Author: smikg

Things that shit me… #1

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First in the line of a LONG series.

You know what happened today? There I was, sitting down for a coffee at my local shopping centre with baby girl and my parents. I positioned the pram fairly close to our table, making sure I wasn’t encroaching on any mini passageways around the several tables and chairs around us.

And these two women arrived, squeezing past the space between my pram and another table, and they look over, expecting me to move the pram over some more.

Firstly ladies:

– move it to where, my lap?
– there is sufficient room where you’re walking
– one of you is on the elderly side, and the other is on the heavy side, so wouldn’t it be smarter to walk on the other side of our table, where the pram isn’t?
– and lastly, the path you chose was in no way more advantageous over any others, as all you were doing was selecting a table. Seriously. You just tortured yourself and pissed me off en route.

You can say what you will, but honestly, if it is going to be difficult for you in any reason to move around, why do you already choose a path half-inhabitated by a pram?! This has been happening so often lately, people will just gravitate towards my parked pram, and then want to squeeze by.

Why are there so many stupid people? Why don’t they think?

Argh!!!

Whatever will be… will be?

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Every so often I find myself getting deep on the same question: how much of our lives are pre-destined, and how much of our lives are, well, in our hands?

It’s usually some hard decision I find myself having to make, or something rather huge happens, and I’m there thinking ‘did I attract this? Or was this fate?’

It’s a really hard topic I find myself thinking about, and the thoughts and possibilities go around and around in my head until I come to the same conclusion every single time: that I don’t know anything, other than what it is I believe in, and that is –

-that there is a portion of our lives that we can’t escape from, and

-there is a portion of our lives that we can choose to do what we like.

It’s a bit of me, doing what my Mum says I can’t do, and that is sit on both chairs at once. You might too think I’m sitting on the fence with my viewpoint, but it’s the only way I find it to be true. In my life I have felt times where something happened out of the blue, completely out of my control… and then there have been other times where something has eventuated from my hard work, determination and focus.

I haven’t always had the ‘destined-determined’ outlook though. In my earlier years I naievely believed that everything that happened was meant to happen, and even if you didn’t try, if that tree was meant to fall down, it would split in half without you even bringing an axe to it.

There is a sense of relief in the belief that we are not accountable, and that no matter what we do, it won’t make a difference. However as freeing as it may sound, being removed from any responsibility, we have no freedom in this scenario, and is this really a way we want to be living?

I confuse myself at times. I remember when I chased down a part time job back in my uni days, and wonder if I had still gotten it if I hadn’t called the area manager several times, showing him how keen I was. Then another voice in my head said ‘maybe that was meant to happen.’

I remember the hours-long debate I had with then my pre-Hubbie, about the philosophy subject driving me bonkers – that we had no free will, and that all of our present actions were a result of our past deeds, therefore eliminating freedom of choice. I remember the night clearly, because we went round in circles for hours in his lounge room, and even physically went round, as I have a clear recollection of sitting on the top of their couch, and I have no idea why.

 At the end of the day I believe a larger part of our lives, are left in our hands. Working out what part that is though, as you’re living it, is a whole other series of questions.

I’d love to know other people’s thoughts…

 

Custard at the Corner Store

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Red Door Corner Store
70 Mitchell Street Northcote

Our fair yet weather-unpredictable city allowed Autumn to put on its finest show as I ventured along to the tucked away Northcote café, off the busy High street one Saturday in late May.

The weather was mild as it had uncharacteristically been the last few weeks, yet the season was evident, in the picturesque leaves lying scattered around each tree lined up on all sides of the street surrounding the corner café, with hues of green, yellow and orange colouring the ground.

Although not far from the busy High street, there was a strong neighbourhood and tucked-away vibe as I happily discovered parking not too far from the corner store, and realised with even more relief that there were no parking meters. What? I had even bought my stash of loose change just for the occasion. That would go back into my coffee change tin thanks.

The woman passing me with her milk as I set off with baby girl in pram, saying a friendly “hello,” only added to the lovely everybody-knows-your-name feel. And how true it is, don’t you wanna go. Tick and tick.

Arriving as I do everywhere with pram, I was happy to see there was only the slightest step leading into the café where my friend was waiting for me. However backing into the busy and crowded place was another story, and it was only after a polite woman waiting for her coffee held the door open for me that I was able to actually get both me and my girl in.

I’d happily read a review before going there that seating and parking were plentiful. Parking, yes. Seating? Not with pram. Maybe the reviewer meant the amount of seating, rather than the space surrounding the seating. I’d wondered if perhaps, on a lovely Saturday Autumnal morning, we should have phoned ahead. Inside it was tight with my pram, and only after shifting spots after a more abundant amount of space became available, did I become more at ease. There was seating out the front of the cafe, which would have been good, and my friend visited the loo which was out the back, where there was also more seating – apparently that was packed.

Get to the damn food, you say! Well I had the lovely
Brioche French toast, baked quince, rosewater custard, pistachio praline.

