Changed da house,
Changed da look.
BTW, my bathrobe's usually pink
and we don't have a fireplace.
Other than that,
it's pretty accurate...
Psst...click the words above to navigate.
Best viewed, unfortunately, in Internet Explorer.
Friday, January 21, 2005
~ Standing on the threshold ~
We've just come back from our second trip to Palmerston. Twice tonight, we've loaded the car to the brim and chugged along further north to unload in the new home. Twice, Tony's negotiated the car out of this insanely tight corner round our new lock-up garage. Twice, we've looked at the two bedrooms, compared cupboard space and come to the conclusion that there was a good chance we could get the bed in... but never open the cupboard doors fully again.
Still, the kitchen now looks bigger than I first remembered, I've discovered that we have a pretty big pantry (oh joy!) and TWO huge linen cupboards in the hallway.
The house in McKellar looks like we've hardly made a dent in it, though. 2 friggin' carloads, and nothing seems to have moved.
The husband is here with the box for the CPU. I think he's trying to tell me something.
This will be my final post from McKellar. Gosh I'm such a sentimental girl. See you in Palmerston.
Still, the kitchen now looks bigger than I first remembered, I've discovered that we have a pretty big pantry (oh joy!) and TWO huge linen cupboards in the hallway.
The house in McKellar looks like we've hardly made a dent in it, though. 2 friggin' carloads, and nothing seems to have moved.
The husband is here with the box for the CPU. I think he's trying to tell me something.
This will be my final post from McKellar. Gosh I'm such a sentimental girl. See you in Palmerston.
Tuesday, January 18, 2005
~ Photo Shop ~
By the way, the wedding photographs are available online. You can either email us or drop me a message via the comment box and I'll get back to you on the links.
Tony and I would also greatly appreciate it if the links, once in your hands, are not forwarded to third parties without first seeking our permission.
(Not that we think everyone's dying to show us off to their grandmothers or something. We just like our privacy respected.)
~ Kitchen Maestro Stuff Up ~
Today marks an exact month since we got married. Exactly one month ago to the minute, I was on my way to the rose gardens in the bridal car, having bided my time for the last 15 minutes in a small room in the reception hall, so that I could arrive fashionably late - 15 minutes, no more, no less. It is traditional, after all, to expect an errant guest or two ("5.05pm... relaaaaax, the bride sure to be late one!") and to keep the groom on his toes.
"Wah lau."
To celebrate our first month together, I was toying with either whipping up a meal of Lemon Grass and Lime Fish Parcels, or Seasoned Cold Soba Noodles with Smoked Salmon. Got the list of ingredients down for both, and went out to get the goods. Came back and realised that instead of getting coriander, I had gotten a bunch of green basil leaves. And yes, I can tell them apart.
I have never liked coriander. I only sprinkle them on my noodles to make them look like the old Myojo Mee ads, but I don't like the taste of them. By that same token, too much basil tastes like licorice - something neither Tony nor I can stomach. I dunno what I was thinking really, but somehow when reading the recipe, I must've imagined the pictures to include basil and because they smelled so good in my head, I went and got them. Crap.
Off to a roaring start.
Saturday, January 15, 2005
~ Mrs Velle, Hot and Bothered ~
Nothing like a change in the weather to test the honeymoon bubble.
Tony and I are avoiding the malls today, because huge families and their grandmas and screaming kids gravitate to them in droves. If the oppressive dry heat is already a moodkiller for most things (we don't even feel like playing computer games, can you imagine...), we really don't need an earful of screaming kids to remind us why exactly we're putting off child-rearing for a couple of years.
But I digress...
The coming Tuesday marks exactly 1 month since we did the whole shebang. So far, we've done grocery shopping as a household about 4-6 times, polished off 1 tub of ice cream, watched 4 episodes of West Wing and another 4 of CSI. The heat this week has forced us to set up camp downstairs because the bedroom currently traps heat like... I can't even think of a witty simile, is how hot it is right now. We've discovered that there's heaps of stuff we like doing together, and then there's heaps of stuff we're quite happy now to leave the other alone to enjoy.
For one thing, I enjoy blogging and while he's quite happy to read entries after I'm done with them, he's not likely to blog on his own anytime soon.
Then there's Dr Who.
