. 

It's better to have loved and lost... (AM)

You may be wondering how a girl that has professed so strongly and deeply her love for Prince has said nothing of his passing, but the fact is that until now I haven't really been able to bring myself to.

When I learned Bowie had died I actually couldn't compute it straightaway, I mean a bit of Googling and one whole minute or so to process it was all I needed really but it was so shocking I couldn't immediately put it together. With Prince it was different, I got the news and I knew what it meant. I guess the Bowie death put such things in perspective and I just knew knew that Prince was dead. Or perhaps it was because I'd been awake since 5am and I can only assume that early wake up was a result of my body or soul registering a disturbance in the universe. Either way, I knew it was true and yet I couldn't believe it. I felt very, very upset.

When K called a couple of days later to make sure I hadn't slit my wrists while listening to Purple Rain I told her I was fine. I was of course. As I said, what is there to say or feel about the death of a person I didn't know and whose death would not impact my life in any way? Except that I could never see him again perform, or hear a new song or look forward to those things, or just know he was alive and awesome. But my life wouldn't change in anyway. And so, what is all the sadness about?

I guess it's just the death of a genius, the most fulfilling songwriter and performer for me is pretty devastating.

Seeing Prince live was pretty life defining. In those hours I really learnt how good things good be. I mean obviously I've had other awesome times in my life, life-defining times, but in those Prince shows all the feeling, all the best things were distilled. It's pretty rare that you come across a perfect thing. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Prince live...

Anyway, writing about the death of awesome people is a real downer, so let's just say that Prince lived is awesome and that he died so young is very sad.

This is not a paid advertisement (PM)

Truth be told I love Blur and by that I mean Ugg boots. And Blur.  But I'm constantly struggling with my love for shoe-free living and my love for Ugg. I didn't opt for expensive carpet and underlay just so I couldn't feel it underfoot for 6 months of the year. And yet I didn't opt for expensive Uggs just so I couldn't wear them for 12 months of the year.

I actually need a new pair of Ugg boots. Or at least new lining. Is that possible? In many ways, my Ugg boots are fine, just a little worn, but the lining in one boot is totally shot out. It's all bunched up and wackadoo and kind of gives me nightmares because they have been this way for two years and I wore them this way when I was in labour with Newbie and paced that hospital room for twelve hours, even after I thought I had no distance left to run, many of those hours were was in those boots. The day after he was born my foot was so tender from pacing on that bunched up lining that I couldn't wear those boots for days and the pain stayed with me for at least a week. And given that I had just given birth the fact the foot pain even registered is pretty remarkable.

Nevertheless I love Ugg boots and I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to buy a new pair. But, girls & boys, that doesn't mean I'm not interested in an adult bootie. Though I don't think I'll use that phrase again because it conjures up the idea of adult diapers, which always makes me think of that astronaut lady that drove across America to kill her ex-astronut lover's lover. Or something.

Anyway, I'm out of time. Have a great weekend y'all. (I know it's Thursday, but I could use a break already.)

This is not a paid advertisement (AM)

Last winter, I stopped by J's house for a cup of tea one afternoon. I suspect it was during the brief period of time between when I'd finished work, but KB had not yet arrived and therefore the dream of seeing Blur was still alive. Not that that has anything to do with what I'm saying now, but it's as useful a way as any of marking time. Anyway, back to J's place. It was a cold winter's day, and we were sitting in her warm living room enjoying coffee and tv and trying hard to stay warm. J's living room is cosy, but you know what it's like in winter without central heating. As soon as you step into the corridor you're freezing you're beetlebum off. When J was walking me out she was clearly uncomfortable and lamented the fact that she was only wearing socks. "They're thick, woolly socks but it's not enough to keep you warm. Socks are not enough". She said it casually enough but we both realized she had touched on something that we have all tried to deny. When it comes to warm feet in winter, socks are not enough. 

The trouble with this is that ever since I went to my first Scandinavian country I've preferred going shoeless in the house. It just seems like one of those things the Scandanavians have got a better handle on than us, like interior design, lighting and the use of cardamom. It feels like it encourages a feeling of warmth and cosines in the the house, and in those countries where they know about heating, it really does. But of course in winter in Melbourne it is the opposite of that.

That's where the ugg boot comes in and Damon knows we at MSC love an ugg boot. But the truth is, sometimes I don't want to be wearing ugg boots either. The ugg boot is basically an incredibly warm and comfortable shoe. It's got a hard bottom and when you curl up on the couch in your uggies it doesn't matter that they are warm and comfortable, you're basically wearing shoes on the couch. 

