19 December 2009

postscript: hot and not (#four-and-a-half)

Some further hots and nots which a) were lost in the Wednesday morning brain-haze or b) possibly not going to make it to the page, since next Wednesday I will be ringing out work for 2009 and enjoying K's company before we part for a week and reunite, post-xmas, in Gippsland...


A hilarious trip with my mate R out to the boondocks (past Ipswich) to see a psychic who, despite being recommended by more than one person, was utterly crap. Apparently I have a spirit guide called Theodosis, a spritely Aegean man, while R's spirit guide Trish was her lesbian lover in a past life. It went downhill from there. Hot though, because we laughed all the way home.

Our first joint furniture heist has furnished the love nest with three sets of old-school wooden drawers from a QUT science lab. Well, maybe it wasn't technically a heist. The University for the Real World is demolishing some buildings (still can't get my head around why), and since I walk through the uni to get to work, I stumbled across the chuck-outs. Replete with dynamo labels, declaring 'buchner funnels', 'clamps', 'qualitative accelerators' and the like. I'm hoping a second swoop tomorrow finds the furniture pile still there.

A most productive op-shop swoop in Paddington, with multiple pairs of jeans and trousers each and a whole rack of shirts for K. Tally, about thirty bucks.

Pre-xmas dinner with K's family at Mondo Organics. Ten words. Callebaut chocolate pudding with bleeding hazelnut heart and cinnamon semi freddo. Yum. Yum. Yum.

A bizarre Christmas dinner at Binna Burra lodge with K's old choir buddies, aka his geriatric harem... I had no idea groups of old ladies charged with cheap red wine could flirt with such gusto. The old ducks worship the ground K walks on, and hadn't seen him for a couple of months, so there were lots of cuddles. And a few wayward gropes of his thighs - eek! The dinner was followed by a sleepless night in my tent, which we added to the list of things I own which K doesn't fit in. (His head nestles my car's roof and his feet get stuck on the wrong pedals, as previously chronicled). The next day, however was more relaxed, with a visit to his mate Tony from choir, who is the son of the founder of Binna Burra Lodge. We had tea with Tony on the most amazing deck I've ever had tea on, with an outlook over Lamington National Park, the Numinbah Valley and the Gold Coast beyond. He showed us right around his place, Alcheringa - the only residence at the top of the mountain, built by his brother in the 70s but still amazingly stylish. He lets it out and lives in the 'granny flat' next door. A decadent yet homely wood-and-slate chalet with high ceilings, an 'infinity' deck, open fireplace, spa bath and outdoor Japanese-styled bathroom. Oh. My. God.
I was agog when K said he'd earlier this year turned down an opportunity to house-sit for Tony. Needless to say, we are now firmly back on the short-list for house-sitting in 2010, while Tony will be gadding around Bulgaria, Croatia, Slovenia and half of Europe, guiding for the tour company he established but which is now run by his daughter. What a life.


In a logical segue from some of the above food-fests, I have padded out quite a bit in the latter half of the year. Mainly because I'm not walking as much with ongoing back irks. Cohabitation with the Hollow-Legged Man has also changed eating patterns somewhat. Anyway, trying to get past my ego, get used to the curves and enjoy compliments about being 'womanly'.

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