– 2016

Helllllllllo, internet!

I’ll never take unmetered internet for granted ever again. On Saturday I had a two hour phone chat with my parents, and it was glorious.

It’s been a while, huh? Yes. So let’s catch up!

Moving – We moved on the hottest weekend in January, and I had an estimated 442 panic attacks that weekend. I was nervous about what Joel would think of the place, whether our stuff would fit, if the removalists would show, if they’d steal our stuff, whether I’d love it as much as I remembered… it’s always a risk when you move, but the risk is a bit bigger when you and your partner have signed a lease and you’re the only one who’s seen it.

But, all’s well that ends well. This is possibly the most organised move I’ve ever had. For the first time in my life I woke up on moving day with only the “can’t be packed until last minute” items left unpacked. Joel was a little skeptical of the size when we first walked in, and I’ll admit, I was too. With no furniture in it, the place looked even smaller than it is. Our removalists were late (expected) and manipulated me into accepting being overcharged by $100 (also expected – and after some rationalising I’m ok with this. Well, mostly. It was a hot day and we were their 3rd move and we had stairs, but they weren’t without their faults and – let’s not get into it).


At the end of the day though, as we ate pizza on the floor, we were happy. And a month later, we still are. It’s a different energy and a different feeling than in Balmain. And since it’s an old building, full of quirks too. Our water temperature is Hoth or Center of the Sun, the toilet runs if you don’t release the flush at a precise moment, most of our windows either don’t open or don’t stay open without spacers, our bedroom balcony door leaks when it rains, there’s a ghost living in our shower, we hear our neighbors above us when they shuffle their feet – the usual.


We haven’t replaced our washer yet (I learned the “measure important spaces” rule the hard way), but there’s a laundromat not too far from where we live, and it’s never crowded. And to dry off with a dryer dried towel after not having dryer dried towels for a year and a half was almost a religious experience.


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Time to get real (i.e. shallow) I’ve always wanted to live in a historic building, in a place with high ceilings, large windows, exposed brick and pipes, beams, and track lighting. The large covered patio and bedroom Juliet balcony are just bonuses.


This is turning really smug, really quick, and I’m sorry – but not sorry. It’s important to love the place you call home. And I really feel like I can call this place home.

Ikea – We decided to splurge a bit at Ikea for a new couch and a new bookshelf. I love Ikea. Joel does not. But we braved the Scandanavian wonderland on a Saturday morning and emerged with a new couch, bookshelf, lamp, and night stands.

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During: box 1 of 5


After! Wheee

A weekend devoted to Ikea shopping and Ikea construction and reorganising and rearranging? My inner Monica Gellar was all yesssssssss.

Work – So. Busy. Since mid-January. Re-launching a website and releasing a new product line at the same time = many long days/nights, weekend time working, migraines and actually – insane amounts of excitement. I have a really great job with amazing people. After all, I’ve pulled the same long hours in the same high stress environment in different jobs and have felt completely alone.

I’ve been with this team for 4 months, and most days, it feels like I’ve been there for years. Other days, it feels like I’ve only been there for 4 months. It’s frustrating to be a Noob, but I’m learning more every day. Getting more knowledgable about advertising and marketing (which will shock college Audrey – who transferred schools because the communications program she started to major in was going to focus on marketing), design, photography, and how to run a small business. My boss is inspiring, and the company I work for makes so proud. It’s a good fit.

Summer – we were fortunate enough to have  really mild start to the summer, but now we’re making up for lost time. Most of February has been a damp, humid mess. But to be honest, I’ve been so distracted with work that I haven’t really noticed. And since we moved, my twice a day showers haven’t been needed quite as often. But still – I’m so glad for cooler temps coming in about a month.

oh, and the cold weather that will hopefully kill off the cockroaches that I now see almost every day. /shudder

And what else…

Actually – that about catches you up.

Since January, it’s all been planning to move or moving or unpacking or not having enough internet or working long hours and burning through our expendable energy. I wore myself out to the point where a greasy cookie and a few drinks of sour milk in my coffee sent me into a six hour bout of food poisoning. I think I’ve definitely learned over the past few months that I can’t run on empty anymore. That whole “work/life” balance thing that my boss keeps insisting I implement might be a good idea.

But now, it’s the first day of March. It’s the first day of Autumn. The dust is settling, and I’m looking forward to the end of summer (i.e. humidity) – even though I’ve done nothing I thought I would this summer. Woooops

So… what’s everyone been up to?

