Well, that was awkward.

Billasaurus has been doing renovations for over 12 months- consequently we have been living in a construction site which has had it's interesting moments. (Last night I slept in our house without a front window. Yup. Fun.)

As Billasaurus is a plumber he is able to do a lot of the work himself, and where he can't, his group of friends trade favours. (Work favours; get your mind out of the gutter!)

This means there has been a plethora of tradespeople at my home day in, day out. Some days, the house is covered in dust and I discover my vintage teacup sets have smashed because some bright spark has decided they will jackhammer near the wall where they are stored. Or they decide that today is the day they all want to use the grinders/tile cutters/some other weird saw things when it's exam study day for uni. But there are also days when there are shirtless men toiling and sweating around my house, so I mean you win some, you lose some.

These guys: all welcome. I'm a great host like that.

We've gotten to know them all quite well, and one in particular has introduced us to his heavily pregnant wife.

Anyway, this chap's wife had the baby which is all very exciting. Billasaurus told me they had had a little boy, so I went out and go a little blue outfit, toy and wrote them out a card congratulating them on the birth of their newborn son.

Billasaurus was going to see the new family before I was, so I passed on the gift for him to give to the family. He came back raving all about how he got to hold the new baby; Samantha Jane was so tiny!

SAMANTHA JANE?! Turns out, they have a healthy baby girl. Not boy. Girl.

I am absolutely mortified. Bill swears he told me they had a daughter, and I'm vehement he said son. I specifically remember him saying it! 

Why would I have bought the blue and green onesie if he said daughter?! I specifically congratulation them on their son in the card, too :/

Gah.

Mother Time Comes For Us All

Holy fuck, it's happened.

Here I was, basking in my youth, frolicking about in the summer sun and living in my prime. Living in ignorance, and yes it was bliss.

Until yesterday.

Yesterday I was actually brushing my hair which has become a rarity during my summer holidays. (Don't judge me.)

The light shone directly on to my dark brown locks, but I did a double-take when one of those hairs glittered back at me in the mirror.

I HAVE A GREY HAIR. I'M TWENTY-FUCKING-SIX.

I'd like to tell you I'm above age insecurities, and that I recognise that one little baby hair that's come up grey doesn't make me old any more than the time I dyed my hair fire-engine red made me Ronald McDonald.

Even Ronald doesn't have greys yet.

Look, I didn't think I was invincible. I knew it would happen, and before it did I wasn't particularly dreading the day it did. I just wasn't expecting to spot a grey so bloody early!

Should I go on a mid-life crisis? Perhaps I'll trade my sensible Nissan Pulsar in for a sexy Lexus, with a topless buff man feeding me grapes from the passenger seat. He should definitely be younger than I am- so many middle age men live by 'You're only as old as the person you're feeling', so surely they are on to something. 

Just hanging around, waiting for me to pick him up in my fancy new ride.
So you're telling me he is older than 26? Be quiet you, with your facts. This is my midlife crisis fantasy, not yours.

But alas; I've grown quite fond of Billasaurus, and as a uni student can't afford anything other than my trusty 2 litre Pulsar. 

Have you got greys yet? You can tell me, I'm a trusted elder now. I'm wise.

Workin 9-5

I resigned from my job of 6 years today. Nerve wracking stuff. On to greener employment pastures in 2014! 

I don't start my new job until 20th Jan, which leaves me plenty of time to plan dream work wardrobes I have neither the money nor figure to buy. But a girl can dream! 

From right to left:

Country Road Grid Print Shell Top $129
MAC Naked Lunch Eyeshadow $33
Witchery Cross Front Pencil $49.95 (sale)
ASOS Double Hearts Necklace $11.43 
Witchery Colour Block Stripe Tshirt $49.95
Country Road Metallic Letitia Ballet $29.95 (sale)
ASOS by Cambridge Satchel Company Rose Gold 11" satchel $199.97 (sale)
Country Road Slim Sateen Pant $99.95 
MAC Hug Me Lipstick $36
Witchery Colour Block Knit $49.95 (sale)
Mimco Abacus Flat Sandle $179
Witchery Organza Sleeve Top $129.95  

This is my first post with anything fashion related. Was it bearable, or leave it to the fashion pros? 

The Magical Fruit

Just thought I'd share a picture of my secret spot. On the weekend I like to sneak out and have breakfast all by myself. A bit of quiet time, I can spread out and read the paper and start the weekend off with a little bit of calm. Don't tell Billasaurus, will you? Otherwise he'll want to come- surely I'm allowed one tiny secret? :)

I always sit in the same spot! The courtyard is an oasis in the city with lots of beautiful greenery.

