High Vis Princess

It wasn’t so long ago that I arrived in sunny Newman (and yes I am saying that in a sarcastic tone) … with my acrylic nails, stilettos, face full of makeup … I would never be seen without my pink designer bag … or make up for that matter.  Well, fast forward 9 months and check me out now!  Thought I’d share a few photos that I took at work last week …

This is me at work ... just hanging out ...

I’ve replaced my stilettos with a pair of super comfy steel caps (accompanied by Mr. W.’s socks of course!).

just in case you missed it the first time ...

And back to that “sunny” thing for just a minute … can you believe that when I got in my 4×4 (yep, there’s no “car” anymore) this afternoon it said 50 degrees on the temperature gauge … can’t talk … melting!!!

pp xx

An Outback Wedding?

And so after all the excitement of becoming Mr & Mrs W. to be … the time came to start planning.  Just on the excitement, you can only imagine how many hours I have spent staring at my ring and squealing at friends and family over the phone.  Poor Mr W., I really don’t think he was prepared for this side of things.  His ears are still ringing.

So back to the planning.  We really don’t want a long engagement, so we pretty much set the date the night Mr W. proposed … 12th November 2011.  Yep, while Mr W. watched Metallica … I gazed at the way the pretty lights reflected off my engagement ring … and planned the wedding … I’m a woman, I can multitask!!

After just 2 weeks, I, oh sorry, I mean we, had the entire wedding organised for Perth … celebrant was booked, reception venue booked and deposit paid … limo booked, hairdresser and flowers … they were all crossed off my list.  Everyone thought we were too eager booking everything straight away … but come on, look at our track record, do we ever wait around for things?  I think not!  I mean, let’s be honest … with the timeline we’ve been keeping, we should really be married by Christmas!

A few weeks after we were engaged my gorgeous best friend flew to Newman for a surprise visit … she arrived in red dirt splendour, a bottle of Moet under her arm.  We were all sitting around the kitchen table day dreaming about the wedding when Mr W. pushed an open book towards me … opened to a page displaying Home Valley Station.  All it took was one look from Mr W. (and some encouraging from my bestie) and I was sold.

And so, the next day I jumped on the phone, rang HV Station … and booked the entire wedding.  The only catch is that we have to bring the wedding forward to 3rd September 2011 … but that is definitely not a problem … the sooner the better!

All those months ago (he he) when we travelled the Gibb River Road together we had joked that if we ever got married it would be at Home Valley Station … and now here we were getting married … at Home Valley Station, among the gorgeous Cockburn Ranges and Pentecost River.  It just felt right.  The next chapter of our lives together is set to commence where it had originally began …

And so began “something boab, something blue” …

pp xx

Bride. Groom. Wedding. Soon.

So, I’m sure you’ve heard the news … Mr W. and I are getting hitched!!  Our whirlwind romance (and I use that term very loosely) continues … who would have thought that when I met Mr W. on 9th March 2010 that we would be engaged on 22nd October … wow!!  Now when I look down at my scungy nails, minus the beautifully manicured acrylics that used to be there … I see a beautifully sparkly rock (well come on, I moved to Newman, I deserved more that the average engagement ring!!).  So you ask, how did all of this come to be?

Well, I started dropping hints back in August that perhaps for my birthday Mr W. might like to buy me some jewellery … of the super sparkly variety.  This was followed by a few discussions about how our wedding would be, how I would envisage my perfect proposal etc etc … But like most women, I had to take it just a little bit too far.  By the time September came I was dropping hints left right and centre, leaving Mr W. wondering what the hell was happening.  I made sure that he watched the final episdoe of Farmer Wants A Wife and ensured that he watched Farmer Nathan popose … I even got my finger sized when I flew down to Perth … and started educating Mr W. about carats (and how these were different from the bugs bunny variety) … and the fact that I was expecting more than 1.

