The Force

What urges one to wear tights that have a precarious run over the
buttox area. One that you know is there and will leave you feeling
exposed for the rest of the day. Or sweltering hot because you left
your coat on in an attempt to 'cover up'.

Probably about the same mysterious force that results in only ever
needing to poop when you have left the house. Or only ever knocking
your body in places that have already been hit (leaving a bicycle in a
small passage way is probably not a good idea, especially if you are a
Midnight Wee-er). And I would dare say it's the same force that
leaves you positively dehydrated when you have no cash what so ever
and are on a train, or in the middle of a field or some other shopless
area.

The same force that makes it pour with rain when you have no umbrella,
raincoat, ANORrrrrrrrAK (emphasis on the 'K' for the afrikaans effect)
and the wind is making you chilly. Or makes the sun shine when you're
wearing warm clothes, can't remove layers and are prone to facial
redness.

That makes the teacher ask you for the answer the 0NE time you didn't
do your homework. Or the one that makes you NEED to have THAT dress
when you have money for petrol to get home and petrol ONLY.

It's a mysterious thing.
My buttox just says I should have worn a looooonger top or a dress so
it wouldn't feel so violated every time I sit on a bench in a station.

New Hair Day

I have been moaning about my hair for a while. It was short, and then
it started to look a bit 'shaggy'. This is not really a good look for
me. My skin is now pale, and I have been working late nights, so it is
dull and a bit lacluster. (There are bags under these eyes too).

Then there was the question of 'What To Do'?
Do I want to cut it so it remains short, and while it would then
require regular maintenance it would be so easy to manage, especially
in the mornings-wash, dry (this takes about 2 seconds) and go...
OR: I could cut it so that it can grow. This requires less
maintenance, offers infinite styling possibilities, but takes longer
to dry etc, and with winter well on it's way... Hmmm

Needless to say, there was a lot of thinking involved. A lot of
pretend pony-tail making. And a few skype calls too. What is a girl,
if not one that requires the advice from at LEAST 3 other
professionals.

And by professionals I mean 3 people who have hair and have known me
for longer than a year. Clear qualification I say!

So off I went... Trotting along to a GERMAN hairdresser, where I had
made an appointment IN GERMAN, and then proceded to explain to the
hairdresser, who only speaks GERMAN, what I would like her to do to my
precious locks with those very sharp looking scissors. All the while
hoping I hadn't switched the word grow with something fatal, like
"Extremely Short Please"... Eek

And so the snipping began.

For the first time in my life I did not attempt to make small talk. I
did not attempt to watch watch she was doing. I did not attempt to
anticipate where she would cut next. I simple looked down at my lap
where she had placed a lovely GERMAN Glamour magazine, and poured all
of my energy into trying to decifer what was written in that tiny font
on those tiny pages.

It's funny the difference a haircut can make (even if you don't let
them dry your hair for fear of the price doubling, or something sneaky
to that effect). Just a few small snippidy snips and it's as though
the sparkle was re-added to my moisturiser.(I am convinced that that
is where the transformation from Asleep Face to Awake Face comes
from).

Even though my hair is now shorter (I went for the growing option, but
a style was needed. Mullets don't suit me, unfortunately), and I still
feel rediculously pale, and boyish (this may have more to do with my
height and constant jean wearing), and I am working late again and
will, no doubt, have even bigger bags under my eyes tomorrow, I feel
as though every person that walks by is admiring my mane. And even
better than that, I feel ok. I feel like I can confidently reprimand a
naughty child, and make it home through the cold, and rightfully so,
accomplish damn near anything.

I even managed to wear the right shoes today.

And all because of a haircut.
Aaah, the wonders of being a girl. :)

Stepford Wives

Since our house guests left, we haven't really had a chance to get things back in order. So, I decided today was the day. The ironing pile was growing, the dust was collecting in the corners and it was all getting a little too much.

The problem for me, however, is that once I start, I become quite particular, and can't stop until it's a little closer to perfect. Far cry from the little girl who used to just push it all under her bed, I know!

It was right about when I was folding the last freshly ironed t-shirt, that I realised how tired I was! I literally hadn't stopped for about 4 hours. (I know this seems a long time for a small apartment, but like I said, I'm particular, and there were hidden crevices that really had never been touched.)

Why did I not befriend some sort of army of stepford wives, with their pearly white aprons and incredible folding skills. It'd sure be a little easier! Maybe then I could learn the secrets to remaining immaculately put-together whilst tackling grime.
(I seem to be a more sweat-on-the-brow-hair-in-a-mess kind of cleaner, and then I, myself need to be cleaned.)

