In the past couple of weeks, I have worked, attended meetings (see how official I sound?), embarrassed myself in front of the Minister for Tourism, and been back to Sydney to catch up with my friends and family. I’d have to say that the holiday was the highlight, although proving myself as a noob in front of a politician runs a close second.
The trip, as always, was hectic and fun. I managed to squeeze in a lot of socialising, a bit of shopping, some soapbox moments, and some fabulous café meals. Some of the highlights included:
+ A System of a Down sing-along with my friend Jake. We used to have these every time we were in the car together, but now that we're living on different islands it makes it a bit difficult. We're obviously getting older though - Jake ran out of breath halfway through a song and had to take a minute to regroup. Sigh. Getting older is a bitch.
+ Dinner with my Mum, Uncle, Aunty and her partner. And Jake. The funniest moment (albeit possibly traumatising for Jake) was when my Aunt licked her finger, touched herself, and then made a sizzling noise. Yeah, I come from hot stock, people.
+ Dropping a wad of cash at a shop in Springwood, and having a chat with the chick behind the counter. We got into a discussion about Burnie (as you do) and she was telling me about how she'd been to the Makers Workshop, and spoken to this lovely artist there. You might have heard of her. It was none other than Jaci Poke.
+ Watching TV with Tibby, Elyse and John. There were bad shows, bad jokes, and elbow wrestling matches (accompanied by suitable dramatic music).
+ Spending time with one of my favourite little families. Amie, James and Lucian are always on my list of people to catch up with. The little dude Lucian is turning one tomorrow (!), and Amie is carrying the next little bundle addition to their family. Always a pleasure, always funny, and more often than not includes reggae music and bad dancing (on my behalf). I also managed to get slapped in the face with the skin that had formed on my hot drink. I can't even begin to describe the gag-worthy effects of this.
+ A night at the pub in Penriff. My friend Amee came up with a new religion that I just KNOW is going to take off. We planned the promotional posters and everything. We also regaled each other with stories from days of old, and tried unsuccessfully to deflect the attentions of a highly inebriated young Navy boy. It's an oxymoron, isn't it? We were as surprised as anyone else.
I was fairly knackered by the time I left. Especially when you count in travel time, and everything else. On the flight home, I started dozing. It was quite restful, sitting there curled underneath my coat, listening to the murmur of other people talking, and the rustling of page turning. For the duration of the trip I zoned in and out of consciousness, and eventually fell into a sinking, deep sleep.
Then we landed. I snorted awake, realised that my mouth had been open, and I'd therefore possibly been drooling. I reassured myself that I didn't know anybody on the plane, and stepped back onto Tasmanian soil.