Once upon a more productive time, I used to do a catch up blog every month. Ah, the days when life was simple, unencumbered by the wild throws of admiration and attention that sudden success and fame brings. I’ve been so busy being a published author – on the internet – that I haven’t had much time to sit down and list out the multitude of achievements we’ve been racking up around here.

Yes, I still go to work and patients still yell at me and I still come home exhausted and hoarse and harbouring an intense desire to never look at a computer screen ever again – but now I do it as a published author – on the internet. 

SUPER For those of you that haven’t heard, I’m super famous now. I entered an essay contest on Instagram on a whim, where the prize was being published on the digital magazine The Epoch Herald. My essay “Life Lessons from Break-Up Therapy” was the winner, and went live on the 13th. I’m fairly certain I was one of three entrants, and I’m not even sure anyone apart from my family, Facebook friends have read it, but shit. After years of stagnation and dragging my feet, getting a little win made me feel like freakin’ Stephen King. I’ve been walking around feeling like a big deal, because clearly, I am.

The Epoch Herald

WRITING WORKING Things are looking better than they have in a long while. I’m working slowly and steadily on my As Of Yet Untitled Dark Comedy story, and I’ve been tooling around with ideas for my As Of Yet Untitled Satire piece. It’s been hard to break through the various forms of writer’s block (read: paralysis) that I’ve been dealing with for the past couple of years, but like every other problem in my life facing it head on is helping me chip away at it.

I feel really motivated now to enter more competitions and research submission requests, to make a writing schedule, to really stick to my routines, to eat healthier, to save money, to shower every day — I’m getting carried away. Let’s just say I’m excited to keep up the momentum.


 I have my laparoscopy surgery on Thursday. Halla-fucking-leiujah. I am more than excited to hopefully put an end to my shitty cramps and all over pelvic pain. I’m nervous about the whole thing – and I can’t seem to shake the nerves. I went out and bought a new pair of “recovery” sweat pants and hard soled slipper shoes to wear to the hospital so I’ll be comfortable, but I’m still jittery. My GP and a few of the doctors I work with that know what’s up say my surgeon is the best in Sydney, so that eases my fears a bit. I’m nervous that the surgery won’t reveal anything, and I’ll be stuck like this for the rest of my life. Or that the surgery will find cancer. Or that I’ll get binding/adhesion side effect that damages my bowels. Or that I’ll have bad allergies during recovery, sneeze, and tear my sutures. Or that I’ll stress about work the entire time I’m at home. Or, Or, Or. I could go on.

Honestly, everything will be fine. In fact, I’m sure the worst part of the whole thing will be that the elevator in our apartment building has been non-functional since March and doesn’t look like it’ll be fixed in time for my surgery, so I’ll have to climb 3.5 flights of stairs after having my reproductive organs shaved, poked, and prodded.

However. I am looking forward to the two weeks off from work. I’ve got a huge stack of pillows, New Yorker magazines, a bigger stack of books, a shit ton of writing, some crafts, and a badass Paint By Numbers set I want to get through – The Last Supper – the only way to make it better is to add velvet). It was so tantalizingly white trash I couldn’t pass it up – even with a $30 price tag. I won’t be in a condition to obsessively clean and organise or wander around shopping, so I’m looking forward to some time where I’m mostly confined to my bed or the couch.


MASTER CHEF Joel’s been a beast. I don’t think we’ve ever eaten as well as we’ve eaten this year. I took a que from Dinner: a Love Story and I started keeping a record of everything we eat for dinner. So now I’ve been able to keep track of all this incredible food he’s making so I can request it so often he gets sick of it and won’t make it any more (see: spicy cous cous with pan fried brocolini, mushrooms, and gravy). I’m also proud to say it’s May 20 and so far every night has been accounted for (granted, there have been heaps of me sitting at my desk, back tracking through FB for our grocery list, thinking what the fuck did we eat last Sunday?) – so the fact that I haven’t let it fall by the wayside by now is shocking to me.


  I’ve kept a habits/chores roster every month so far, and a budget sheet. I did fuck all the last two months of April, but for the most part I’ve been doing really well at keep track of myself. Now that it’s almost June, it’s time to sit down and look back on the rosters to see what I’m doing most and least, what I’ve saved and what I’ve spent, and how I can improve for the second half of the year. Spoiler alert: I won’t.

I’M GETTING 3 weeks ago, I was cleaning up around the bedroom, and I finally got sick and tired of the putting the rug at the end of our bed back into its place. I bent down, lifted the 5 lb Ikea bed with it’s 5 lb mattress maybe a 1/4 of an inch off the ground, reached to grab the rug, and felt something snap in my back. In a split second, my spine shattered at my hips and immediately began grinding into the remains of hip and vertebrae debris and fragments. I’m pretty sure I had bones sticking out of my lower back and my intestines were punctured.

Or at least that’s how it felt. 

And that’s how it felt for 2 entire weeks. For two weeks I ate Ibuprofen like it was candy (sorry stomach), slept only with muscle relaxers, wailed whenever I had to bend, strain, climb stairs, or sneeze (seriously, sneezing violently with a pulled back muscle is AGONY), and didn’t go anywhere without my hot water bottle. My GP (who just happens to be a muscular specialist in the Australian Army) gave me a quick massage and told me it was actually my hip abductors that were causing the pain, because they were compensating for my back. He also separated my ribs on my right side because they were “crowded” (apparently people who work at a desk and use a computer most of the days get crowded ribs on whichever side they use their mouse. It’s something to do with our arm and shoulder posture to hold the mouse), and confirmed that I am in fact, missing a rib. He gave me some muscle relaxers and a list of pilates exercises and sent me on my way.

