Saturday Night Fever

On Saturday night I catered a cocktail party for 60 people. Actually, I think there were about 70 (10 too rude to RSVP in time), so I spent the first part of the evening worrying about whether there would be enough food. I have never knowingly undercatered in my life ... Turned out there was plenty.

This is what they had:

- Moroccan meatballs with yoghurt + garlic + mint dip
- Spicy chicken wings
- Gougeres (yes, I do them every time)
- Sushi (bought as replacement for the salt cod croquettes that FAILED)
- Steamed pork & prawn dumplings (also bought)
- Tarts with goat's cheese, caramelised onion and thyme
- Pumpernickel with smoked salmon, cream cheese, capers + dill
- Water chestnuts wrapped in bacon, brushed with soy and cooked in oven
- Grilled chorizo slices topped with a prawn and a dollop of smoked paprika mayonnaise
- Frittata squares

And two mini desserts - tarts with lemon curd (home made) and Turkish Delight (bought).

It's now Monday and I finally feel like I might be able to approach the kitchen again (we ate out last night).

Note to self: Don't wear heels when you're going to be working on your feet for 8 hours straight, not even your most comfortable Clarks. You will regret it.

Lady in Red

I have never been drawn to the loafer (like 'the short'?). And yet, I came upon these photos (Lanvin, can't remember where from) and suddenly I Want Those Shoes. To be worn without socks ... just like that. Of course, I couldn't actually wear a dress that short, so I'm not sure what I'd wear them with. But still ...

And then there's the red jeans issue. I keep seeing them and reading about them and now I really want some. I wouldn't wear them with stripes - too corny - but maybe with a camel/tan/khaki t-shirt and ballet flats. Hmmm. I've been described as 'a pixie' and 'elfin' before, so perhaps red jeans would just make me look like one of Santa's Little Helpers. That would not be a good look.

I Don't Know How She Does It

I read the book (now film) of the title of this post and found it wildly irritating. Why? Too many reasons to enumerate here, but mostly because - unlike most working mothers - the main character had a high-flying job, a devoted and uncomplaining spouse (most of us aren't married to martyrs), etc, etc. Many of us have the same pressures without any of the glamour. I thought the title should have been I Don't Know Why She Does It.

Anyway ... Kid 2 bounded up to my desk at 7.45 this morning and said 'Will you make jam tarts for me to take to school today?'. As I hastily made, rolled and cut pastry, I remembered the opening scene of this book, where the woman is bashing store-bought mince pies to make them look like she's baked them herself ...

Obviously, I should have said no. I'm rather good at the 'No' word when it comes to stuff, but not so resolute when they want me to do and/or make things with/for them. Kid 2 tromped off to school happily clutching a couple of dozen still warm jam tarts. I went back to my desk to prepare for a mid-morning meeting in the city. But hey, if I achieve nothing else today, I made a 10-year-old happy. That's got to be worth a little bit of frazzlement (I know it's not a word).

St Trinian's

On Friday morning, we took Kid 2 to the 'open' morning at her future high school. She was a little nervous. Like Kid 1 before her, she'll be going to a new school, without any of her primary school friends, so it was important for her to have a look around. And for us too. Kid 1 is the third generation on both sides to go to his school; we didn't have the same tradition to guide us with this one, but we hope we've made the right choice.

It's a girls' school with an emphasis on a broad liberal education, and, in its words, 'aims to develop girls who are confident, independent thinkers able to adapt and respond to challenges throughout their lives'. Fingers crossed. I went to co-ed schools myself, so I wonder how different a girls' school is ...

Afterwards there wasn't much point taking her back to current school (little gets done on a Friday afternoon). We skived and went on a little shopping jaunt instead. It's much more fun shopping for her than for myself. I could have bought her loads of clothes, but I try to instill in her the idea that it's better to have a few good things than an overflowing wardrobe. She was allowed to choose one item among the many we looked at, and picked a lovely soft cotton/cashmere top that I'd wear in a flash if it came in my size. Then we came home and did a wardrobe audit for her. How I'd love to try on all of my jeans and suddenly discover that although they still fit around the waist, they're all three inches too short!

And how quickly children grow up and away ... In my mind, Kid 2 will always be this evil munchkin, but high school is less than two years away.

Working Girl

There's been lots of talk around blogworld lately about work-appropriate dressing - especially how hard it is as it's become less strict. As I work from home most of the time, it's hard to justify having much in the way of a work wardrobe, but I can generally manage to pull myself together and look respectable.

Today - and apologies for the convoluted explanation - I went with a client to meet their client. I asked in advance whether they had any dress guidelines, because for my client it's very relaxed (decent jeans, blazer and ballet flats is fine). They said best to be a bit more corporate.

I wore a grey fitted knee-length dress and black heels with my new favourite rust cardi. When I walked in to get L (my client), she was wearing ... shorts. She is young, tall, black, thin and quite depressingly gorgeous. So, she was wearing mid-thigh black shorts with a leopard print silk blouse and tan wedges. She looked sensational. Just not quite what I would consider to be business casual.

