Pizza, pets and new year pizzaz

Went to my new favourite pizza joint (to tell you the truth I never had an old favourite)and drank too much red wine and told told hilarious stories to mountain spice who was remarkably sober and her partner who I don't have a bloggish name for so will remain unnamed at this point. We all ended up somehow strangely in our local supermarket on the wiggle home, unnamed partner listening to pixies in the car to pick out cords for some future loungeroom guitar jam session and mountainspice and I roving the isles for *those* almond finger biscuits - you know the kind, all solid and moist and european... So there we are at the checkout and the probably still in school checkout dude says 'ok seeyou Monday, it's the next day I'll have free to skate!' with a roving lofty arm in the air towards his last checkout customers, older, cooler, almost long gone through the automatic doors to freedom. He looks back towards us, sad to be brought back to now and we say chirpily 'what kind of skating?' and he says 'what?' and we say 'what kind of skating do you do' and he looks tickled as if we'd read his mind or sensed something private and mysterious from the cut of his grey uniform shirt or cock of the eyebrow (when in fact all we did was eavesdrop with no effort at all) and he says 'aggressive rollerblading!'. To which we laugh and I ask if this involves elbows stuck out in the way of passerbys, and he explains that recreational rollerblading is people in lycra along beaches and that they are much like skateboarders instead (only their wheels stay on). Think 'grinding' along the tops of concrete structures and going 'weeee' down handrails. He is so animated we forget our almond biscuits and the machine that goes beep and the hideous fluoros illuminating his every pimple and our purplish rings under tired eyes and we find out the best places in out town to aggressively rollerblade to and the best tricks and I stop short of asking when the rollerdisco movie is coming out and we leave laughing, thrust into the midst of large girthed surly supermarket men on their smoko, forming a tight sullen circle of grey shirt and bringing us back to reality.

Other news to break - boombah is coming home! That's my old and cantankerous cat, for those of you who may be wondering. Black, grumpy, alternately clingy and standoffish but cute as hell. Gave him away to a good home about a year ago in light of my itchy feet (travel not athletes foot), but now stable new mum is also about to go gallavanting so looks like I will be a pet owner again. Perhaps my karmic destiny is to nurture and care for more than just my houseplants after all??

Oh - an update following a snide comment made about a neighbour in an earlier post. Grater now returned with jar of honey made from his own hives (who has their own hives??). Yum yum say unpasteurised honey and all of it's wound-healing and muesli-adorning properties after me.

New year pizzaz - re-oiled my wooden floorboards (they were tung oiled not varnished so lend themselves to easy re-pizazzing), dusted some randomly selcted surfaces and even cleaned out my kitchen under the sink cupboard (my jam making to jam jar collecting ratio seriously out of balance hence no room in cupboards for new christmas stick-mix and attachments. Have purged the less glamorous of jars and vowed to fill the others with all manner of organic pulses from the co-op any day now...).