Not Quite Drinking In LA

Tomorrow I’m visiting a friend for dinner, and since I failed to take anything with me the last time I went to see him, this time I’ve overcompensated by fetching two bottles of wine and a triplet of different gins from BevMo, some sort of beverage supermarket. This was as not much fun as it sounds.
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Here and there and back again

My wife came in at 3 this morning and woke me up, so when my alarm went off at 6:30, I blinked and it was already 7. Panic stricken, I rushed around the house getting ready to go to the Parkrun. (Protip: it’s much better to go to the toilet then put on a pair of bib shorts, rather than the other way round.)

I pedalled as fast as I could, and only arrived 5 minutes behind schedule. But fortunately, the East Coast Parkrun pretty much always starts ten minutes behind schedule, so I was there in time to help with timing the runners. I rode back, ten minutes faster than last week’s bedraggled effort, and then tried my best to entertain the kids.
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Tacos by the pool

This evening we had a Mexican dinner at a friend’s condo. They have a Mexican restaurant in their complex – well, a bit more like a Singaporean idea of a bodega, I guess, serving tamales and jarritos and tacos. They gave my wife a burrito as big asa her head, and I had delicious but very messy tacos, each slightly larger than my thumb, but I kept scoffing them and sinking beer and gin until it was time to retire.

Like an idiot, this was on top of an early evening birthday celebration of very strong microbrewery booze – this century’s response to homebrew is artisanally crafted IPA that blows your head off the next morning, although since there aren’t enough hipsters with beards here, it gets served to you by random aunties in aprons instead. Plus ca change, huh?

Does this life ever become normal, or is this how it will be for me from now until the end of time? Not complaining, just curious…

Fremantle to Margaret River

This morning we packed up and left the apartment in Fremantle. I liked it: it had a nice view of the harbour from the balcony, the kitchen was nicely outfitted, the underfloor heating was awesome and the bed was enormous. But it wasn’t suitable for children – whether that was the steps everywhere for small children to trip over, or the hard tiled floors that made the underfloor heating possible, or just my two little goons’ obsession with doing things as dangerously as possible. You don’t need to eat breakfast while jumping up and down on a chair that you’re simultaneously trying to lean back so you can be thrown over the railing and down a flight of stairs. It’s just that apparently that’s the fun way to do it, when you’re somewhere approaching four years old. Continue reading “Fremantle to Margaret River”

Champagne and board games

You know you’re in trouble when there’s champagne and there’s no special occasion apart from it being Saturday night. I think back to my young drunken rampage through a gay club in Kings Cross, bankers to the left of me, bankers to the right of me, bottles of champagne everywhere… where did the money go?) Tonight was fairly calm; we put the kids into the hands of our babysitter and then fled to our friends’ place, avoiding all parental responsibility.

In hand we had two games, King of New York and Exploding Kittens. With the benefit of hindsight it is clear that nobody enjoys their first game of King of New York because nobody knows what the hell is going on – second time and beyond it’s great, but I wonder how they ever have any repeat business. Well, clearly it’s people like me, hypnotised by cool graphics and the thought of laying waste to a major city. (And, of course, Captain Fish.)
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