But alas, my excitement was to be short lived!  Upon arriving back in Newman after a short trip to Perth for said finger sizing, Mr W. sat me down and calmly explained that it was just too soon to be thinking about marriage, after all, we had only been together for 6 months.  Devastated, I bawled my eyes out for 2 days (yes, in the interest of entertainment, I will admit this) … well that would serve me right for bragging to all and sundry while I was in Perth that there would be a proposal before Santa came down the chimney.  You see, I thought that Mr W. would propose with my more than 1 carat ring when we flew to Perth together for my birthday …

And so, we flew down to Perth for my birthday … staying in 5 star luxury and loving every minute.  And so sitting in the hotel room on the day of my birthday, Mr W. told me to close my eyes.  He placed a little box in front of me … my heart started pounding … I ripped off the paper and discovered a Pandora Box … still very exciting … but not what I was hoping for!!!  I was totally spoiled for my birthday … treated like an absolute Princess.  And then Mr W. said to me … “wait, there’s one more … and I was going to wait until dinner, but I’m going to give it to you now so that you can brag about it to everyone”.  Again, my little heart started beating … I closed my eyes and Mr W. placed yet another beautifully wrapped box in my hands.  Ooooh this is it … I thought!  But again, Mr W. had fooled me.  However, what was inside was nothing to sneeze about … a pair of the most divine white gold earring you’ve ever seen … I decided to just forget becoming Mrs W. … well this year anyway …

Bring on the next day … Friday, 22nd October.  Mr W. was being a grumpy so and so all day.  To the point where I was ready to go and book myself into a separate hotel room and drown my sorrows in my own personal collection of Moet.  Ho hum.  Now, that night was the Metallica Concert (the real reason Mr W. had brought me to Perth … see what I mean about that romance thing!!).  And so, later in the afternoon, I set about making myself look bogan enough to attend such an event.  Dark denim, check.  Black T shirt, check.  Bridget Jones Underwear (can’t be a chunky bogan), check.  While I was attempting to straighten my locks, my little ears pricked up.  Was that the safe I had just heard?  No it’s just your imagination playing tricks on you.  “Kate”, Mr W. called me from the other side of our hotel room.  “Babe, there’s a letter here for you, I wrote it the other day and forgot to give it to you”.  Annoyed that I was interrupted while trying to put the finishing touches on my hair and makeup, I stormed out to the desk and picked up said letter.  Hmmmm.  Interesting.  The letter was absolutely beautiful … a declaration of outback love at it’s finest.  But by the time I got to the end I was confused …
“2 months ago I made a life changing decision, 6 weeks ago I made a very expensive purchase and a week ago I made a phone call to which the answer came back YES”.

Confused, I moved the letter to ask what in God’s name he was on about … and that’s when I saw Mr W. on one knee holding a perfect little box … with a more than 1 carat ring inside … OMG!!!!  Did it just snow in Newman because Mr W. just proposed!!!!!!  And it was way better than Farm Nathan’s proposal – he was actually down on one knee!!  And that my darlings, is how Mr W. and the Pilbara Princess became engaged.  This also meant that the ring had been in the house for like 6 weeks and I hadn’t sniffed it out!!!  Hmmm my bling bling radar must need recalibrating!!!!

Bling Bling!

Stay tuned for the next instalment … our wedding plans are sure to be nothing short of hilarious.

Love you Mr W.

pp (aka, the future Mrs. W.) xx


Lessons of a Pilbara Princess … continued …

I thought it’s been a while since I’ve written Lessons of a Pilbara Princess, in fact since I’ve written anything, so I thought I’d share with you all the amazing things I’ve learnt since I spoke to you last … especially now I’m becoming part of the scenery up here … can you believe it’s been 8 months??

  • Socks aren’t unisex …
  • There are no words to describe what it’s like to see someone at the supermarket wearing your clothes … even though they are technically not your clothes when said person bought them at your garage sale the day before … actually I think that’s a blog post in itself!!
  • Garage Sales are Westfield Shopping Centres up here.  No seriously, there are like 5 every weekend up here … and people turn up at 5.30am to bag a bargain before everyone else.  I really am not sure how I feel about this.  I’ll get back to you.
  • Choppers are not always helicopters.
  • When playing pool … if your opponent sinks the black ball it does not mean you’ve won … especially when they’ve already sunk all their coloured balls, and you’ve sunk none.
  • And while we’re on the subject of playing pool … it is possible to play pool for several hours and not sink a ball.
  • Drinking 4 of every flavour vodka cruisers in one session does not make you cool and does not give you the right to sing Rainbow Connection at the top of your lungs.  It gives you a blue tongue and makes you stupid.
  • 9 months is “shorter than a pregnancy” … Mr W when I said that there is less than 9 months until we get married.
  • If you ever find your favourite earrings are missing, check your partner’s fishing tackle box … earrings make great fishing lures … according to Mr W.
  • Safety glasses are acceptable optical attire up here … and in fact will make you fit in way more than Dolce & Gabanna ever will.  Just check me out in my new yellow tint Eyres … Paris, Milan … Pilbara.  And you can buy them from the hardware store … nuff said really.
  • Make sure when you fly you don’t stop in at the pub on the way to the airport … it may result in you arriving at the airport less than 30 minutes prior to your flight (28 to be exact), which will then result in you not being able to check in your luggage and have to have it couriered back the next day.  And … you know that “express” means nothing up here!
  • Getting up early is the new flannel shirt.  Going to bed at 8pm is just plain wrong.
  • 15 vodka cruisers in one sitting is just absurd.
  • If you’re thinking that I have a new found obsession with Vodka Cruisers, then you would be correct.  But before you judge me, ask yourself what is worse … not having any friends because you smell like Bundy, drinking cask wine (which is only available on Mondays and Tuesdays) or drinking Vodka Cruisers (which I may add are available seven days a week!!!)*