The clients didn't bat an eyelid, although interestly enough the woman we met assumed our names were the other way around - apparently L looks more like a Tiffany (hideous name that it is), and I look more like the more pedestrian L-name.

I don't think I'm going to adjust my work wardrobe sensibilities to match L's, but it was an eye-opener.

A Tale of Two Cities

It's true, Melbourne does not have our beautiful harbour. Or our beaches. It does have the Yarra - in this pic we were having a coffee in a tiny cafe/bar at the base of a bridge pylon in the middle of the river, having already watched some rowers being shouted at by their cox ...

And some amazing buildings (The Forum).

And, as any Melbournian will tell you, the most incredibly cool selection of cafes, bars and restaurants crammed into the CBD. Melbourne is full of alleys and laneways, apparently about 180 of them just in the city centre. Instead of being built over in the process of modernisation, they've been retained, so there's a new surprise every few metres, it seems. I didn't take photos, but I did enjoy them ...

I didn't get to our hotel until about 2.30pm on Friday, so I only had a couple of hours to kill before meeting up with Spouse. I got my bearings, checked out the shops and was forced to buy this skirt (because it was the last one and they took it off the mannequin for me and it looks lovely). Lord knows where I'll ever wear it.

That evening we had a post-work drink with a colleague of Spouse's at the famous Supper Club.  Spouse and I then strolled down to a nearby Szechuan restaurant where the decor was minimal, the service was dreadful (as in slow and inattentive rather than rude) and the food was brilliant. Yum. After dinner we snuck into one of the many hidden bars - down a laneway, no signage, not even a number. Service was of the 'oh goodness, it's such an imposition to have you people here' variety, but the wine was good and it was kind of fun. We were right up the top, up several flights of ricketty stairs, in a bar furnished and lit all in red, while below us was an absinthe green room absolutely heaving with people. I'm glad we weren't in there.

As Melbourne has the supremely sensible grid design for its streets, finding our way around was easy. First thing Saturday morning we walked up to the Queen Victoria Market, via a recommended cafe for excellent takeaway coffee, and admired the deli counters and fresh produce before grabbing a kransky with sauerkraut & mustard on a roll for breakfast. Then we headed down to the Yarra, spent a bit of time in the National Gallery of Victoria but were sadly a few days too early for the 'Man Style' exhibition that starts this month. More walking, then lunch at a cafe on the river, and there was just time for a stroll through town and some bookshops before we had to - reluctantly - head back out to the airport.

Footbridge leading back into CBD from the Yarra.

It's funny to think I was born there.

Flying High

We've finally managed to coordinate it - Spouse headed down to Melbourne at stupid o'clock this morning for work, and I am meeting him down there tomorrow (Friday). We're only staying the one night, returning Saturday late afternoon, but even so my poor mother-in-law's schedule looks like this: pick Kid 2 up from school at midday on Friday to take it to an audition; get from audition to pick Kid 1 up from Cadets and take it directly to its baseball semi-final on the other side of the city; Saturday morning take Kid 1 to its basketball game, then take Kid 2 to its sleepover (again crossing the city).

I'm sure I'll get over the guilt as soon as I get to the airport tomorrow morning. I first travelled by air when I was about three weeks old, and there was a lot of travel in my childhood, but I still get that little frisson of excitement and anticipation when I step into the airport and then onto the plane.

As I'm only there for about 24 hours, I don't think packing is going to be a challenge. The forecast tells me that Melbourne will be cool and grey tomorrow; pleasant if slightly cloudy on Saturday. It will be so exciting to be able to wear trousers and a jacket or cardigan!

We don't really have plans - strolling around, walking by the Yarra, checking out the Queen Victoria Markets, window shopping the boutiques (that will be me on Friday, before I meet Spouse), eating somewhere fun on Friday night, finding a cool wine bar. There's a permanent competition between Sydney and Melbourne about which city is 'cooler'. I'm betting Melbourne wins.

Right now I'm desperately trying to meet horror deadlines (what, did you say 5000 words of copy before COB?) ... Wish me luck ...

Field of Dreams

Last Friday morning, about half an hour after I got up, I remembered a dream I'd had. Spouse and I were heading off to New York again, just for a week this time. In the dream I was talking to friends, casually saying 'oh yes, I know we went last year, but we just felt we needed another little visit'. Ha.

I told Spouse. He rolled his eyes at me over his coffee (standard form of morning communication in this house) and then said 'Well, I have to get a new job this year, and I plan to take a week or two off between jobs'. Um, WHAT? He then told me that return tickets to NY are actually still quite cheap.

OK, so it's not exactly a plan, and I'm sure Spouse will come to his senses eventually, and really we could take the kids to Bali for two weeks for the same amount of money, but it's a thought ... Longer-term, I'm now 100% determined that we will move to the States for a couple of years when Kid 2 has finished school. Jobs? Dunno, I'll work something out. House? See previous. Green Card? Hmmm.

Friday night is baseball night. The diamond above is in Central Park. This one is ours, which we share (not very amicably on their part) with a rugby league club. Field of dreams indeed.