The problem with having a 'cleaning day' is that once you sit down, it's very hard to put your feet up. Will you mess up the sofa? Tread dirt on the carpet? Leave a ring on the table? Small things to be sure, but they add up, and soon enough it's cleaning day again.

At least it's just an apartment. Vacuuming literally takes 5 minutes if you're only going for the visible areas. Perhaps the trick is to remain incredibly busy, that way there is no time to obsess about the cleanliness of a cleaning cloth.

And there is always the upside of a REQUIRED glass of wine after it all.

Mind the spillage!!!

Shoes, glorious shoes

I know you're tired of wearing the same shoes all the time. And
they're so, well, black and beige. And your toenails are freshly
painted in a lovely colour... It's a sunny day.

Still, this is no time to be wearing slops Robyn!

Not only will you realise that, once again, you are the only person in
Munich wearing slops/sandals, but your toes will nearly fall off as
you cycle off to catch the train. Those people are not staring at your
feet in admiration of you free toes and wonderful workmanship with
nail polish... They're wondering why you are being so silly, so
unpractical, so un... German!

So I cower, and tuck my toes under my chair, and HOPE that when I
leave school today the sun will have warmed everything up 3 fold, so
open shoes feel neccessary.

These people have been here a little longer than me, so MIGHT know better.

But despite any strange glares and gusts of cold air, I have to say...
Man, it feels good to have free toes!

The Oktoberfest Magic

Today I started work at 6pm. Definitely looked like it was closer to
4pm the way the sun was still shining so furiously!

We are currently experiencing what is known as the 'Oktoberfest Magic'...
For some mystical reason the Autumn chill holds off for these two and
a bit weeks.

Personally I think it's amazing as I am not QUITE ready for the real
cold weather to set in. I need a pay check and a bit of a shop first I
think :)

Good weather also means trips to the play ground and walking home from
school, which means tired little girls. And while the need for
icecream is greater, as is the risk of sugar-crash-induced grumpiness,
and an apparent inability to eat peas ( try explain to a tired 6yr old
why she should eat more than 4 peas, tricky...) It does mean that
falling asleep is a much quicker event, and let me tell you... After
all that, I have begun to appreciate the stillness and QUIETness of
the night!

Also, the longer the day is, the more 'tea time's I can fit in!

Viva long sunny days! Viva!

Oktober Festivities

Oktoberfest.
A world famous gathering of hundreds of thousands of Beer lovers, and generally curious souls.

Got a picture in your head?

So did I... and it was completely wrong.

The large field filled with tents is actually a HUGE parking lot type surface, and the tents, well, they're not quite tents at all. In fact they are massive prefab halls, that are constructed just for, and come down straight after, Oktoberfest.
(A far cry from the shmooshy, muddy field I had envisioned.)

What we were greeted with was more along the lines of a LARGE scale fun fare.
Food, horses, roller coasters, beer halls, brightly coloured lights, laughter, food and hundreds of people, all dressed in their traditional get up.

Just in case you missed that... let me repeat... ROLLER COASTERS.
These are incredibly fun for once you have drowned any fear of heights and strangely directed motion with beer, and feel like you might ENJOY being flung around in the sky. Nothing but a few bolts and bars of metal keeping you from falling a looong way down. The view, however, is AMAZING! Especially at night!

The people are loud, festive and for the most part, pretty drunk. But everyone is toasting everyone, and chanting and cheering together.
Finding a table is a bit tricky, especially if you get there later in the day, but once you're in, you are prepared to settle in for the day.

Well, until the roller coasters call becomes too loud to ignore.

My traditional outfit was far from warm, and my snotty nose was a bit of a pain, but I was there. Oktoberfest. No way I was going home until after AT LEAST 3 rides and a very warm, sticky, nuttela pancake.

And the best part?
It goes on for two more weeks!!!!!

While my beer drinking for the rest may be limited, I will DEFINITELY be returning, even if just to watch the people walk on by. If I make it through the recovery day, that is.

I would not recommend

settling into a few bottles of wine the night before Oktoberfest begins.

This will only lead to more bottles, a late wake up, and a pretty severe headache and missing the opening parade.

It also makes it relatively hard to summon the will to drink beer.

Oh, who am I kidding.
I'm literally salivating at the thought of an icy, cold beer.