Vanuatu.

I have 11 minutes let of internet time, and 2 minutes until Happy Hour begins - I'm seeing a problem here. All I have to say is - I am in paradise, and I'm loving every minute. Yesterday we hit the village for some shopping, and booked our tours for the next few days before kayaking and then dinner overlooking the ocean in the evening. Today was snorkeling over the reef at Hideaway Island, riding in a glass bottomed boat watching all the fishys and soon to be seated in the pool for another night of cocktails that pack a punch. Tomorrow we're off for a sunset cruise after we visit the waterfalls...and more cocktails by the pool, naturally. I love it here, every single minute of it. I never want to leave.

Byeeee!

It's 2.43am, and 31.6 degrees out - and I'm just guzzling an enormous coffee, zipping up my suitcase and fly, flying away.

See y'all in a week :)

Melting.

The car is telling me it's time to burst into flames. If I had three wishes right now, I think I'd bump off 'pony' from the top of the list and replace number one position with air conditioning in my house, closely followed by air conditioning in my car, and then perhaps an enormous chest freezer I can go and lay in.

Just....ugh.

The Countdown begins.

I fly off to Vanuatu in around 30 hours. 

Emotional eating kicked in around 12 hours ago.

My worry for leaving Sahara is slowly increasing to a rate of all sheer terror, but I think my complete, all consuming terror - complete with vomiting, crying and general unladylike things - will culminate at around the 3 hour mark.

Having said that, I'm super excited. Bring on a week of lounging by the pool sipping cocktails, snorkeling and general tropical-island-paradisey things. 

I never thought I'd be heading to a tropical resort where the weather will be at least 10 degrees cooler than where I live.

Down, and soon to go out. And away.

I've been feeling kind of down and out lately. There's so many things that I wish I could change about my life, but feel I have so little control over. As a result, I've been moody - which in turn, leads to bitchy - which then makes me feel more awful than I already did. Vicious circle much?

Friday night was a mixture of fabulous and frustrating. I drank too much, hung out with 2 of my absolute favorite people (and a whole lot of people I spent my time at high school trying to impress, whom I subsequently couldn't give two shits about) and made a fool out of myself with whipped cream and frozen margaritas in between picking fights about ridiculous things with Sugar Daddy.

Now, we're all aware I could sometimes be described as a drama queen. I like challenges, and I like feeling alive. I own it. But between trying to find somewhere to live with my brood of furry friends, attempting to be a good friend to my good buddy's problems, organizing somewhere for the dogs to stay while I fly off to Vanuatu (and finding the courage to tell my mother I am flying off to Vanuatu), I'm exhausted. I can't begin to explain how tired I am of searching the cereal packets for undetonated bombs, checking for hidden cameras in the DVD player and sleeping with one eye open with a sharpened ax by my bed, all because Chef is being uncharacteristically and disturbingly pleasant lately. And deep down, I know all these things are fixable. One day - and I hope and pray it is one day soon - things will fall into place. I will, inevitably, be fine; no matter what happens, I know I'm strong enough to deal with it.

And just as much as I'm aware that I get too involved with things I have no control over and up the drama a bit, I hate asking for help. It seems to be derived from not enjoying appearing weak. But this morning, all I wanted was for someone to cuddle me and tell me everything is going to be alright. And as a result, I pushed away anyone who was capable of doing that, just so I didn't appear to be that weak person I so deeply fear.

After several laps with Phoenix & Sahara today at the hydrotherapy pool, I'm feeling a whole lot more like the Katie we all know and slavishly adore. I'm ready to chuck on my Steve M's and hit the shops, and maybe even devour a few deep fried pineapple rings, two things guaranteed to make me feel better. And then maybe tonight I can get into the spirit of Australia Day, and spend tomorrow celebrating it and enjoying the fact that recently I've been far, far happier than I can recall for a very long time until yesterday. This time last year, I thought things were the best they ever could be. And now I know how wrong I was, and in the best possible way.

Oh yes. And maybe tonight I'll even start packing for my week away in Vanuatu.

Random happy snaps.

Boof standing guard over his watermelon, which he mangled all over the rug.

Best damn enchiladas. Ever.

Monday night sunset.

I have a thing for dipping sauces. And TGI's.