Tony's grown up watching this series I've scarce heard of till he became a part of my life. It was probably the grandfather of Star Wars and Star Trek, but in essense is really a melting pot of bad props, worse make up, and a perpetually screaming damsel in distress. The stuff that television in the 60s was made of - except that formula was perpetuated for 26 seasons.
I hear they're making a comeback in 2005, which may explain why ABC has decided to screen every single episode since it started in 1963 and their space aliens were nothing more than black trashbags trembling like jello. I've watched a couple of episodes with him before - this was when we were still engaged, and I needed to know what I was getting myself into - and I swear I saw the forerunner of R2D2 in one of the 60s episodes. And my darling man needs to watch every single episode.
I admit I don't find the script too rivetting. ("Sheer Poppycock!" That's a direct quote.) I suspect it's got something to do with that part of the brain that's hotwired to be inexplicably drawn to Bold and the Beautiful, and Neighbours.
Anyways, I've rambled enough. The hot weather will do that to you. Here's what I actually wanted to update you guys on:
Immigration
When we popped by Kathy's place on Wednesday evening to pick up her statutory declaration, we were given the low down on her sister's recent immigration experience. Huge parallel - they were filing for a spousal visa as well - and they had gotten a difficult agent by the name of Stella, who insisted that there wasn't enough evidence and was finally "killed with kindness".
We walked into the Immigration interview room on Thursday and got Stella.
Apart from the first 5 minutes explaining why we didn't have a joint lease together on the current rental property, we both felt that it was a pretty straightforward procedure. No separate interviews, no Green Card type questions on what shampoo I use and how often he shaves. I realise that as long as we stuck as close to the checklist that Immigration provided us, the easier it was going to be for us. Such is the nature of the public service, I suppose. Round pegs for round holes, thank you very much.
All we have to do now is submit our tenancy agreement for the new rental place we're moving into next week, and further evidence of cohabitation as husband and wife via shared mail at the new place.
Fingers still crossed.
Photographs
Yes, a couple of you have been asking about that.
I'm presently uploading all the wedding pics I've got thus far onto a few Yahoo! photo accounts. Once that's done, I'll put up an update here and you guys can email me for the passwords etc. And no, I'm not gonna post account names and passwords on this blog.
Tony and I are avoiding the malls today, because huge families and their grandmas and screaming kids gravitate to them in droves. If the oppressive dry heat is already a moodkiller for most things (we don't even feel like playing computer games, can you imagine...), we really don't need an earful of screaming kids to remind us why exactly we're putting off child-rearing for a couple of years.
But I digress...
The coming Tuesday marks exactly 1 month since we did the whole shebang. So far, we've done grocery shopping as a household about 4-6 times, polished off 1 tub of ice cream, watched 4 episodes of West Wing and another 4 of CSI. The heat this week has forced us to set up camp downstairs because the bedroom currently traps heat like... I can't even think of a witty simile, is how hot it is right now. We've discovered that there's heaps of stuff we like doing together, and then there's heaps of stuff we're quite happy now to leave the other alone to enjoy.
For one thing, I enjoy blogging and while he's quite happy to read entries after I'm done with them, he's not likely to blog on his own anytime soon.
Then there's Dr Who.
Tony's grown up watching this series I've scarce heard of till he became a part of my life. It was probably the grandfather of Star Wars and Star Trek, but in essense is really a melting pot of bad props, worse make up, and a perpetually screaming damsel in distress. The stuff that television in the 60s was made of - except that formula was perpetuated for 26 seasons.
I hear they're making a comeback in 2005, which may explain why ABC has decided to screen every single episode since it started in 1963 and their space aliens were nothing more than black trashbags trembling like jello. I've watched a couple of episodes with him before - this was when we were still engaged, and I needed to know what I was getting myself into - and I swear I saw the forerunner of R2D2 in one of the 60s episodes. And my darling man needs to watch every single episode.
I admit I don't find the script too rivetting. ("Sheer Poppycock!" That's a direct quote.) I suspect it's got something to do with that part of the brain that's hotwired to be inexplicably drawn to Bold and the Beautiful, and Neighbours.
Anyways, I've rambled enough. The hot weather will do that to you. Here's what I actually wanted to update you guys on:
Immigration
When we popped by Kathy's place on Wednesday evening to pick up her statutory declaration, we were given the low down on her sister's recent immigration experience. Huge parallel - they were filing for a spousal visa as well - and they had gotten a difficult agent by the name of Stella, who insisted that there wasn't enough evidence and was finally "killed with kindness".
