X-Sitting

Wow, it's been a long time. I apologize for my lax blog behavior, but let me assure you that lots of fun things have been going on here. The most notable: Will and I are acting as professional X-sitters! What does the X mean, you may ask? It means we're sitting for so many things that you may as well just fill in the blank. House-sitting? Check. Car-sitting? Check. Plant-sitting? Check. Dog-sitting? Oh my, yes.

Our friends Deborah and Wayne (formally mentioned on this blog as the Quarantine Friends) are on holiday in Europe for two-and-a-half weeks and needed a couple of reliable, responsible people to take care of their assets. When they couldn't find any of those, they settled for two people with the same kind of dog as they have. That's right-- we are currently the proud caretakers of two little Westies. As astoundingly adorable as a double dose of Westie may sound, it is also most definitely double the trouble.

Take for example Friday night. Deborah and Wayne had just departed the country, and Tofu came to our apartment while Will and I finished packing for our 2.5 week vacation. Tofu, presented with an entirely new environment without the safety of her parents, made her displeasure known. The whining and crawling up Will's lap set Darcy's discomfort-meter on edge, and she joined in the chorus of yips. They continued to feed off each others' paranoia until Will and I couldn't stand the apartment one second longer, closed our half-packed bags, and headed for the burbs. Upon arrival to her home, Tofu settled down considerably and even got comfortable around us... which in turn set off Darcy's jealousy. She couldn't understand why another little white dog was sitting on her daddy's lap, and occasionally even tried to push her off. Thankfully the jealousy and whining are now in the past. All we have left to worry about is that one of the dogs will knock a hole in the wall or fall down the stairs while they're chasing each other around the house.

Of course, to off-set the Westie troubles we have a brand-new, beautiful townhome (with Brazilian cleaners once a week! Some of you know how obsessed I am with Brazilian cleaners), a fabulous barbeque area, and two cars, including an Audi convertible.

All suffering in the name of friendship, of course. Updates of our trials and travails to come.

Darcy Down Under Goes to the Yarra Valley

Hi there! Sorry it’s been awhile since I’ve updated you on what you’re really interested in—ME—but Mom’s been hogging the blog lately. I finally told her I’d pee on her head if she didn’t let me write something. That seemed to get her attention.

Anyway, I’ve been out of special agent training (Dad calls it “quarantine,” but that’s kind of a long word for me) for several months, and last weekend was my first big adventure. Well, except for the Great Ocean Road and Philip Island, but Grandma and Grandpa were with me, and they’re civilians, so I had to be on good behavior. First rule of special agent training: never let civilians get caught in the cross fire. (Which was kind of hard when I saw a killer koala in the trees that Grandpa kept taking pictures of, but it was asleep, so I determined the threat to be neutralized.)

By the way, I keep talking about Grandpa. Wanna see a picture of him?

Mom tells me I get my hair color from him.

Anyway, back to my adventure. Last weekend Mom, Dad, and I went to the Yarra Valley for something called an anniversary. I’m not really sure what that is, but I’m pretty confident it has something to do with me.

I hated the first day. It was cold and wet and I kept finding myself tied to posts outside of nice, warm-looking buildings. How was I supposed to enjoy an adventure tied to a post? (Sometimes I get the feeling Mom and Dad aren’t too bright.) Don’t worry, they got what was coming to them when I got in the car and made it smell like wet dog. Thankfully Mom and Dad didn’t seem to enjoy the weather that much more than I did, so we went back to our new house kind of early and I ran around and around and around sniffing everything. Finally, after I ascertained that the perimeter was secure, Mom and Dad felt safe enough to go to sleep.

The next day was heaps better. It started off on the right foot when Dad opened the blinds of our room and there were horses in the field. I barked and barked, just to let them know that I was keeping an eye on them. After hearing my warning, Dad shut the blinds so that the horses couldn’t see us. I’m sure glad I let him know they were there, though. Second rule of special agent training: danger is always right outside your door.

The sun was out by the time we left the room. We drove around to different farms, many of which had dogs like me. While Mom and Dad went inside to talk with the grape farmers, I interrogated the farm dogs.

ME: So, what do you guys do for fun around here?

FARM DOG: You’re pretty.

ME: You guys see a lot of trouble in the region?

FARM DOG: Err… there are wombats by the river. We stick our heads in their holes sometimes.

ME: Well, sounds like you have that threat under control. Just keep running regular perimeter checks and you should be fine.

FARM DOG: You’re pretty.

ME: Well you have a funny accent.