The horror that took up residence in my car. (To the people who don't know how big a Huntsman is: compare that, if you will, to the size of your fist. It is much, much bigger).

Being silly last night.

Cleo having a nap.

I curled my hair for the first time last night. Me liked it.

Speech.

The time has come to reaffirm our enduring spirit; to choose our better history; to carry forward that precious gift, that noble idea, passed on from generation to generation: the God-given promise that all are equal, all are free, and all deserve a chance to pursue their full measure of happiness.In reaffirming the greatness of our nation, we understand that greatness is never a given. It must be earned.

[Barack Obama]


I've read through the official inaugural address 4 times. It totally blew me away. One day, when I grow up, I want to be able to write like that.

Come fly with me...

...only 9 more sleeps to go.

Snakes alive.

Re: previous post - we watched the dancing, then discovered these.

They're all very good and well, until they come at you with their tongue out. Sssscary.

Strap solutions.

I'm running slightly late. Sarah & I are off to see a friend do a swing dance demonstration at the local Foreshore Festival. It's a gorgeous day, and I threw on my favorite old yellow dress when I got out the shower. Just as I was putting my (new, adorable) shoes on, I noticed my dress had one strap holding on by a mere thread, whilst the other one had gotten somehow mangled, and the buckle on the expandable strap had broken. Not being a very homely sort of girl, I'm unsure where my sewing kit is - although I believe I should get points for actually having one - and therefore attempted fixing both problems with superglue. Funnily enough, all I succeeded in doing was sticking my thumb and forefinger to a hair clip (how? why?) and thus I moved on to the genius plan of holding my strap together with one of those little twist tie things that come with freezer bags. Yep. Then arose the problem of the other strap. After much snuffling around in my jewelery box, I located a rather large nappy pin, and somehowpinned the other strap on. I can see it coming undone and becoming imbedded in my flesh half way through the dance class, but for now, I am gloating about my genius strap solutions.

My mother would be horrified.

Before, during & after.

My weekend absence explained in pictures.

(no, I've not had a sex change. This is Cameron (otherwise known as Sugar Daddy). Cameron has remained anonymous far too long. He is gorgeous and makes me very happy. That is all).

Srsly.

This cracks me up.

Fact or Photoshop?

After last nights post set my comment form buzzing with excitement (and a little moistness perspiration), I felt it my duty to correct Melisa with One S that my future husbands abs were not, in fact, photoshopped, but merely a magical feat of nature designed purely for my viewing pleasure. And then a I looked a little harder, and in several photos, his abs do seem to look a little...well, harder.

Hmmm. Either way, I think monuments should be erected in my name for sharing my collection of semi-naked photos of my hubby posting the photo in the first place. Those abs would brighten any lady's day. So, here we go again. You decide if he's airbrushed, or simply put on this earth to turn women into glorified piles of throbbing hormones.

Thank me later, girls.

(Oh, and boys? This is what Ryan started out like. You see, there's hope for y'all yet).

Scientific proof He shall be mine.

One can only hope this means that ScarHo will soon be leaving my future husband sooner rather than later. It's only a matter of time before destiny - and Ryan - come to their senses.

(Oh, and ladies? You're welcome. Phoarrrr!)

You know what makes me sad?

... that you can love someone for years, thinking you know them and safe in the thought they're the one person who will be there, by your side, for years to come - then realizing they're not at all the same person you thought you loved. How can someone change so drastically and so easily?

And the saddest part?

Knowing it's taken as long as it has for me to open my eyes to realize I don't have any respect left for them.

Ladies & Gentemen - your attention, please.

A few days ago, I Twittered a little something about feeling the need to make an announcement. Although I have been somewhat bursting at the seams to break down and tell the world in a fit of hysteric excitement, I have channeled my inner zen and simply learned a method which expels my exuberance. It may or may not involved jumping all over my bed, and squealing into my pillow, whilst Sahara looks on in a mixture of fear and delight.

And so, although I fear I may not be able to make the full announcement due to the fact I am so gosh darn censored with this blog these days (yo! Y'all who I don't want reading this blog: be gone!) I will go so far as saying I need to detox. Urgently. I need to emerge into February as a toned, svelte (and, one would hope, nicely tanned) nymph-like goddess of sex.

