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.
Monday, October 31, 2005
~ Surveying the land ~
I've been singing and dancing a lot today. Tony's quite amused. It's been absolutely gorgeous weather - hot and muggy, almost like Singapore. I know you guys are sweltering under the oppressive humidity but let me assure you that cold, dry weather for long stretches can be a downer too.
My hair feels black and glossy and worthy of Vidal Sassoon ads.
Daylight savings started again, which means it will take me a week to readjust my body clock. I managed to get off work early today as Tony and I needed to sort out the house loan with the bank. Not even Bonnie the Banker's blatant let's-talk-to-the-husband-because-the-wife's-a-bit-vague stunt dampen the glorious mood I was in. We left the bank at ten past 4 in the afternoon and decided it was too lovely an afternoon to spend driving back to the house and staying indoors.
We decided to suss out the new neighbourhood in search of a pool table.
That quest was a bit disappointing (couple of man-chimneys smoking up a storm over a stubbie, while cueing up and leering). We ended up having a stroll about, finishing with coffee at Gloria Jean's.
Gungahlin is the new Nappyville. Lots of cafes for latte-sipping yuppydom in its full glory. Lots of wailing children and couples our age. Lots of trendywear shops for corporate mamas and papas. We even strolled past a barbershop for kids, where 2 toddlers sat placidly in their kiddyride machine lookalike chairs, eyes firmly glued to the video game set on Demonstration as the hairdresser snipped away. The lucky mother was probably at Big W shopping, or checking out the Fernwood gym deals upstairs.
Tony half smirked. I positively beamed. At last, a bit of city life at my doorstep. A bit of ludicrous yuppydom within arm's length. A bit of recognisable home.
We spent the last half an hour sipping iced coffee and people-watching, just like what I used to do in the old days. Tony's a natural; he's observant and equipped. His Top Gun shades, cool demeanour and steely gaze are perfect for quiet commentary laced with sardonic humour. He painted a wonderful caricature behind me; a bloke's bloke looking painfully bored as his blonde date, decked in a zebra-print trenchcoat and knee high white patent leather boots, launched into a girly chitchat on her mobile for the third time in five minutes. When they walked past us on their exit, I noted the skinniest stilettos I've ever seen.
I hope, said I to Tony, that they live around here. They make such interesting subjects for people watching.
Yes, it was a beautiful day.
Friday, October 28, 2005
~ The problem with comparison ~
When Tony and I got our offer accepted at the new place, we told ourselves we'll try not to look at property guides and display windows of realtors because we'd only be killing ourselves.
But the curiosity got too much when Tony's parents told us that the house next door has gone on sale. And suddenly, we needed to know what the Jones's were selling for.
Apparently, $21,500 more than what we offered on ours. And at first I did a "HAH!". And once I realised their EER is 3 while ours is 5, I did a double "HAH!". (EER stands for Energy Efficiency Ratio. For a hugely heater-dependent state like Canberra, a good EER is optimal. And the max you can go is 6.)
And then I saw the photos. And fell in love with the design of the house.
Our townhouse lies right smack in the middle of a row of terraces, so I had imagined that the layout of the insides (walls, etc) would be the same across the board. Not so. They had managed to lump 2 of the rooms (our alcove and the smallest room in the front) into one living space, which means they lose a study room but gain a lounge area. I can't even say their layout is a mirror image of ours, because it has walls where we don't and rooms where we don't. Their living area seems much smaller and they were only able to fit one nice long cushy couch. But they have very nice feature walls. And stainless steel kitchen furnishing. And the coolest Japanese sunken entertaining area with water feature in the courtyard at the back. And suddenly, I have a serious case of House Pride.
Or House Envy. I think the latter.
We went over today to suss out the different layout and drool over the sunken Japanese gimmicky bit. It was uber modern, uber chic, and probably explained the price difference. Tony reasoned that had we seen this place at the price they were offering for, we would have moved on because we were looking for a 4 bedroom place at about the same price they were offering this one. I know he's hit the nail on the head, like always. But gosh, I loved the house. And all the furniture in it.
I think the main thing lies in the furniture. Kate and Mark lent us a book catchily entitled "Your mortage and how to pay it off in five years - by someone who did it in three." I was hugely sceptical at first, because the author paid off her first house in the late 1980s before this ridiculous boom in house prices hit Australia - and Canberra in particular. I mean, it's one thing to have a 17% interest on your house back in the 1980s... but if the house back then costs a paltry $151,000 to sit on 4 flipping hectares, we'd be able to pay off the entire house in 3 years easy. With money left over to buy a pony and 5 alpacas. (Something's gotta be done with the grass.)
But Tony, practical as ever, cooled my heckling and cackling by highlighting that even if the figures are way off in the book and we can't pay it off in 3 years or even 5, at least we can pick up a few tips. One of the tips was no big surprise - sacrifice.