The farm dogs kept chasing me around everywhere I went. They tried to play some wrestling game where they jumped on top of me, but I kept dodging them. Mom says it’s because they’re not “fixed,” which I didn’t understand because they sure didn’t seem broken to me.

The day quickly took on quite a routine: drive to farm, play with dogs, dodge dog advances, play with Mom and Dad and advancing dogs, drive to other farm, repeat.

More farms, more dogs

Repeat

Everything in the Yarra Valley seemed to be well under control—until we returned to the room, that is. Mom and Dad, being the untrained, slightly dim people that they are, didn’t notice that in our absence, the horses had closed in upon the room using the simple but effective Seabiscuit maneuver, a commonly used technique in hostile equestrian takeovers. Taking one look at my parents’ oblivious faces, I knew it was up to me to make the world safe again.

Now, my dad doesn’t like taking me outside—he always mutters something about learning to use a toilet—so I knew it was going to take every ounce of cuteness that I possessed to get him to open the sliding glass door. After several minutes of pleading puppy-dog eyes, wagging tail, and a few solid licks for good measure, he finally relented, and I dashed to the nearest bushes, ever-conscious of the horse eyes upon me.

Matters were even worse than I suspected. I had to utilize every Horses 101 technique they taught during special agent training (better believe I was glad they made us read the chapter on Horse Manure and Five Deadly Ways to Use It).

The Undercover Maneuver, made famous by Special Agent Toto

The Stealth Maneuver, made famous by Special Agent Benji

The Rabid Dog Maneuver, made famous by special agent Old Yeller (note to posterity: I discovered this has no effect in Australia, seeing as rabies does not exist)

The Super Sonic Speed Maneuver, made famous by Special Agent Greyhound Bus

After exhausting my repertoire of special agent moves to no avail, I finally had to settle for the tried-and-true maneuver made famous by Special Double Agent Mr. Ed: Talking.

ME: Time to move along, giant and robust villains! Find another pasture to acquire, scallywags!

HORSES: Neigh.

ME: I’m serious! How dare you defy me, you neigh-sayers! Do you want a piece of this?

HORSES: Neigh.

ME: I thought not, for I am fifteen pounds of highly trained special agent muscle.

HORSES: Neigh.

ME: Fine, seven kilos.

Despite our heated debate, I finally made the hostile equestrians see reason and gained back the pasture-land for my family. However, I still had to stand guard all night to make sure no rogue horse returned.

We returned to Melbourne the following day. All in all, it was quite a successful weekend of ridding the world of dangerous threats to freedom and liberty and justice and peace.

Although I can’t say I wasn’t glad to get back to my life as a civilian… at least until the next time. Third rule of special agent training: never get too comfortable, because you don’t know when duty will call on you next.

Happy Australian Father's Day!

Many people do not realize that Father's Day (and its illustrious counterpart, Mother's Day) falls on different dates around the world. According to Wikipedia, there are more than twenty-five documented dates celebrating the parental Father Figure in countries world-wide... meaning, if you plan your trip right, you could celebrate Father's Day every other weekend for months on end! Keep that in mind, Fathers.

But how can this be, you may be asking. I thought Father and Mother's Days were sacred holidays decreed from the beginning of time and MUST be celebrated on the third Saturday in June and the second Sunday in May, respectively!

Well, my friends, this may come as a shock to you, but they can be celebrated on different dates because they are MADE UP HOLIDAYS!!!

Will's interjection: Don't mind her. She's just bitter that she loses a birthday every few years to said "made up holiday." Pay no mind to the bitterness spewing from this blog.

Be that as it may, though I may not be happy about the date that America and Australia decided to celebrate Mother's Day (really, I just need to move to a country that has a nice February celebration... Greece, anyone?), I am quite happy to celebrate the institution of mother and fatherhood... no matter what country in which it is being celebrated. So in honor of the venerable day of father's, we celebrated Will's "fatherhood" yesterday with a nice day outdoors. Will, Darcy, and I went on a four mile run that took us down to the beach, then ate lunch at a restaurant on the water while Darcy played in the sand. We then proceeded to walk the four miles back to our house (we thought we were so smart-- we figured out how to get to the beach, but forgot that you had to get back). Oh well, at least it tired out our "child."

The happy family after our four-mile run. Will had on this cute little red backpack and totally looked like on of those fathers who carries all of his kids' stuff while they're exercising.

So happy Father's Day to fathers everywhere, regardless of your country or the species that may have elevated you to such a level!

P.S. Love you, Dad! Even though I said it in June, happy Father's Day once again.