And on Monday, he called me back and asked me to stop by his office. He had prepared a care plan for me and a referred me to see a physio-therapist to get some insight into my weird back/hip pain, short stride, clompy gait, and lack of balance. I’m ridiculously excited for this, because I’m thoroughly convinced my massive growth spurt in puberty fucked me up. Like, I’m fairly certain either I don’t know how to walk, or that one of my legs is shorter than the other. Maybe I’ll get some special shoes.


Speaking of special shoes, and getting older – I decided to say “fuck it” to all my cute, pretty, flat as a board and super uncomfortable shoes, and say “Hello!” to a new pair of Dr. Martin lace ups that would match everything and last me for 30 years. While I was browsing the Docs at the store, I instinctively picked up the classic, heavy, steel toe, clunky AF, a bit flat on the inside style. But then I saw a pair that was a bit more stream lined, a little more sneaker looking, with a super cushioned sole. I walked around the store for at least 10 mins with one style on each foot.

The sneakery shoe was half the weight, twice the comfort, and already felt like it was breaking it. The classic style was stiff, stiff, stiff. Both were leather, had the gum sole, and bright yellow stitching. But the sneaker style just looked so… old. Like, sensible. I wanted the classic style because it’s what I’ve worn all my life. But I also know it’s 2 weeks of blisters and sore feet. The new style already felt comfortable. And so, I chose function over style. For probably the first time in my life.

H+M – THE AGONY AND THE A couple of weeks ago, I had a bad day at work and decided to treat myself to a sweater I’d been lusting over at H+M. Since knit wear was Buy 1 Get 1, I decided to get one for Joel, too. Joel isn’t really into sweaters, but he always tells me how much he likes mine, so I thought I’d get him some presents.

I brought him 2 – one was perfect, the other was a bad colour. So I exchanged it for a different style, and while I was there found a freakin’ literal Leopard print dress that I couldn’t resist. But the new style sweater wasn’t a good fit on Joel. So he picked out a hoodie online, and I took the sweater back for the hoodie. I exchanged the sweater for the hoodie, and picked up two cardigans for me (BOGO! Also, I live in cardigans). I brought the hoodie home, and it was the wrong size. WTF. So I went back, a FOURTH time, said hi to the cashiers because we are pals at this point, exchanged the hoodie, and found a modern version of my Joan Holloway Dress that I’ve been missing since I donated it. I brought the hoodie home and it was perfect.

All this to say, I never thought the sentence IF I HAVE TO GO TO H+M ONE MORE TIME I AM GOING TO SCREAM. Also I learned to not surprise Joel with clothes. I don’t think my patience or my wallet or closet space can handle it.

CHICKEN We had a reunion of sorts this week, with our Abercrombie Street family. Last year a group of us got together and ate homemade chicken wings with homemade hot sauce, and I brought a banana cream pie. We sat around the kitchen in our friend’s house, laughing, eating delicious chicken, drinking beers, gorging on pie, and having a nice time. Every month after, whenever we got together, we’d say “We need to have another chicken party!” And eventually, (9 months eventually), we finally got Chicken Party 2.0. Joel and our friends pulled off some major teamwork and brined and breaded and fried 7 kilos of chicken parts. Together with luxe mac-n-cheese from scratch (made with goose fat – yumm), sautéed green beans with bacon, chili mayo, and Joel’s New Fantastic Lime Chilli Corn on the Cob, and topped off with Strawberry Rhubarb crumble, I was basically rolled home. I also forgot that I’m 32 and don’t drink anymore, and proceeded to have 3 glasses of wine and a beer on a school night. Thank God I didn’t have to work until 12:30 the next day, because I was unconscious until about 10AM.

Screen Shot 2017-05-22 at 9.30.00 PM Joel and I have been together for 4 years now. We both forgot all about it until I was watching Peep Show and heard Super Hans say “That crack was really more-ish” and I thought about the anniversary card I wanted to make Joel, and it suddenly dawned on me that today is our anniversary. We high-fived and decided to celebrate with pizza.

With the exception of school, blogging, and procrastinating, I don’t think I’ve done anything for 4 years. He’s my favourite.


HELLO, It’s starting to get really chilly in the mornings and evenings, now. We’ve added an extra blanket to the bed. Our clothes don’t really dry anymore. HELLO COLD TEMPERATURES, I’VE MISSED YOU.


There’s more that’s been happening around here, I’m sure… but it’s all escaping me at this point. There’s a giant hole in my chest where Game of Thrones should have been. We’re both getting reeeeeally excited for Japan, which feels like it’ll never get here. Our housing management hasn’t approved our pet request – yet. Here are pics of random stuff that’s been happening all year:

Big Joel had a big birthday! We celebrated with a day of fat, fat eating, a tiny cake, and a night at the pub. We also ate delicious meat at East Side Grill. #topnotch


Hella brunches


This photo sums up my 4 day Easter break (not pictured: excessive napping, blowing off all other items on my to-do list.)
The Only Time I Did Stuff on Easter Break: a day of beaching and adventuring with Josien. #alsotopnotch


Screen Shot 2017-05-22 at 9.42.31 PM
hella dinners with friends


I hope everyone’s had/is having a decent March/April/May! Here’s hoping the throngs of adoring fan mail* I get dies down and I can get back to putting out these catch up entries on a more timely basis (*2 emails! I’d better get a publicist).



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