The first time I went to Kate and Mark's rental home, I oohed and aahed over what they'd done to it. Everything matched. Their furniture matched. Their column oil heater matched the furniture. But more importantly, they have furniture. They have proper nooks and crannies and shelf space. They have a cosy nook with warm lighting and armchairs by the bookcase. They have bouquets of candles that - you guessed it - emit the most wonderful smells that manage to match everything else.
Tony's CDs are in a pile of boxes beside the television. The bunny-ears for our TV reception is everywhere it can be to get the best possible reception. It does not match our couches. Our couches match. Sort of. They are different shades of dark orange. Our carpet is blue. I never thought blue and orange were a great colour combi, because they're not. My el cheapo $20 Reject Shop shelf is the only other piece of furniture we have that allows display space. We have 3 photo frames bearing pictures of our wedding. None of them match (all were separate wedding gifts). I have a tablecloth that either matches the couches or the carpet. I try, but it's a challenge. I sigh at my dismal effort at home decoration. I fear Kate has it to a tee, and I simply ain't got the knack.
Or the budget.
The truth is, we've been saving up for a house since the day we got married. It feels like Tony's been saving up for a house since he was 3. Truthfully, with such a hefty student loan to pay off as a start to our marriage, our plans were to pay off my loan first and then put the rest of the savings into the house deposit. God's fab timing and providence as usual solved at least one of the issues for us, and so we started the journey towards owning a home much sooner than we anticipated. If it hadn't been for Tony's discipline and stewardship with his assets, I wouldn't even have the slightest chance of House Envy because I simply wouldn't be this close to owning property.
So yes, we don't have furniture that match and we lack shelf space. And we don't have some water feature in the backyard unless the neighbours hose us accidentally. But we have a lot more than we ever imagined for a long time - I have a lot more now than I ever imagined for a long time. This is good. Keep the candles.
Saturday, October 22, 2005
~ Spicks and Specks ~
Just had a lovely conversation over MSN with Sarah over the week. We've touched base again, thanks to my downloading wonderful MSN on the work computer. Lately, I find the increasing need to surround myself with more like-minded people during work hours. Together, we brainstormed over the best way to counter such well-meaning conversation starters. Together, we shared our most frequently used comeback lines. To question number 1, I found out that Tony's answer of "Married life is great, everyone should do it" was very similar to that of Sarah and E-gene's "Married life is great, we highly recommend it." I also gave Sarah my ultimate buzz-off-will-you comeback to question number 2: "Stop discussing my uterus." We then came to the conclusion that while most people are very game with asking when we plan to have babies, any discussion of female body parts which are very much a part of the baby-having process becomes an absolute conversation stopper. It works a charm. I don't think people realise how intrusive it gets when they decide that tick-tock-can't stop chatter is the way to go with newlyweds. Honestly, we don't need to be told that it gets harder to have babies when you're over 30. ------------------------ I'm really glad to be back in Canberra. I've spent this whole week rediscovering wedded bliss (watching bad TV I want to watch, with someone who's interesting to talk to) and taking long breaks from work. (Whole day on Monday, half day on Wednesday because the power got cut in the office.) There's nothing like bad company for a week to make you really, really miss your husband. ------------------------ The house stuff is moving forward. We've basically gotten a new house inspection report that says everything is in good to very good condition, and the sellers' solicitor has finally replied to say that the changes we recommended in the contract are good to go. We've also managed to find a couple in church who'd love to take over the lease for the Palmerston house once we move out. I'm thrilled to bits over this one. I'm a hugely sentimental sap at times, but because Palmerston is the first house Tony and I officially found and moved into as newlyweds, I'm finding it hard to let it go. The fact that it's going to be taken over by people we know is a huge plus, because that way we can invite ourselves over, walk around and go, "Aaaahhh... we used to live here!" What I'm a little alarmed about is how everyone involved in the housing process talks only to Tony. I must really seem the rather financially daft future mistress of the house, methinks. Just 2 nights ago, Bonnie-from-the-bank called and left a message on OUR answering machine for "Mr Tony". I apparently dropped off the face of the house purchase process. The solicitor calls him, the housing agent calls him, the mortgage broker calls him. The only time they call me is to find out how to call him. Am starting to feel a little like the clueless bimbo wife who only knows how to spend the mulah on shoes, and leaves all the 'hard money stuff' to da man. ------------------------ Had a rather unsettling conversation with an old friend this past week. It had something to do with that weekend when I - here it comes - chucked a nana, and got all emotional about not having enough fun. Seriously, if life imitated art - and if The Sims were art - I think I have a higher 'playful' quotient than Tony. My need for fun far outstrips his on occasion. I can literally feel my Fun bar start to go into the red if he doesn't suggest something different, pronto. I have also, on extreme occasions, stood around and waved my arms God-ward when desperate and feeling kooky. Part of being opposites, I suppose. Part of living in suburbia. Part of living in a different part of the world that doesn't know the meaning of retail therapy. And perhaps, part of being married and settled into a