2014-05-24 10.58.36

To no fault of their own, I ate my meal lukewarm because I tended to baby girl’s own food of apple and pear puree for a good while, after she stopped with her “mmm!”s. (Means more). Even so, it was slightly warm, the custard rosewater with quince, all melting together in the middle of the brioche. Not too sweet for brekkie, so it didn’t leave me with that sick feeling making me feel like I should have gone the savoury brunch route. It had praline that almost immediately reminded me of the praline atop the never-forget blueberry pancakes I had at Dukes sometime in the year 2012. Yes, I still remember. And the pistachio was sharp and crunchy, sweet, candied even? Yummo indeed.

My cappuccino was ok, it was only warm once I got to it (again, no fault of theirs) and as any Mum would attest to, the experience of drinking a fresh hot coffee while in a busy café entertaining your little one is akin to keeping your brand spankin’ new white heels clean on a rainy day. However my friend did tell me her first coffee before my arrival was cold, so her second was ordered ‘extra hot,’ and was happily, so she reported. I’ll forgive them for the lukewarm coffee, if only for the fact that the beans are Proud Mary’s.

I did love how virtually everything on the menu was using ingredients sourced from around our beautiful state. Massive bonus points in my book. Little pegs held descriptions of sandwiches and tarts in one display case, while another row of cute peg-descriptors (we’ll go with that) were in a cute row in front of the cash register, tempting you to cheekily go “oh, I’ll have one of those too please!” regarding the delicious cupcakes on offer. I resisted, my brekkie was sweet. And they were presented in a lovely looks-like-it-came-from-a-second-hand-shop chic jewellery display case. Kewl.

The only slightly annoying thing was when it came time to pay up front, the guy putting through our order took just a tad long, especially when he went away and came back with a whole bag of cash to put into his till. Fair enough mate, busy Saturday and all. However he took sooo long doing it, almost like there wasn’t a 6 person line behind me (and that took up half the space in the café). Maybe they’re going for the ‘look how busy we are look’ and want a line like that… but it was like that pretty much the whole time we were there.

Food: 8/10

Coffee: 7/10 (Points removed because food/coffee was lukewarm – not their fault I know – but it did remove from the experience, and I can’t give points for what could have been).

Ambience: Noisy, which suited me just fine with my girl doing a few rounds of vocal acrobatics.

Staff: Friendly and accommodating, especially with helping us move seats, answering our ingredient queries politely and offering ‘side’ options (when I wasn’t sure on going the ‘savoury’ route and was considering removing avocado from a meal – I like it, it just doesn’t like me), and of course anyone who comments on how cute my girl is gets extra ticks.

People: Mix of uni students, lovely people who moved out of my way with my pram (it’s all about the pram don’t you know), couples, and quite a few with little-ies, but those that were already walking. There was an older couple there, who fortunately left and gave us the fantastic seating when we moved. Cyclists came in too, and went straight for the paper hanging over the ladder near me. Checking if Autumn will keep up? Who knows.

Price: All up my meal was $19.60. Under 20 and it’s a great feed especially with the quality of the food on offer.

Advice: If going at a busy time of day (or just a busy day, like a weekend) maybe phone ahead. I saw a table with a reserved sign, so fairly sure that means they take bookings. Also, if you have a pram (or a posse, you may be P. Diddy) it’d be good for them to give you a spacious spot. We got lucky. If you’re a coffee snob (and let’s face it all the best people are) order your coffee extra hot. And lastly, ask for them to bring the bill to the table, and then let them pick up your tab so you don’t have to wait in a line up the front – unless you want to be tempted by the cupcakes. You do, don’t you?

In a nutshell, will I go back?: The café has character, sources local ingredients, has great parking close by, and I wouldn’t mind relocating to one of the many beautiful Edwardian houses nearby. Looking forward to going back with Hubbie.

Red Door Corner Store on Urbanspoon

My whole life I’ve been living a Season’d Lie

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A few weeks ago while taking a leisurely Autumn walk around my neighbourhood, paper cup harbouring warm coffee firmly in my hand as I pushed the pram with the other, it suddenly hit me:
It was all a lie.

I don’t think I fall into the unusual category when I say that the weather impacts majorly on my moods. I live for warm days spent outside in the sunshine, doing absolutely anything at all, as long as it leads to sun blindness to the point that re-entering any interior results in having green vision for about 30 seconds. And on the flipside, I once worked with a guy who expressed that his hatred for Winter led to him wanting to hibernate throughout the entire season. I could certainly feel for him. In my opinion the only time cold weather is good, is when you don’t have to leave the house, with your only job to stay cuddled on the couch drinking warm teas. In that world where time stands still and your life waits for you to get ready – yeah right.

So I was there, walking with coffee as I often do, when I realised just how much I was loving Autumn. It had started out as the kind of sunny day that still made you reach for your jacket with the freshness of a Winter’s chill soon approaching, however as the midday sun beat down on me I was able to remove my jacket, and really enjoy the sensations, sights and sounds that this season had to offer.