As Fate would have it, Karyn blogged about Gwyneth's own detox today, and I rushed to the link in a fit of anticipation - only to discover one can't actually eat anything during detox, let alone enjoy a nice little glass of champers with their evening dinner menu of air & water.

As I like to actually consume food (of which, admittedly, I like to think Fat and Sugar have their own category, high up on that little Food Pyramid) I suppose I should concentrate my intentions towards the exercise portion of my plan. So, it's off to The Blog With No Name - what is to become my little mecca of motivation and my haven for healthy eating. Melisa started this up at the beginning of the year to motivate and support us all with our weight loss/exercise goals, and although I've been mad keen to get started like the other bloggers, my 'kick start' date wasn't until today. And now? I've nothing to lose.

Except these damn 3kg.

Oh...and those lucky few get to hear my announcement. The joy of private blogging!
For the rest of you... ask, and you shall be told.

Battle.

I went road tripping today. Mum & I had decided several months ago to hit up her local agricultural show, thinking it would be an excuse to catch up and have a giggle - and boy, did we. We ended up spending hours there, critiquing the beef cattle, having a good cheer for the flyball dogs and getting up close with lots of chickens. And then...we discovered the Medieval Battle.

We've both always been in love with British history (and I've always had a bit of a thing for knights in shining armor - to the extent my brother had to buy me Knights Tale on DVD this Christmas as my VHS copy was completely worn out...) and so we were pretty keen to check out just how authentic the club was. First, we tried on the armor, and took a heap of photos, all of which were pretty terrible. We watched some of the archery. There may have been some light flirting with a certain Sir, and maybe even the herald (on my mothers part, you understand). And then, the battle began...



and we suddenly realized the knight in yellow is actually the girl who works the checkout at the local supermarket. Go, girl!

I so want to join. It might be beneficial to the 'anger problem' I supposedly have. Hmm.

Just randomly...

This is hilarious. It reminds me of those bizarre cut out stands you find at places like Skegness, where inevitably your male relation stands in the buxom womans spot with their head poking through for hilarious holiday happy snaps.

And this is the amazing view from the penthouse overlooking Melbourne where I was so randomly taken before a crazy 'in the deep end' dinner with my new Sugar Daddy and half of his family.

*heaves a sigh of relief at getting that out in the open*

Pause.

TGI Awesomeness in Photos :)

My awesome present from Melisa (which I love. Love!)

Sarah devouring Jelly Belly noms :)

Sarah & I have a good giggle over the crossword.

Completed!

I wear my shirt with pride on the way home :)

Thank God It's....

AWESOME!

Melisa - sorry for the suspense. After opening your fabulous gift I drove on home to my mothers for the night, and wasn't able to get online. Apologies!

And for the record... There was squealing. Quite a lot of it.

There was photo documentation. It shall be uploaded shortly - I'm currently running horribly late. Thank you, thank you, thank you... times infinity. I will wear it with pride on Thursday night :) 

My gift from Melisa...

...is destroying any form of patience I possess.

Let me explain further:

... 6 hours, 2 minutes to go! Gaaaaah!

P.S...Thanks, Melisa!

I know it's late, but here's 2008.

A review, by Katie.

January:
I spent New Years Day wallowing in 44 degree heat on the beach, and made my resolution for the year ahead - To stop eating. Or at least discontinue shoving random things in my mouth when I'm bored, and instead go for long, fulfilling walks, or teach myself to crochet. I can't say I did very well on that front.
That evening, I found out some news that rocked my world, and changed every angle of my family dynamic. A whole year on, I still don't know how to deal with knowing that someone I loved and looked up to could do such a horrific thing.
I discovered my first - and last, thank goodness - grey hair, and subsequently held my sadistic real estate agent responsible. I was still house hunting, and losing the will to live. Sarah & Tezz came over for dinner for the first time, and I was subjected to the agony of having White Tail spider bites on my toes.

February:
Still suffering from my infected toes and a revolting flu that made us both feel like death, Chef and I moved into our new home, which we'd instantly fallen in love with in the final stages of desperation as our lease was rapidly coming to an end. I rejoiced in the fact we had a fence. I then had to spend the longest time ever without internet, and didn't cope so well.