So what the eff are we supposed to do, readers? Go shod or go cold? There has to be a better way. 

The end. 

Just jokes! Of course there's a better way and I've found it and I'm going to tell you about it. 

It's the Bonds women's knit bootie and it rules. You slip them on over your socks and kablammo, your feet are warm as toast. They warmth of ugg boots and the comfort of socks.

Obviously I never intended to buy an adult bootie, and I wasn't proud of myself for doing it. But I never intended the buy the vegetti either but I did and now I have zoodles for dinner once a week. The results of adult booties speak for themselves. What are you waiting for, readers? 

Mother's Day (PM)

Mother's Day was not a big deal growing up in my house either. Sometimes we get our mum a present. Sometimes we don't. As grown ups we usually see her at least. Yesterday we went over and had a delicious lunch and played on Chickpea's new virtual reality headset so all in all we had a pretty great day. 

That's what Mother's Day is good for. I'll take any occasion to eat good food, spend time with loved ones and, ideally, ignore them while engaging in some VR. 

Likewise in my own home, Mother's Day, it's just a day. Oh, sure sometimes I might ask LB to go get me a coffee because it's Mother's Day, but he often does that anyway so it's really just a joke. Now that Baby is nearly 6 though he's well into Mother's Day. I guess they impress it upon him at school. It's pretty effing cute so I totally plan to enjoy it while it lasts. 

Yesterday he gave me a beautiful card with my portrait* on it and a message and a million exes and ohs. And he was super disappointed when he woke up to realise I was already up and making porridge and he couldn't give me breakfast in bed. He has this new found love for giving me breakfast in bed. He'll make a jam sandwich (the only thing he can make) and put it on a plate with a piece of fruit and wake me up with it. And although I'd rather be sleeping, this is a pretty effing sweet way to be woken up. Anyway, yesterday I told him porridge wasn't really in-bed food so he put all the couch cushions on the floor to make a bed and we ate porridge there. So, although I agree that Mother's Day is a bunch of bullshit, it's pretty flipping cute.

*Ok, guys, now I know K and I have always been really careful not to show our faces on this blog, but I think it's time for the big reveal. Ready?!?!

Mothers' Day (AM)

Yesterday was Mother's Day. Like I need to tell you guys. Social media was wall to wall with Mother's Day tributes. It's one of those days like that I've always thought is a bit silly, like valentines' day and the stupid public holiday for the horse race. My mum has never made a big deal out of it. She's a 'give me a card and a cuddle and that's all I need' kind of girl. Which, apart from the card, is her approach to every day. I guess the implication was that treating her kindly every day was more important than pampering her on Mother's Day . But now KB is here and I am fo shizle a mother myself. Accordingly, I spent about 3 seconds wondering whether my feelings about Mother's Day were different to my mother's. The culture certainly seems to think they should be. This notion of pampering the mother's is quite pervasive. During one of my trips to Northland last week I noticed that lots of shops had 'treat your mum!' displays in the window, often including bathrobes, which I think is very insensitive because who gets to sleep when they're a mother? Of course, the idea of being treated super special like is quite appealing. And now that KB is here I better understand how much work my mum and grandma did when we were growing up, and how much my pals have been doing for years now, and how they do so without complaining by and large. I think it's good and proper to acknowledge that, and to say that it's a super example and how I aspire to be myself.  But we have the reward of these babies that we love which has to be said, is pretty shit-hot and quite a bit better and more rewarding than a bathrobe. And more broadly, if a lady feels like she is working her guts out and needs a bit of acknowledgement, she should be able to get hers whatever day it is, not just wait for a special designated day. Ditto daddios. So I guess my Mother's Day personality is just like my mums. Happy 9th of May everyone!

One track mind (PM)

🚿🛌🚿🛌🚿🛌🚿🛌🚿🛏🛁🛏🛁🚿🚿🛌🛌🛌🚿🚿🚿🚿🚿🛌🛌🛌🛌🛌 I just want to add that hot showers are as fantastic as bed. In fact, having a hot shower before bed when you've put fresh linen on the bed is one of the best things in the world. 

My one track mind (AM)

This morning I was going ask you to join me on a spiritual journey of cleansing my wardrobe and my mind. But that seems pretty goddamn heavy for a Thursday morning. So instead I'm going to make a list of some great things I can recommend and that way I get to relive some magic moments and you get to think "Great idea J, I'm going to do that too!" (Then you can do the things as appropriate and enjoy them as much as I do!)

