I Heart Faces: Smiles

It's "Smiles" week over at I Heart Faces, and after wading through many, many happy grins, I decided upon this one taken of April a couple of Christmases ago.

♥,
ts...

P.S. The first installment of Tales from "Down Under" the Table is coming soon. (In the next couple of days!)

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To My Favorite Sister

It’s your twentieth birthday!

You are officially two decades old. TWO DECADES. How did you get so old? Remember when you were only this big and I could still pick on you?

Those were the days…

But then you grew up. And now I can’t blame you for the mistakes I make, like I did that one time I wrote all over my bedroom wall in permanent marker, and swore to mum it was you.

Look how we grew up!

Now you’re not just my sister who stole my things without asking (and whose things I stole without asking, too). You’re my best friend. A girl I’ve cried with, laughed with, gotten drunk with, gotten sick of, yelled at, learned from, envied, despised, and missed tremendously.

I miss you tremendously.

Love,

your favorite sister…

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I Heart Faces: Collages

As winter draws to a close back home and starts to migrate over here to Melbourne (much to my dismay), I am reminded of all the times Curtis dragged me took me ice fishing in his hometown of Flinton, Ontario. This week at I Heart Faces, the challenge is Collages, so I put together a few pics that made me just a teensy bit homesick for Flinton in the wintertime.

(Wait a minute. Did I just say I missed the snot-freezing tundra weather of Middle of Nowheresville, Canada? That can't be right...)

Anyway, here it is!

I hope you like it! For more pretty collages, head to the I Heart Faces page.

ts...

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An Update... and a New Section!

1.  I got a job. (Yay!)

2.  I hate my job because the owner/manager of the restaurant makes me feel incompetent and small. (Not yay.)

But I’m not a quitter. At least, not sometimes. Leaving after only a week seems impulsive, and would only serve to prove him right. So I’ve decided to tough it out for a while (at least until payday).

In the meantime, I’m going to do the number one thing you’re not supposed to do as a blogger: write about your job.

The way I see it, since the servers are not allowed to talk to each other without being barked at to get back to work, there’s little chance I’m going to make any friends, and therefore no real danger of my rants being read by the wrong people (aka. the owner and his family). 

And hey—if I’ve decided to put myself through all the crap (both the belittling at work and the dread and distress at home) that comes with hating your job, I figure I might as well entertain someone along the way!

So here’s the part where YOU come in (complete with some Uncle Sam-style pointing): I need a fun title for my new section that will chronicle stories from my sometimes (but not always) nightmarish shifts. So far I’ve come up with “Banter at the Bar” or “Tales from the Restaurant,” but neither of those really seem to fit.

If anything comes to mind, please let me know! And get excited. Because serving at this restaurant is quite literally the most upsetting job I have ever held, and is going to require some serious catharsis (i.e. plenty of stories to come).

Whoo. I feel better already!

Love,

the traveling (and working) stahr…

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Springing into Fall... Reluctantly

I am wearing a jumper (the Australian term for sweatshirt… not a suicidal person on a tall building) and Curtis’ plaid pajama pants as I write.

Why? Because it’s cold. In Australia.

As in 13 °C (55 °F) cold. In Australia.

I don’t know why, but I sort of thought that maybe, since we’d come ALL the way from the other side of the planet, this whole “winter” thing might re-evaluate it’s desire to inhabit Southern Australia in the coming months. You know, out of kindness.

I thought we were pals, Old Man Winter and me. But since we’re already halfway through fall, I’m going to guess he didn’t get my memo.

Some of the leaves have begun turning that beautiful blood red.

And many others have already leaped from the now-bare branches to which they used to cling so desperately.

Crunch, crinkle, crunch.

But do you know what is weird? That I keep posting questions and then answering them, making my English teacher turn in her proverbial grave? Yes, but also, at the same time that the signs of fall are floating their way throughout the city of Melbourne, flowers are fighting the chilly air to bloom… everywhere!

Even the rosemary is budding.

Fall and Spring seem to be intertwined, weaving and dancing together to welcome winter.

But I’m not prepared to bid farewell to my bikini. I’m not ready to say goodbye to short skirts and thongs (the Aussie term for flip flops… not g-strings – last time I checked, those were an all-seasons underthing).

But, try as I might to will away winter, the brisk weather (which is really quite mild compared to the arctic atmosphere of Montreal in February, so I should probably quit complaining) is right on the horizon.

In other time-moving-forward-without-my-permission-related news, my little sister turns 20 in one week! WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN? Because last time I looked she was this big:

ts...

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"...When I'm Sixty-Four"

On the tram home the other night, Curtis and I sat near an older couple, probably in their fifties or sixties, and likely traveling, judging from a map protruding from the woman's purse. They weren't overly affectionate, sitting side by side yet occupying their own space, and their faces and bodies showed signs of a long and tiring day, an exhausting and fulfilling life.

Her hair, mostly brown with a bit of peek-a-boo grey, nestled casually in a bun on the nape of her wrinkled neck. His collared t-shirt, blue with white horizontal stripes, hugged his stomach, slightly rounded from years of fine food, good drink, and great memories.

I gestured across the aisle, and whispered in Curtis' ear.

“When my arms are flabby, my waist is wide, and my face is aged and wrinkly, will you still love me?”

He looked over at the couple for a minute, tuned back to me, and smiled.

“When I have a beer belly I can rest things on, will you still love me?”

I laughed softly and turned back to watch the couple. They didn't look bored, though their faces stared blankly ahead. They knew this quiet time; they cherished the silence and used it to reflect on the happenings of the day, on the monuments of their lives.

I wanted to ask them so many questions, I wanted to know just how they managed to pull it off – a life together – and I wanted to be reassured that they hadn't just met last week on a blind date. But I didn't dare disturb their quiet contemplation with an overly personal interrogation. I rested my head against Curtis' shoulder and engaged with thoughts of my own life, as the tram sped South along St Kilda Road.

A beer belly? Yea, that's probably ok… as long as those freckles don't go anywhere.

ts...

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