Easy pick-me-up

I want more bubbles.

As my body glued itself to the seat of my car in the stinking heat of the afternoon sun, I let out a sigh and hung my head out the window for some fresh air. I can’t really blame anyone but myself today for dressing in tight jeans and a merino singlet.  Definitely not heat friendly attire.

My situation was aggravated with the purchase of one of those smelly, dangly things that hang around the rear-vision mirror.  And I thought my car smelt bad before!  The sickly disinfectant smell of the fake palm tree I had just bought, reeked something chronic in the hot sun.  Too much heat, too much much traffic on a Friday afternoon and too much for my nose to properly handle.

Which is why my mood brightened slightly when sitting in a queue of cars, I noticed a few dozen bubbles sailing through a congested intersection.  I don’t know where they came from or what they were doing there, but there was something cheerful about the sight of a playful pack of bubbles making their way easily through the mess of vehicles.

So I’ve decided that bubbles are a good mood booster.  Either that, or car air-freshener fumes.

 

In love with Vic Park

I want Victoria Park to be used more.

Surrounded by a fortress of trees, Victoria Park is really Auckland’s answer to central park.  Smack bang between the hustle and bustle of the central city, Ponsonby’s doorstep and motorway offramps, the park provides a place for those with a certain sporty inclination to get amongst some outdoor recreation.  Runners, cricketers and even David Tua make use of the flat, grassy spot for their enjoyment.

I myself, prefer the gym to pounding the pavement/park but found I couldn’t keep away from the place this past weekend.  A run is all well and good, but mouth-watering morsels were what got my feet moving to Vic Park on Sunday for food festival, Taste of Auckland.

Running over 4 days, Victoria Park became home to an array of restaurant marquees, food stalls, music stages and chef demonstrations.  With the spring sun peeping through the clouds, a light wind and some chilled out tunes filtering through the crowds that flocked there, Victoria Park became the perfect place to spend a lazy Sunday afternoon.  Armed with free pots of puhoi yoghurt, free bottles of neutrogena sunscreen and a possie on a large outdoor couch, I wondered to myself why I hadn’t been to similar events at this perfectly central, relaxing location.

Enough Jersey Shore for one weekend

I want t-shirt time.

Somehow, this past weekend was bursting with the sillyness that is Jersey Shore.  Like most people, I’ve been curious about this insanely popular MTV show that debuted in 2009.  In typical reality tv trashiness, it follows a range of ridiculous housemates as they get on the booze, party it up in the clubs and develop a language that one can only understand once googling their popularity.

So in curiosity and in preparation for a Jersey Shore dress up party, I scoured the internet for a few episodes for costume ideas.  While the girls prefer anything that is tight, short and shows off their boobs, the guys of the house often opt for singlets that show off their bulging muscles or tight t-shirts emblazoned with ed hardy-esque designs. But of course they have a system for dressing before they hit the clubs of Miami (Season 2).

Why not sing about it too?

Doe Reh Me Far So La Te Doe

I want to be able to sing.

I’m not a big singer in the grand scheme of things.  I don’t often do the singing in the car thing (unless I’m alone) and I don’t often sing to a catchy song I hear on the radio.  Today however, a voice flowed from my car radio that made me wish that I could sing.  Melodious and soulful, Al Green’s Lets Stay Together hit me.  It hit me so much that I cranked up Solid Gold FM, rolled down my drivers side window and half hoped that the walkers on the street would hear me singing.

To make my day even better music-wise, I discovered that Aloe Blaac or Egbert Nathaniel Dawkins is visiting little old New Zealand in January.  Not Al Green, but another beautiful voice from our generation. Even better news, tickets are only $46! I need $46 dollars, $46 dollars is what I need, hey hey.

everybody needs good neighbours

…with a little understanding, you can find the perfect blend.

I want everyone to have neighbours like mine.

I wasn’t always so enthusiastic about my fellow residents of our Westmere unit complex, or compound as I called it.  Coming from the conservative reaches of the North Shore, I found my neighbour a tad unusual sitting outside most of the time, smoking, clothed in holey trackies and talking sweetly to his multitude of cats.