pp xx

*Since writing this, it has come to my attention that Cask Wine is in fact available seven days a week now.  Score.

Red Dirt Girl in a City World – A Very Expensive Lesson

Well, after spending 6 months in Newman with my gorgeous Mr W., I finally returned to the city for a week … just to check in, recharge … and SHOP!!  I’ll tell you all about my shopping later … but first I just have to tell you about the very expensive lesson I learned yesterday …

Here I was driving down the freeway, phone to my ear, excitedly telling Mr W. about the sexy new underwear I’d just bought when I looked to my right and saw an unmarked police car with their light flashing.  “Oh F***””, I said to Mr W., “It’s the cops”.  I hung up listening to Mr W. laughing … and hoping Mr Undercover Police couldn’t read lips.

I pulled over and waited for Mr Plod to come to the window.  He asked me what my excuse for talking on my phone while driving was (being someone who has always been able to talk my way around fines, so many excuses ran through my head).  I thought about going with something like … “I just had to tell my boyfriend about the sexy underwear I just bought” … or “well, I live in Newman and we don’t have shops and I was so excited about my purchases I just had to ring someone and tell them” … I even considered telling him all about the fact that I haven’t driven an automatic for 6 months, just to try and distract him.  But something told me that none of these were going to cut it.  And quite frankly, he was on the wrong side of the car for me to use the old “undoing the top button” trick (plus, I hadn’t had time to actually put on the sexy underwear).  Anyway … I simply said “it was a work call” – God knows what I was actually going to say work was calling about … a new trend in Orange shirts maybe?

Mr Plod then asked what sort of phone it was.  I had to wonder what that had to do with the price of black lace at Myer … but handed my iPhone over (maybe they charged you more for Nokia or something, I was hoping anyway).  Just as I showed him the phone it “dinged” loudly announcing a text from Mr W.  Geez … are you trying to get me arrested, I thought (thankfully I’d turned off the feature on the iPhone that shows the actual text message on the screen before you open it … although it did take all my self control not to read the text and answer it while being lectured on the dangers of talking whilst on the phone.

He asked for my licence and upon examing it asked if that was my current address.  I nodded … thinking maybe they’d feel sorry for me that I lived in Newman.  Oh no … 10 minutes later (yes, they left me stewing in my car for 10 whole minutes) … the younger of the cops returned with a “traffic infringement” as he so politely put it.  I’m not telling you how much it was … but let’s just say I could buy a whole heap more sexy underwear with it!!!

Take Away Coffee $3.90 (yes that’s right, we’re getting ripped off in Newman) … Flat Shoes $40 (yep that’s right, stilettos are out) … Sexy Underwear $100 … Getting caught on your phone while driving telling boyfriend about said sexy underwear … PRICELESS!!!

pp xx

The Sock Fiasco

When you think of socks, what do you think of?  I think of little pairs of cotton socks, non-descript, unisex … able to worn by anyone, any size, any gender.

And so you can imagine my surprise this morning, when my darling Mr W. informed me that in fact socks are not unisex … and his socks are not my socks.  How did this all come to be you ask.  Ahhhh well let me explain.

