Instant Husband

Husband's been playing this Instagram game much longer than me, and has a huge stockpile of amazing photos. Here are a few of my favourites from the road trip:

Follow him @wonderboy1000

A Fly By

This week flew by. Like an arrow, whizzing past my head. Probably because every single moment of every single day I was busy. That's what happens when you work seven jobs.

Almost a week ago, Husband was landing back in LA after his week back home. I was obviously at work, since that's what I do. That day it was at Native - a boutique. It was so so good to see him when I got home that evening. Soon after we headed out for the night - drinks for a friend's birthday.

Sunday was a double: shift one during the day at the other boutique I work at, Lake; shift two in the evening - the Grammy's after party at the Chateau.

Monday morning casting, followed by an afternoon shift at Native. Monday night was early to bed.

Tuesday: errands. Passport applications, buying uniforms and stock for work, vitamins for Husband.

Wednesday was up early. 9am fit modeling job - I'll be your mannequin, your real life mannequin. I try on a pile of clothes in the downtown LA area, in the office of a local fashion brand.

Later that day, a meeting with an event company - there's a big Oscar party coming up next week, 1000 people for a 5 course sit down, and I'm on the list to work as a server.

That evening, another shift at Native.

Work, work, work. Coffee, coffee, coffee. Sleep, sleep, sleep.

Thursday 9am prep for a hair modeling job. A couple of hours in and out, but I've got new brighter hues in my hair, which feels oh so soft and silky.

Followed up by another meeting - another possible job in sales. Schedule, schedule, schedule.

Time to turn it all off. Power down for Valentine's Day. I leave my schedule at home, desperately try and keep my phone in my bag, and not out of it, and head out for an afternoon and evening of fun with Husband. Pics on Instagram, and post coming soon.

Up early the next day - thank gosh for the 10pm bedtime the night before! 5.30am to get back to Wella for the hair job. Make-up. Hair styling. Presentation. Done.

Home. Sleeeeeeeep the afternoon away.

Friday's not over though yet - we're working another event in Beverly Hills. Uniforms on, in the car, off we go.

Saturday morning wake up. The room is filled with a warm glow. It's a beautiful day outside, the weather having treated us to three days so far, glorious and sunny. I slowly stretch out, and decide to get up early for coffee and blog writing, and a little introspection. This crazy week is much like every other week I've had since 2013 clicked over. It is joy to be busy, a rush of places and people and times. Body sore, but content.

Blog, What?

A brand spanking new favourite. Oh my gosh. I'm only just beginning to discover this wonderful blog.

A perfect read for a Late Afternoon.

[All pictures from Late Afternoon Blog]

Valentine's, Weddings & Lots Of Little Hearts.

So, it's Valentine's Day. So if you're one of those people who get horribly moody about people in love, then you should probably stop reading. Because not only is it Valentine's Day, but it's also our twenty-first month wedding anniversary (we're nearly at two years!), and no matter how silly it is to count the months, we like doing it, especially since this particular month falls on Valentine's Day - through no pure fluke, I might add.

Nearly two years ago now, when we were planning this wedding, we were heading very quickly towards winter. There were additional time pressures of filing forms, visas and travel applications, all of which needed to be done once we were married. AND then, to top it all off, I decided that we needed to get married on a date with a '4' in it. Because it's my lucky number, and because it's a bride's prerogative. Just like that.

So, out came the calendars. We had about a two month window before it became too cold, and too late. That means two month's of 4th's, 14th's and 24th's. Six days total. Some were too soon. Some were mid-week. And some were smack bang in the middle of pre-planned family holidays, and crazy cross-country adventure cycles that my father had planned.

Luckily, miracle of miracle, the 14th of May was unaffected. It was a Saturday. It was far enough away to give us just enough time (about two months) to plan the wedding, while still being close enough to not fall into mid-winter, and it looked like all the necessary family members would be back in town that weekend.

Date set.