- Take a hot water bottle to bed. And then put it on your cold feet. I don't even care that it's not that cold yet, I just friggen love the extra coziness of a hotty. 

- Get the whole bed to yourself. If you have a significant other or clingy children this may be hard. But after no access to this luxury for years and the joy of it last night I can not recommend it highly enough. 

- Eat the cheese and salad hot roll at Mixed Business. I love that roll, it's got a great blend of pickle and slaw and mayo and cheese on a hot roll. I could eat it every week. I mean, I eat it every week. 

- Go to bed at 9 o'clock and read a book. I fantasise about this every day. Every day. 

I'm starting to see a pattern. God I really have a one track mind. If only I could keep my mind out of the bedroom I could probably be more productive but I just really love bed. 

What the actual fuck (PM)

I agree. I'm not convinced that the croissant at the front has consented to the other croissant's actions. But I am convinced that Lune is BS. 

I kind of want to undertake a blind tasting with some pastry fanciers in the MSC community and proving that lune worship is a bunch of what the French would call merde. But that would involve going back. So eff that. 

What the actual fuck (AM)

Croissants spooning*

Last week K and I went to La Lune Croissanterie. La Lune used to be a hole in the wall in Elwood, where this woman made and sold croissants, opening the shop four days a week at 7am and everything would be sold out by 9. People queued from 5am to get these croissants. Or so the story goes. People talked and wrote about these croissants like they were god's gift. But I didn't really buy it. How good could a croissant be? I mean, I love a good croissant but I could not imagine how these could be so much better that I'd have to wake up at stupid o'clock and stand in the cold for two hours. I didn't buy it for a second. That doesn't mean I didn't think about it from time to time, wonder if I was missing out on something great, if I was making a huge mistake, but basically I only get up at 5am to catch international flights, no way I was getting up at that time for croissant.

And then, a couple of weeks ago K asked me if I'd ever eaten a La Lune croissant. Of course I told her all the reasons I hadn't and probably never would but I started thinking again and wondering if things had changed, so I Googled it and it turned out things had changed quite a lot. La Lune had moved to Fitzroy into a large space where you'd probably still have to queue for a bit but you could buy a croissant at a reasonable hour. So of course we went. I mean, it is a five minute walk from my house and there's no big deal standing in a queue for 20 minutes with your bestie, it's just like sitting on a couch, but standing and with a croissant at the end. Totally doable.

Let me cut to the chase. We waited in queue for probably 20-30 mins and it was totally fine. K and I don't care where we are talking shit, we can do that anywhere. A customer came out of the shop and announced that they had sold out of plain croissants. Although I felt disappointed I also thought that maybe it was temporary and a plain croissant would still be mine. My position on croissants is that plain is king. A pain au chocolat is yummy and an almond croissant is great too, but I would never buy that if a plain was on offer and so K, who feels the same way, and I decided that if possible we would each get a plain croissant and then one sweetie to share.

We were delighted when it came time to order and we discovered that we could indeed order plain croissants, which we did along with a pecan pie twice cooked croissant - basically a pecan pie take on an almond croissant. But I'll tell you what was less delightful - the total average goodness of the croissant. It was fine. It was definitely not a bad croissant. It was a good croissant, but it absolutely, without any question was no better than a bunch of other good croissants I've had in this city. Which begs the question, why the fuck are people queuing up?! Surely a bunch, if not most people are just like K and me, they've heard about it, they want to try it, but why does this persist?! And do people go back for more? I don't know, but I know they shouldn't. Seriously, what are you queuing for?!?!?

To be fair, the pecan pie twice baked croissant was delicious. In a pretty special way. Like it was perfectly balanced with pecan, maple syrupy, caramelly flavours with equally well balanced soft, gooey, sticky crunchy texture. There is no denying that was really good, but I would just never, ever go out of my way to buy something like that. A plain croissant on the other hand, I've gone out of my way many, many, many times to buy a good one of those. My favourite is the cornetto from Sugardough. That is one special, buttery pastry. It is largish, for a croissant so it manages to have a lovely flaky outside and plenty of soft inside, it has this hint of orange flavour and a very slightly sweet glaze on the outside and I love it. It is my favourite croissant ever and I've often driven to Brunswick for no other reason than to buy that croissant. But I just wonder, what the actual fuck is going on with La Lune. I'm so happy to know that I'm not missing out on anything and that I'm totally justified in my loathing of food worship, but I just wish I knew what the fuck.


*Does anyone else find this croissant photo somewhat suggestive and slightly offensive? Thought so.