Well, I was busy getting ready for a super early start at work and Mr W. was getting ready to walk the dogs.  Upon opening his (our) sock draw he declared, “Kate I have no socks, why don’t I have any socks?.  You bought me 6 pairs a few months ago and now I’m down to 0.5” (holding up a lonely sock).  I opened my (my) sock draw and threw a pair of non-descript black sports socks at him.  “Where are my Nike socks?” he asked (apparently these are special socks).  I laughed and replied “oh I wore those last night”.  Mr W. rolled his eyes …declaring that in fact I can’t just use his socks and I need to get my own.  His suggested shopping list?  10 pairs of explorer socks and 6 pairs of sports socks.  “But explorer socks are expensive!!!”  I said … “Why would I buy my own when I can just use yours?”.  Another rolling of the eyes from Mr W.  I mean, I don’t see the problem.  I’ve been wearing his Explorer socks ever since I came to town.  And the draw is always full!!

I mean, I do have my own sock draw … it’s filled with pairs that I’ve apparently “stolen” from Mr W.’s sock draw … as well as clutch bags, notebooks, old purses and scarves.  It’s a multipurpose draw really.  Hence why I need to share a dedicated sock draw with Mr W.

I honestly don’t see the problem.  We share lots of things, all of which are washed and clean before the other person uses them.  Things like towels, cutlery, plates … and socks!  Apparently, Mr W. doesn’t want my “budgie” feet in his socks.  I won’t tell you the analogy I used to retaliate this one.  He asked me whether I would wear his underwear, to which I replied “well … I would consider it, it does look comfy”.  Apparently he doesn’t feel the same about my underwear.  It’s a shame really, we could be onto something.

And so, in the interest of keeping the love alive, I’ve added several pairs of socks to my shopping list for my Perth trip later this week.  I might even surprise my gorgeous man with some personalised socks … I mean, I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing socks that say “Mr W.” … or would I??

I would love to know your take on our Sock Fiasco.  Do you wear your partner’s socks?  How do they feel about this?

To be continued …

pp xx

PP Gets a PT …

It’s been a while since I’ve written a blog … to be perfectly honest, life has become majorly hectic up here … early starts, late finishes … working full time and running a business … and that’s not to mention looking after Mr W. ;-)  I’ve been racking my brains for some inspiration on what to write about … and then I decided to get fit … and here we go … instant blog!

So let me paint the picture … I’m not the fittest person in the world, in fact I’m probably one of the least fit.  And to make things even better, I’m really not into exercise.  Yep, I’ll walk the dogs if Mr W. whinges enough and occasionally I’ll walk to work … but apart from that, well, I get all the fitness I need from raising my glass of cask wine to my lips.  Enough said.

And so, after meeting with my new Personal Trainer once to discuss a few things, I rocked up to the gym for my fitness test.  I felt like a fish out of water … a smelly boxing gym in the middle of no where, it was like a relic from the 70s that time forgot.  But my PT is so energetic and enthusiastic … not to mention FIT, it’s almost impossible not to feel pumped.  We cranked up the tunes and off we went …

And so the Fitness Test consisted of 10 “one minute” tests including things like step ups, sit ups, push ups, running starts, star jumps.  The aim … to do as many as you can in one minute.  I did pretty well, I wasn’t breathless, my legs burned a little, but nothing too harsh … nothing I couldn’t get through … or so I thought …

Well we got to the last “minute” test, and up until that moment I was feeling fine, a little puffed, but as I said to my PT, I can talk underwater with a mouthful of marbles, so I don’t get out of breath or show signs of being puffed.  But all of a sudden I was feeling nauseous.  Thinking it was just because I was tired, I  mean I’d been up since 4.30am and by this stage it was 8.20pm … but 10 seconds later I was out the front of the boxing gym throwing up behind a tree.  Oh yeah.  That’s so hardcore.

I was so embarrassed, not only was I really, really unfit … I had vomit coming out of my nose due to the fact that I couldn’t stop laughing at my predicament.  And this was only the fitness test, not the training … ho hum.

And so, I’ve arrived home and had a cup of sweet black tea … this will apparently stop the shaking I’m experiencing.  I can’t wait until I’m so sore I can’t dress myself.  This will apparently happen on Saturday.  Yay!

And as for my Personal Training sessions … I’m not going to give up, I’m going to get fit, even if it means starting from the bottom.  And so, next Monday  I’m heading back for another session.  But not to the gym … ha ha I’m not fit enough for that yet … I’m heading to the local oval.   I’ll let you know how I go.  One thing’s for sure, I’ll be taking my sick bag lol😉

pp xx

Am I Losing the Princess Factor?

