I heart flowers in my taxi.

Stanley Beach, Hong Kong.

Stanley Market, Hong Kong.

Point & Shoot: Our weekend

I heart Fat Mum Slim's game, Point & Shoot... is it a game? An activity? An exercise? It's darn tootin' fun, whatever it is.

This weekend was extra spesh because most of my parentals were in town (three out of four - we're a modern family).

On Friday evening, my mum, step-dad and I met B after work at a ridiculously cool bar at the top of Hong Kong's gorgeous Prince's Building. We each ordered one ridiculously overpriced cocktail and my sweet mum (who doesn't normally drink cocktails) was after a 'Grasshopper' (a creamy, green cocktail that died with the 80s). In the end she settled for a mystery strawberry concoction dreamed up by the bartender. After that, we wandered over to "rat alley"; a swarming anthill of Indian, Thai and Vietnamese restaurants in the heart of Lan Kwai Fong, Hong Kong's

bar district. We fell into a cab with thumbs up and bursting bellies.

Saturday spelled more wining and dining when we boarded a sampan boat in Aberdeen harbour which dropped us off at Jumbo Seafood for lunch; a floating Chinese restaurant with incredible views, blue skies overhead and bottomless sparking wine... ouch!

On Sunday, my dad arrived and joined us at our apartment, where we devoured a cheese platter and caught up over laughs about his adventures in China. It was Otto's first birthday that day, so we thanked him for being such a devoted granddad and flying all that way for our dog's birthday! Props, pa.

Sunday night we invited our parents to the American Peking; one of Hong Kong Island's most famous Peking Duck restaurants. Six of our close friends in Hong Kong joined us and there was as much giggling as there was gorging on duck, pigeon, mutton, shrimp, beef, chicken and Chinese greens. Delish!

Incredible weekend... now all I need is a weekend to recover.

A RAT. Inside my kitchen.

Is this normal? Has this ever happened to anybody?

I just walked into my kitchen, to surprise a large brown rat hunting around my coffee and tea.

After the moment it took my brain to believe what my eyes were telling it, I ran into the loungeroom to yell to B,

"A mouse, a mouse!! A MOUSE is in our kitchen, QUICK!!"

You see, before now, I couldn't quite tell the difference. Plus I was in shock, okay? Hmpf.

I rushed back in, with B hot on my heels... the rat saw me and sprung towards the open window, falling into the sink on the way and collapsing a few dishes. It then panicked and made a leap for the windowsill, knocking a candle to the floor before scurrying out.

As I lunged over to shut the window, B laughed at me for calling it a mouse.

"Honey, that's a RAT," he said. "A mouse would be so small, you'd barely see it."

Whatever buddy, it was brown and hairy, okay?

Thanks for the nightmares, rat.

p.s. We have a miniature schnauzer, who were bred to hunt for rats. That's why they have long beards. Otto, the schnauzer, didn't do a darn thing. Way to go, Otty.

One year ago today

Our miniature schnauzer, Otto, was born.

Seven weeks later, he came into our lives.

Out of all his brothers and sisters, Otto was easily the most timid, shaking like a leaf whenever we reached out to touch him.

B worried that might not be such a good thing.

"He needs some spark," he said.

But I pointed out Otto's sweet face and long eyelashes to B. We could see he had a good heart.

And it didn't take long to figure out he was ours.

We had no idea what we were in for when we took Otto home... puppies, however adorable, are really vicious little monsters, hell-bent on destruction.

Otto, "the peeing machine", cried all night, pooped everywhere, chewed up the flat and terrorised our ankles with his razor sharp puppy teeth. Running through the house daily, with Otto chomping at my heels, became a daily event.

Over time though, little Otto grew.

And grew.

While he was now sleeping through the night, peeing and pooping only where he should, and no longer nipping our ankles, destroying our apartment was still high on Otto's agenda.

8 months into his life, we decided he was bored and needed a brother. So we found Ted.

They are now the best of friends as well as brothers.

Dogs can truly change your life.

Otto's affectionate heart, sweet smell and cheeky personality changed ours.