After that, what could possibly go wrong? The location was relatively easy to organise, the invitations took slightly longer than expected, my dress was started and completed within the seven days before the actual ceremony, and a good few friends even managed to make last minute plans to fly in from around the world.

OK, so there were quite a few hitches and surprises along the path to ceremonial bliss, but of course there would be, whether the engagement lasts two months or two years! And in the end, the day was absolutely wonderful - a perfect mix of the city we love, the people we adore and all the fun you could ever wish to have in one night.

Wanna leave a comment but don't know how? I wrote a whole blog post about this very subject! Click here.

Fishing for Words

My mother was recently fishing for words - as a journalist this is an often occasion. She wanted one word to describe our hometown of Johannesburg , and another to describe that of our new town - Los Angeles. 

An interesting game to say the least. Being built by gold miners, Johannesburg is nothing if not a prospective, consuming, growing beast. We threw some of those at her, and a litany of others: home, fear, family, money, life, rejuvenation. But LA has a lot of the same feeling. It too is a place of opportunity, a place of a merging of people. There is the same crying, gnawing, gasping feeling of desperation. 

Joburg is about panning for gold, fighting to find the diamonds in the rough. LA seems more littered with gold, little nuggets of opportunity glinting in the sunshine everywhere you look. Sure they may not all be the real thing, but there sure is a lot of glitz.

Los Angeles is a bit of an anomaly - always this place that we see from far off, in movies, on screens, glitzy and glamorous, and other worldly. But being here, there's something different. There's that undertone - that opportunity, that chance. That closeness.

It seems to fight with the oldness, the desperation. It's a knife edge between moving forward and slipping backwards into obscurity. You can see them on the streets - the has-beens, the hopefuls lost for hope.

I love the film industry for its mystique - that's why we're here after all, this big illusive thing called Hollywood. It intrigues me. Story telling is all that I want to do. No, that's a lie, there's a lot that I want to do. But making, forming, creating, weaving stories is one of the best parts for me. So Los Angeles is a this anomaly. It completely deviates from what is expected. It is warmer and more welcoming expected. But also filled with more twists and turns than expected.

A lot of people here ask me where I'm from. Or, more presumptuously, assume I'm from Australia. Or New Zealand. (I'm actually amazed by how many people say New Zealand, how much it is in the public consciousness, especially since there's no notable stars or celebrities - that I can think of at least - or particularly outspoken and proud New Zealanders running around LA?! Is it from Lord Of The Rings being filmed there?! What is it that gives them that chuffed I-must-be-right expression as they ask if I'm from New Zealand, like they've cracked some special code? I DO NOT GET IT.)

Sometimes, once we've chatted about where I'm actually from, they'll ask what it's like. And I only ever have good things to say. I know of far too many people who leave their home country, and bad mouth it for years as so to justify leaving, and I think it's kind of disgusting. South Africa is my home, and is a beautiful country, one that I cannot wait to return to. So much so that I try not to look up too often - the sight of a plane flying over head tugs at my insides, and makes me think of aeroplanes and car rides and  the way to get home.

Also, PS, being asked if I'm Australian really grates. A lot. It's blood-boilingly-bad.

Honestly Honest

The other day I mentioned A Blog About Love, a surprisingly open and candid account by a re-married divorcee. This is one brave lady, openly and honestly laying it all on the line, and fishing out a pile of tips and secrets to her now successful marriage.

It is a interesting feat that she has accomplished there, an unaffected honesty, a tell-all fluidity that happily does not include any self-editing. I often struggle with my audience when writing - imagining the people who may or may not be reading and what they may or may not be thinking. It's horribly limiting.

Often my friends ask me for relationship advice - I guess once you're married people assume you know what you're doing. Getting married was quite possibly one of the greatest things I've ever done. I've never been one to dream of weddings, and marriages and white dresses. I always thought of it as something far off, distant, maybe not even a possibility. A haze, that may one day happen to me. So I was exceedingly surprised to find it to be so good, so delicious, so comforting - this great blanket of love to wrap yourself up in.

