Aus-tastic

I had the strangest experience recently: I had a brilliant phone call with a bank.
I had called my Australian bank to cancel my credit card. I don't use it much, don't want to keep paying annual fees, rah rah rah, and was gearing up to encounter a paperwork juggernaut.
But no. Turns out, the help centre staff were more interested in chatting about Canada, laughing about Melbourne, and helping me do everything over the phone. And then, to top it off, the final lass (I spoke to three people, all lovely) mentioned that, instead of canceling my card, she could just waive the annual fees forever. So she did. And we chatted a bit more like old friends, and then I hung up with the hugest smile.
I walked into the next room, where my bemused husband was shaking his head. "Only in Australia," he muttered. Or something like that. I was busy chuckling and grinning, and being homesick. Ah, Aussies. Gotta love 'em!

Boyz in da kitchen

Peanut butter. Bacon. Cookies. Do it.

You know you want to.

Have you met my little friend?

This little guy was just flitting about outside my window.

Isn't he handsome?

Ahoy thar fishes!

Naughty me. It's been a whole week since I dropped by. I really should have brought wine in apology, or at least a treat to go with the morning coffee. Schade, I've neglected that too. 


Shall I just plough on and explain my absence? I don't have a good explanation, really. I blame the ice fishing. It's an annual tradition. We gather the troops, drive an hour north of Toronto, and then drive over Lake Simcoe to party it up and then nurse hangovers in the ice-fishing huts the next day. At least, that's how it usually goes. We weren't quite game enough to drive our own cars over the ice this year though, what with the unseasonable warmth and the patches of watery-looking ice near the edges, so we hopped a lift in the back of a ute. All else went as per usual though. Hangovers were highly successful. The fish could smell us a mile off, I swear. Well, that's my excuse for not catching anything...

The fishing huts

The trick with ice fishing, the thing that no-one tells you, is how very, very dull it is for 98% of the time. Unless you bring lots of snacks, some drinks, and maybe a frisbee. That doesn't help the fishing, but at least it fills in that 98%. A quick run-down: 
The tools: A paint stick, with some fishing line wrapped around it and a hook of some sort attached. 
The bait: Some wary looking minnows, swimming round and round a bucket. The clever ones dive to the bottom whenever a hand comes near, leaving the losers at the top to be impaled on the hooks.
The process: Put minnow on hook. Drop minnow into water through hole carved in ice. Either a) watch minnow swim to freedom because you didn't impale it properly, or b) watch minnow hang about and slowly get less active (i.e. more dead). Suspect you feel a nibble. Tug vehemently on paint stick. Dislodge some lake weed. 
Repeat.

Perch-eye-view of the action

There were some fish down there. We caught a couple of them, dragged them up to say hi, and then sent them back into the water. The rest just gorged themselves on minnows and waited for us to drop down the next course. Clever buggers.

Workin' it

Since living in Canada, I've been introduced to the most ingenious, fun and madcap way to expand one's wardrobe: The Clothing Swap.
Most people probably already know of these things, but they're a relatively recent addition to my humble Aussie life. In essence: Clean out your wardrobe. Have friends do likewise. Bring all discards to a central location, and devolve into a mad fit of shrieks and giggles, while simultaneously adopting a manic look in your eyes as you try to find the one perfect item. Take home what you will. Everything left goes to charity.


It's awesome. Through these things -- preferably wine-sodden -- I've gained a sparkly silver 60s cocktail dress, a trench coat, a cool singlet silkscreened with a picture of a Mac Truck, and many other bits of whimsy I now adore. Of course, I've also brought home loads of dubious choices I end up giving to charity anyway, but that's the beauty of it all.


Latest absolute winners: These wicked 90s style running pants. I have gone running twice this week, just as an excuse to wear them. SCORE!