Monthly Archives: October 2014

Lesson learnt. Piccolo now protected in case of sudden braking. Hello good burghers of the Czech Republic! Lovely to have you drop by. La hears she’s huge in Bohemia. Yup, me and The Hoff. Pravda vitėzi! You are very welcome here beneath our virtual dusty Australian rafters. We loved watching your Velvet Revolution and welcoming you to the free world!

Went to the Mornington Peninsula with Brunnie Browser on the weekend. Always love a Ladyfest with Brunster. We shared a lovely bott of quality fizz here. Or rather, I had a glass and Brunnie hogged the rest. The old girl’s a lush who needs to find a 12-step program pronto*.

We absorbed the magnifico vista, blissfully inoculated against the disruptiveness of other people’s children due the absence of our own. Is anyone ever happier than a mother travelling sans loin fruits?!?

However, a young hotel employee whom we affectionately nicknamed the Fuzzy Wuzzy Angel of Death tried to move us on sharpish. “I’m sorry ladies, but the grass is not hotel property and I must ask you to vacate the area,” Fuzz intoned robotically. Srsly?  La resorted to pulling the alcohol equivalent of that old Hollywood special, the Reese Witherspoon tried-and-tested, “Don’t you know who I am?!?”  Yup, I champagne-shamed him: “Don’t you know how much we spent on this bottle?!?”

It did sweet eff ay. He lurked, like a Dementor. We did as we were told and Moved On, a two-headed role model of assertiveness for downtrodden women everywhere.

When we checked into the Hotel Sorrento we discovered to our dismay that some oversized housekeeping trolleys had stolen our parking spot. But that Brunnie’s a woman of action; she took matters into her own pincers.

Srsly, never get in the way of a Queenslander and some shit that needs to be sorted.

Aside from an unfortunate case of Cheezel poisoning (Brunnie suffered a migraine and srsly puffy under-eyes after downing an entire box while reading trashy mags) and the buzz-killer that was the Angel, the weekend was relatively incident-free. We spotted some very srs hedging. This variegated number was particularly eye-catching.  (As you can tell, we partied *hard*.)

There aren’t many visual mementos of the weekend really, more mental mementos (mentalmentos? No, sounds like a minty anti-depressant). La misses Brunnie and, as with so many good ladypals, wishes distance was less tyrannical. *Sigh*

You can blame Brunnie for Triv being back on the grogs blogs, as she asked where La Triv had gone these past few months. Turns out all that was needed to lure old Trivster back into daylight was a yeasty champers with a fine bead, a few snorty laughs and a visitation from the Fuzzy Wuzzy Angel of Death.

Who’da thought? X

* Just a josh to see if Brunnie’s reading. She is consistently moderate in her grogs consumption, except when she’s installed at Top of Waikiki just prior to happy hour wrapping.

Emotions have been running high beneath los dusty rafters of Palazzo Trivialista.

First up, someone was busted with his hairy butt in the vege patch.

After a verbal drubbing, he popped that warm, guilty tail between his legs and walked that dog-gone guilty look over to…

…Triv’s sun-soaked day bed.

Maybe he was ruminating on how much better life would be if he’d been born with crimped ear hairs.

La Triv checked with this pooch’s owner, and its ear ‘do’ is indeed natural. Spooky.

Speaking of grooming, La Triv was recently enjoying a moment of gratitude towards the universe, musing peaceably and happily on how thoughtful it was of Sydney Buses to provide a ledge deep enough on which to rest one’s morning piccolo.

Then this happened.

Yup, a sharp turn and it was all over for this two-pocket Country Road white utility shirt. Mercifully, the fashion gods smiled on the J Crew embellished blush cashmere popover, which survived by the skin of its sequins. Although it was bought on sale, that was a capital write-down we would NOT have wanted to execute.

Coffee disasters continued on a visit to the insanely popular waited-80-minutes-for-a-table-buggered-if-I’m-going-there-again Grounds of Alexandria.

La Mamma Trivialista was visiting from the Bane of Bris. Such an occasion always calls for a visit to a “now”-type brekkie venue. Off we headed to the Grounds, as the kids always like to visit with Kevin Bacon and we’ve hardly seen him since he was knee-high to a slops-laden trough.

He’s grown.

I was standing next to his fence, admiring his markings and his delicate hooves when — PLOP! — la piccolo cup, which had once again been resting on an inappropriately unsafe ledge, dropped into his pen.

As Kevin began to walk towards my dropped cup, people started to holler at La, “Get it OUT!” Across 20 seconds that seemed like two hours, it became evident my fellow pork-loving patrons expected me to get down and dirty and retrieve my cup before greedy Kevin gobbled it up.

Needless to say, he got to it before La did.

This is la piccolo cup, post a Kevin Bacon mauling. A braver and less selfish sheila than me reached beneath the battens of the pen and fetched it from Kevin’s salivating chops.

You know me, and you’d know I was NOT going to go there. Nature is nice from a distance, but holds no appeal up close. Except for this kind of nature.

Cultivated, trimmed, scissored and wrapped – nature at its best.

Ciao x