Losing the keys to the work car made me realise just how much my life has changed in the past few months.  In fact it had me worried that I might have been losing the princess factor … however, getting a flat tyre today has made me realise that actually, the princess factor is holding on strong … maybe I need to start from the beginning …

Last night, I dropped Mr W. off at work and then went and did the shopping.  Nothing unusual about that.  Except that I was wearing steel caps and a high vis orange shirt … and driving a mine site vehicle.  Oh how life has changed.  When I got home, I realised that I had locked myself out.   Luckily my gorgeous man is smart enough to have hidden a spare key for times like this.   And so, after getting into the house, I then realised that I had lost the car keys.  Ho hum.  I grabbed a torch and back tracked, I turned the car upside down, checked the shopping bags, the bin … but the keys were no where to be found!  Hmmm, looks like I would be pushing that car with the flashing beacon to work.

Searching through my handbag trying to find the keys to the work car (a far cry from my little city astra … a manual Nissan Patrol with a roll cage, flashing beacon, 2 way radio, flag and canvas seats … noice) … I found some unfamiliar objects amongst the myriad of lipglosses and perfumes … a “Take 5” notebook from a mine site induction, a glove clip, a pair of safety glasses … hmmmm.  Then I looked at what I was wearing … orange high vis shirt, daggy nanna jeans and clunky steel caps.  What happened to little Miss Glamazon?

Oh and back to the keys, well Mr W. found them near the herb garden (just like I knew he would).  Thank you honey xx

But if I was worried that the princess tiara was slipping,  I was reminded today, that in fact it is well and truly still sitting firmly in my freshly dyed locks …

Driving to work this morning (now that Mr W. had found the keys), I stopped in to get coffee at the only place in town with a decent brew.  When I got out, I heard a hissing noise … hmmmm smart enough to know I was soon going to have a flat tyre, I decided to forgoe my coffee and hot foot it back to the office … if it was going to die, at least it could do so in the comfort of the office carpark.

Sure enough, a few hours later the tyre was flat.  Hmmmm, what was I going to do?  I have seriously never changed a tyre in my life and this certainly wasn’t part of my job description.  I mean I have to wear PPE, but I don’t have to get dirty.  I phoned my boss to ask for the number for Roadside Assistance … I mean surely there is someone whose job it is to change my flat tyre.  He told me that I’d have to do it myself … or use my eyelashes to get someone else to do it for me.  I mean come on, this is a girl who can’t even get the bonnet of that silly car open … I’m serious, I can’t find the lever.

For a fleeting moment, I considered trying to change the tyre myeslf, but feeling the familiar grip of my princess tiara digging into my scalp I quickly decided against it.  Surely there was another way.  I mean, I may not have my acrylic nails anymore, but there was no way I was getting grease under the little fingernails I do have.

Just when I thought I would have to unbutton my orange high vis shirt, my gorgeous knight in shining armour (aka Mr W.)  phoned me … he had read my status on facebook (who said this social media tool had no standing?), having just woken up from night shift.  He was there within the hour, jacking up the Patrol and had that tyre changed in next to no time.  Thank you honey … you have proved yet again that you are best boyfriend in the world!

Well … I’m off to clean out my handbag … it’s high time my lip glosses and perfume resumed their previously highly held positions.

pp xx

It’s Princess Poopa Scoopa to you …

Last week I did something I never, ever thought that I would do … well, not without someone nagging me about it for a few hours first.  Last week, I picked up dog poo.  And not just one or two, but about 20 (yes, I know it’s absolutely atrocious that there were that many on the lawn to begin with, but it’s been a bit of a stand off between Mr W. and I).

One day last week, I was hanging out the washing and I was overcome by the stench of dog poo.  Looking over to our small lawn I noticed that no one (and by no one I mean Mr W.) had picked up after the furry kids for a while.  Poor things, they were running out of room and fast.

And so, I decided there was only one thing for it.  I was going to have to do it.  Mr W. watched me walk into our bedroom and when I came out he nearly wet himself from laughing.  I had found a scarf and tied it around my face, covering my nose.  I looked like the New Housewife of Abu Dahbi gone wrong lol.

But out to the lawn I went, poopa scoopa in hand (a very thoughtful present from my dear mum).  I reckon I got through about half when I came to a particularly fresh one.  I normally have a pretty strong stomach, but that really got me, even through my stylish pooper scooping attire.  I started to dry reach … and that my friends, is where my poopa scooping adventure ended.

