In which I prove I am not a snow bunny

At the end of August we were able to catch the last of the snow season for a day of skiing. At just three hours away, this was an easy little trip to take.

I will preface the following story with the fact that I just KNEW that something was going to go wrong. Every bone in my body told me that I would probably break said bones. But off I went!

Check out those matching jackets. For the record, I got my jacket first!

Things started off easily enough. It had been about four years since I last went skiing, but I was able to pick it right back up on the tame green slope. At this point I thought I had conquered the world and sang my own praises to Will. I even joked about how I was sure he was relieved that I was a decent skier and he didn't have to babysit me. Then I said for probably the millionth time that I had never taken a spill while skiing (all two times I had been skiing). 

Famous last words.

The group decided a blue run was feasible, so despite my horror at how steep it looked on the map, off we went. 

Things went badly. Quickly.

Because it was the end of the season, the snow conditions weren't great. This particular run was a mix of ice and random piles of snow. It was also pretty steep, though I'm just a baby when it comes to heights. As soon as I started making my descent, I knew I was a goner. I was completely out of control, flying  down the mountain at a speed I didn't know I was capable of. Because I typically enjoy fast skiing (on green runs only, mind you), I had never truly learned how to turn slowly and control myself. 

I flew past all our friends, and finally past Will, screaming all the while. I knew the fall was coming, I just didn't know when. When it did happen, all I felt was cold, wind, and like someone had punched me in the chest.

According to witnesses, I looked like a snowball. Apparently I went prettyyyy far down the mountain. Will was sure he would come to me and find broken bones or worse.

But nay. My some sort of miracle, I was fine. Scared as shit, but fine. And some really lovely strangers helped gather all my equipment (it was scattered all around) and stayed with me until Will was able to make it over. 

Needless to say, the green run and I were BFFs after that. Luckily I had some lovely friends who also decided the green run was more appealing, so we ended up having a great time.

I ended up with a few battle scars and some killer soreness that gave me an excellent excuse to not exercise for a few days. While I will certainly go skiing again, I must admit that I'm glad summer is coming so I won't have to do it again for a whole year!

The measures a crazy cat lady must take

When I found out a Cat Cafe was opening in Melbourne, I added it to the many reasons why my move to this city was meant to be. 

I'd of course heard of the Cat Cafes of Asia where patrons happily sip lattes while patting friendly felines. Obviously this sounded like a dream to me.

Yours truly booked (yes, you must book to visit the cafe) a time with the kitties straight away, as absence from my beloved Chester and Henry was starting to weigh heavily on me. 

Because of Australia's strict food service laws, this is not your typical cats-all-over-the-tables-and-on-your-lap-while-enjoying-coffee Cat Cafe. Instead, there were separate rooms upstairs where the cats roamed freely and waiters brought you vending machine coffee from downstairs. Not fancy, but whatever, I was finally around cats! 

It was lovely being able to socialize with my favorite animal, but I'll be the first to say that this was a weird place to go solo. I felt like a creepy woman wandering around from cat to cat, taking pictures here and there. As everyone else was there in a group or with at least one other person, I stuck out like a sore thumb. 

Lesson learned: Bring a friend.

This might be the most pathetic blog post I have ever written.

The end.

Meow.

Around Hamilton Island...and that time I cuddled a koala

When we weren't cruising out to white sand beaches or snorkeling in waters I was sure I'd be attacked by a shark in, we spent lots of time just exploring the island.

There was even a nice hike up to a lookout point that provided 360 degree views of the island.

Aaaand then I fulfilled my dream of cuddling a koala. 

Her name was Lola, and she was a sweet 18 month old tiny girl. Her sleepy little face was just the cutest!

I wish this moment had lasted more than 30 seconds, but alas there was a line of other people after the same experience.

Shortly after this picture was taken, I proceeded to pick up pretty much every shell on the beach. Apologies for the lack of shells, Hamilton Island.