Home Sweet Home


I’m on limited bandwidth (literally and figuratively), so I can’t give you a HUGE update on how the move went and how AWESOME our new place is and about all the STUFF that’s happened and how BUSY this year has been already and how things are pretty RAD right now. Being on timed internet until next week sucks (ugh, it’s like I’m back in 1997), and I don’t have a job where I can slack off enough to blog on the clock anymore (woops) so I just don’t have the time. Waaah.

But I did want to share a couple of sneaky snaps of the new place. Because I’m just in love with it. We’re about 99% unpacked and still getting things adjusted, but it’s still awesome.


Did we lose half the space of our old place? Yes.

Did we have to sell our washing machine for 1/4 of it’s worth because we had to get rid of it in 24 hours because it wouldn’t fit in the new place? Yes.

Did we get closer to work and to literally everything? Yes.

Did we get air conditioning? No. But we’re on the middle floor and surrounded by shade, versus being IN THE SUN and on the top floor. It’s much less like living in a tupperware container here.

Did we get an awesome covered balcony space big enough to hold barbeques? Yes.

Did we get a much more awesome looking place that makes us both feel like we have a home? YEAH WE DID.


Also, did we get a new couch that doesn’t rip and break whenever we sit on it? Yes. Big fat yes.

Did I get a shopping spree at Ikea? yisssssss (damn, I love the Swedes)


So yes, lots to chat about, next week when our internet is finally hooked up. Apparently it takes about a month to turn off/turn on connections here, not 24 hours, like in the States (advantage: ‘Merrrica).

We’re having a good time so far. Even if I do think this place is a bit haunted, and even if we’re using a laundromat until next month. And even if the internet isn’t working yet (I miss Skyping and Netflix and Teen Mom like the desserts miss the rain).

Check out my awkward awesome arm across the belly placement. No, I’m not pregnant – except with fatty fat doughnuts.

Til next time, when we have better internet.


Adventures in Moving: Ep 2 – Moving Day!

Holy crap, it’s the end of January. We’re half way through summer, and it’s moving day. And guess who is so excited and anxious that they woke up at 4:30 AM and have been tossing and turning since? Thiiiiiiisssss guy.


We’ve been packing all week, and we’re all about done, except for some can’t be packed til last minute bits and bobs. And yesterday when I was in the PACKING AND CLEANING ZONE, it was the most humid day we’ve had all summer. So hot I had to bring my own personal fan into the kitchen with me, and I got heat rash all over my arms. Like, I took two showers – one when I took a load of clothes to the donate station, and another before bed, not just because I “felt like it” but because I was so sweaty and over heated that I broke out in heat rash. I also got a small sun burn in the shape of a triangle on the back of my neck when we were walking to our new real estate agent’s office. So that was fun.

Last night, we picked up our keys and signed away the next year of our lives. In a couple of hours, a friend of ours will be here to help take the first load or two over, and then the removalists show up to take the rest. On Tuesday the cleaners will be here, and as of Feb 4, we officially don’t live in Balmain anymore.

I’m a bit anxious to leave – mostly because Joel hasn’t seen the new apartment yet and I’m freaking out that he’s going to hate or I won’t love it as much as I did when I first saw it or that we’ll be crowded out or that our washing machine won’t fit or the fridge will be broken or the bathroom won’t have a fan or there will be new, scarier bugs and and and and…

I just pulled out a giant chunk out of my hair.

I’m a bit sad to be leaving this place, as it’s the only home I’ve known in Australia. It’s not a big deal, this is just an apartment, and people move all the time (I’ve moved like 4 times in the last 3 years) so it’s really nothing in the grand scheme of things, but it’s a big deal to me. It’s exciting and sad and ohmygod all rolled up into one.

But I just stepped outside to take a picture of the sunrise and the Giant Balcony Spider is back, so maybe it’s a good time to move after all.


See ya, Balmain! You’ve been good to us.

Adventures in Moving: ep 1

I love moving, I really do. I owe it to moving around a lot as a military brat. I love moving into a new house and unpacking and getting things ready. I also love organising and culling and packing. I don’t particularly care for moving said items once they’re all packed, mostly because I don’t like sweating, (and I’m a terrible packer whose boxes always weigh at least 50 lbs) but the before and after parts are some of my favourite parts. Probably because I’m a closeted control freak and obsessive cleaning and organising is my go-to coping mechanism so hey. I could have worse personality traits.

