I know this blog is supposed to be about utterly deep and insightful things, but just for the record, this day has been wonderful.

was absolutely wrecked last night, and went to bed way too late - the witching hour (BFG how I love you), otherwise referred to as 1am. The knowledge of a first thing gym session had my enthusiasm for saturday morning intensely curbed. But I will prevail! (I told myself). No more of this unattractive piking that had become a routinely part of my Melbourne life (what the hell am I doing in Sydney?? Coming soon - stay tuned). The intense hour wasn't pretty, in fact it was pretty damn hard, but at the end, I felt so peaceful and so proud. Scrub that. I felt bloody awesome!

Instead of sticking around Bondi Junction, with all the pretentious peeps of the Eastern Suburbs, and a carpark fee of a quarter of $100, I have made a promise to myself, or somewhat of a goal, to check out new cafes every weekend. I LOVE cafes. It's a bit ironic really - because I am a vegetarian (a real one, if you were wondering - no meat, eggs, dairy or seafood), a lactose intolerant soy drinker (to all you soy mockers, this is only by force, as the alternative is a belly the size of a basketball and copious amounts of putrid wind), and due to a recent vow of weight loss, an enemy of dessert. But I won't surrender my carbs. That will be the last time I refer to bread/cereal/rice/potatoes/pasta as 'carbs'. I hate that word. I feel as a society, we constantly box things into good/bad/ugly/unacceptable/alternative/weird etc. Bread is bread. It is melt-in-your-mouth ciabatta, smooth pita, soft naan, crispy yet spongy turkish, grainy and nutty rye loaf. There is nothing better than fresh bread. And toast! Bread toasting in a toaster is one of my favourite aromas in the world! Why does it smell so damn good?

Anyway, (sidetracked - only slightly!), so off I trot to my car, to set my GPS to a street crawling with well-loved Sydney cafes. I have a list, you see, of the most popular cafes in this big city. I did an intensive Google search last night to ensure I wouldn't visit any dud-meyers. (Yes, I think that is a word...). Excited for this venture, I head to Crown Street. In case anyone happens to be reading from overseas (optimistic, but highly unlikely), or is stuck down a hole somewhere, it is Mardi Gras weekend in Sydney. To me, this simply means a hell of a lot of traffic and road closures. Ugh. But, I will prevail! I happen to pass a few places on my 'goodies' cafes list, but am keen to head to Crown Street. Well, actually, that is not entirely true. I haven't even chosen a specific place I want to go to, which is probably the reason I drove around for approximately an hour; that and the fact that I got lost - what a douche. But, miraculously, I found myself at a intersection with a pub coined 'The Crown Hotel,' and I've finally made it. I pull into the first car spot I find - 2 hours, and no ticket machine - yippee! Now the only problem, is trying to find somewhere good. I pass Bird Fish Cow, which apparently has a good rep, but being a vegie, I keep on walking. Then there's Pizza e Birra, which I have also read good things about, but it just hasn't got the right vibe. It is more 'families and thirty+ parties' than single, young, lonely females. I spy a lemon; not on the ground, not in the shape of a car, and not even in the figure of a woman (it was grade four that I was informed of this term being an alternative to 'lesbian'), which was highly probably, being Mardi Gras weekend, but no, it was on the top of a cute little building. It had to be the Lemon Cafe that I had on my list! And it was - hoorah! I practically bolt towards it. Busting for the toot, I freshen up before sitting down at a table. The good thing about getting lost earlier is that cafes tend to empty out at around 1.30pm - people tend to opt for brunches at around 11am, or head to upper crust bistros/pubs for lunch on weekends. Looking at the menu, I have a sinking feeling that this experience is going to be a bust. Not the most enthralling items are listed. Having already ordered a coffee, I tell my indecisive self to shut up, and stay put. My coffee comes and it looks like melted gold - smooth, silky froth, a good amount of chocolate powder sprinkle (very important - there used to be a cafe at work in Melbourne that was so stingy about the chocolate power - pestulence von lichtenstein!), and it tastes amazing. I decide to order a vegetarian antipasto - it has all my staple foods -roasted eggplant (i love aubergines!), grilled zucchini, roasted capsicum, sun dried tomatoes, pesto, turkish bread, grilled mushrooms, and so on. It comes out in a timely manner and looks amazing. I am a bit sceptical about the little pot of hommous on the side, but one taste and I'm sold. I eat while reading The Sydney Morning Herald (sorry, but I think The Age is a much better name. I get confused between The Sydney Morning Herald and The Herald Sun, and consequently, don't know which one to buy! The horizontal format only saves me on weekdays and Saturday!) - total bliss. As there is no push for tables, I stay for as long as I like. It's great. I love le papier on the weekend - all the stories and interviews in Good Weekend, all the advertisements for theatre, opera, comedy and gigs - I get lost in it.

I still have about 50 minutes left of parking, so I wander up Crown Street a little more. Then I find it. The illustrious Bills. The past two times I have visited Sydney, the only real place I have wanted to visit was this cafe. Admittedly, I wanted to go to the original one in Darlinghurst, but none the less, I can't actually believe I'm walking past it. Furthermore, I can't believe that after taking one look, I'm decidedly disappointed. The font used for name is dull. The tables and chairs are lined up, in perfect order, and are this boring, standard rectangular shape with chairs to match. And just quietly, I only found one review in 'favourite cafes according to Google' which stated that the food was good but the coffee was mediocre. Chuffed at my choice of venue, I keep walking. I reach the city end of Crown, and find more cafes/restaurants that have a good name - awesome foodie street. I also found the place where I want to have my next birthday (well maybe, if I have any Sydney friends by November) - Sparkle Cupcake Bakery. The only criticism I have is that the icing was too perfect on top of those cupcakes - now, even cupcakes are being forced to conform. When are we going to realise that being different is thing of intense beauty?!

I pop into a few more shops and then turn around, slowly meandering my way back to my car. I spy a beautiful old building called 'The Actors Centre Australia,' so I cross the road, find my way to the reception area, and pick up a few pamphlets to take on my way (will expand on this random act later on). Then I get back into my car and drive home. I feel great. It is an illegally beautiful day. Once home, it's time to get out the big guns; Bam, Windex, Cloth, Gloves and (drum roll please!)...the mean, purple, rolling vacuum machine! Yep, time to get down and dirty with some ever enthralling housework. I vacuum the kitchen, bathroom, lounge, hall and my bedroom, then fumigate the shower and toilet with Bam, wipe the sink, glass and mirrors with Windex and it's done. Ahhh - lovely.

So that brings me to now, or, more accurately, an hour ago, which was when I sat down with a peach, plum, pepsi (max) and pieces of watermelon to tell you about this awesome day!

In closing, I hope you've had a day as great as mine, if not better! And if it's been crap, I'm so sorry, and I hope that tomorrow is much better. Having had a incredibly awful day last Saturday (mobile became a fish bowl after water bottle lid was left open, car suffered big, big bruises and scratches due to stupid pole being in the way, which led to consumption (oops - nearly said 'consummation' then - my bad!), of a chocolate and ice-cream, consequently causing my insides to protest in a grotesque manner for the following three days), I have decided to cull another (or two) bad Melbourne habits - emotional eating and relying on my feelings to decipher my mood. Hence the 'I will prevail' attitude. If you don't feel like it - do it anyway. Push past the pain. It will reap greater rewards that ever imagined. The career path I want to pursue needs this attitude to be well and truly matured, so I'm starting early.

Much love, people of this earth (an affectionate saying my mother is prone to).

I'll be seeing you...

xx