But after many captivating conversations with holey trackpant neighbour along with other neighbour run-ins, I realised that having a blend of characters in your neighbourhood makes life that much more interesting.  Not only do I have the pleasure of living next door to a poet, there is also a hardcore gamer, an established journalist/filmmaker and a ridiculously fit swimmer/sailor/cyclist/runner/all-round energizer bunny.  And be very jealous – previously we had fudge makers too.    There is also of course the seriously introverted neighbour above us, who used to play one song on repeat all day and night, but we barely see or hear from him anymore.

More recently, holey trackpant neighbour has put forward the idea of a bbq gathering for our assorted blend of neighbours in the coming weeks and a new communal vege plot has just been established.

I used to hate hearing noises in my family home.  So much so, that I would pull the covers over my head for the remainder of the night, sweating like crazy and wishing for the morning.  Now when I hear the gamer’s computed-generated shooting sounds above me, I actually feel safe and sound knowing that I could call on the bunch of people living around me for some help, a phonecall for when I’ve locked myself out of the house again, or even a cup of sugar.

chip overload

I want chips.

And I know they’re bad for me, but I can’t get enough of them.  The long weekend saw me indulge in chips of all shapes and sizes from a variety of locations.

None can compare, however, to the heavenly taste that comes from Piha hot chips.  It may be memories of my childhood that enhance the taste of these thickly cut potatoes, but I’m near certain that Blair’s on the beach would go out of business if it wasn’t for this delightful deep-fried treat.

Years back, Blairs used to be simply called “Bons” by us locals and there was an older lady who worked the deep fryer , who would scream out orders of “two chip, two chip”.  She’s long gone but the current servers are a cheeky bunch of guys that flit between the hoards of people ordering chips, milkshakes and toasted sammies.  Our server named my companions and I creaming soda yesterday afternoon.

Another great thing about this place is that I didn’t spot any tomato sauce on the counter.  Vinegar is the only match for a chip of this calibre and Blair keeps the place stocked with squirt bottles full of the stuff.  These ain’t no small fries though, so you’ll need a hefty amount of vinegar to soak into the chunky chips.

Hence the reason why these delicious morsels are for treat days only.

Last time I checked Piha had a black sand?

littlies

I want some babies.

And if I can’t have human babies yet, I would like to house some other types of spring babies instead.

Rotorua’s Paradise Valley briefly satisfied my want for them last weekend, when we stumbled upon all of these gorgeous creatures.  Our mission was to pat a lion cub but we were easily distracted but anything else that showed us a bit of love.  Food is essential.

http://www.paradisev.co.nz/

Down with dishes

I want to rid my life of washing dishes.

I hate bringing myself to dip my hand into mucky water in an attempt to find that last pesky teaspoon to scrub clean.  Our leaning tower of dirty plates is a sight as is my impressive skill of being able to contaminate nearly every utensil in our kitchen at one time.

So I rejoiced when I heard of these darling little plates made out of potato.   We used them as small plates to gather our fingerfoods/nibbles on at a recent party and they are genius. And they’re bio-degradable of course.

Taste testing by a trusted source has shown me that these wonderous plates do also seem to be edible.  But eat at your own risk.

Muffin top

I want some muffin tops.

But not the kind that flop over the side of tight jeans.  Once love-handles progress to muffin tops, they’re not cute any more.

Something that is cute and scrumptious-looking is a package of muffin tops. Which happens to be exactly what I found in the  bakery section of an East Auckland Countdown last weekend.  The muffin bottoms are sliced straight off, to produce a perfectly formed muffin top in all its true glory.

Slightly crunchy outside with a light and airy inside makes the muffin top a sort of hybrid, further blurring the lines between cakes, biscuits and muffins.

Another one of life’s little problems solved.

more spring

I want spring to hurry on up already.

September 1st marked the first delightfully sunny day of spring but that sort of weather hasn’t continued, at least not in Auckland anyway.  The month of September has so far been grey, dreary and cold at best.  Which iswhy I am trying my best to grab every ounce of that beautiful season by snapping a few photos.  Magnolias, sunshine and the first strawberries of the season – bliss.