But speaking of worse personality traits, my nostalgia has been in overtime lately and I’ve been trying to remind myself that I will miss this place once it’s gone. Because the same thing happens every time I move, without fail: I get so excited for the new place and the fresh start that I don’t think about saying goodbye. And being the sap that I am, I’ll start to miss the old place like it was a person I knew and never got to spend enough time with.

So today, we managed to move the moving mess from room to room so Joel could take photos of the property for the rental agency. And in the split moments when there wasn’t bags of donate clothes and piles of shoes or stacks of camera gear and books and packing trash and magazines and fans and de-humidifiers and clothes and old mail and what not – the place looked sparkling. And for a split second – I almost felt like I didn’t want to leave.

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With its sweaty kitchen.

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And its tiny-mirror-no-fan-and-no-way-to-not-splash-water-everywhere-while-showering-bathroom

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And its no air conditioning.

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And its one power outlet per room electrical snakes.

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And its uncovered-hunstman-and-magpie-haven-balcony.


And its mildew-prone closet.

Despite all its flaws, it’s been a constant for the entire time I’ve known Joel. I met and bonded with him in this living room. We got to know each other through Skypes in this apartment. I wrote letters and sent care packages to this address for almost 2 years. It was our first home. So I’ve been taking the time every day to be happy in the memories I have of this place, to see if I can lessen the severity of when/if I’m hit with a landslide of feels on Jan.30 (spoiler alert: invevitable)

As Joel reads over my shoulder saying, “it’s just a house, people move all time.” And we’re only moving 15 minutes away. But still. I can’t help but feel sorry for Joel’s cold black heart sentimental, like I’m leaving an old friend. I’ll miss our big green trees and seeing fireworks from the balcony. I’ll miss how good the sunsets are and how quiet and slowly the living room fills with daylight. I’ll miss the window in the bathroom and how it’s the perfect ledge for a shower beer. I’ll miss listening to the bats in the tree outside our window. And I’ll miss that coffee shop and the barista who knows every detail about my life and how I take my coffee but whose name I still don’t know (I’m awkward).

But, we’re on to new things. And new trees and new windows and new spiders and new home offices and new day light. And we’ll have fantastic memories of our first little landing pad.

Thanks, #9. You’ve been a good pal.



Joel and I have been talking about moving out of our apartment since before I even moved in. While I’ve only lived here briefly, he’s been living here since mid-2012. It was time for a change, and time to not be so far away from work. With our lease wrapping up in a few days, we decided to make moving a priority. And then we started looking at properties and soaring rents, so we decided to stay put for a few more months until the perfect place showed up. Which was great for me, because I *just* got my the home office the way I wanted it.

But then, the almost-perfect-incredibly-lovely-safe-close-to-work-open-floor-plan place showed up. And the stay put plan flew out the window. 

It’s smaller, but it’s loaded with character and storage space. It doesn’t have a/c, but it’s shaded and not on the top floor (which makes a HUGE difference). There’s an al fresco outdoor entertaining area, a huge private and covered patio, a Juliette balcony in the bedroom, a clothes dryer, and tall ceilings with tall windows and exposed beams. It feels like the top level of an old loft, but it’s not creepy. And it’s in the city, so close to both our jobs. And the second I walked in, I knew I wanted us to live there.   But so did the other 8 people telling the agent “wow, I *love* this place, how can I secure it?” 

So we scrambled to get the application together (slightly less complicated than my visa application – in the States all they do is run your credit and ask if you have a pit bull) on Saturday, submitted it on Sunday, lost sleep for 2 nights, and then yesterday morning, we got the good news that we won!

It’s so exciting, and an awesome start to the new year. But it’s not without a tinge of “aww, this was where I met Joel, and this was our first home” whingeyness. Also the whole “just got my office done” thing. But mostly the “Awww” stuff. 

Now the fun stuff starts: packing, moving, organising pickups and removalists, deep cleaning to get the bond back, and about 1,000 change of address forms. In like 2 weeks. 



10 days out: Hyperventilating

I’m at that moment in moving where all the official stuff is done, and now I’m just whittling my time down by packing. And un-packing. And re-packing. And making lists. And throwing those lists out and making new lists. Adjusting my budgets after my going away party. Having heart attacks thinking of receiving my last pay check soon. Making the most of American TV and food. And, having last minute hang outs with friends.