routine. The friend I was talking to meant well. She suggested I stopped apologising for needing to spend money on myself, and start asking for more equality in opinion regarding how money should be spent. (I am paraphrasing big time here.) Privately, I think she fears I'm being walked over and I'm not representing my needs adequately in the marriage. I also don't think it helps that I referred to the new house as "that stupid house" in frustration. Sucker of money and all the fun it can buy. The truth is, it isn't that I don't go shopping on occasion and have a girly splurge... I just don't find the time to do it anymore. Australia's absolutely frustrating retail-wise, because the shops open when you're working and close when you're not. What is the logic in that? Weekends for us are spent cleaning the house and preparing for church etc, and I end up lying on my bed some Saturdays yelling at the husband as if it's his fault his country doesn't cater to my habits. The other truth is that the husband really doesn't find joy doing some of the things I love doing (i.e. playing pool, shopping, going out on a whim in the middle of the night just because.) And while others might like to jump up and down and insist that isn't fair to me, I think it's fairer to say that my key problem is my total lack of real girlfriends. And cheap petrol, with access to a car. And Canberra not being Singapore. I used to resent it when the young marrieds in the church in Singapore suddenly swanned off to have their own rendezvous of newlyweds-only. I used to think that frustrating, selfish as heck, and cliquish. But I would love to have a clique like that to lean on now. Because honestly, single people don't feel like they can be close friends with us anymore and I find them leaving us out of stuff all the time now. Doesn't help that Canberra's idea of distance is anywhere north of Lake Burley Griffin - and we are far, far north of Lake Burley Griffin. Doesn't help that I didn't grow up in Australia either. These aren't real reasons not to form close friendships, but they sure make it trickier. I just read this gorgeous, gorgeous book called Almost French. It's a autobiography of Sarah Turnbull, an Australian journalist who moved to France for a Frenchman she barely knew. There are whole paragraphs I read over and over because they struck such a chord with me. I KNOW what she's talking about. I feel it deep down and I identify completely with stuff she's gone through. The bewilderment. The frustration with a different culture. The loneliness with not having girlfriends you can trust. "His own Australian-born children are studying to be lawyers and teachers. To them, Sydney is home. But for him, the choice is not so simple. ... His life is a constant dilemma: in Australia he feels Greek; in Greece he feels Australian.
The Two Most Frequently Asked Questions came up as a hot topic between us newlyweds.
'It's a bitter-sweet thing, knowing two cultures,' he sighs. 'Once you leave your birthplace nothing is ever the same.'"
"Such is the nature of expatriate life. 'Betwixt and between' was how one Paris-based American writer described having two homelands at a literary evening I attended. Stripped of romance, perhaps that's what being an expat is all about: a sense of not wholly belonging."
Tony told me he read somewhere that expatriates take about five years to get fully assimilated into a country.
Sarah Turnbull took six.
This is year number 2.
Monday, October 03, 2005
~ All better now ~
Just in case you're wondering, I'm feeling a lot better.
We tangoed with the idea of driving to the Bay, but after last night's barbecue and all the shouting Rod's done for the Balmain Tigers (they won eventually), we decided to stay in and do the stuff Australians get up to on a long weekend. Namely, pulling weeds, sweeping dead leaves off the front porch, dealing with unwanted foliage.
After Saturday's minor explosion and waterworks display regarding Stupidity, Fun and the Irresponsible Couple, we took a couple of days to reflect what each of us thought about money, and how we deal with it. They say that money is the number one reason couples divorce. I think we're beginning to see how deeply the issue of money runs in the vein of marriage. As unromantic as it sounds, the way two people spend money in a relationship is about as crucial a topic as intimacy because it deals with Stuff. It deals with personal values. It deals with habits. It deals with expectations, ambitions and goals. It deals with discipline and the lack thereof. It deals with instant gratification, and sacrifice.
Between being saddled with a man who doesn't understand money and a man who does, I heartily opt for the latter. There are many values Tony holds with money that I've yet to understand and muster, but I fully appreciate because we're able to go a little further than I'd ever expected. And then there are values I've grown up with that help put the importance of money in a different perspective.
I guess we're onto a lifelong road of finding out the differences and making sure we take the best out of both our growing-up values. Toughie.
Saturday, October 01, 2005
~ Trouble in Paradise ~
There's something to be said about being the irresponsible couple.
They seem to have more fun. They don't blow their savings on big responsible houses. They go on holidays as and when they want to. They keep themselves entertained. They spend every ounce of their energy during holidays to party the living daylights out of themselves so that when it finally comes to the work week again, they come in feeling more exhausted than before - but they have bragging rights and a huge hangover. They take the plunge, splurge huge, and pay for it later. They have great holiday photos to show for it. They don't count the pennies lost later, because the fun outweighed the money a million to one.
And sometimes, just bloody sometimes, I want us to be that tad bit stupid and irresponsible.
It's the October long weekend. What the hell am I still doing in Canberra on a long weekend.
Apparently, I am supposed to use it to recover from the work week. DOES IT LOOK LIKE I'M RECOVERING FROM THE WORK WEEK?