I politely told Mr W. that I just couldn’t do it.  It would have to officially be his job from now on.  Afterall, I feed and water the dogs, as well as take them for walks (ocassionally) it’s only fitting that he should perform such an important role in their upbringing.

Princess Poopa Scoopa xx


Saturday Morning in Newman …

After having a week of feeling like I had lost my blogging mojo … a morning of boredem in Newman seems to have brought it back.  Mr W., being the hard working soul that he is, has just finished his 3rd night of night shift this morning.   For those of you with partners that work nights, you’ll know just how frustrating it can be when you have to live in the same house … and be quiet.  It’s great when I’m working, I get up and get ready for work, Mr W. comes home, jumps into bed and falls asleep.  But what happens when it’s my day off?  Well, I thought I’d share with you what night shift means for me when the morning after falls on a Saturday …

It means I have to be organised.  If I want to shower once Mr W. has gone to bed, I need to have all my stuff transferred to the other bathroom.  I know Mr W. says that once he’s asleep he can’t hear anything, but I would feel just awful if I woke him (remember the smoke alarm incident).  And so, night shift almost renders me homeless for a few hours as I search for things to do in this sleepy town …

6.15am alarm goes off, I remember that Mr W. will be home in about 20 minutes.  I get up, quickly gather bathroom paraphernalia, clothes, shoes and dump it on the kitchen table.  Jump back into bed.

6.40am Mr W. arrives home, I pretend to be asleep … have a conversation I can’t remember …

9.13am awoken by text message from my mum (oops, I must have fallen back to sleep) … Mr W. stirs a little, but I manage to sneak out of the bedroom without waking him.

9.45am after a shower in the spare bathroom, I take the dogs for a walk through the bush.

10.30am race home, put the dogs back in the yard, grab handbag and race to the gym for Pump … oops got the times mixed up, it started at 9.50, not 10.50 … ho hum.

10.40am head to hotel to buy a take away coffee … $5 (yes yes, your eyes aren’t deceiving you).

10.45am head to the shopping mecca of Newman to waste some time … surely there is something to look at?  Go to Woolworths, buy three magazines I don’t need and 4 mandarins that seem fresh and tasty.  One magazine had a free ModelCo Lip Balm … bargain.  Cost … $24.

10.55am walk back to car … which I have purposely parked on the other side of the car park so that it takes longer.  Call mum and talk to her in the car park.

11.10am do a lap around town, see who’s about.  no one to see.  return to shopping centre.

11.15am go to Tyre Shop to pick up spare tyre which has been repaired after my flat tyre yesterday.

11.25am go to newsagents to see what junk I can purchase … result = 3 scratchies, a birthday card, The West Australian Newspaper, Fridge Magnet, Blank Card … total $25.

11.35am do another lap around town … still no one about, no one to see, nothing to do.

11.50am decide to drive to Tropic of Capricorn.  This may seem strange, but try not going above 60km per hour for a month and see how you feel.  The lure of a 110km speed limit (if only for 15 km) is just too tempting.  Put on 80’s radio station, listen to Cher “If I Could Turn Back Time”.  Drive to Tropic of Capricorn sign, take photos, get back in the car, drive home.

12.10pm (yes I made it past lunch time) … arrive back in town, seeing as it’s after 12pm I head to the bottlo (you can’t buy wine here before 12pm remember).  Choose 3 bottles of white and a cask of red (yes I know, but it reminds me of my fabulous holiday lol).  Get told by the lady behind the counter that one cannot purchase cask wine on a Saturday, only a Mon or Tues.  Feel incredibly embarrassed.  Put cask back on the shelf and choose a bottle of red.  Gee it’s hard when you’re forced to be classy.  Pay for my wine and head back to the car.  Total $70.

12.20pm Consider sitting in the park and drinking my wine.  Decide to get Subway instead.

12.45pm Waited in line at Subway for about 15 mins but was actually happy with this, as it pushed my time out of the house out even further.  Total $9 (come on, I had to buy a couple of cookies too!).

1pm Returned home with above purchases.  Turned out to be an expensive morning.  Have snuck into the office and locked myself in so I can blog quietly.

So as you can see, I just love night shift.  It really makes my weekend.  Now where’s that wine???

pp xx