In June, I was filling my calendar with important dates, and as I looked at a relatively blank August, I figured it would be the longest month possible. I assumed I would have my last day of work early on, and then have a week to see my friends in Virginia, a week to see my friends in Baltimore, a week to just hang out with my family, and then a week with friends in Los Angeles before flying out. 5 weeks is a long time, right?

Well, it was a long time. Until the month started. And I realized that 5 weeks is an incredibly short time. Between leaving work, parties, visiting family, visiting friends, house sitting gigs, and a drastically underestimated room to pack, things have been chaotic. My anxiety is at an all time high, and I haven’t finished a meal in 3 weeks. And I’ve been PMSing like a monster, so the littlest things have either sent me off ugly crying or just crawling under the covers for a nap.

Suddenly, I only have 3 days before I leave for my week in Los Angeles. After that, 7 days until I see the love of my life again. I’ve been walking through these past few weeks taking one step that’s too excited to function, and another step that’s scared/sad/nervous/crippled about leaving my collection of boots in storage. It’s overwhelming, yes. Trying to prepare and anticipate everything you need for a move is a daunting task anytime you move. But, every time I get a message from Joel saying, “I can’t wait for you to come home,” I melt. And I know that all the anxiety and frustration and unbridled excitement and missed meals are worth it.

Bring it on, move!

Now, let’s just hope that I can successfully fit what’s left of my closet into two 50 lb suitcases.


3 weeks out: a Farewell Fest

Saying goodbye is hard. No shit.

You’d think it would be easier for me, as I grew up a military brat. I watched my dad go off on duty orders that last for months to years, countless times. When my family wasn’t moving, my friend’s were. My best friends all live in different states, or at least 45 minutes away from me, but we’ve all managed to stay incredibly close (thank God for the internet and cell phones). I’ve never lived in the same state as my extended family. I (briefly) went away to college and I’ve moved a couple of times, post high school, myself. And whenever I am reunited with the important people in my life, it’s always as if we’ve never been apart. So I know from first hand experience that “goodbye” rarely holds the finality that it implies, and that it’s really just “see you later.”

But it still doesn’t stop the truck load of Feels that dumps all over me when I say it, though. And it didn’t stop last week, hence forth known as “The Week of Goodbyes,” from giving me the Ugly Cries at least 72 times.

I cried so hard at my final therapy appointment that I wore my sunglasses at work for an hour before going home early, just to cry some more. On my last day of work, my team made me a Power Point presentation (complete with Men at Work playing in the background), about how they’ll miss me that made me cry like a baby (hiding behind my closed office door, of course). And over the weekend, I held a going away party at my brother in law’s lake house that basically left me incapacitated with feels.

It was a crazy good time. Friends from as far away as Ohio, New Jersey, Maryland and North Carolina (I told you, we’re scattered) braved the accident and traffic filled stretches of I-95 and brought their kids, their dogs, and their party pants to a camp out in Lake Anna. There were inflatable sharks, inappropriate pool noodle jokes, majestic beach towels, keg beer, good bourbon, grilled meat, more pool noodle jokes, so many selfies, a mini high school reunion, the Australian National Anthem, surprise fireworks, a SUPER MOON, late night hang outs, and infinite laughs. I woke up early on Sunday morning to a trashed house and sleeping bodies scattered all over the house and outside, and just felt… loved.


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Early in planning the party, I thought that maybe only 12-15 people would show up. When about 35+ actually showed up, I was shocked. And I was absolutely overwhelmed with how wonderful the day was. I’ve never had so many people gathered in one place, just for me. I received so many well wishes and thoughtful gifts. And it was out of this world incredible to be surrounded by so many of my chosen family, and to feel so much love and awesome, to relive such great past moments with people who have grown up with me, who have seen me at my lowest, and at my best. The party was filled with such a fucking tremendous energy that it left me wordless. And I’m usually up til the sun rises at parties, drinking and rambling with all the night owls. But, by midnight, I was so floored that I nearly passed out. One of these days, I’ll figure out how to be a frantic host and an up-til-dawn-partier at the same time. Saturday was not that day.

The weekend was a reminder of the greatest part of my life: friends and family. And booze and meat. Haha. But really, I have a great group of people behind me. I’m left feeling awed and grateful for everyone in my life, and even more grateful that they’ll always be there, in one way or another. And really, I’m lucky that it’s hard to say good bye. It means I have something that I’ll miss. (I hope that’s not a quote from The Hills. Oh god.)

And I’ll miss them, dearly.