Trivia

Last week Will and I decided to reinstate a long-held Stone tradition and visit pub Trivia Night. We used to participate in a trivia game at least once a week or so, but hadn’t had the opportunity yet here.

Now, let it be said that I am no great prize when it comes to trivia, choosing instead to sit quietly by and pretend that I am the humble yet mastermind force behind Will’s genius. (Sooooooo not true, in case you were wondering.) Will is truly the one-man-strong cavalry of the Stone clan when it comes to the game of trivia, as he is finally able to utilize his under-appreciated gift of remembering lots of useless crap in a newly popularized pastime that has been deemed not only socially acceptable, but also rewarding for those who have no other outlet for this store of unnecessary knowledge. My primary contribution, on the other hand, usually comes in the form of remembering that someone had said something about something once upon a time, and while never exactly sure where it might lead, occasionally my aimless mental meanderings manage to jog at least one [smarter] person's memory and land us a point. All in all, however, while we were by no means undisputed champions, we Stones did okay for ourselves on the trivia front.

Until last week.

Over the last seven months we have driven on the left side of the road, had winter in July, grilled kangaroo, and eaten Lamingtons and Tim Tams for dessert, but leave it to Trivia Night to make it hit home that we are really in Australia. Who knew trivia could possibly be so different from one country to the other? Gone are the days when questions about national parks, American football players/teams, and David Hasselhoff were not only expected, but a given. Wake up, America: Australian trivia is playing by a whole new set of rules.

Sink-or-swim contests: will the Indian curried potato dumplings float in a jug of water or sink to the bottom?. Skulling (aka chugging) contests: will the poor smuck who volunteered to chug the Indian curried potato dumplings with his pants around his ankles be able to keep them down or not? Bogan Bonanza: a Price-is-Right-like competition in which you have to guess the price of a junker based on its actual classified ad. I said $500. Others said $3500. Of course it's $3500, because everything's absurdly expensive in Australia. Karaoke interludes: there's only one possible, painful meaning for that.

All part of Australian trivia.

But wait, there's more!

Not only were Will and I flailing in the unknown seas of trivial despair, left to navigate these unfamiliar, unwelcome additions to the game that we had come to know and love, but when it finally came time for the actual questions, we realized we would suffer no better fate. All sporting questions were hopeless, as they only pertained to footy, cricketers, and famous yacht races (to which we responded, "Who knew there even were famous yacht races?"). Music, a category Will normally excels at, turned out to be no better than sports once we realized that one-hit-wonders that made it big in Australia didn't necessarily find their way across the Pacific. Even the one question actually pertaining to America--a celebrity baby photo of a mini-Obama on a tricycle--turned out to not be recognizable to these particular American expatriates (maybe it's because we haven't been watching the news as much lately???).

Australian Trivia Night was an interesting adventure in a sort of detached, Discovery-Channel-esque, bird-watching way. To the casual observer, Australian culture is very similar to American (I mean, they actually have trivia nights, for one, which is more than I could probably say for Beirut or Bangladesh, among other countries). Only when you get a little deeper, dig a few centimeters below the surface, do you realize that this is a different culture, with different influences and values. Cricketers to the American football stars. British boy bands that never aired a single song on American air waves but hit it big here. Crappy Australian TV shows to, well, crappy American TV shows. But different crappy TV shows. Except for Two and a Half Men, which is the same crappy TV show playing in both countries.

It's important to appreciated these nuances in culture. It's what makes Australia the amazing country that it is, not the UK or the USA's little brother that it sometimes gets the rep for being. But I guess we're also really lucky, because when it comes to adjusting to a new country, it's nice to know that the biggest differences are, well, still rather trivial.

Happy Birthday, Will!

Today/yesterday (depending on the location of your friendly international date-line) was Will's Birthday! Though he and I both had to work, we tried to make the most of it by celebrating over dinner last night at Prime Steakhouse. Besides our taxi debacle (we waited 35 minutes last night for a cab that should have been there in 5, thanks to the dispatcher hearing the street number "9" instead of "49") it was a very pleasant evening with really good food. This weekend we're doing a combo birthday/anniversary celebration and heading to a bed & breakfast in Yarra Glen for a couple of nights. Yarra Glen is another wine region with beautiful scenery, wineries, and nature walks, so we're pretty excited. (Sidenote: my parents just informed us that we had a ticket delivered to them in the US from our time spent driving around when they were in Australia. [The ticket is delivered to the address on the driver's license, so it circuitously made its way to them.] The kicker: we got dealt a $146 ticket for going 107 K in a 100 K zone. 7 KILOMETERS OVER THE SPEED LIMIT. Oh, Australia. But anyway, it's a good thing to keep in mind right when we're about to rent a car again!) I also gave Will IOU tickets (the good kind of tickets, unlike the traffic tickets I was just speaking of) for the Australian Open in January. They don't go on sale until October, so we will be buying some good tickets for that event. Woohoo!