These are my breakfast beans. You know, the magical fruit? The more you eat, the more you... like them?

I always thought I hated baked beans, but turns out I just hate that weird beany goop you get in cans. Not that i'm a snob- this morning I ate 11 pickled onions from the jar for breakfast. Let's be real here.

Beans, green tea, and privacy. What more could I want?

(Truth be told, about halfway through my breakfast I start to wonder what Billasaurus is up to, and wishing I had bought him with me)

:)

Pavlova: Not supposed to taste like sweet, warm egg?

Look at me, posting and shit. (Oh, I swear. Did you forget that? Sorry.)

I was quite the baker over the Christmas period. That sounded like a brag, but I didn't mention what kind of baker I was. 

Insert random photo of BR and I in front of our Christmas tree. That shit's hard to capture in a selfie.

"Behold, my large festive indoor plant!"

It all started when my Mum said 'Can you bring desserts this year, I can't be bothered. And you are the only one who cares about dessert so it's on you.' With that kind of enthusiasm, what could I say. Only dear Mum could get away with that.

Cue a week later, and Bill's Mum calls. 'Could you bring desserts to Christmas lunch? I'm not much into sweet things, and you made that thing last time so well.'

1. I appreciate the flattery, it will get you everywhere
2. 'That thing' I made last time was a flipping Chocolate Ripple Cake. I don't have the heart to tell her how easy it is. It's better that she thinks I'm the amazing dessert wizard.

I'm an eager to please butthole sometimes, and I also overestimate my actual kitchen skills, and lack a healthy respect for what can actually get done in the space of a day. 

Did I just buy one of those pav bases like everyone else? Or did I buy one of those stupid looking egg things, that my Mum always seems to have banging around her cupboard despite never actually making the pav herself? 

NO OF COURSE I DIDN'T.  I decided (and touted to everybody, unwisely) that I could do it all myself, from scratch.

So this is how I ended up taking on the responsibility of baking the following for Christmas day:

1. Large pavlova for my family (to feed 15)
2. Large pavlova for Bill's family (to feed 11)
3. Christmas cookie platter x2
4. Fruit platter x2
5. Alcholic chocolate ripple cake
6. Christmas bark for part of Christmas gift 
7. Butterscotch Pie (also known as the devils pie; finicky, has a million ingredients, and is a much treasured tradition read: don't fuck it up)
8. Non alcoholic kids chocolate ripple cake

Far out, brussel sprout. How do I get myself into this. Also: I began all of this at 9pm Christmas Eve. 

Pav 1 (Test Pav)

Verdict: I pored over the Donna Hay recipe book to meticulously make the first meringue. It ended up with weird sugary bits on the bottom, whatevs. I can hide a multitude of sins with cream. After spending so much time on the meringue, I rested on my laurels and managed to fuck up whipping cream. Seriously?! So I put some raspberries on, to try and distract. No such luck. Cream was clearly separated. Fucking cream, trust it to pull this shit. You had one job cream.

Also, the recipe said to wait until it was cold to taste test. But your rules can't control me Donna Hay! So I taste tested while the pav was warm...and it tasted like wet, sweet, warm egg white omelettes. With strawberries. Makes me gag a little thinking about it. 


Pav 2

Much better. Except the pavlova weeped, and the baking paper is completely stuck to the bottom. So what did I do? Just cut around that shit so no one can see it. Let them deal with it upon eating. By then they've already got it in their bowls and can't put it back! Genius. Then threw a bunch of fruit on to distract from the paper. I learnt that from Constantino. 

I made this cake for morning tea today with my sister in law.

It's a big deal, but I've gone and done it: I'm adding a new rule to feminism.

Of course the old ones still stand; Women should be able to vote, have the right to control their own bodies, shouldn't slut shame other women.....but today, I've added a new one.

Don't ask a woman who has baked for you if said baked goods come from a packet mix. Don't be that woman.

Basically, if I assembled the ingredients and stirred it, I baked it. Lovingly. 

And of course it is from a packet mix you silly bird. But I don't want to tell you that, because once again you should acknowledge that I am the amazing dessert wizard.

I turned my back and this guy had managed to eat the chocolate melts I left on the coffee table.

He only pulls robust shit like that because he knows he is adorable.

So there you have it. Baking fails and successes, and a pug who is currently trying to get pity from me because his belly hurts from eating far too many melts. Trust me, it will only last an hour max. Then he'll go back to trying to eat the chair leg. 

I wish I was joking.