6 Weeks Out: Selling My Car

HELLO FOCUS I have no interest in cars. They are machines that get me from one place to another. What I look for in a car is air conditioning and little secret compartments or cup holders to stash my phone so I can listen to Netflix as I drive (yes. You read that correctly). The fact that it had 4 cup holders–in addition to the fact that its dash board reminded me of a space ship–led me to choose my 2003 Ford Focus 8 years ago.

I am also incredibly lazy. And maybe the most lazy when it comes to cars. The amount of excess shit that I just casually throw into the trunk and into the backseat of that little burgundy hatchback piles so high that it looks like I’m living in my car. I mean, the number of times I’ve had to unload piles of clothing, shovels, trash bags, boxes, half my closet, bedding, a years worth of empty calorie evidence, and sometimes blow up sex dolls onto the side of the road in order to reach my spare tire while a AAA guy looks on, judgingly, is embarrassing.

Worse, though, the number of times a mechanic has scratched his head and asked me “well, how long has your check engine light been on?” is mortifying. In fact, I have 8 years of service records adding up to high four digits that establishes just how lazy I was about taking my car to the shop.

If I were a parent, and  my car was my child, I’d be charged for criminal neglect. I’d be the parent that sends their child to school un-bathed, in cruddy clothes, with 1/4 of a sandwich for lunch, and then, when it’s sent home from school because it developed bronchitis after I made it sleep without blankets, I’d get mad because I’d have to spend money on its doctor’s bills.

Maybe that’s a stretch, but it’s true. I took absolute atrocious care of my car, and then threatened to shoot it every time it cost me hundreds of dollars at the shop due to my own negligence. I’ve acknowledged this abusive relationship I have toward my car, and I’ve apologized for it. But that didn’t change anything. This summer, I paid over a $1,000 in repair work that my mechanic suggested I get done last year. And of course, I cursed my car and threw a million tantrums for buying such a piece of shit Ford. One of my personality flaws is that I’m a bit spoiled. And sometimes, I fully expect things to just take care of themselves. Including the upkeep of expensive, inanimate objects.

And yet, on Sunday night, as I scrubbed the 5 year old coffee and Slurpee stains off the driver’s side door, and as I vacuumed the eons of pet hair and human dander and peanuts and stray Benadryl pills and movie ticket stubs and random bits and trash from my life off the backseat floor, I couldn’t help but get a little misty-eyed. Because this time, I wasn’t cleaning out my little Focus because my co-workers made fun of me. And I wasn’t cleaning it out because my dad recommended I “de-skank” my car. I was cleaning it out because I sold it.

I won’t need a car while I’m in Sydney, because they actually have public transportation. Public transportation that actually works. And there’s a bus stop right outside our apartment. So I decided I’d sell my car for whatever I could get and use the profits to fund my move. But selling it wasn’t as easy as I thought it’d be.

First, I spent too much money on repairs so the A/C would work (spoiler alert, it still doesn’t), and so it would pass inspections and I could re-new the registration (or else get a giant ticket from the traffic cops). Then, I took it to CarMax, where I bought it originally, and after a 15 minute inspection and 4 minute appraisal, I was told by a salesman wearing a big floppy hat that they would pay me $500 for it, and they would scrap it for parts. Surprisingly, I felt like the vet told me I needed to put my dog down. I mean, yes, Focus and I had our differences, and I actively hated it about 80% of the time, but I didn’t want to murder it. Another one of my personality flaws is that I develop intense sentimental attachments to inanimate objects. And I couldn’t let something I’d spent my formative years go to a trash heap. It’s an old car, sure, but with a responsible owner, it’d have at least 6 years of life left. I held in the urge to tell the floppy hatted salesman to eat my dick, took my appraisal and left. I got home, and immediately put my Focus on Craig’s List–not for the vultures, but for that diamond in the rough Craig’s List user. I wanted to sell it to someone who needed a car. Not someone who wanted to gut it out and strip it. Or, I don’t know, set it on fire with a dead body inside it. With Craig’s List, you never know.

Ah, Craig’s List. You really can sell anything there. My ad was very straight forward and honest, even listing the repairs that needed to be made. I took pictures of the car in terrible condition: not washed, not scrubbed, not vacuumed. I barely cleaned out the backseat. And I got about 30 responses on the first day, alone.