March:
Involved two of my most favorite days ever: Sarah & Tezz's fabulous St Patricks Day party, and the following day spent in 40+ degree heat at the RSPCA's All Creatures Day. Chef & I road-tripped for his brothers wedding, and we welcomed Saffron the rat into the family, as well as two short-term foster kittens who ruled the house. I had a wonderful birthday with all my favorite people, and wallowed in gifts and food.

April:
First and foremost, Sarah & I discovered the joy of crimping our hair. Ditto TGI's girl nights.
Chef broke his car - again - and mine was getting worse and worse. I spent a lot of time at the beach, trying to ascertain what I wanted from life, which mainly involved being anywhere else than I currently was. Sahara, Phoenix and I were involved in the filming of the RSPCA Million Paws Walk commercial. I discovered Juno, and fell head over heels in love with it, and watched it religiously twice a week for...well, alright, I've never actually stopped. Poppy joined my collection of rodents.

May:
I purchased my new bomb, D-Fib, for the bargain price of $500, and then spent triple that trying to make her work again as she continually didn't like doing that. Cleo learned how to yodel. Sarah celebrated her Hen's Night in fine style, and we thanked our lucky stars we didn't get stuck to a certain ice sculpture when we sobered up. I went to see a Welsh Choir with my mum & nan, and saw Les Miserables with them both later in the week. I set my eyeball on fire getting my eyelashes tinted before Sarah's wedding, and I stole borrowed my fathers Jeep to drive. I worked out someone wasn't who I thought they were, and lost an amazing friendship.

June:
Went by without me even realizing. Sarah and Tezz flew off to Fiji for their wedding, and I counted the days until I could see Sex & The City, which we eventually did in Gold Class style.

July:
Chef celebrated his birthday, and we went for a weekend away with S & T to their holiday house, where we discovered Tezz makes the best hamburgers ever. We were still of the belief Sahara was having muscle aches, rather than realizing she had torn her entire ligament.

August:
I hardly blogged - I was going through my own little financial crisis, to the point of having to beg for food. I wasn't in a good place. Eventually, everything turned out fine - I finally got my shoes, and I was happy once again.

September:
The first few days of which were spent shopping around for a surgeon for Sahara's impending operation. I went home and took Mum to see Shout! which just about cured us of ever watching local dramatic productions again. Chef & I went for a drive, and ended up with a brand new Mercedes in the back of our car, and another one in the back of the Merc. Sahara went in for her surgery, and I hosted a dinner party to keep my mind off the fact she couldn't come home. I fell off the couch and chipped my elbow. I had a magical weekend where I fell in love with life again.

October:
Sarah & I went for a roadtrip to see some of Mum's art exhibition, and not long after I found another Bruza/Phoenix dog which S & I organized to see. I attended the races and caught a certain jockey's eye, I adopted two finches and got right back into baking. Monday nights were dedicated to hitting the racetrack and gambling all my loose change away. Chef & I went for a weekend away, which although was a complete failure, gave me a whole lot of invaluable information as to what I needed to do. I had one of the best moments of my life riding my favorite horse through the surf.

November:
Seemed to revolve around days at the races and buying pretty dresses. I got my heart absolutely torn to shreds and shattered in every way, and didn't deal with it exceedingly well. I drank far too much, ate not a lot and slept very little. Halloween involved a whole lot of dressing up, and rather a lot of punch, and I spent days watching Sex and The City to try and ease my heartbreak. I got stood up by Chicken, and lost my faith in men completely, until Phoenix developed a lump and I was worried it was due to my man-hating karma.

December:
Was all about getting back on the horse - literally. I started at the trail riding place, and also got back into the RSPCA in the form of the Christmas Appeal, which turned into one of the best days - and nights - ever. Practically all of December was spent catching up with old friends - and new ones - and learning what it was to be me again. There was also a lot of drinking, shopping and dancing involved, and maybe even a little bit of falling...

All in all... bring on 2009, otherwise known as Katie's Year.

Happy? Well, New Year, anyway.

I'm not in the best of moods. I apologize for the lack of comment love on previous posts, and Bec - your email is coming. I promise. (I absolutely freakin' loved your present - the fudge was devoured instantaneously, but the book has kept me quiet for hours. Trying to tell me something about my selfish attitude, dear?!)

So, to brighten my mood? Upload photos.

Naturally Blogger is having some sort of difficulty letting me do that more than once.

I think I'm going right back to bed, and waking up pretending it's the New Year all over again when I feel better.