We walked into the Immigration interview room on Thursday and got Stella.
Apart from the first 5 minutes explaining why we didn't have a joint lease together on the current rental property, we both felt that it was a pretty straightforward procedure. No separate interviews, no Green Card type questions on what shampoo I use and how often he shaves. I realise that as long as we stuck as close to the checklist that Immigration provided us, the easier it was going to be for us. Such is the nature of the public service, I suppose. Round pegs for round holes, thank you very much.
All we have to do now is submit our tenancy agreement for the new rental place we're moving into next week, and further evidence of cohabitation as husband and wife via shared mail at the new place.
Fingers still crossed.
Photographs
Yes, a couple of you have been asking about that.
I'm presently uploading all the wedding pics I've got thus far onto a few Yahoo! photo accounts. Once that's done, I'll put up an update here and you guys can email me for the passwords etc. And no, I'm not gonna post account names and passwords on this blog.
Thursday, January 13, 2005
~ Applicant's Prayer Guide to Immigration ~
In less than 5 hours, Tony and I will meet with Immigration and submit our application for my Temporary Spousal Visa.
Here's what we've been praying for in light of this:
"BUT YOUR WEBSITE SAYS MY VISA IS STILL VALID!"
"That was in July. We've changed that now. Besides, you hardly have any photographs of your relationship."
"WE JUST SUBMITTED 36 PHOTOGRAPHS OF OUR WEDDING!"
"That doesn't count. Weddings can be faked."
Here's what we've been praying for in light of this:
- We get a reasonable agent handling the application.
- We don't end up aggravating the agent further, if he/she turns out to be The Most Difficult Bureaucrat That Side of the Table.
"So... your alleged husband works for the Department of Defence, eh? Can't say they're the most transparent organisation."
"Oh yeah? Well, Defence may have its problems, but at least they're not the department that locks up refugees on a desert for 3 years!"
- We don't get our application denied based on a stupid technicality.
"BUT YOUR WEBSITE SAYS MY VISA IS STILL VALID!"
"That was in July. We've changed that now. Besides, you hardly have any photographs of your relationship."
"WE JUST SUBMITTED 36 PHOTOGRAPHS OF OUR WEDDING!"
"That doesn't count. Weddings can be faked."
As you can tell, we're hoping for the best, expecting the worst.
Wednesday, January 12, 2005
~ Why Immigration is a Pain in the Bum ~
Because after we've downloaded the most updated forms in August last year (they were updated July 2004), they've gone and UPDATED THEM AGAIN IN NOVEMBER. Why they didn't get it right the first time, I dunno.
And of course, being a tad bit TOO organised, we've gone and filled up the forms waaaay ahead of time. And now we have to fill them up again.
Except this time, the forms have exploded on their behinds because they've ADDED MORE PAGES. Yes, from a 22 page document, I now have to fill in 4 more pages, PLUS the previous 22 all over again. And that's just 1 form, okay?
As if that doesn't take up enough of my Sims 2 time, I've just finished the final touches of Our Case for a Spousal Visa - particularly, evidence of a Genuine and Continuing Relationship. As I've been telling some people who have bothered to ask, providing evidence of a Genuine and Continuing Relationship is as protracted and contrived an exercise as trying to prove you love your mother - and document that on paper.
I blame this stupid system of paranoia on the Department of Immigration under Howard's Xenophobic Regime... but most of all, I blame every single lying, cheating couple out there who have sullied the name of genuine cases such as ourselves, by endeavouring to screw the system over so they can get permanent residence, wait 2 years - and laugh all the way to the divorce courts/bank, whichever.
Meanwhile, our interview with Immigration commences tomorrow. Here's a 1.5 inch-thick compilation of email correspondence, submitted as Appendix 5A of Evidence of Genuine and Continuing Relationship. *WHUMP*
Here's Book 2. *FFFWHUMP*
Saturday, January 08, 2005
~ "Alas, poor wok. I knew him well." ~
So said Tony when he realised that his relentless scrubbing was starting to lift both burnt mark and teflon surface from his Kmart wok.
So I made apricot chicken yesterday, and let the evil brew simmer for 25 minutes like it said in the instructions. I even came back every 5 minutes to turn the chicken, but to no avail. When I emptied the wok and gave it a soak to lift the rest of the grime, I noticed the all-too-familiar blackish crud formed at the bottom of the mire and then I knew I killed his Kmart wok.