Some responses were mildly alarming.
Can you send me a reply i won’t stop asking unless you say no, im a very determined young adult I’m a young college student wondering if you would consider giving the Vehicle away for free? It would  give me a big helping hand a-lot of people don’t get Please think about this . Thank you
(I wrote back saying no, but a part of me wishes I would have called his bluff)
Some were pretty amusing

Im in desperate need of a vehical would you be willing to trade for a 43″ samsung plasma and bluray player only 2 months old still under warranty

(to which I replied, No, but I will trade the car for cash. I got no response.)

And most of them were this




Eventually, though, I found a buyer who’s email decorum I felt was appropriate. She came to test drive the car over the weekend, and it was a good match. She was a young girl, just out of college, who desperately needed a car, and favored substance over flash. She fell in love during the test drive (it’s a shitty old beater, but it *does* drive like a race car), and offered to buy it on the spot.
It took me back to the day I decided to buy it on the spot. I was 21 and desperately needed a car. My mom spotted the Focus, then only 3 years old, in the parking lot after the salesman showed me 3 real boner-kills. I walked over, expecting to be unimpressed. But then, the car and I had a weird little moment. It was an overcast day, but the little burgundy hatch back gleamed. I sat inside and felt at home. Grey and silver interior! Knobs and buttons and things! Enough cup holders to hold my coffee cups and my cell phone! When I drove it, I knew I would buy it. 2 days later, I my financing was approved and I drove it off the lot.


I’ve had a lot of adventures in that car since then. Every important person and pet in my life has ridden in it. It’s gotten me home safe when I was in no condition to drive. I’ve laughed and screamed and cried and had many emotional break downs while sitting at the wheel. It’s been towed so many times. It’s taken me on many road trips with some of my dearest friends. It’s been there for my parents when they needed a cheaper way to drive half way across the country. I finally learned how to change a flat tire and (mostly) got over my fear of airing up tires with it. I locked my keys and cell phone inside it more times than I can count. It’s moved me in and out, and in and out again, and in and out again, of my parent’s house. It’s been a place of respite. Mostly though, it’s been there for me. Like a very expensive, high maintenance friend who always comes back after I call it “a pile of steaming asshole.” A friend who has tried desperately to teach me the same lesson over and over again, and that is to “pay attention, and be proactive.” Maybe one day, I’ll get it.

For now though, I have bid adieu. I watched as a new 22 year old lady put her license plates on it and excitedly showed it off to her boyfriend. I hope she has a bunch of adventures with it. I know I did.

By way of Introduction…

Heeeey, I’m Audrey.Me!I like pizza, whiskey, books, movies, tacos, comic strips, history, Star Wars, dinosaurs, MS Paint, arts n crafts, travel, and reality TV about trashy families and pregnant teenagers. 

I also like to write about all these things. I used to blog at Audge Podge & Blither Blather, but I live here now.

I live in Northern Virginia, right outside of Washington, DC. However, in September, I’ll be leaving the ranch and cheese covered, traffic-dense delights of the United States and I’ll be moving to Sydney, Australia to be with my boyfriend, Joel. 

Joel!In 2012, I went to Sydney to visit my super pal, Odie. I didn’t even know Odie had a roommate, but that’s how I met Joel. We became fast friends, and through months of emailing and chatting after I left, we realized we had fallen for each other. And we knew we wanted to make it work, despite the most distance possible between us. When Joel came to visit me for a month last year, I knew what our next step was. Eight months after that legendary visit, I have my Australian Work and Holiday Visa in one hand and a one-way ticket to Sydney in the other. And neither of us could be happier. 

If moving across state lines or moving across the country is hard, then moving internationally is going to be rough. I know, though, that what I’m giving up is minuscule to what I’m getting in return. I’ve spent a long time looking for what I want, but I never knew how good life would be once I found it. 

To say I’m excited about moving is a bit of an understatement. My dad was in the military, so I’ve moved around a lot in my time. But, this is the most anticipated move I’ve ever made, so I started this blog to keep up with my transition from ‘Murica to “Down Unda” (/wince), as well as to post new pieces that I’m writing, new projects we finish, and new adventures we have. I’m about 7 weeks away from Moving Day, and there’s just so much to be done. And once I’m there, I have a country that’s bigger than mine with so many different things to learn: visas, vegemite, health care, driving on the right, and learning to live without air conditioning, my Americans, Netflix, or my cat, Bill Purray.

So stay tuned for ex-pat anecdotes, new fiction, and hopefully lots of pictures of wallabies.

Thanks for reading!

xoxo, audrey