This photograph is for my mom, who laughed for a really long time when I told her there was a place in Australia called Nar Nar Goon.

It’s actually not too far away from my head office, so after working there on Monday I took a slight detour, just for Mom. It’s a cute little town, little being the operative word.

 
But wait, it gets better:

 
I told Sparky about the second picture and he didn’t think it was funny at all. Nar Nar Goon? Funny. But not Koo Wee Rup. Nooooo sir, not funny. Very serious.

Bwah ha ha ha!

More evidence that I am juvenile… I’ve spent the last 24 hours laughing at the following sentence, printed in an article about the David Letterman scandal:
“After his confession, Twitter and YouTube exploded.”

BANG! (That was Sparky’s response, for the record. He did agree that was pretty funny.)

—–
I’ve been knee-deep in map stationery, getting ready for my first (shared) market stall on Saturday. If you’re in the neighbourhood, come and say hi to the lady in the giant sunhat.

 
My adorable American sister and her adorable Mexican husband have left after a whirlwind tour of Melbourne and surrounds. Boo.

The house is much quieter now. And not nearly as fun.

We saw and did all the good touristy things, which were all fun, but I must say I’m a bit touristed out. My favourite bit was hanging out and getting to compare genetic notes with my sister, who is three years younger than me.

She is now using wrinkle cream (I started a few years back). She has grey hairs, too. And she’s the only person who noticed I have new freckles. A heap cropped up on my stomach and limbs about a year ago, but my favourite is a big beauty spot on my cheek, which she noticed almost immediately. Sparky hasn’t even noticed, and he sees me every day. (My doctor thinks my new freckles might have to do with melanin production starting up again. Apparently chronically ill people gradually stop producing it, so by getting better, I’m reversing the trend. Thank goodness they are cute!)

I also learned how to make char-grilled salsa from scratch. I am never going back to the store-bought stuff! (I laughed at my sister when she haughtily said this in the supermarket, but that was before I tried her husband’s version. She was right.)

Now I’m back at work and have to deal with all these things in my life not going how I’d like. Like not having enough money to go back home for Christmas without using my credit card. So I’m trying to be as proactive as possible, starting with the decision to join the Northside Makers and try selling crafty stuff at markets. Scary but exciting.

 
I have no idea what this sign is supposed to mean. I mean, I get that it’s a restaurant, but why gold-an and not gold-en? And why the “an” in smaller red letters???

To me it reads like gold ‘n’ fork, which is a rather odd combo and not altogether tasty.

I don’t know if any of you are sick of sign photos yet, but I’m not too concerned because I think I lost most of my audience while hibernating. Which is to be expected, and takes the pressure off a bit. Frankly, I’m just glad to be taking pictures again.

Also: I’d like permission to punch the next person who asks me when I’ll be finished with my medical treatment or stop being sun-sensitive. Nobody knows, but that doesn’t stop EVERYone from asking.

Even worse than asking is when it’s stated, like “I thought you were supposed to be ‘done’ by now…” Yeeeeargh. Not helping, people.