“I cried because I had no shoes, then I met a man who had no feet.”

Its 8:22pm and I've just come home from an important event. Now I'm sitting alone and doing what any self respecting woman of 21 years would do while home alone: eat homemade vegetable soup and indulge in the level of comfort that only a pair of Target pajama's can offer. Thats right, it doesn't get any better, or classier than that.

Right about now a bunch of my friends are scattered between various restaurants such as Olive Garden and Macaroni grill. I feigned tiredness so I could skip those ghastly chain restaurants I dislike so much to have a little alone time, have a bath and a cup of tea. It'll be great, and so far my plan for the evening is working out nicely. Except for the tea. I got home, went straight to the fridge to check the milk and it smelt a little weird. I was mildly disappointed. Weird like its still ok, but it won't do for a good cup of tea. And I only drink "good cups of tea". That might sound a little snobby, but we all have our quirks - and one of mine is that I'm super picky about my tea. I'm sure I've discussed how I like it made in a previous post. While we're on quirks, another thing I'm weird about is feet. Always have been. If you have any questions about this quirk please email me or contact me directly. However please do not come to my house, knock loudly and demand an explanation. Most importantly, please never ask me for a foot massage.

Tonight I saw my fellow Aussie friend Anna for the first time in about a month. I felt a peculiar wave of emotion as I saw my friend and we smile and embraced. It was indeed lovely to have her back here. On the way home I was thinking about the close friendship we have forged over the last year. When Anna first moved here I'd hoped we'd get along and become friends. Its funny how something one day clicks and you suddenly have this bond or understanding that ties you together as friends. I remember the day we became friends. We were hanging out with our mate Tongers who is the funniest person I know. We were all cracking up over silly things. I remember driving back from the outlet mall, looking at Anna and thinking "my friend's are right. this girl is really cool, and importantly - really funny".

So anyway, I'm looking forward to that feeling when going home and seeing close friends. I usually get emotional on the 15 hour plane ride, cry as I'm descending into Sydney... knowing I'll be seeing our friends within the next hour. And then by the time I see them, the emotion has passed and its all excitement & cheering. A year seems so long. Yet when you see each other, its as though you were hanging out, teasing each other and being foolish just a day or two ago.

Word of warning: I'm starting to get excited about Australia. But its still 5 weeks away. So don't think I'm going anytime soon. But if you're a longtime reader, you'll know how it is.

Thats it. Time for my bath and then to read some more of Cloudstreet.

ps. When I meet people they often ask how old I am. I've decided to start saying I'm 21. Or Generation Y. After all, youth is fleeting and age is just a number which will forever keep on changing year after year. Although a fair question, I recently decided I'd rather people know who I am... instead of an outward mundane thing such as how old I am. A number does not describe who I am, my likes & dislikes, passions and feelings. End of thought.