So yeah, my apricot chicken dish fails for the 4th time.
So I made apricot chicken yesterday, and let the evil brew simmer for 25 minutes like it said in the instructions. I even came back every 5 minutes to turn the chicken, but to no avail. When I emptied the wok and gave it a soak to lift the rest of the grime, I noticed the all-too-familiar blackish crud formed at the bottom of the mire and then I knew I killed his Kmart wok.
So yeah, my apricot chicken dish fails for the 4th time.
Friday, January 07, 2005
~ Found it. ~
The real estate agent just called. We've got a new rental home.
I know we both should be utterly relieved and thrilled that we've got, by far, the best deal in the market by our books... but we're not, really. The decision to move is against our deep desire to just indulge ourselves and stay where we are. It's one thing to move out of a dump in a hurry to come board in a palace. It's quite another to move out of a mini-palace to come live in a nice house.
McKellar is wonderful, we have to say. I love living next to a reasonable Chinese takeaway, and a mini-mart. I love having a direct bus that takes me through the nearest mall, the City Centre, and then all the way down south. I love having a bedroom I can do cartwheels in, an ensuite guaranteeing the utmost privacy, and a garden I can trim with a nail clipper. I love having a built-in gas stove, a new modern kitchen replete with dishwasher, and a walk-in pantry. I love having ducted gas heating. Though the living area is small, it's so cosy. It's really a comfortable home.
However, the truth of the matter is that we aren't utilising the 3rd bedroom at all, Badenoch Belconnen (the real estate agency) is anal retentive, inflexible, obnoxious and unreasonable, the master bedroom traps heat like an oven in summer, and we really shouldn't splurge on rental when we're trying to pay off my student loan and save up for things like air tickets and a house of our own.
With the new rental home, we save about $3,000 a year on rent alone. Our only concern is whether we can pack everything we own into the house (it's a 2 bedroom unit) and the sacrifices involved include emotionally letting go of a higher standard of living (dishwasher, gas cooking) and the amount of hard work it takes to pack, move, and unpack. But it has heaps of potential. It really is a darling little place, and has every chance of turning out as cosy as McKellar.
You can bet I'll be taking pics of McKellar and doing up another photo shrine. I'm such a wimp. I can't let go of any nest, no matter how temporary...
Meanwhile, Desley got baptised yesterday in the Roberts's jacuzzi! It was my first foray into the most expensive suburb in Canberra and I was awestruck by just the majesty of some of these homes. Gorgeous facades, perfectly lacquered wooden roof panelling, not a grass blade out of place in their perfectly landscaped front lawns with the bird bath. The description of a typical home in this neighbourhood can be summarised in this rental ad that Tony forwarded me this morning:
Bedrooms: 8
Bathrooms: 3
Ensuites (attached bathrooms): 4
Garaging: 6 (1 for the functional Merc, 1 for the teengager's Porsche, 1 for the young adult's Ferrari, 1 for the Limo in case they have family over, 1 for the Rolls Royce to chauffeur the kids to school, 1 for the 4-wheel drive)
Includes family sitting room, central heating, a study, a separate dining area, a rumpus room (a playroom for kids), a pool, and ducted vacuuming (you attach a vacuum hose to the wall and set the machine to suck, basically. We have that at McKellar).
I know we both should be utterly relieved and thrilled that we've got, by far, the best deal in the market by our books... but we're not, really. The decision to move is against our deep desire to just indulge ourselves and stay where we are. It's one thing to move out of a dump in a hurry to come board in a palace. It's quite another to move out of a mini-palace to come live in a nice house.
McKellar is wonderful, we have to say. I love living next to a reasonable Chinese takeaway, and a mini-mart. I love having a direct bus that takes me through the nearest mall, the City Centre, and then all the way down south. I love having a bedroom I can do cartwheels in, an ensuite guaranteeing the utmost privacy, and a garden I can trim with a nail clipper. I love having a built-in gas stove, a new modern kitchen replete with dishwasher, and a walk-in pantry. I love having ducted gas heating. Though the living area is small, it's so cosy. It's really a comfortable home.
However, the truth of the matter is that we aren't utilising the 3rd bedroom at all, Badenoch Belconnen (the real estate agency) is anal retentive, inflexible, obnoxious and unreasonable, the master bedroom traps heat like an oven in summer, and we really shouldn't splurge on rental when we're trying to pay off my student loan and save up for things like air tickets and a house of our own.
