As if I could get MORE Back!

Not only does my main source of exercise these days entail climbing our 8 flights of stairs, but also, Wellington is hilly as (if this phrase confuses you, please see prior post on unfinished comparisons).
Like, rimmed by hills, the likes of which would make even Gollum cringe in fear.
The kind that would leave Frodo and Sam gasping for air.
It's actually impossible to walk 8 blocks in any direction from our apartment and not be climbing hills steep enough to require stairs.

Did you not get the memo, Wellington? I have enough junk in my boot, thank you so much.

The veiws are incredible- you'll just have to take my word for it until I manage to get photos. Next week, when my little children's show closes and I spend all day wandering about, frantically looking for a job.

Those of you who want to come visit, do some training first. No joke, the elevation climbs are sick. Plus, they are all in meters, so they seem farther.

BATS: 99 seat theater in Wellington

Turns out there's just one 99 seat, experimental, do-it-yourself theater in Wellington, and I live 300 meters from it. And my co-worker ALSO works the bar there. So, I've been there lots.

Saw 3 shows, none of them outstanding enough to do a full review on any of them, so I'll just sum up:

Walls. Doors. And Also Silence. - the 20 year old version of You, Me, and Everyone We Know, with more institutionalization and less romance.
Cool use of set pieces- these door frames with stretchy translucent material. They got titled and used as a bathtub.

Father Famila- well-written work about a daughter and her dad with dementia/ Alzheimer's. Respects the intelligence of the audience (leaves details like subtle fragrances to follow, lives in New Zealand without being ALL ABOUT how its set in New Zealand, explores big scary universal themes in a specific, clear way). Grown-up theater that's not too stodgy.

Resolve- about hearing impaired young adults, written and performed by hearing impaired young adults. We all wear earplugs and hold on to inflated balloons, and there are few words of dialogue. Cool concept, poorly executed.
One of those shows I think could be so so so much better with a few tweaks. Oh Well.
Someday I'll run the world, and there will be no more crap theater.

Though I find seeing crap theater gives me time to reflect about how to do better theater. And time to plan my evening. And time nap.

Oh, not again.

I once broiled brownies, thanks to a really hi-tech Ikea-type oven with nothing but symbols and numbers on the dials.
They were delicious, but didn't cut well to be served at the party I was hoping to take them to.
So, I wasn't allowed to bake for a while. In fact, I'm still a little scared every single time I turn on a kitchen implement. I'm ready for the future, where I talk to my appliances and they bring me food.

So OF COURSE our place has an oven that is even MORE confusing than a rocketship, and the manual is of little help, and the temperatures are in Celcius, and I'm terrified of it. Luckily we didn't have a pan or cookie sheet or any implement that I could put in said oven.

But then someone left a totally un-touched but opened beer in my place, and after a day of not drinking it, I decided I'd brave the oven. Like Hansel and Gretel.
So I bought gingerbread cake mix, and a pan, and some eggs and cinnamon, and made ginger beer cake so moist, so spicy, it warmed all the cockles of the hearts of those who ate it.

The moral of this story is: not ALL ovens are scary.
Also, beer makes any food better. Luckily I had enough left over to make kale/ bacon/ beer saute, all Louisiana Style.

I'll show you, ovens of the future. Where's my jetpack?