Happy birthday furry little creature. We heart you.

Hello new blog followers,

There's something you should know.

My 7 secrets to share.

Oooh there's nothing quite so juicy as a good secret, is there?

Thankfully, I can honestly say I don't have many skeletons in my closet... but I have had to poke around in there a bit today for a few, after my new blog friend Snappy Q (a Canadian, like B!) tagged me in a post where I have to reveal 7 secrets about myself. Thank you, Snappy Q. So I promise to keep it clean, people!

1. I am not a morning person. I deeply want to be... I secretly envy people who spring out of bed before 7am, with a smile, a coffee pot gurgling away and a desire to "get the day going." The only place I want to go in the morning is back to sleep. For a really long time. I am, conversely, a night person. Which means when B is falling into bed I'm the one chatting away, trying to think of questions to keep him awake :).

2. I stole something when I was a child. A packet of erasers, actually, from one of my closest friends... I know, what kind of friend was I??? I saw this cute little coloured pack of erasers in fancy shapes and I simply had to have them. So, when she was out of the room, I pocketed them and took them home. When my mum found them, she made me return them to my friend and apologise. Can you say mortified?

3. I try and be cool and like really current, underground music, but I mostly can't get into it. I'm happy with my late 20th century classics. I know the tunes and the words, and new music scares me. I like anything from the 60s, a lot from the 70s, most of the 80s, and - shudder - even some of the 90s. Paula Abdul, anyone? Debbie Gibson? Remember those guys who wore their clothes backwards? Kriss Kross? Now there's a fashion trend that should have caught on!

4. I don't eat mushrooms. At all. Like, ever. It's for a combination of reasons; the fact that mushrooms are such a visual fungus is hardly a tick in the plus column. But mostly, it's because of their smoky taste and rubbery texture. Excuse me for a moment while I go and barf.

5. I finished my first year of university, then dipped out to take a loooong break before returning again (and I am now due to finish in August '11). The reason was, I got offered a hot job in the media industry and absolutely had to take it! It was the right thing to do. It set my career in motion.

6. I was mugged in Peru, while walking up a dark alley by myself. It was really not a very fun experience, and I should write a longer blog about it. Basically, I was a silly girl, and told multiple times to not walk alone up any dark alleys. So, what did I do? Kinda forgot, and walked up the first dark alley short-cut that let to my hotel. Yehr, that went down well.

7. I am an easy laugh. Big time. I've had comedians at comedy clubs come and thank me afterwards for making them seem funnier than they actually were and encouraging the crowd to laugh. I can't help it, say something even remotely funny, and I'll most likely laugh out loud... if it's genuinely really funny, I'll downright howl and then have little giggle outbursts now and then for hours afterwards as I think about it over and over. Is this a good thing?

I now have to tag 7 other bloggers to do the same... if they so desire. At the very least, please check out their fantastic blogs! Have fun x.

Belinda - Cupcakes, Frocks and Pink

Chantelle - Fat Mum Slim

Simone - Honey and Fizz

Mrs Woog - Woog's World

Lindsay - Scenic Glory

Ali - Mummahh

Kelly - Messy Freckle

...I'm dreaming of...

I heart him; he makes me laugh so.

10 things that make me happy.

Hello you.

I'm all inspired and continuing the happiness trend started by Messy Freckle and picked up by my gorgeous friend Mrs Kypo.

Wow, what fun; picking out things that make me googly-eyed, jolly, giggly and just downright fun to be around.

There are squillions of things that make me happy, but here's my handful of ten, in no particular order:

♥ A long, hot shower at the end of the day. I work from home and it serves as my emotional separation between work and play. Very important for a home-worker. It used to be a bath, but my new apartment (while fantastic) doesn't have a bath. We don't like to talk about it.

♥ Watching my two dogs sleep cuddled up together like an old married couple. They fight by day, but at night, it's spoon baby, spoon. Same as the rest of us.

♥

My boyfriend's laugh. Not the half-hearted version; the sudden and joyful gutteral laugh that only happens when he finds something a genuine riot. A friend of mine once pointed out how great B's laugh is, and I've been agreeing with her ever since.