With the new rental home, we save about $3,000 a year on rent alone. Our only concern is whether we can pack everything we own into the house (it's a 2 bedroom unit) and the sacrifices involved include emotionally letting go of a higher standard of living (dishwasher, gas cooking) and the amount of hard work it takes to pack, move, and unpack. But it has heaps of potential. It really is a darling little place, and has every chance of turning out as cosy as McKellar.
You can bet I'll be taking pics of McKellar and doing up another photo shrine. I'm such a wimp. I can't let go of any nest, no matter how temporary...
Meanwhile, Desley got baptised yesterday in the Roberts's jacuzzi! It was my first foray into the most expensive suburb in Canberra and I was awestruck by just the majesty of some of these homes. Gorgeous facades, perfectly lacquered wooden roof panelling, not a grass blade out of place in their perfectly landscaped front lawns with the bird bath. The description of a typical home in this neighbourhood can be summarised in this rental ad that Tony forwarded me this morning:
IDEAL FOR AN EMBASSY
This house has been used as an embassy and is absolutely massive. New carpets and paint. This house boasts a 2000sqm block and has a fantastic entertaining area at rear with large fully enclosed pool which can be used as an additional area with its wooden cover should you not wish to use the pool. This house has two full size bathrooms with spas, a sauna, 6 ensuites and the main bedroom ensuite is full bathroom size with a spa bath.
This house has been used as an embassy and is absolutely massive. New carpets and paint. This house boasts a 2000sqm block and has a fantastic entertaining area at rear with large fully enclosed pool which can be used as an additional area with its wooden cover should you not wish to use the pool. This house has two full size bathrooms with spas, a sauna, 6 ensuites and the main bedroom ensuite is full bathroom size with a spa bath.
Bedrooms: 8
Bathrooms: 3
Ensuites (attached bathrooms): 4
Garaging: 6 (1 for the functional Merc, 1 for the teengager's Porsche, 1 for the young adult's Ferrari, 1 for the Limo in case they have family over, 1 for the Rolls Royce to chauffeur the kids to school, 1 for the 4-wheel drive)
Includes family sitting room, central heating, a study, a separate dining area, a rumpus room (a playroom for kids), a pool, and ducted vacuuming (you attach a vacuum hose to the wall and set the machine to suck, basically. We have that at McKellar).
Wednesday, January 05, 2005
~ Our state of Real Estate ~
The day is just about to get really hectic.
This month is dedicated to House Hunting and Moving. See, it goes like this: December was Wedding Month, January is Housing Month, February is Travelling Month, March is Singapore Month, and hopefully also Job-Hunting Month. Then, we've scheduled travel to Melbourne for Sarah's wedding in early-mid April, and have pencilled in Collapsing in a Heap.
But we're only in January right now, so moving on...
Our present rental home is actually really comfortable. The kitchen is well-equipped (Dishwasher! Squirm, Singaporeans... squirm) and comes in with a walk-in pantry under the staircase. The dining and living room area is kinda combined and perhaps a little squashy, but as real estate talk goes, "I prefer to look at it as... cosy." The master bedroom takes up the whole of the second level and comes with an ensuite (bathroom). It is, to date, the biggest master bedroom I've been in. The two other bedrooms downstairs are spacious with built in wardrobes, and share a separate toilet and bathroom that comes with - check it out - a bathtub with built-in jet spa. The backyard is growing aloe vera, although it'd be more accurate to say that we haven't killed it yet. The lock-up garage has ample room for storage. It's modest enough by Canberra standards, but I love it.
Unfortunately, it's a bit of a stretch on a single income. And it's not like we actually need the extra bedroom.
We calculate that our break-even point for accommodation is anything $20 cheaper per week than our current rental rate. Tony has mainly been the one looking into new accommodation prospects, but today was my turn as he was at work, so I trotted over to the shop to get us the newspapers. Took me all of 2 minutes in total. Sigh.
I can't drive yet, so I bus it everywhere and I'm discovering that it's a pain to do so when endeavouring to run around and attend Open Houses. The way realtors do it here? They tell you the house is open for inspection for a 15-minute window, and you're expected to drop everything and run over then if you're interested to view the place. I had already missed one this morning at 11am when I read about it at half past 10, and then I called up and found out about another open house for a 4-bedroom house, GAS HEATING (non-Canberrans, you have no idea how blessed those words are), in the same street/corner as 2 church families, open for viewing at noon to twenty past 12. It was going for less than the present place we're at and it's heaps bigger. Sounds pretty good...