Growing up, you're surrounded by this idea that marriage is not such a good thing - maybe your friends come from divorced parents, or a broken home, as it is so aptly named. It is a constant feature on modern media, sometimes comical, sometimes real, but ever present.

It always made me wonder what the point of getting married was, if all you're going to do is bicker with each other, and not listen to what the other has to say. It seemed quite dull and outdated. It chills me to the bone that divorce seems to be the only resonating outcome.

But maybe it is this knowledge, this realisation, this truth, that has made us stronger. If divorce is the eventual outcome, I sure as hell want to work as hard as possible to avoid it. Husband and I strive everyday to not let little resentments grow, to address issues as they arise, and to come up with better strategies for solving problems. This is something we want to work at, everyday, to make our relationship better and stronger. Communication is super important for us - Husband is an extrovert, and I'm an introvert, which can sometimes make for strenuous conversations - he needs to talk everything through, often, going over multiple ideas, plans and figures. My little introvert brain can't always handle his fast-paced word flow and gets highly stressed out and overwhelmed in situations like that. Luckily we've developed safe words for those exact situations, and strategy meetings, so Husband can still talk it all through, but at a pace and time that I can manage.

So, marriage seems to be this dynamo. Changing, turning, twisting, but in a good way - it grows. I love how safe and content I feel in this union. Silly jealousies and insecurities slip away, and life becomes simpler. No more random hook-ups and one night stands, no raging hormones and 'does he like me, doesn't he like me' mixed signals. Just a simple, growing understanding of each other, and how much we want to fight to keep this love alive.

Wanna leave a comment but don't know how? I wrote a whole blog post about this very subject! Click here.

New Years in LA

I feel like posting about New Years Eve in February means I'm way behind the times. But I won't be held accountable. My blogging standards have been lower than usual, and I'm blaming everyone but myself for this late post. Ha!

But anyway, enough buck-passing. And on to the story of our New Years.

Husband and I were supposed to be working that night - as event staff. But last minute the gig was canceled, and we were relieved to have the evening to ourselves. With our night suddenly free, we decided to sup around the corner at Figaro - our new fave French restaurant, within walking distance of the house. So we had a pre-dinner martini at home (as you do) and walked around the block.

The night was briskingly cold, and our walk around the block was a quick one, hands in pockets, wrapped up like little snowmen. The restaurant however was invitingly warm as we arrived for our 9pm booking (purposefully late to bring us easily closer to the midnight hour). We couldn't resist a glass of champagne before ordering dinner.

Dinner was paella from me - our time in Europe has me hooked on paella (especially after that most-amazing-will-fly-back-to-France-for-it paella), and I couldn't resist. It was good, perfect flavours, just the right amount of yum factor! Husband ordered the rack of lamb, which was also melt in the mouth, delicately delicious.

 And then? Back out in to the cold night for another brisk walk home, to more martinis and a celebration for two.

It was bliss to be out of the crowds, away from the noise, the hubbub and the anti-climax. Just me and Husband, my most favourite combination.

How To Post A Comment

So today I'm going to feature a little tutorial on how to post a comment on this blog. Woop woop!

First up, click on the 'comments' section at the bottom of the post you would like to comment on. Write something A-MA-ZING (jokes, no pressure, you can write something mediocre, just please no spam - ha!).

Then, here comes the not-so-tricky part. You have to tell the computer who you are, so that it doesn't think you're a spambot. If you have a google account your information will already be there, ready to go, as seen below:

BUT don't fear, you don't have to have a google account! There's still three other ways to choose an identity! First of all, if you have some other kind of blog (WordPress, LiveJournal etc), you can write a comment using one of those identities.

Alternatively, if none of the above apply, you can just enter your name. Select 'Name/URL' and put your name in. You do not need to enter a URL!

Still no good? Click on the 'Anonymous' tab - just remember to leave your name in the actual comment box, so I know who it's from.