♥

Closing the door to the rest of my household and lying in bed, nice and early, with an episode of Gossip Girl, True Blood or Mad Men and snuggled under the covers. Me time.

♥

Cooking elaborate dishes on a Sunday afternoon, with the radio spun to the classical channel and my iPhone turned off. Bliss.

♥

Books I can't put down. These are rare finds; little gems I've mined through metres of rock-hard reads to unearth. Recent ones include Unbearable Lightness by Portia deRossi, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson and A Thousand Splendid Suns by the ah-mazing Khaled Hosseini.

♥

Blogs, blogging and bloggers. I started my blog in 2009 on a kind of whim, expecting it to be another one of my half-finished "projects" that I pick up and play with, before dropping like a hot potato when something new piques my interest. In this case: No, no and nope. I got hooked on blogging... the diary, the release, the interaction and the inspiration.

♥

Buttery, salty, popcorn. Lots of it. I will literally starve myself before a late-night movie, so I can order the largest size they have. B typically won't buy anything and will then stick his predatory fingers deep into MY popcorn when the theatre lights are down (thinking I won't notice) until I slap them out of the way and accost him for stealing what he decided not to buy. Of course, halfway through the box, I decide I can't eat anymore and it ends up cold, banished to the underneath of my chair with B smirking next to me.

♥

Dancing to tragic eighties songs on dance floors way past my bedtime after way too much wine. Yes it happens. Frequently, in fact, and I always find myself grinning from ear to ear while shaking my booty and vowing to return the next night. Which I am always way too headachy and mortified to fathom.

♥

Getting off planes. Once upon a time, it used to be getting on planes. Planes heralded the promise of travel, of little food compartments, free movies, clouded windows and smiling flight attendants. Now, getting on planes heralds the promise of flying phobias, cardboard food, yet another night slept in a chair and grumpy flight attendants. And getting off planes can mean only one of two things: arriving at a holiday destination or arriving home, to my dogs and warm bed. Both are two of my favourite places.

Fancy continuing the happiness trend on your blog? What makes you go 'ga ga'?

They say "motherhood never ends."

But neither does daughterhood.

Is daughterhood a word? That red squiggly line thing isn't coming up, so I guess it is.

Mothers, I'm told, never stop worrying about their daughters (and sons).

They only want the best for them.

They wish them every happiness they can find.

They secretly cross their fingers that they will have an untroubled life.

They constantly want to feed them things.

When I stayed at my mum's place in Sydney a few weeks ago, she repeatedly chased me around the house, which went something like this:

Mum: "Nat, would you like some leftover schnitzel?"

Me: "No thanks mum, I'm not hungry yet."

~ 5 minutes later ~

Mum: "Nat, would you like a ham and cheese sandwich? Just something small?"

Me: "No thanks, I'm honestly not hungry."

~ 4 minutes later ~

Mum: "Nat, are you sure you don't want anything to eat?"

Me: "Mum, no, I'm really ok... thanks."

~ 5 minutes later ~

Mum: "Nat, how about some cheese..."

Me: "Mum!!!"

Bless her.

I, too, only want the best for my mum.

I wish my mum every happiness she can find.

I secretly cross my fingers that my mum will have an untroubled life.

I don't want her to go hungry.

And, like all children, I want her approval.

I want her to like who I am: the bits that are like her; the bits that aren't.

I want her to trust my decisions, yet be there for me when I mess them up.

I want her to worry less about me, even though I know that will likely never happen, as I always worry about her.

I want her to be proud of who I am: the bits she created, the bits she didn't.

I want her to forgive me when I snap at her, as many children have a habit of doing but never intend.

I don't want my mum to ever leave me, even though I know she will one day. I'd probably prefer to leave her first, but I know that's not the way it should go and that it would break her heart.

And I don't want to break her heart.

So, while motherhood never ends, neither does daughterhood.

And thank goodness for that.

My mum in days gone by... aint she purdy? p.s. She still is.

Our Sunday (in photos).