I was told this at 11.25am. The bus from my place comes 'round at 11.36am. The connecting bus at the interchange departs at 12.10pm. It will reach that street at 12.13pm. I have about 2 minutes from then on to run like heck to the house and beg the realtor to let me have a look, seeing how the time stated for viewing was from 12 to 12.20pm.
I did all that, and reached the house at a quarter past 12 on the dot. No one was around. Everyone had left.
It's times like these when you want to scream at Australian cabbies for being so darn expensive in the first place. You know, I wouldn't have had trouble like this in Sing. I would have just walked downstairs and stuck out my arm blindly, and a taxi would have miraculously appeared. And if that didn't happen, I could have yelled at the auntie down the street for stealing my cab.
Anyways, since they hadn't stuck around till the agreed time of 12.20pm, I decided to walk around the garden and peek into the house from the back. I liked what I saw, and they hadn't drawn the curtains so I could look riiiiight inside, but I'm still rather disappointed that my mad dash hadn't worked out.
"That's the thing about real estate, dear" Tony advised, "You've got to wake up early."
Thing is, I did wake up early today. 7.15 am. Was just too bad I couldn't start thinking until about 9.30 am.
Here's the rest of my appointments for this evening:
4.30 pm, running off to look at a house in a suburb called Cook, which is relatively near our present place.
5.10 pm, meeting another real estate agent at a house in Palmerston which is way up north.
5.30 pm, rushing back down to see another one at a suburb called Kaleen, which is again relatively near our present place.
6.15 pm, slowly driving back to Page to see the house I missed out on viewing this afternoon, and try to peek in again.
This month is dedicated to House Hunting and Moving. See, it goes like this: December was Wedding Month, January is Housing Month, February is Travelling Month, March is Singapore Month, and hopefully also Job-Hunting Month. Then, we've scheduled travel to Melbourne for Sarah's wedding in early-mid April, and have pencilled in Collapsing in a Heap.
But we're only in January right now, so moving on...
Our present rental home is actually really comfortable. The kitchen is well-equipped (Dishwasher! Squirm, Singaporeans... squirm) and comes in with a walk-in pantry under the staircase. The dining and living room area is kinda combined and perhaps a little squashy, but as real estate talk goes, "I prefer to look at it as... cosy." The master bedroom takes up the whole of the second level and comes with an ensuite (bathroom). It is, to date, the biggest master bedroom I've been in. The two other bedrooms downstairs are spacious with built in wardrobes, and share a separate toilet and bathroom that comes with - check it out - a bathtub with built-in jet spa. The backyard is growing aloe vera, although it'd be more accurate to say that we haven't killed it yet. The lock-up garage has ample room for storage. It's modest enough by Canberra standards, but I love it.
Unfortunately, it's a bit of a stretch on a single income. And it's not like we actually need the extra bedroom.
We calculate that our break-even point for accommodation is anything $20 cheaper per week than our current rental rate. Tony has mainly been the one looking into new accommodation prospects, but today was my turn as he was at work, so I trotted over to the shop to get us the newspapers. Took me all of 2 minutes in total. Sigh.
I can't drive yet, so I bus it everywhere and I'm discovering that it's a pain to do so when endeavouring to run around and attend Open Houses. The way realtors do it here? They tell you the house is open for inspection for a 15-minute window, and you're expected to drop everything and run over then if you're interested to view the place. I had already missed one this morning at 11am when I read about it at half past 10, and then I called up and found out about another open house for a 4-bedroom house, GAS HEATING (non-Canberrans, you have no idea how blessed those words are), in the same street/corner as 2 church families, open for viewing at noon to twenty past 12. It was going for less than the present place we're at and it's heaps bigger. Sounds pretty good...
I was told this at 11.25am. The bus from my place comes 'round at 11.36am. The connecting bus at the interchange departs at 12.10pm. It will reach that street at 12.13pm. I have about 2 minutes from then on to run like heck to the house and beg the realtor to let me have a look, seeing how the time stated for viewing was from 12 to 12.20pm.
I did all that, and reached the house at a quarter past 12 on the dot. No one was around. Everyone had left.