So happy birthday, baby. Thanks for being such a perfect partner, an amazing friend, and the father of our dog. I love you!

Homeward Bound

I did it. I just bought a plane ticket to New York City from October 21 - 29. Twenty-five hours each way. I must be crazy.

Why did I do it? One of my best friends, Carissa Lucyk, is getting married to Taylor Smith and I had to be there for it.

In some ways it was perfect timing moving to Australia when we did--economic crisis, being young and unfettered, and Darcy being young enough to pick up the language fluently (hardee-har-har). But in other ways, the timing was less than ideal. Three of my best friends chose the year 2009 to get married, and I could hardly go back for all of the weddings. It pains me to make choices like these, and pains me even more to miss such big events in their lives, but hopefully making at least one of the three weddings will be like honoring all three of them.

Carissa and I have been friends since freshman year when we lived on the same hall. We first bonded over her having the same name as my sister's, and the same middle name as me (Joy! Best middle name ever!). You have to admit, that's weird. Will and I have had a long history with Carissa and Taylor as a couple, beginning when Carissa and I started dating each of our future partners ON THE SAME DAY. Again, that's weird. Since then (when we started dating ON THE SAME DAY), we hung out a lot as couples, and our relationships have taken similar paths as we moved beyond college and into the real world. This past May, Will and I had the opportunity to visit Taylor in Indonesia, where he was teaching English for the Fulbright program. While Will will not have the vacation days to go back to the US with me, I will be the symbolic reminder of how far they have come since they started dating (ON THE SAME DAY AS ME AND WILL. So weird).

I'm a little bit nervous about going back to the States... and it's not just the fear of 25 hours of travel. (Sidenote: when I got back from Thailand I told myself I wouldn't travel internationally again for at least a year. Goes to show how much I listen to myself.) But it will be strange interrupting my Australian chapter in life with an American intermission. Another reason why Will is staying: I have to have a reason to come back. (And if he went, he might get caught up in football season and never come back, even if I was here waiting for him!) I'll probably post more about my thoughts closer to the date of travel, but I just thought I'd admit that it feels weird.

And at the same time, I can't wait! Oh, and if anyone wants to visit me in NYC, please be welcome. I will not be traveling around the rest of the country at this time (25 hours each way is more than enough travel for me, thank you very much). But I would love to see you Americanites.

Just a few things...

Just a few events that have been keeping us busy lately…

I went to a chocolate festival last weekend with Liz, my American neighbour (who is also my running partner. We motivate and drag each other down on a pretty equitable level. It's all about balance). It was pretty awesome—lots of chocolate and such. Of course, both of the men wimped out at the last minute, opting instead to stay home and do “manly” things (which for Will included cleaning the house and going to the grocery store… very manly). But once I found out that the festival was a little stingy with their chocolate giveaways I was glad we had only paid for one ticket.

Liz and I eating chocolate deliciousness covered with fairy floss
(Australian term for cotton candy)

More chocolate deliciousness (don't be fooled -- you had to pay for most of this stuff)

Last Thursday night Will and I met up with our quarantine friends (I get a kick out of calling them that. They’re really people who we met while Darcy and their dog Tofu—also a Westie—were in quarantine) for dinner. We went to a Spanish tapas restaurant that—no joke—takes three weeks to get an available booking (if we wanted to eat there on a weekend they wouldn’t have been able to fit us in until the end of September). The food at MoVida was amazing, albeit small. I was glad I had the straight hair for such a highfalutin restaurant, though.

Will and Kim at MoVida (hey, check out the straight hair on that chick! She fits right into a restaurant that has a capital letter in the middle of its name!)

Wayne and Deborah, our quarantine friends

Friday night I went out with some girls for my Borders friend's birthday celebration (a friend I met in Borders, so I call her my Borders’ friend... same vein as the quarantine friends. I think you're getting the idea), and Will hung out with his co-workers. We both had quite the time.

Sunday Will and Darcy went down to Melbourne University with me for the Open Day (aka open house recruiting event). I had to work a booth and try to convince people to come to our Summer School in December, while Will and Darcy hung around campus. It's my opinion that the little white dog scampering around Trinity College did much in the promotion of the college.

As you can see, we’ve been quite busy… not that we’re complaining.