Yes, we were having an unseasonably warm Autumn. Weather reports constantly declared new records being broken, and the fact that Winter was so near and yet the weather was pretty damn acceptable, was further proof of that.

But no, it wasn’t just that this Autumn was better than previous ones. I thought of Spring, and then ‘Summer,’ and thought ‘lies, lies, lies.’

Look, this is how it goes: (in case this is the first thing you’ve ever read and you have no idea about climate)

Winter: June, July, August
Spring: September, October, November
Summer: December, January, February
Autumn: March, April, May

Right? Wrong.

I guess this June it’s a bit of an exception, with El Nino or whatever warm spell it is that’s going to be passing over Melbourne making it a warmer than normal Winter, but then again I think ‘ever year it’s a freaking exception!’ With Melbourne weather, biggest joke ever. We’ve had a warm Autumn, and now we’re expecting a warm-er than normal Winter.

This is how it should really go:

Winter: the very end of June, July, first half of August
Little Winter (aka Winter but with more sun): second half of August, September, October, start of November
Spring: end of November, December up to Christmas time
Summer: New Years (it’s always 30 degrees+ at clock striking twelve point), January
Big Summer (aka mother-f!*king scorching Summer): February, start of March
Autumn: end of March, April, May
Win-tumn (aka false pretences Winter that makes you think ‘this Winter won’t be so bad, it’s so sunny…’ then BAM!): start of June

I’m just hoping that this El Nino dude sticks around for a while so this Winter is much more bearable than others. Having said that, being on maternity leave and all, and not having to get up for work like poor Hubbie, I can’t whinge too much. Winter is so freaking bad when you’re getting up five in the morning, and shivering in the car waiting for it to warm up 20 minutes later in the darkness, then walking to work, in the cold, and darkness…

How I miss that, NOT.

I look forward to the warmer months so much, I find I end up starting to dread Winter as early as January, while we’re still in the midst of actual Summer (according to my new climate guide) to the point where sometimes, I can’t even enjoy Summer. Horrific I know. And then at other times, I’m often so peaking in fantastic stinking heat, I have to think hard to remember how it feels like to be cold, and shivering, and even ask myself the stupid, stupid question: “is Winter really that cold?”

Fast forward to today and putting on the heater 6 times during the day. Yes, yes it is.

I hate knowing Winter is just around the corner, knowing it’s ‘coming for me;’ yet when it’s here, there’s almost a sense of relief, like ‘ok, let’s get this over with.’

I’ve survived the first 9 days of Winter, so I should be ok. Sorry, I mean Win-tumn.

Freedom, the ugly face of

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I’ve recently come to the terrifying realisation that I can do whatever I want.
It’s rather an odd thing to be fearful of, isn’t it? Don’t get me wrong, I am no ‘natural’ pessimist: I am a self-proclaimed glass half-full gal, I’m infinitely inspired by the beauty of nature and stunningly warm days (of which a plentiful amount of posts will be subject of here no doubt), and just in general I like to smile, have fun, go out and socialise. The ability to do whatever it is I want to do should be something desirable, especially from a person of positive nature. It should be a good thing, right?
Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about my future career goals. A lot. Doing-my-head-in A LOT. Having been on maternity leave for 10 months, I really don’t want to go back to my old job. The reasons?:
– I need a change
– I don’t see myself moving up in that field
– I want a more flexible workload, work that can fit in around me and my family’s needs
– I want part-time work (and I don’t know if my old employer can offer it)
– I promised myself I’d never go back.

That last line was what I said to myself on my last day there, as I entered into my year-long maternity leave. It’s no secret to people that know me: I want to write for a living. It’s my love, it’s my passion, and it so conveniently ties in with the lifestyle and the life that I want to live.

Do I go back to my old job, requesting part-time work, or do I move onto other, more flexible projects… like the direct sales position I’ve been researching?
I never in a million years dreamed that I would want to go into direct selling. But it fulfils my ‘flexible life’ requirements, it means I’d be my own boss (and don’t we all want that?) and I’d actually be promoting a product that’s been popping in and out of my head for years, something I’m actually genuinely passionate about.
Look, my old work may just tell me they have no part-time positions… I’m kind of hoping they do. Because then they’ve made up my mind for me. That’s what it is I’m looking for you see. A sign. A universal sign that will tell me which path to go down… the old familiar path working part-time at my old job, or the new, more flexible path promoting a product I know nothing about in strangers homes, while also continuing my writing dream in my other spare time?

Yes, I could write in my spare time at my old job too. But, but, but… I’m looking for excuses. I think my time there is up. I just need to be sure. I need to get a sign that this is it, and I’m making the right decision.

I’m so scared of making the wrong decision. Either way.

Hello World, we meet again

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All I can think of is Neil Armstrong’s “One small step for man” speech, and though the creation of this blog doesn’t fall within the same ‘discovering a planet’ category as the above, it’s a step nonetheless, into uncharted territory, where the foot hopes to hit something solid, hovering in a space of no gravity, until, something, HAPPENS.

The foot hits. Something.

Welcome.