It's times like these when you want to scream at Australian cabbies for being so darn expensive in the first place. You know, I wouldn't have had trouble like this in Sing. I would have just walked downstairs and stuck out my arm blindly, and a taxi would have miraculously appeared. And if that didn't happen, I could have yelled at the auntie down the street for stealing my cab.
Anyways, since they hadn't stuck around till the agreed time of 12.20pm, I decided to walk around the garden and peek into the house from the back. I liked what I saw, and they hadn't drawn the curtains so I could look riiiiight inside, but I'm still rather disappointed that my mad dash hadn't worked out.
"That's the thing about real estate, dear" Tony advised, "You've got to wake up early."
Thing is, I did wake up early today. 7.15 am. Was just too bad I couldn't start thinking until about 9.30 am.
Here's the rest of my appointments for this evening:
4.30 pm, running off to look at a house in a suburb called Cook, which is relatively near our present place.
5.10 pm, meeting another real estate agent at a house in Palmerston which is way up north.
5.30 pm, rushing back down to see another one at a suburb called Kaleen, which is again relatively near our present place.
6.15 pm, slowly driving back to Page to see the house I missed out on viewing this afternoon, and try to peek in again.
Tuesday, January 04, 2005
~ The Grind Begins ~
Tony went back to the daily grind this morning. I actually woke up at a quarter to seven to watch him have breakfast and close the garage door behind him.
Two things I now know that I didn't before:
Oh poo. It was good while it lasted.
Two things I now know that I didn't before:
- Canberra really plays crap music at 6.45am. I hate rap - they weren't playing rap - but it wasn't music either.
- Tony has a really precise workday morning routine. His bag is packed the night before. His shoes are laid out in front of the sofa. He ties his laces just so. It's amazing. I think the last time I was that automated was in junior college - and only because there are only so many ways you can wear your uniform.
Oh poo. It was good while it lasted.
Monday, January 03, 2005
~ First Dinner Party ~
It's almost embarrassing to say so, it's a huge kick in the teeth for Feminism (not that I ever was a true feminist, I realise) and my mother will keel over laughing to know this... but I actually like being all domesticated. It's like a switch has been flipped, and suddenly I want to cook and throw dinner parties. It's the same switch that's wired, I suspect, to my newfound enthusiasm for non-stick pots and my latent addiction to Sims 2.
Under the clever guise of 'Ooer-the-Laksa-Paste-from-Singapore-is-getting-old', I persuaded the new husband to invite 4 friends from church over for a Laksa Party tonight. Nevermind that we don't have enough chairs in the house at this stage to seat more than 5 people around the dining room table, ourselves included. Nevermind that we ourselves hardly dine at the table, being more akin to sitting in front of the telly and scoffing down food from a giant white bowl. It might have been a culmination of several factors; it was our last night before he goes back to work, my social bar was low because we'd been wrapped around each other for 2 weeks now, and I really wanted to start returning the favour of many dinners cooked for us over the year and a half.
But really, what clinched it was probably the grand opportunity to Take Out the New Non-Stick Pots and Dinner Crockery. It's like masak-masak - except it's really expensive toys I'm playing Cook with now. And I love it.
The laksa was well received, and dinner conversation was relaxed and comfortable. It was good, good fun. I know I'm starting to nest like a birdie, and while part of me is kinda sheepish, the rest of me is TOTALLY STOKED ABOUT IT.
I'm sure the novelty will wear off eventually, don't worry.
Under the clever guise of 'Ooer-the-Laksa-Paste-from-Singapore-is-getting-old', I persuaded the new husband to invite 4 friends from church over for a Laksa Party tonight. Nevermind that we don't have enough chairs in the house at this stage to seat more than 5 people around the dining room table, ourselves included. Nevermind that we ourselves hardly dine at the table, being more akin to sitting in front of the telly and scoffing down food from a giant white bowl. It might have been a culmination of several factors; it was our last night before he goes back to work, my social bar was low because we'd been wrapped around each other for 2 weeks now, and I really wanted to start returning the favour of many dinners cooked for us over the year and a half.
But really, what clinched it was probably the grand opportunity to Take Out the New Non-Stick Pots and Dinner Crockery. It's like masak-masak - except it's really expensive toys I'm playing Cook with now. And I love it.
The laksa was well received, and dinner conversation was relaxed and comfortable. It was good, good fun. I know I'm starting to nest like a birdie, and while part of me is kinda sheepish, the rest of me is TOTALLY STOKED ABOUT IT.