Easy peasy? Awesome!

xx Robyn

It's A Good Day To Have A Good Day

So yesterday's Miss Moody Pants is in bed, 8.40am, laptop on lap, heater warming up the apartment, yummy cereal in tummy. I got to sleep in this morning (yes, I know 8.40am doesn't sound like a sleep-in, but I got a full eight hours of glorious restful sleep), and managed to cancel all the things I didn't feel like doing today!

So now, I will spend the morning at home recuperating from this wonderful, crazy, intense, fast, funny week - catching up on *me* time, doing the laundry and my nails; and then run some errands this afternoon. Bliss!

A Greater Day

Today was a tough day. Hard, and full of unforseen issues, traffic and headaches. Argh. I found myself sitting in a slump by the end of the day - still at work at 9pm - bones sore, muscles tired, eyes heavy. It's all I can do to prop up my head on my hand and play endless rounds of Solitaire on the computer.

Considering how good yesterday was as well - in comparison - just makes today seem all the more worse. And there's no point even putting down here what made it bad - just a series of circumstances, niggly work problems, scheduling nightmares and a bad funk, leaves me desperate for bed, sleep and a dreamless night.
BUT, it was just a bad day. That's all it was. Just one day. I'm sure there will be many more that I will face in my life, with tired-er shoulders, more overwhelming problems, and greater trials.The thing I have to do - need to do - is let it just be this one day, and wake up in the morning ready for a NEW day, brighter and better - and simply put, DIFFERENT from today.  

Tuesday {Past Explorations}

Six months ago we were lucky enough to be invited to stay in Edinburgh - during the Edinburgh festival. We spent two wonderful days in the sun, exploring the city, watching it perform and thoroughly enjoying the festivities.

There were musicians and artisans everywhere - all promoting their shows on the streets. See more of that here.

We also got to visit the Edinburgh castle, which, while packed with tourists, was still a fun experience. The castle is beautiful. I always like to think about the people who have walked through those halls, and lived in those rooms, and marched across the cobbles for years and years.

I loved Edinburgh. I loved how old it is. I loved the buildings, all piled on top of each other, all ancient, and moss-stained, there for centuries and centuries and centuries.

I guess because I'm of Scottish descent it spoke to me even more. Though I would need much longer than two days to really explore that part of it, and to see where exactly in Scotland my family comes from. One day I will go back.

Happy Hollywood

Los Angeles is warming up, like a big winter beast shaking off the shivers and mists to reveal a wonderfully temperate, overly inviting city.

I'd never really thought much about this city before I got here, like what it was *really* going to be like. I knew about the palm trees, the strip malls and the Hollywood sign, but that was about it. As we traveled across America no one really had anything nice to say about it - and I can understand that. My first week in I thought it was very industrial, this big touristy machine, looming out tacky attractions and tour buses.

Then we started to scratch the surface - we moved into Los Feliz, a neighbourhood bustling with artisan business ventures, quaint restaurants and vintage movie cinemas. And that extends into at least four or five neighborhoods around us - they're all these hipster-driven, creative-living, farmers-market hubbubs of activity and interest. It's wonderful to see LA's cultural side, tucked away from the tourists and cheesy roadside stop-offs.

This morning I got into the car to drive into Santa Monica - a good 45 minute drive on any day, a city of its own, even though it is surrounded by the city of LA. The freeways twist through the coastal hills, and with the sunshine breaking through disappearing clouds, the traffic-filled road glowed with summer sunshine.

This is a good place to live. A friend was reminding me yesterday that even though LA sometimes gets a bad rap, it is part of California - free-loving, beach-filled, happy-go-lucky California. I feel privileged and happy and excited to get to live here, for however long we may stay.

[Photos by the ever-talented Jo Galloway, another South African living in LA, who is as lovely as she is kind]

Retail Therapy

What better way to end a busy weekend than with a little late night shopping in a how-can-this-store-be-quite-so-big shop?

Yes indeed! Shop til you drop girls.