I'm sure the novelty will wear off eventually, don't worry.
Sunday, January 02, 2005
~ Picture Perfect ~
The appointment for the interview with Immigration has been set for the following week. At the mo, we're putting together the final touches of our application for my temporary spousal visa, and chasing up on statutory declarations and evidence of our Genuine Relationship.
What makes the entire immigration process such an unsavoury rite of passage is the inordinate amount of bullcrap we find we have to wade through. As Kathy Read had put it to us this afternoon (echoing the advice of many others before her who know of our situation), "you have to play it their way." It doesn't matter if you're a couple that's naturally lazy with the camera or just photo-shy, it doesn't matter if you're not that kind of couple that goes on several holidays per year alone. The fact of the matter is that we hadn't ever gotten into the habit of taking photos together when we go out, and we didn't go on extended holidays alone because that meant dealing with separate accommodation - an expense I couldn't afford. And yet that can be counted against us.
"Evidence of a genuine relationship" includes innumerous love letters both ways (oops), joint bank accounts and leases (still working on it, being a newlywedded couple), records of long-distance phonecalls (but what if we used International Calling Cards?), and lots and lots of photographs (craaaaap). The most sickening thing is that it would actually work in our favour if we had shacked up BEFORE we had gotten married, as evidence of a de facto relationship speaks louder than even the heartfelt signing of a marriage certificate. Better yet, evidence of a sexual relationship (read: pregnancy) would almost guarantee the facilitation of a visa. Yah. Brownie points for premarital nookie.
Because Tony and I hadn't been conscientious with photo-taking at every cheese toasty night we've been to, we have had to put in an announcement to the church here today, asking for photographs of us "as a couple" at any social event from August 2003. And the church - bless each and every one of them - has responded very warmly, with 2 people actually trotting in their cameras this morning so they can shutter away.
I don't know if Tony and I were more amused or sheepish with the attempts to re-enact the courtship on film. Kathy has a brother-in-law who just went through the immigration process, and she's heard all about DIMIA's demands for "more evidence", "more photographs", "more statutory declarations". The idea, it seems, is that we have to pack it in. And she was going to help us. After regaling us with her family's nightmare, she then ordered the back row to stay still so they can form the background of the engineered "social situation" Tony and I find ourselves in.
Here's the result of Kathy's handiwork. Note that both of us look very embarrassed.
What makes the entire immigration process such an unsavoury rite of passage is the inordinate amount of bullcrap we find we have to wade through. As Kathy Read had put it to us this afternoon (echoing the advice of many others before her who know of our situation), "you have to play it their way." It doesn't matter if you're a couple that's naturally lazy with the camera or just photo-shy, it doesn't matter if you're not that kind of couple that goes on several holidays per year alone. The fact of the matter is that we hadn't ever gotten into the habit of taking photos together when we go out, and we didn't go on extended holidays alone because that meant dealing with separate accommodation - an expense I couldn't afford. And yet that can be counted against us.
"Evidence of a genuine relationship" includes innumerous love letters both ways (oops), joint bank accounts and leases (still working on it, being a newlywedded couple), records of long-distance phonecalls (but what if we used International Calling Cards?), and lots and lots of photographs (craaaaap). The most sickening thing is that it would actually work in our favour if we had shacked up BEFORE we had gotten married, as evidence of a de facto relationship speaks louder than even the heartfelt signing of a marriage certificate. Better yet, evidence of a sexual relationship (read: pregnancy) would almost guarantee the facilitation of a visa. Yah. Brownie points for premarital nookie.
Because Tony and I hadn't been conscientious with photo-taking at every cheese toasty night we've been to, we have had to put in an announcement to the church here today, asking for photographs of us "as a couple" at any social event from August 2003. And the church - bless each and every one of them - has responded very warmly, with 2 people actually trotting in their cameras this morning so they can shutter away.
I don't know if Tony and I were more amused or sheepish with the attempts to re-enact the courtship on film. Kathy has a brother-in-law who just went through the immigration process, and she's heard all about DIMIA's demands for "more evidence", "more photographs", "more statutory declarations". The idea, it seems, is that we have to pack it in. And she was going to help us. After regaling us with her family's nightmare, she then ordered the back row to stay still so they can form the background of the engineered "social situation" Tony and I find ourselves in.
Here's the result of Kathy's handiwork. Note that both of us look very embarrassed.
Posing for Immigration is such a hoot.
